She opened the door and leaned out into the rain.
“Michelle, wait,” said Sean.
“Point the lights to the right. Quick!”
She slammed the door shut, and Sean drove the vehicle back onto the road.
“Hit your brights,” she told him.
He did so. The lights swelled in intensity, letting them see farther in front of them with as much clarity as the darkness and rain would allow.
“There,” said Michelle, pointing to the right. “Go, go.”
Sean hit the gas and the Land Cruiser sped forward.
The person running down the right shoulder of the road looked back only once. But it was enough.
“It’s a kid,” said Sean in amazement.
“It’s a teenager,” corrected Michelle.
“Well, he was almost a dead teenager,” added Sean sternly.
“Sean, he’s got a gun.”
Sean leaned closer to the windshield and saw the weapon in the boy’s right hand. “This does not look good,” he said.
“He looks terrified.”
“He’s running in the middle of a thunderstorm with a metal object in his hand. He should be scared. And on top of that I almost hit him and then he wouldn’t be scared, just dead.”
“Get closer.”
“What?”
“Get closer.”
“Why would I do that? He’s got a gun, Michelle.”
“We have guns too. Just get closer.”
He sped up while Michelle rolled down the window.
A spear of lightning lit the sky with a billion-candlepower burst of energy followed by a crack of thunder so loud it sounded like a skyscraper imploding.
“Hey,” Michelle yelled at the boy. “Hey!”
The teen looked back again, his face whitewashed in the glare of the headlights.
“What happened?” yelled Michelle. “Are you okay?”
The boy’s answer was to point the gun at them. But he didn’t fire. He left the road and cut across a field, his feet slipping and sliding over the wet grass.
“I’m calling the cops,” said Sean.
“Just wait,” she replied. “Stop the truck.”
Sean slowed the Land Cruiser and pulled to a stop a few feet later.