The coyote tapped something into the car’s MI system and set it on autonomous. They accelerated, the Dyson engine’s whine contrasting with the ancient burble of the land car. The rail lights blurred together to form a thin red line, which the Homeland Security vehicle tracked like an arrow. The acceleration pushed her hard into the seat’s thin padding, her spine compressing. A whistling roar grew behind her, then moved underneath. The train’s pressure wave tossed the car around as if it was a scrap of paper; it was far larger than she imagined, the metal tube a solid blur as its shockwave started a series of earth slides into the concrete canyon.