Deluge (The Best Thrillers Book 2) by James Best (top romance novels txt) 📗

a fountain with water cascading into it from every side: Sierras to the east, the coastal ranges to the west, and lower mountains to the north and south. The biggest problem is the Sierras. Not only do they compose a larger land mass slopping toward the valley, but melting the winter snowpack adds volumes to the rainfall we are now getting.”

“How deep?” Baldwin urged. “Do you know what happened in this spot back in 1862?”

“Not precisely. During the Great Flood, water covered six thousand square miles, and depth varied from a foot to thirty feet.” Ashley looked like he might cry. “This storm looks worse than 1862, and we are sitting at a low point in the pathway of this water seeking the ocean.”

“Crap!” Smith exclaimed.

“Jon’s right,” Wilson said. “The elevation of Davis is 54 feet above sea level, and Vacaville is 174 feet. We’re between, in a trough … but if we can move, we’ll be heading uphill.”

“And then?” Baldwin asked.

“Back downhill. Fairfield, the next city, is only 13 feet above sea level.”

“But we’ll be safe, right?” Baldwin said. “We’ll have Vacaville at out back, blocking the flow of water.”

No!” Ashley exclaimed. “Water runs inexorably downhill. It will simply go around Vacaville, possibly turning the city into an island.”

“Okay, then we stay in Vacaville,” Baldwin said, with more hope than conviction.

“Are you daft?” Ashley screeched. “Can you not see we are stuck? Vacaville is over ten miles away. We’re going to drown right where we stand.”

“Maybe not,” Smith said.

His voice was quiet, contemplative. He appeared to be thinking, so no one interrupted him. They wanted—needed—to hear about a way out of their predicament. Smith was the survivalist. He claimed to have challenged the elements many times and always came out the winner. Baldwin felt hopeful he could find a way out of this mess.

Eventually, he spoke. “I going to nudge that jerk out of the way.”

“What?” Baldwin exclaimed.

He pointed out the windshield. “That asshole in front of us. I can put him in the drink. Just ’cuz he can’t handle this shoulder doesn’t give him the right to block us.”

“That’s your plan?” Baldwin said.

“That’s my plan.”

“No!” Baldwin said. “You can’t just knock people out of the way to save yourself.”

“Sure I can. The next time he inches forward, I’ll lag behind, and when I get enough room, I’ll hit a glancing blow on his left fender to force him off the road. Piece of cake.”

“I wasn’t talking about the mechanics,” Baldwin said.

“I know.” He didn’t elaborate.

At that moment, the rent-a-truck pulled forward.

“Do it!” Ashley shouted.

“No!” both women shouted.

“Been thinking on it. Humans have a right to self-preservation. But not the right to take another life to save themselves. Unsportsmanlike. So, what to do?” He smiled at Baldwin. “Give him fair warning.”

Before anyone could question him further, he threw open the SUV door and stepped into the downpour, shrugging on his all-weather parka. Without comment, the three of them watched Smith splash toward the driver’s door. Evidently, the U-Haul driver refused to open his window, because Smith had to pantomime knocking him into the water. They heard him yell, “Fair warning.” As he turned toward the Land Cruiser, the window must have slid down, because Smith turned back to the truck. After a brief exchange of words, Smith returned and bounced into the driver’s seat with a jolliness that broadcast his victory in the test of wills.

“As soon as he gets space, he’ll move back onto the highway,” Smith said.

“Well done,” exclaimed Ashley.

“Thank goodness,” Baldwin said.

“Goodness had nothing to do with it.” Smith looked unusually pleased with himself. “Meanness won the day.”

“You were bluffing, right?” Wilson asked.

He turned to smile at her. “I’ll never tell.”

Baldwin laughed. “Damn you … and your king-of-the-jungle mentality.”

The smile vanished from Smith’s face. “Tonight, that king-of-the-jungle mentality is all around you. It’s going to get stronger as the elements get worse. Make no mistake … this,” he waved his arm around, “will get down to survival of the fittest. When death is at your doorstep, it always does. So, grow a pair, princess. You’re going to need them.”

Baldwin seethed. When she was young, she hung out with a DEA agent who had taught her to drive and shoot. He had also used her as a decoy in a drug bust that ended in a deadly shoot-out. When she’d met Evarts, the two of them had run for their lives from a crime syndicate. She and Evarts had survived gunfights, high-speed chases, and betrayal. Her parents had been murdered, and she had been captured, drugged, and tortured. And this superciliousness jerk told her to grow a pair.

“Tom, I don’t believe you have ever faced a real life or death situation. I have. Several times. People who survive don’t brag, they just thank god for the days that they wake up feeling safe. When you’ve actually been in a deadly situation, you don’t lecture others on bravery or steely nerves. So take your damned machismo bullshit and shove it up your ass.”

“What … what life or death situation have you experienced?” Smith asked, taken aback.

“I just told you, people who’ve successfully handled a genuine ordeal don’t talk about it. Now look forward. Your way is clear. Stop posturing and get us to Vacaville.”

Chapter 19

An unrelenting drizzle and klieg lights kept Hans Christian Andersen Park glistening. The boy’s family met them close to the park entrance. No one brought up his sister. Evarts’s oblique response about her whereabouts must have alerted Lopez, so he had prepared the family accordingly. After guiding them over to a park table under a tarp, the sheriff grabbed Evarts and O’Brian and pulled them aside. He wanted a complete report. His deputy who ran SAR joined them, and they asked numerous questions. After they finished, all four observed an undeclared moment of silence for the girl.

Then Lopez told his deputy, “George, put as many teams as you can muster on search and rescue. Get them out there and scour every piece