The laminar wind is gliding over the highway like a crisp sheet being stripped from a bed, and Randy’s finding it hard to keep the Acura on the pavement. The wind isn’t strong enough to blow the car around, but it obscures the edges of the road; all he can see is this white, striated plane sliding laterally beneath him. His eye tells him to steer into it, which would be a bad idea since it would take him and Amy straight into the lava fields. He tries to focus on a distant point: the white diamond of Mount Rainier, a couple of hundred kilometers west.