too high, being tangled in rope was the last thing anyone would need—it could shave the slimmest chance of survival down to none.
“It shouldn’t be as bad,” Isis said over a rising whine of gale winds. “Bad as the eye-wall winds are, they don’t have time or space to build a really wicked surge.”
Then the wind hit like a hammer.
It was as if a vacuum was sucking the very breath from Krysty’s lungs. She battled to breathe as the wind beat at her face with the bruising impact of fists. She groped blindly, found Ryan’s strong grip with one hand and Mildred’s with the other.
It was bad. Worse than before. Their mad whirling trip across the storm-surge wave had terrified Krysty, but it had also distracted from the wind’s brutal impact.
And they had ridden above the water, at least. The winds of the eye wall, which had to have greatly exceeded a hundred miles an hour, didn’t create a second tsunami-like surge. But they did drive the waters ahead of them, piling the salt waters of the Gulf on the “fresh” water of the river, driving all in front of them with the force of a great pump.
The tea-colored water frothed yellow and rose around them. It felt as warm as blood as it lapped against Krysty’s legs.
“Forget me, girl!” Mildred hollered. “Grab a piece of tree!”
The sturdily built black woman followed her own advice. Ryan caught Jak by the hair as a sudden rush of green water knocked the youth off his feet, and dragged him to where he could clutch another bole like a half-drowned kitten. Not far away J.B. and Doc stood on opposite sides of the same bole, hanging on as if holding the tree up.
Krysty saw animals whirl around them on the raging river. Snakes wriggled. A beaver tumbled over and over, slapping the water with its broad tail in a desperate attempt to right itself and regain control. Alligators were launched against what was usually the bayou flow like dark brown lumpy torpedoes. Off in the distance, largely obscured by the rain that suddenly fell in gray sheets, Krysty saw a vast dark shape fighting the water that swept it along. It might have been a bear, but she had a crazy impression it sported a short horn from its flat, broad head.
The Tech-nomads raised a clamor like frightened shore birds. Krysty looked around to see Freebo’s door whirled away. Isis made a one-handed grab and fell on her face with a mighty splash. Jammer dived after her, grabbing her by her long, slim legs. Both were reeled back to safety by their surviving comrades.
The storm seemed more savage than before. Krysty had to press her face against the rough bole of the cypress tree to protect her eyes from raindrops that stung like hail and random bits of debris propelled by the awful wind. The wind beat on her shoulders and back and head like hard fists. She clung with all her strength to keep from being ripped away, and could only pray to the Earth Mother that if one of her companions was torn loose, she’d learn of it in time to help.
The water rose to midthigh and began to recede again. The wind continued to scream. Its efforts to pluck Krysty loose from her hold diminished, though she still had to hold on hard. Relief flooded her like mother’s love. The eye wall had passed us by!
Then the sound of human voices screaming nearby forced her to expose her face to the wind and open her emerald eyes. A squat dough-colored shape had a struggling Isis gripped in arms like huge uncooked sausages. The Tech-nomad thrashed furiously in its grip, unable to break free, trying to reach behind her with her one good hand to get a thumb in her attacker’s eye.
“Swampies!” Krysty shouted.
Jammer threw himself on the mutie. Both were a good head shorter than Isis, but the swampie was so broad it likely outweighed both the humans together and more besides. Jammer stabbed furiously with a hunting knife at the arm pinioning his captain. Blood spurted black in the gloom. From somewhere another swampie appeared
“It shouldn’t be as bad,” Isis said over a rising whine of gale winds. “Bad as the eye-wall winds are, they don’t have time or space to build a really wicked surge.”
Then the wind hit like a hammer.
It was as if a vacuum was sucking the very breath from Krysty’s lungs. She battled to breathe as the wind beat at her face with the bruising impact of fists. She groped blindly, found Ryan’s strong grip with one hand and Mildred’s with the other.
It was bad. Worse than before. Their mad whirling trip across the storm-surge wave had terrified Krysty, but it had also distracted from the wind’s brutal impact.
And they had ridden above the water, at least. The winds of the eye wall, which had to have greatly exceeded a hundred miles an hour, didn’t create a second tsunami-like surge. But they did drive the waters ahead of them, piling the salt waters of the Gulf on the “fresh” water of the river, driving all in front of them with the force of a great pump.
The tea-colored water frothed yellow and rose around them. It felt as warm as blood as it lapped against Krysty’s legs.
“Forget me, girl!” Mildred hollered. “Grab a piece of tree!”
The sturdily built black woman followed her own advice. Ryan caught Jak by the hair as a sudden rush of green water knocked the youth off his feet, and dragged him to where he could clutch another bole like a half-drowned kitten. Not far away J.B. and Doc stood on opposite sides of the same bole, hanging on as if holding the tree up.
Krysty saw animals whirl around them on the raging river. Snakes wriggled. A beaver tumbled over and over, slapping the water with its broad tail in a desperate attempt to right itself and regain control. Alligators were launched against what was usually the bayou flow like dark brown lumpy torpedoes. Off in the distance, largely obscured by the rain that suddenly fell in gray sheets, Krysty saw a vast dark shape fighting the water that swept it along. It might have been a bear, but she had a crazy impression it sported a short horn from its flat, broad head.
The Tech-nomads raised a clamor like frightened shore birds. Krysty looked around to see Freebo’s door whirled away. Isis made a one-handed grab and fell on her face with a mighty splash. Jammer dived after her, grabbing her by her long, slim legs. Both were reeled back to safety by their surviving comrades.
The storm seemed more savage than before. Krysty had to press her face against the rough bole of the cypress tree to protect her eyes from raindrops that stung like hail and random bits of debris propelled by the awful wind. The wind beat on her shoulders and back and head like hard fists. She clung with all her strength to keep from being ripped away, and could only pray to the Earth Mother that if one of her companions was torn loose, she’d learn of it in time to help.
The water rose to midthigh and began to recede again. The wind continued to scream. Its efforts to pluck Krysty loose from her hold diminished, though she still had to hold on hard. Relief flooded her like mother’s love. The eye wall had passed us by!
Then the sound of human voices screaming nearby forced her to expose her face to the wind and open her emerald eyes. A squat dough-colored shape had a struggling Isis gripped in arms like huge uncooked sausages. The Tech-nomad thrashed furiously in its grip, unable to break free, trying to reach behind her with her one good hand to get a thumb in her attacker’s eye.
“Swampies!” Krysty shouted.
Jammer threw himself on the mutie. Both were a good head shorter than Isis, but the swampie was so broad it likely outweighed both the humans together and more besides. Jammer stabbed furiously with a hunting knife at the arm pinioning his captain. Blood spurted black in the gloom. From somewhere another swampie appeared
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