Page 163 of The Island

She slid her legs back into the seat and fought to bring the Porsche level.

The car landed with a heavy clump.

Her foot found the gas pedal.

The Porsche began to accelerate. Kate was still behind her but the Toyota’s windshield was cracking.

“Gotta smash that glass somehow,” Heather muttered.

“What about this?” Olivia asked, lifting The Complete Stories and Plays of Anton Chekhov from the floor.

“Go for it!” Heather said. Olivia switched the book to her left softball-pitching arm, took aim, and tossed the heavy hardback Tom had lugged all the way from Seattle.

It curved across the excited air like a tiercel on its killing parabola and hit the corner of the windshield, shattering it.

“Yes!” Olivia said.

The Toyota veered chaotically as Kate punched out the frozen glass.

Heather slowed and drove them along the beach, looking for the causeway they’d read about. The causeway that appeared only at the lowest of low tides, with the new moon and the full moon.

Where was it?

Where was it?

Where—

There. A little line under the water that went from Dutch Island to the mainland.

She accelerated the Porsche into the sea and pulled the lever that activated the snorkel.

She reached the causeway no one knew about except the two kids.

“We’re in the sea!” Owen said.

The causeway was about a foot underwater.

She wasn’t sure what to expect and was alarmed when the Porsche began filling with seawater.

Water sloshed around their feet.

The Toyota was still following them.

Olivia and Owen got off the floor as the water got deeper.

The whole car was swimming. She checked the mirror.

They were halfway across.

The Porsche’s snorkel was working well.

The current lifted them and began to carry them.

The current set them down again.

“Shit!”

The wheels lost their grip and gained their grip.

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