chapter II
WHATEVER THAT WAS, IT was pretty big. Did I even see what I think I saw? Rawlins wondered to himself.
Hammer down. Triple digits in the rain.
He wished he had time to call in the pursuit. But he was gonna bag this little teenaged miscreant in just a few, and then he’d call it in. They wouldn’t be able to get very far with a damaged vehicle.
He reached over and switched on the lights. There was something magical about those flashing lights. What a rush.
Michael wanted to ease Airel’s mind a little, but deep down he knew that this might very well be their end, on this road, tonight.
It was wet, water stood on the road in the ruts. He put one set of tires on the double yellow, the high ground, as the speedo swept well past 120. What did Kreios install under the hood of this thing?
A train snaked along in the night not far away; he could see its lights stabbing steady through the night in his rearview mirror. It was a peaceful counterpoint to the thrashed chaos in which he felt immersed.
There were no other cars on the road except their relentless tail. It had been hours since he’d seen anything but that stupid pair of headlights. He knew he was right to be suspicious of that car. But he could never have guessed what would happen. Why hadn’t he done something? But what?
It was hard to see through the windshield, especially with the broken headlight on his side.
“What did we hit?” Kim sounded worried. “Are you sure it wasn’t just a deer or something?”
Michael didn’t answer her. He didn’t want to.
Airel turned and gave Kim a look that said it all anyway. It was a look that said, we’re in big fat trouble, girl.
Just ahead, the road peaked in a gentle rise that Michael thought could pose problems at this speed if they caught too much air. Plus there was a spray of light blooming up from beyond it: oncoming traffic. He backed off the accelerator and coasted a bit, moving back into his lane.
It got brighter, closer.
He slowed still more, easing the brakes, down to 80.
It was a truck. A big one. Michael could see the orange clearance lights on its roof break just on the other side of the rise, and he braced for the brightness of the headlights that would follow.
Then a massive black shape, as big as a house, fell from the sky on the crest of the hill right in the middle of the road. It hit with such force that the asphalt split and cracked asunder. Shards of rubble ejected from the impact, flying in every direction.
They were too close to avoid it, he could see that; and for the briefest of moments, the strategy of the enemy impressed him.
Brilliant.
The oncoming truck could do even less than Michael could do. It slammed hard into the massive demonic blackness and shredded itself, smashed from radiator grille to mud flaps. Jackknifed. Its cargo, coming around and revealed now in the single pitiful headlight—three enormous old growth redwood logs—began to tip and disengage.
There was no time. “Airel, brace!”
There was nowhere to go.
Michael stood on the brakes, but they were carrying too much speed and closing on the wreck too fast.
Weirdly lit by the feeble headlight, large wings opened out and up, then swept powerfully down, launching the demon into the air, leaving them to collide with the four-foot-thick logs now skidding across the road on the remains of the trailer.
Compounding everything, the FBI vehicle—a Crown Victoria—crashed into the back of the SUV. It nosed up under the back bumper, pushing it up and forward.
The SUV, nose down, crashed into the logs head on, crumpling the front. The inertia of the car under and behind pushed the back of the SUV up and over, flipping it, catapulting it over most of the wreckage. The SUV went flying end over end as the FBI car smashed into the logs, which had far more mass and force than the car. They rolled over the entire thing, crushing the car like a pop can.
Michael could see Airel’s face as they became airborne. It was the strangest look of determination intermingled with utter peace—as if she saw the situation for what it was, as if she knew all possible outcomes.
But how could that be?
She moved toward him and took him by the arm, ripping his seatbelt off him with her free hand. The vehicle rotated in the air around them, back to front, as she pulled him to her and enwrapped him within her embrace, holding his head tight to her chest as a mother would hold a child, the strength of her arms like a vise, irresistible. Michael returned the gesture, drawing his legs in tight under her, wrapping his arms around her, trying to curl them into a ball.
The power of the crash, the centrifugal forces involved, flung whatever was loose inside the SUV out through the back and front windows. Luggage and debris flew out the back. And as they came around, Michael could feel the force of the rotation pulling him toward the broken windshield.
What am I doing, I couldn’t help thinking. I knew the front of the SUV’s roof structure was going to collapse in on us and kill us when we landed. There was no time to think, no time to wonder if Kim or Ellie would live. There was just Michael. I tore free of my seat belt, pushed out of it, and grabbed Michael, wrapping him up.
His seat belt was like paper in my hands as I ripped it off him. I could feel a new surge of energy pulse through my body as we slammed through the glass of the windshield. It gave way with a loud pop, shattering. There was nothing but open space, water, and glass raining down, up, sideways.
We were flying for a moment as the force of the vehicle propelled us through the air, but it was short lived.
My back made contact with the shoulder of the road, gravel ripping my clothes to ribbons. I could feel immense pressure, hear the shivering noise of massive logs splintering in the distance, the sounds of flying metal, dirt, rocks.
Fire.
Then everything went black.