Engines roared as the evacuation convoy from Narnia Town fled desperately westward.
They struggled through a road network formed by paths linking the farms, eventually reaching an east-west gravel highway, an artery of land transport used every harvest season to carry grain to Dunwich by freight train.
They passed irrigation canals and broad basins planted in neat rows of growing crops, leaving a four-kilometer trail of dust along the dry white road.
Then the torrential rain caught up with them again.
Black rain washed away the dust. The wet road reflected the light until their wheels sent sheets of water splashing up.
To their south, the blue sky looked somewhat pale.
To the north, however, lay an asphalt-like, greasy darkness. A massive swirling, expanding black cloud blotted out the light.
Feilin was checking the drum magazine on his machine gun again. Felix held the steering wheel with one hand while drawing his pistol with the other and tossing it to Feilin.
"Check this."
he ordered.
"And my rifle."
The wipers scraped furiously across the windshield. As the gale swept through, standing water on the road was whipped into the air like ocean spray.
Felix tried not to notice the black fluid striking the windshield, collecting on his wipers like pus, and constantly writhing.
Through the curtain of rain, he saw the truck ahead suddenly light up its brake lamps, so he immediately slammed on the brakes as well.
The truck skidded violently across the slick ground.
"Whoa, whoa! Ahead! Ahead! We're going to crash!"
Feilin cried out, while Felix clung tightly to the steering wheel.
At last, they came to a difficult stop, though they still knocked off the rear bumper of the truck ahead.
"This damned rain! My vehicle stalled!"
"I think I heard Orks!"
"Where's the officer!? Officer!