Flood Rising (Jenna Flood #1)

“Cast off,” Jenna called out, settling into the pilot’s chair on an upraised platform in front of the idling engine. The seat was equipped with a safety belt. Given her inexperience, it seemed prudent to use it. “Then sit down and hang on!”


Mercy unwound the rope that held the boat in place, and stepped aboard, shoving off with one foot. As soon as she was seated, Jenna engaged the fan. The engine itself wasn’t much louder than a car’s motor, but the rush of air being pulled through the spinning blades sounded like a Category Four hurricane. As the craft began to pick up speed, it felt like one, too.

Jenna quickly got the hang of using the rudder lever to change course, and in moments they had left the Gator Station complex behind and were racing through the marsh. The boat drew only a few inches of water, and skimmed over the surface, almost hydroplaning, effortlessly floating over patches of grass and reeds. She resisted the urge to go full throttle—any faster and the slightest bump might launch the boat into the air.

Her memory of the satellite map was of little use here, where the landscape changed almost as quickly as the weather. But her newly acquired night vision monocular allowed her to navigate around sunken tree boughs and other obstacles that might have stopped the nimble airboat.

After a few minutes, the initial thrill and novelty of the experience wore off, and Jenna remembered the reason she had chosen this form of travel. She glanced over one shoulder, peering through the blurry disc of the spinning fan blades, looking for any sign of pursuit. What she saw made her let off the throttle. The boat coasted forward a few yards until it scraped to a halt atop a patch of reeds.

“What’s wrong?” Mercy asked, evidently sensing Jenna’s sudden anxiety.

Jenna unbuckled her belt and stood up. She turned a slow circle, scanning the horizon. In every direction as far as she could see, the landscape was a flat, featureless tableau, randomly dotted with clumps of vegetation and a few trees. “It all looks the same.”

Mercy tried to peer into the darkness, but without light, she had even less with which to judge their position than Jenna did. “Can’t you use the GPS on your phone?”

“I lost it.” She hadn’t been able to find the phone again after the narrow escape from the alligator pond. It had probably fallen in.

“Well…if we keep going in a straight line, we’re bound to come across something familiar, right?”

“If we can go in a straight line.”

Maintaining a linear course would be almost impossible in the airboat. They would have to steer around large obstacles, and without anything to use as a handrail, there would be no way to make sure that they got back on the same azimuth. The wind and irregularities in the surface might also alter their course without her even realizing it. Minor changes could add up, causing them to meander in circles until their fuel ran out.

Jenna turned her eyes skyward, searching for some celestial clue. The overcast sky hid the stars, and the sun would not appear in the east for a few more hours. The moon, though mostly hidden behind the clouds, gave enough light that she could fix its location, but the moon was not as reliable a navigation aid, especially not when moving at high speed.

There was also the unanswered question of where exactly she wanted to go next. The boat could take them almost anywhere—to the outskirts of Homestead, or even to the coast. If she kept the moon at her back, that would take her in a generally eastward direction. That would put her closer to Miami, and closer to Bill Cort, the man who might be able to tell her the truth about her parents and explain why people were trying to kill her.

East it is.

She sat down, strapped in and pulled the lever back. The boat swung around in what she hoped was the right direction. As it did, she spied movement off to her left. It was just a spot, probably a mile away, but because it was taller than anything else in the landscape, it was readily visible and readily identifiable.

Another airboat.

While there was no way to make out its occupants, the fact that it was running without lights was proof enough that the hunters had not given up.

Jenna pressed the throttle pedal and held the rudder stick on course. She was going as fast as she dared, and for the men in the other boat to have even a chance of catching her, they would have to run at a dangerously high speed. Unfortunately, the men hunting them didn’t need to catch them on the water. All they had to do was follow and stay close. When Jenna and Mercy made landfall, the men would be only a couple of minutes behind.

Not much time to escape, but maybe enough to set an ambush.