Rain trickled down Chris's face through the holes in his mask, washing away the vomit. When he breathed, his chest no longer felt tight. His heart had stopped fluttering. He could open and focus his good eye.

The sky above was angry and low, pouring an endless shower of warm tropical rain. There was already standing water on the ground. Rising, rushing water. People were going down, swept off their feet by the ankle-high flood. If those Cretaceous climate models were right, ...