The truck's wipers couldn't keep pace with the rain.
Killian had them on the highest setting they went, and still the windshield blurred faster than the blades could clear it, the headlights carving two weak, useless cones through a downpour so thick it turned every streetlight into a smeared halo and swallowed anything more than thirty feet ahead entirely. The road itself was still passable — slick, running with shallow sheets of water along the gutters, but passable — though the sheer volume of rain made every intersection feel like driving blind.
"This is worse than I thought it'd be," Kai said from the back seat, voice pitched to carry over the drumming on the roof. "And I'd already thought it'd be bad."
"It's going to get worse before it gets better," Erik said, watching water stream off an awning ahead in a solid, unbroken curtain. "This isn't even the flooding yet. This is just the start of it."
