After successfully barreling our way through the demons that had tried to cut off our escape, Jack drove as fast as he dared. Once again, we were trying to catch up with the convoy of evacuees from Pump Station 4. Thankfully, the gravel road was relatively smooth, having been recently resurfaced, and there were no major potholes or washboarding to shake the fillings from our teeth. We ate our cheeseburgers and fries as we drove along, making excellent time and often hitting sixty on the straight stretches. More importantly, we saw no sign of demons as we practically flew down the Dalton.
Twenty miles south of Coldfoot, we topped a rise and started down the long decline into the flat valley of the South Fork of the Koyukuk River. Near the bottom, the stands of slender black spruce gave way
