The 6th Extinction Read Online Free PDF

than the one she was following.
    Committed now, she pushed harder on the accelerator, testing the extremes of the truck’s four-wheel drive system. Finally the slope evened out again. Taking advantage, she sped recklessly around a bend in the trail, clearing a shoulder of the hill—only to have the beams of her headlights splash across an old rockslide that cut directly across the trail.
    She braked hard, but the pickup skidded on loose sand and rock. Her front bumper smashed into the closest boulder. The airbag deployed, slamming her in the face like a swinging bag of cement. It knocked the breath from her. Her head rang, but not loud enough for her to miss hearing the engine cough and die.
    As her eyes filled with pained tears, she tasted blood from a split lip. “Nikko . . .”
    The husky had kept his seat, looking no worse for the impact.
    “C’mon.”
    She shoved her door open and half fell out of her seat to the ground. She stood on shaky legs. The air smelled burnt and oily.
    Are we already too late?
    She turned toward the smoke and pictured the jackrabbit bounding out of that pall and writhing to death. She took a few steps—unsteady for sure, but not from poison. Simply dazed . Or at least she prayed that was the reason.
    “Just keep moving,” she ordered herself.
    Nikko joined her, dancing on his paws, his thick tail a waving flag of determination.
    Behind them, the solid wall of smoke had grown ragged and wispy-edged. Still, it continued to fall toward her like an engulfing wave. She knew she’d never outrun it on foot.
    She stared toward the top of the hill.
    Her only hope.
    She retrieved a flashlight from her truck and quickly headed upward. She picked a path through the rockslide, whistling for Nikko to stay close. Once through, she discovered a rolling meadow of bitterbrush and prickly phlox. The open terrain allowed her to move faster. She sprinted toward the crest of the hill, following the bouncing beam of her flashlight, climbing ever higher.
    But was the hill high enough?
    Gasping, she forced her legs to pump harder. Nikko raced silently alongside her, ignoring the occasional burst of a nesting sage sparrow or the bound of a black-tailed jackrabbit.
    At last they reached the summit. Only then did she risk a glance over her shoulder. She watched that towering wave of smoke break against the shoal of the tall hill and spread outward, filling the lower valleys all around, turning the hilltop into an island within a poisonous sea.
    But how long would this refuge remain safe?
    She fled farther away from that deadly shore, toward the highest crown of the hill. Near the top, sharp-edged silhouettes cut against the stars, marking the dilapidated remains of an old ghost town. She counted maybe a dozen barns and buildings. Gold-rush-era outposts like this dotted the local hills, most forgotten and unmapped—with the exception of the nearby town of Bodie, a larger ghost town that stood as the centerpiece of Bodie State Historic Park.
    Still, she hurried gladly toward that meager shelter, taking strength from the stubbornly standing walls and roofs. As she neared the closest structure, she pulled out her cell phone, hoping she was high enough to get a signal. With her truck’s radio drowned in that toxic sea, her cell phone was the only means of communication.
    With great relief, she noted a single glowing bar of signal strength.
    Not great, but I’m not complaining .
    She dialed the dispatch office. The line was quickly picked up by a breathless Bill Howard.
    Though the connection was dodgy, she heard the relief in her friend’s voice. “Jen, are you o . . . ay?”
    “I’m banged up little, but I’m okay.”
    “What’s . . . banged up?”
    She bit back her frustration at the reception. She tried speaking louder. “Listen, Bill. You’ve got trouble rolling your way.”
    She tried to explain about the explosion, but the spotty signal made communication difficult.
    “You need to evacuate Lee