Sly hit the beach at thirty knots. They roared up over the sand and flattened a row of low bushes. Recon had said no barriers over three feet in height along their route, which had better be true. He could clear four feet, but anything more and he was likely to high-center on it and finish out his life as a teeter-totter.
“Left on the Boulevard de France.”
“Roger that,” Sly turned onto the two-lane highway that followed the shoreline. The shoulders were dotted with widely spaced palms. Even with his elevated view from the control cockpit he still couldn’t see many lights to either side. Whatever troubles this city was having today, the electricity had clearly been one of the early victims.
“After that, the second turn will be coming up on your right.”
Tom was playing it perfectly, goo
