The flying Vauxhall nose-dived into the stone wall of the old farmhouse with a tremendous roar. It hit with such force that the vehicle seemed to burst into pieces of shattered glass, busted chrome, twisted plastic, and crumpled metal. The trunk of the sedan flew upward upon impact, and for a moment it appeared that the Vauxhall might topple end over end, but the rear axle crashed back onto the ground with a loud boom. Flames, smoke, and steam poured from under the demolished front hood.
The car’s crumple zone, driver’s side air bag, and the driver’s seat belt had saved Storm’s life. But Nad had not been so fortunate. She had not bothered to put on her seat belt and Storm had flipped off the car’s passenger side air bags. Nad had not noticed and it had cost her her life.
The impact had launched her from the car’s passenger’s seat, rocketing her through the windshield, ripping her unblemished face to shreds. Her head had hit the farmhouse’s wall like a melon hurled at a hundred miles per hour. Her skull had burst open. Her spinal cord had been telescoped. Her broken body was now lying in an unnatural twisted position on the ground next to the burning Vauxhall.
Storm pulled himself away from the wreckage and fell facedown onto the long grass. He could not hear from one ear. There was blood dripping from it and from his nose. His right knee was throbbing. But he was alive.
Gathering his senses, his first thought was of Showers, and the black Mercedes parked a hundred yards down the road, under a clump of English oaks.
Much like a drunk staggering from a bar, he tried to steady himself as he slowly plotted a course to Nad’s body. He spotted her pistol about eight feet away, next to the stone wall. He reached it and with great effort bent down and examined the handgun. It looked undamaged.
I must save April, he thought. I must get to her.
With tremendous willpower, fighting the intense pain that was streaking through his limbs, Storm began making his way from the farmhouse toward the parked Mercedes.
He had gone about fifty yards when he heard a loud crack.
It was the sound of gunfire.
And it had come from inside the parked car in front of him.
To be continued in A Bloody Storm, available in August 2012
About the Author
Richard Castle is the author of numerous bestsellers, including Heat Wave, Naked Heat, Heat Rises, and the critically acclaimed Derrick Storm series. Castle currently lives in Manhattan with his daughter and mother, both of whom infuse his life with humor and inspiration.