Deluge (The Best Thrillers Book 2) James Best (best e book reader .TXT) 📖

list of evacuees, while staying in radio contact with various teams to maintain the police roster. Evarts asked for the dispatcher, and a young woman sans uniform raised her hand. He told her she would be the central repository and told the admin officer to email her hourly updates to both rosters.

Next, he dispatched two squad cars with two officers each to patrol the town. They should question anyone found wandering the streets. If they found refugees from the flood, take them to the middle school. Order everyone else off the street. Keep arrests to a minimum.

Finally, he assigned three officers to hold down the fort, while he sent the others home or to a back room to get a nap. He would soon need fresh troops.

He noticed that all eyes looked over his shoulder at someone behind him. He turned, pleased to see Captain Standish. He had called her while touring the flood path to find that, due to his absence, she had worked late and had to do a turnover before driving up from Santa Barbara.

“Listen up, this is Captain Standish of the Santa Barbara Police Department.”

The officers around him chuckled. He looked at Standish for an explanation.

“We know each other,” Standish said with a shrug.

Evarts remembered that she lived in Lompoc, but before he could adjust her introduction, he heard someone in front say, “She’s our ringer for softball against the fire department.” More laughter. “The firefighters think she’s Lompoc police.”

“Well, you don’t need to lie anymore. I told you I was temporary chief. Very temporary. I was in charge only until Captain Standish could haul her butt up here. She’s your interim chief until we find Chief Ashworth … or this crisis abates.” He smiled. “Thanks for letting me help out. You’ve all been great. But after I brief Captain Standish, she’ll take over from here.”

He took her elbow and led her to the first open office. He was about to fill her in on the last hour, but she put up a hand to stop him from speaking.

She took a deep breath and said, “I heard this on the police band as I arrived. Sheriff Lopez has been murdered.”

Chapter 24

“Damn, we’ve got a problem.”

Everyone looked at Smith for an explanation.

“The water’s getting deeper,” Smith said. “I expected that because we’re coming down from Vacaville, but I think it’s more than a lower elevation. I think the water level’s rising fast.”

Baldwin looked out the window, but rain splatter made it difficult to see. She slid down the window and gasped. The water looked like it had risen to the bottom of the door. She examined the floorboard and saw no dampness. Close, but not to the seam yet. But if Smith was right, and they were descending into a rising pool of water, it wouldn’t be long before she got wet feet. That was not her major concern.

“How long before the truck stalls?” she asked.

“I don’t know. We’re coming into Fairfield, the low point at thirteen feet above sea level. Soon, we’ll start climbing to sixty-nine feet in Vallejo. It’s fifteen miles to Vallejo, but only about five until we start climbing instead of descending.” His next words confirmed his expression. “I’m worried.”

Baldwin felt isolated, alone. Cell and radio transmission had stopped again, so their only contact with the outside world came from national satellite radio channels. She looked at her watch. It was just past one in the morning. A power failure or equipment mishap had put out the street lights as well, so illumination came only from infrequent headlights. Since they’d left Vacaville, they’d seen few cars on the road. In truth, there had been no cars on the road, only a few high-axle vehicles driven by people like themselves who believed they had the equipment to make it to San Francisco. Foolish people, Baldwin thought.

“What’s your plan, outdoor man?” Wilson asked from the backseat.

After a long silence, Smith said, “See that semi up there? He’s throwing water to the side. If I can catch him, maybe I can draft behind him. Ride behind his wake. Whatever … you know what I mean.”

“And if we stall?” Wilson asked.

“We sit on our haunches with our feet up and watch the water rise. If it gets too high, we’ll sit on the roof until daybreak. By then, a boat or helicopter will whisk us to safety.”

“Then why wait?” Ashley said. “Catch up.”

Baldwin felt a slight acceleration. Smith added speed gradually but steadily. She glanced at the speedometer. It read around fifteen miles per hour. They didn’t seem to be gaining on the truck. Then she heard Smith counting under his breath, and she realized he restarted the count every time the truck passed an unlit light post. She began to listen intently.

They were closing. But slowly. The street lights were out, but she could see water exploding from either side of the semi. She slid her window down and saw a more modest replication from their own vehicle. That meant the bumper and grill had to be pushing water forward as well. If the water surged into the engine compartment and churned around inside, they were done. She slid the window back up, but not before her entire right side was drenched from the storm.

Baldwin didn’t look forward to sitting for hours on top of the Land Cruiser. Without conscious thought, she found herself following Smith’s example, counting out the distance between lampposts. Twelve. Eleven. Ten. Damn. Would they make it?

Suddenly, she screamed, “Cow!”

Smith hit the brakes. “Yipes!”

It wasn’t just one cow. A herd crossed the highway, with mud-encrusted pigs interspersed. Just when Baldwin thought it couldn’t get weirder, a deer head bobbed above the cows.

“Everybody wants out of Dodge,” Smith said. “This can’t be good.”

“Run them over,” Ashley said. “Get us out of here before we are trampled.”

“Jon, shut up,” Baldwin ordered. “You can’t just—”

“He’s right,” Smith said. “We sit here, we drown.”

“Those animals are huge,” Baldwin protested.

“That why they call these grill