Read Online Core Punch by Pauline Baird Jones - Free Book Online Page B

that question was probably a yes. Weren’t people supposed to go deep in near-death situations? See their life pass before their eyes? That hers hadn’t, was that a good thing or further indication of extreme shallowness? Should she add “try to be deeper” to her bucket list?
    â€œI wonder if there were lower transit lanes when this freeway existed here?” Joe asked.
    Since she was only other person in the skimmer, she considered the question. “Seems likely they’d need them and places to get on and off. It was elevated—my Grand Paw Paw called it the high rise—hence all the piles of debris when they collapsed. We don’t need anything like that up top, so they didn’t replicate that.” Or they had and eliminated them at some point? She tried to visualize this part of the upper city. “It’s possible we could follow along 1-10. Of course—” She decided not to say it, though she couldn’t stop herself thinking it. It might not be as “clear” as a former city street would have been, back in the day. “We’d have to go right sooner than we planned.”
    Joe’s attention turned outward again. “A right turn will involve a period of going across the wind, and when we turn west again, there will be a tail wind.”
    That might be helpful. Or not. The prospect of being blown out of the state was not as terrifying as it had been. It all depended on the landing…
    â€œThe current feeder band should get past us at some point,” she offered with more hope than certainty. It would lessen some of the crapeau , but whether it would happen at a time helpful to them, well, that was the debatable part. If she was remembering her recent weather lessons correctly, this close to the eye wall the rain might lessen but the wind would get—something? Even if it got better, would it get better enough for them? She should have paid more attention. Her whole life.
    It was also possible that they could cross into a more intense feeder band without even knowing it. The radar was almost solid now, if it was accurate. Each band would provide its own challenges and varying wind speeds. She scrolled up. Though there were gaps by the airport—maybe. If they could hit a gap—and they had the fuel reserves—they could make a dash for the surface. Let someone else come down for the idiots, preferably in something that wasn’t a barely flying piece of crapeau .
    â€œThen we will turn right.” Joe spoke with decision, sparing her a quick reassuring smile.
    She managed a smile that felt wan. Probably was. It did seem indicated. “How do we do this? How do we look for the break—” They only had two sets of eyes between them. His needed to watch for hazards forward. Hers had a bunch of crapeau to keep track of, including their drift factor, though calling it drift in a high wind felt like a serious understatement.
    â€œYou will have to watch for a break,” he said. “I will go slower, so you can monitor our forward progress, too.”
    Hard to imagine going slower, but, “Okay.”
    It was actually hard to wrench her attention off the screens. They were terrifying, but not nearly as bad as the view out the front of the skimmer.
    â€œLet’s do this.” The rain made thick distorting tracks down the view screen. But she found that if she looked past it, she could kind of make out the outlines of things. Not good things, and not very well, but things. Trees bent almost to the flood waters by the force of the wind. The broken blocks of old freeway against a barely discernible horizon, all looking interrupted by flashes of lightning. She wasn’t sure if the lightning helped or hurt. She lost her night vision with each flash, even though her chronometer claimed it was late afternoon. So technically she lost her afternoon vision….
    He began to ease the skimmer into its turn, his hands