Flood Rising (Jenna Flood #1)

Her internal retort was half-hearted. She knew that she had to keep moving. Just a few more seconds…


Something rustled in the woods beyond where she lay. She turned toward the sound, just as a man stepped into the open.

“No,” she groaned, but her plea was as futile as everything else she had tried.

She didn’t recognize the man, but there was no mistaking the pistol in his hand or his intent when he aimed it at her heart. He did not fire, however. Instead, he held something close to his mouth—a cell phone or walkie-talkie—and spoke. “This is Trace. I found her.”

There was a brief pause, and then a disembodied voice—Cort’s voice—issued from the handset. “You know what to do.”





53



10:58 a.m.



Trace’s expression reminded Jenna of how Zack had regarded her in the Everglades, just before—

I stabbed him in the eye.

—he tried to kill her. There was no grin of triumph, no exultation of sadistic bloodlust. Just a grim mask of resolve to perform an unpleasant task for the greater good, like cleaning up a toxic waste spill or putting out a brushfire.

You are dangerous.

He brought his gun up with a determined brusqueness. She could almost read his thoughts: Make it quick. Don’t let her distract you. She’ll kill you if she gets the chance.

Jenna doubted very much that she was physically capable of killing him. Just trying to speak left her on the verge of collapse. “How…did you find me?”

No real mystery there. The drainage system was probably a matter of public record. One phone call, and Cort would have known where she would end up. After that, it would have been a simple matter to intercept her on the river. She did not need an explanation. She just needed to make him realize that if he pulled the trigger, he would be killing a real human being. Trace showed no indication that he had even heard her.

You have to live.

How?

Flight? Impossible. She wasn’t sure she could muster the strength to stand, much less make a dash for the tree line, and even if she could manage that, Trace was so close, she wouldn’t get two steps.

Fight?

With what?

She closed her right hand over a smooth river stone the size of her fist. She could throw it. Even if she didn’t put him out of commission, it might buy her a second or two to run.

And then what?

Her inner voice had no advice to give, but to her surprise, Noah’s advice came to her. Your gut reaction to a threat will be to either run away, as fast as you can, or to blow through it head on… But a lot of times, those are the worst choices you could make. You might make a bad situation even worse, or you might miss out on an opportunity.

Opportunity?

She had just seconds to live, and she had already tried and failed to engage Trace. No doubt he had been skilled in the same arts of manipulation that Noah had taught her. What did that leave?

“I saw the signal!” she blurted. “The alien transmission. I know what it says.”

Trace’s expression did not change, but he did not fire.

“You guys are wrong if you think it’s from Earth. It’s not. I know who sent it and why. And I’m the only person who can tell you what it says. Kill me, and you’ll never be able to stop what’s coming.”

Trace remained statue still for several more seconds.

This isn’t working. Jenna curled her fist tighter on the rock. She would only get one chance, and even if she managed to connect, he would still get a shot off. I need to turn sideways, make myself less of a target, keep my vital areas protected…

Trace raised the radio unit once more. “This is Trace. I think you should hear what the girl has to say.”





54



11:05 a.m.



“Get up,” Trace snarled, giving himself plenty of room in case she tried anything. Not that she had any intention of doing so. After Trace had reported her words to Cort, he had been advised to bring her back to the observatory, and that meant Cort was willing to hear what she had to say.

Opportunity.

She got to hands and knees, but when she tried to stand up, a wave of vertigo forced her back down. “I don’t think I can,” she said.

“You’d better. The only way you’re getting out of here alive is on your feet.”

She didn’t think he was exaggerating. Grinding her teeth, she managed to stand. Once again, the world started spinning, so she staggered toward the woods. Ignoring Trace’s shouts, she threw her arms around the nearest tree and hugged it until the sensation passed.

She made her way from tree to tree, following a path that led up to a rural road, where another agent waited at a parked car. Trace directed Jenna to sit in the back then slid in beside her.