"Let's go," Sarah said.
Evans stepped on the gas, turned, and drove into the forest--heading back the way they had come. Behind them, the burning building had been put out by the rain. It was now a smoldering wreck, hissing clouds of steam.
The blue pickup drove past the building without a pause. And came down the road after them.
Kenner turned, and came back toward the eighteen-wheeler. The men were standing there, holding the firing box. One had a pistol out, and began firing at Kenner. Kenner accelerated hard, driving straight at them. He hit the man with the pistol. His body was thrown into the air, over the top of the SUV. The second man had somehow gotten away. Kenner spun the wheel.
As he came back he saw the man he had hit staggering to his feet in the grass. The other man was nowhere to be seen. The staggering man raised his gun just as Kenner hit him again. He went down, and the SUV bounced over his body. Kenner was looking for the other man--the man with the firing box.
He didn't see him anywhere.
He spun the wheel. There was only one place the man could have gone.
Kenner drove straight for the truck.
Sanjong was waiting in the grass when he heard the sound of a truck engine. His view was blocked by his own crashed SUV. The truck was behind the SUV. He heard someone put it into gear, backing up.
Sanjong got to his feet and began to run. A bullet whined past him. He dropped to the ground again.
They had left someone in the house.
He stayed low in the grass, and crawled forward, heading for the truck. Bullets snapped in the grass all around him. Somehow they had his position, even in the grass. That meant...
He twisted, turning to face the house. He wiped the rain out of his eyes and looked through the sights of his rifle.
The guy was on the roof of the cabin. Barely visible, except when he rose up to fire.
Sanjong fired just below the roofline. He knew the bullet would pass right through the wood. He didn't see the man again. But the man's rifle slid down the roof as Sanjong watched.
He got to his feet and ran toward the truck, but it was already driving away, heading out from the clearing, a pair of red taillights in the rain, disappearing onto the main road.
Kenner was out of his SUV, and on the ground. He could see the last guy, a silhouette under the big eighteen-wheeler.
"Don't shoot me, don't shoot me!" the guy was yelling.
"Come out slowly, with your hands empty," Kenner shouted. "I want to see your hands."
"Just don't shoot..."
"Come out. Real slow and--"
A sudden burst of machine gun fire. The wet grass around him snapped.
Kenner pressed his face into the wet earth, and waited.
"Go faster!" Sarah said, looking over her shoulder.
Their SUV bounced in the mud, headlights jumping wildly.
"I don't think I can..." Evans said.
"They're gaining!" she said. "You have to go faster!"
They were almost out of the forest. Evans could see the highway just a few dozen yards ahead. He remembered that the last section of the dirt track was less eroded, and he accelerated, heading there.
And came out onto the highway, going south.
"What are you doing?" Sarah said. "We have to go to the rocket field."
"It's too late now," he said. "We're going back to the park."
"But we promised Kenner--"
"It's too late," he said. "Look at the storm. It's already full blown. We have to get back to help those families in the park."
He turned the windshield wipers on full force, and raced down the road in the storm.
Behind them, the pickup truck turned and followed them.
Trooper Miguel Rodriguez had been watching the waterfall. An hour ago, it had been a clear mist, coming over the cliff 's edge. Now it was tinged with brown, and it had more volume. The river, too, was starting to rise. It was flowing faster, and beginning to turn a muddy brown.
But it was still not raining at the park. The air had turned distinctly humid, and there had been scattered raindrops for a few minutes, but then the rain had stopped. A few families had abandoned their barbecues. A half-dozen more were packing up their cars in anticipation of the coming storm. But most had chosen to ignore it. The school principal was walking among the picnickers, telling people the weather would pass, urging everyone to stay.
Rodriguez was edgy. He tugged at his uniform collar, uncomfortable in the dampness. He paced back and forth beside his open car door. He heard the police radio announce flash flood warnings for Clayton County, which was where McKinley Park was located. He didn't want to wait any longer, but still he hesitated.
He couldn't understand why Kenner hadn't called him. The park was located in a canyon, and there was every sign of a potential flash flood. Rodriguez had lived in northern Arizona his whole life. He knew he should clear the park now.
Why hadn't Kenner called?
He drummed his fingers on the door of the car.
He decided to give it five more minutes.