Flood Rising (Jenna Flood #1)

She mentally kicked herself. She had been so focused on escaping the killers, it had not occurred to her that her escape was not happening in a vacuum. The most probable explanation was that one of the irate drivers from the intersection had taken a moment to call 911 on a cell phone, reporting a blue Mini Cooper driving recklessly.

Surrendering to the police wasn’t an option. Even if she found someone to believe her crazy story, the killers wouldn’t be intimidated by legitimate law enforcement officers any more than the bogus FBI agents that had shot Noah and the two deputies. They wouldn’t even need to use force. They would simply flash their government credentials, claim jurisdiction and take her away. And if any well-intentioned policemen got in their way, there would be more blood on her hands.

The realization that she was now being pursued by government hitmen and the police underscored the urgency of ditching the Mini. She needed to find a place where she could quickly blend in with a crowd—a mall, or maybe the beach if she could find it.

She swerved into the center lane and blasted past a cluster of cars moving at half her speed. In her mirror, she saw the vehicles pulling to the side, making room for the police cruisers. There were two sets of police lights now and they were closing fast. The Mini’s turbo engine might have outclassed the motor pool cars driven by her pursuers, but the police cruisers had a lot more horsepower under the hood. If she kept going in a straight line, they would catch her, and the killers wouldn’t be far behind.

Another intersection loomed. The light was red, and cars streamed across her path at normal commuting speeds. Gripping the steering wheel, she began murmuring, “Green light, green light,” and as if by a miracle, the light changed when she was just fifty yards away.

It was almost enough to make her believe that her mad scientist creator had imbued her with telekinetic powers…but no, it was probably just a lucky coincidence.

The idle speculation was shattered as something flashed into view on her left, a beat-up muscle car blowing through the light, blissfully unaware of the blue rocket hurtling into the intersection.

Jenna’s reflexes took over. She pushed the accelerator harder, feeling the turbo charger respond almost instantly. Her subconscious mind grasped that going left, trying to slip behind the red-light violator, would end disastrously, so she angled to the right, trying to cut in front of him.

It almost worked.

The man at the wheel of the beater must have caught a glimpse of the onrushing Mini. Instead of trying to stop, he accelerated, trying to get out of her way. He succeeded only in changing what would have been a near miss into a glancing impact.

Jenna barely felt the front corner of the muscle car kiss the back bumper of the Mini, but the transfer of energy spun the little car around like a top. The Mini’s low center of gravity kept it on the road, but for uncountable seconds, it pirouetted out of control, its smoking tires laying down a lotus-shaped spiral of rubber in the middle of the intersection.

Jenna’s head continued to spin for a few more seconds after the car came to rest, but a bright light shining in her eyes and the too-loud wail of approaching police sirens brought her back to the moment. She blinked, vaguely aware that she was unhurt and only mildly disoriented. Then she realized that the light still shining in her eyes was the rising sun. The Mini’s wild dance had left her facing east.

East it is.

She pushed the gas pedal to the floor, but nothing happened.

Jenna felt a wave of panic start to build. Her instincts had guided her through this long ordeal, but now her inexperience had caught up with her.

Get out. Run.

No. It just stalled. The spin reversed engine compression, just like the pin maneuver Noah told me about. I just need to restart.

There’s no time.

She ignored the frantic urgings of her fearful brain and heeded the calm inner voice of reason. The police would arrive at any moment. Even if it took a few seconds to get the car started, she would get a lot farther than if she attempted to escape on foot.

As if being graded by her driving instructor, she put a foot on the brake, shifted into park, and reached for the key.

The keyhole was empty.

She remembered the remoter start button on the fob. The keys lay forgotten on the passenger seat, partially buried under a scattering of what looked like tiny diamonds—the shattered remains of the tempered glass window. She found the key, squeezed the button several times, and felt panic replaced by elation as the engine turned over and began purring once more.

Shift. Gas pedal. Go.

The Mini jumped forward like a sprinter at the sound of the starter’s gun, as two police cars screeched into the intersection. The twin vehicles, normally a symbol of help and safety, took on the monstrous appearances of hungry ancient demons racing to devour her. The roar of their engines helped complete the impression, but only served to motivate Jenna further. She crushed the gas pedal down, increasing the distance between herself and the monsters behind her, but rushing headlong into a third.





39



6:58 a.m.