Flood Rising (Jenna Flood #1)

Despite the glare of the sun in her eyes, Jenna spied another set of flashing lights ahead. A third police cruiser was responding to a call for backup. In the instant it took for her to register this fact, the approaching vehicle abruptly cut across her lane and stopped, blocking a portion of the road.

But not enough.

Jenna swung to the left without slowing. The Mini bumped over the curb and kept going, two wheels on the road and two on the sidewalk. A gaggle of pedestrians who had stopped to watch the mayhem dove out of the way, but Jenna was already past the roadblock and steered back onto the asphalt. As she did, she spied a sign post with the distinctive blue and red shield logo of the Interstate highway system.

Jenna felt a glimmer of hope. Even on the freeway—especially on the freeway—the chances of eluding pursuit were slim, but at least she would have a sense of where she was and where the road led.

The failed roadblock bought her a few more seconds of lead time, and after just a few more blocks, she spied the freeway overpass and another sign directing her to the onramp. She slowed just enough to make the gradual right turn and then accelerated again, weaving through a knot of cars heading for the Interstate.

The freeway lowered into view. She had never driven on a major highway, never even ridden along on one, and her first glimpse was a bit of a letdown. She had imagined a daunting river of cars, whipping by like Formula One racers. Instead, she saw only a scattering of vehicles—cars, SUVs, even a few eighteen-wheelers—none of which were moving any faster than she was now.

The onramp shunted her into the flow of traffic and just like that she was transported to a different reality. A concrete wall rose up on her right, eclipsing her view of the city streets she had been on only a moment before. A low barrier separated the northbound and southbound lanes, and beyond that, across more lanes, rose another wall. Jenna understood that, while the freeway might speed her on her way, it would also confine her like a hamster in a Habitrail tube.

Maybe the freeway wasn’t such a great idea.

In the distance, she could make out a green sign marking the next exit. The police had yet to appear in her rearview. If she could make it to that exit—wherever it led—unseen, she might be able to…

There was a subtle shift in her center of gravity, and she heard something change in the purr of the Mini’s engine. She pressed down on the gas pedal again, but the deceleration continued. The speedometer revealed the slowdown. With each passing second, the vehicle lost ten miles per hour. The emergency flashers activated, ticking away.

The cars, which had only a moment before been falling away in her wake, now caught up and blew past her, honking in irritation. She had to get to the side of the road before the Mini came to a complete stop and got plowed by an unsuspecting motorist. The move used up the last of the car’s momentum. It came to rest beneath the imposing wall, at least half a mile from the exit.

Jenna took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm, and she worked through the steps to restart the motor, but this time nothing happened. She pushed the button on the key fob repeatedly with no effect, and a sickening realization came to her. In addition to the remote starter, Cort’s Mini Cooper was also equipped with a theft-prevention lock-down system.

She reached for the door handle but found it locked and likewise unresponsive. Shut down and locked in. Fortunately, the passenger side window had already been shot out. There was just enough room between the car and the wall for her to squeeze out.

The freeway was a deluge of sensation. The sound of cars whooshing past. Engine noise. The rumble of tires on pavement. All of it rising and falling, distorted by the Doppler effect. The smells of exhaust and hot rubber assaulted her nose. And beneath it all, a faint but persistent vibration, as if the elevated road might at any moment break apart, dropping her and all the passing cars into an abyss. It was an inhospitable world, an alien planet not meant to be traveled on foot.

The exit sign seemed unreachably distant. She glanced back into the rush of approaching cars. Still no sign of the police, but she did not fail to notice a dark speck, low in the sky and almost certainly headed for her. Not a drone this time. A helicopter.

Move!

She didn’t know whether it was the voice of panic or of reason, or if for once, both were in agreement, but the inner admonition was as obvious as it was unhelpful. It would take several minutes, even at a run, to reach the far off exit, and she would be in the open the whole way.