The terrain grew rougher as they climbed. Rocks, fallen tree limbs, thick bushes. Jon was tense, checking their position constantly on the map. Then Jon glanced at the GPS and relaxed.
“Okay. We have a series of tiny EMP sources ringing the mountain, releasing when any electronic device crosses a waypoint. It will kill any engine with electronics.” He smiled at some memory. “Killed Catherine’s little purple eCar stone dead. Mac went down to get her and threw her over his shoulder.”
“That sounds like caveman tactics.”
He shrugged one broad shoulder. “Worked, though. They’re expecting a kid. Some time in October.”
Sophie gasped. “Dr. Young—Catherine is pregnant? Isn’t that dangerous right now?”
“It was dangerous when she conceived because we had the entire US government looking for us, Mac top of the list. Doubly dangerous now. Danger hasn’t ever stopped people from having kids. Life goes on.”
Life goes on. Indeed it did, she thought. Children. Well, she’d been talking about rebuilding. You can’t rebuild without a next generation.
God, maybe they would already have begun rebuilding by the time Catherine’s child was born.
Jon wrenched the wheel again. “From now on, there will not be, there cannot be, any vehicles on the road. They were all killed dead half a mile back. Our vehicles have transponders in them so the sensors know not to emit the pulse. My scanner has been reconfigured to act as a transponder. So right now we’re making our way to the road that will lead us straight to Haven.”
He tapped his left wrist and glanced at her, ice blue eyes flashing light. That paleness beneath the tan had disappeared, as had the lines of tension.
“Yeah,” he said suddenly, tapping his ear, straightening in his seat. “You’ve got our bearings, right? I’m heading toward the road. Turn off all the traps, for God’s sake. We’re friendlies.” He grinned. “Roger that. ETA?” He slanted her another glance. “About twenty minutes. Prepare us some food because we’re hungry and thirsty and tired. Tell Stella to get her game on. Out.”
Food. Good food, apparently. Shower and a bed. Sophie was still mulling that over when with acrack!the world exploded.
The Lynx smashed its way downhill, rolling over and over. The harness kept her in place but her head beat hard against the window as the vehicle landed again and again on the passenger side, then continued its roll. It was like being in the spin cycle of a washing machine, almost without gravity, completely out of control. A particularly vicious landing against something hard almost cracked her door open. She felt a sharp pain in her wrist and cried out.
It seemed to last forever but suddenly they stopped, crashing up against a huge tree. Sophie banged her head against the window again and everything went black…
Noise. Shaking. Something was shaking her, but from a distance, as if on a different far-away planet. And screaming.
They were upside down and she was dangling heavily from the harness. Her head was spinning and her wrist hurt.
“Sophie!” Jon shook her again and she realized he’d been shaking her and shouting for the past few minutes. “Talk to me, dammit! Are you okay?”
Yes. I think.But the words wouldn’t leave her mouth. She turned her head to see Jon draw a big black knife and before she had time to wonder what he was doing, he cut himself out of the harness, landing on the roof of the vehicle. An instant later, he was at the passenger door, trying to wrench it open, but it had buckled. He ran around the other side, cut her harness from the driver’s side and pulled her out.
“Sophie! Can you hear me?”
She licked dry, parched lips. She hurt all over, particularly her head and her wrist. “Yes.” The word came out a dry croak. She coughed and immediately a canteen was at her mouth.
“Drink,” Jon ordered.
She did. The water went down like a dream. “Thanks.”
“Listen, honey. I have to know if you have any injuries. Are you bleeding anywhere?”
She shook her head.
“Anything hurt?”
She nodded, pointed to her head, held up her wrist. As if from far away she noticed it was oddly shaped, like someone had pitched a tent under her skin, which was rapidly turning a dark blue.
“Fuck. Wrist broken.” He shined a light in her eyes, holding her chin so she couldn’t look away and avoid the painful light. “And mild concussion.” There followed a string of words in several languages which couldn’t have been nice words.
So she was concussed. That was why she was seeing double and couldn’t seem to coordinate her movements. And a broken wrist. It didn’t hurt, adrenaline was masking the pain.
“You fuckheads!” he screamed. Was he talking to her? But there was only one of her. Pain and awareness crept in, in equal measure. As her wrist began throbbing she took stock of the situation. Jon was shouting into his wrist comms unit. “You forgot to switch off the mini-EDs you fucks! What the fuck were you thinking? You fucking nearly killed Sophie!”
His distress was visible, certainly perceptible to her. Without thinking, she placed her hand over his. He was trembling, sweating, eyes so wide the whites were clear all around the pupils. He was hurting, he radiated pain and anxiety.
