Publisher: Daryl Sedore (September 5, 2010)
Kindle US - http://www.amazon.com/Precog-Visions-Fury-ebook/dp/B00422LGMI/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&qid=1295891265&sr=8-2
Kindle UK - http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Precog-Visions-of-Fury/dp/B00422LGMI/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=digital-text&qid=1295891438&sr=8-2
Product Description (From Amazon)
Sarah Roberts has been thwarting kidnappings and saving lives against her will. She'd rather be a normal eighteen year old, but messages of death and crime are foretold to her. When a warning comes that she will be next, Sarah misinterprets it, not realizing until it's too late that she is the victim.
During her kidnapping, one of Sarah's captors is killed. Witnesses place Sarah at the scene. The police have her notebook which reveals all of her precognitions. They're curious how Sarah could know so much about "accidents" and "crimes". The kind of information only the perpetrators would be privy to. The police are looking for Sarah for all the wrong reasons as she struggles to get their attention and escape with her life.
Thank you Daryl for allowing us this preview of your novel!
Life and death was the difference of a choice, a moment of indecision, an expensive thought that cast a silky web around her. The snare was always set, gripping and pulling, but would she be strong enough when the time came? Would she be able to save whomever it is she’s supposed to save?
Sarah Roberts looked at her watch again.
Three minutes until the precognition came true.
She reached back and found a few stray hairs above the nape of her neck. She massaged them until they were firmly in the grip of her fingers. Then tugged them out. Her eyes closed, she leaned back on the dirty cement. The sharp pain that crawled over her skin soothed her, calming her nerves.
She could hear vehicles crossing the bridge above her. Next time she had to wait under a bridge for whatever was supposed to happen she would bring a pillow to sit on. The piece of cement angled toward a small river at forty-five degrees. The grass on either side looked more comfortable, but the message had been specific. If there was anything Sarah knew, it was to follow it with absolute precision.
Sit directly in the middle, under the St. Elizabeth Bridge. 10:18 Am. Bring hammer.
She had no idea why, but she’d brought it. The hammer sat beside her on the cement.
She lifted her wrist and checked the time.
Some of the remaining hair on her forearm stood. Within a minute something was going to happen. This heightened state always made her hair rise in the anticipation of what was to come. It also showed Sarah the location of more hair to be pulled at a later time.
She lowered her right hand and picked up the hammer.
Her pulse quickened. She looked down at her feet where a pile of cigarette butts were scattered from previous occupants who had loitered under the bridge too. Her focus was on her breathing. Keep it regular.
Wait and see.
A dead fish smell wafted up from the river.
The water made a soft curling, whooshing sound. Any other time it would have been soothing.
Cars cruised by above her. Something louder came and went.
A tire screeched. A horn blared. The sound of metal hitting metal was surreal. It made her jump.
Tires squealed again.
A vehicle came into view at an impossible angle. It fell towards the river, along with pieces of the guardrail. The car’s roof took the impact in the water. It was upside down, angled at a slight degree on the passenger side.
Sarah hustled and reached the car in seconds. She kneeled close and glanced in the window on the driver’s side. A woman who looked to be in her twenties was trapped in the seat belt. She was inverted, her arms dangling toward the water that was slipping in where it could. A small line of blood was on her forehead. She appeared to be unconscious. There were no passengers.
The river was quite shallow in this area. The water rushed by just below Sarah’s knees. But it was high enough to cover the head of the woman. An odd thought struck her. How come the precognition didn’t say anything about proper footwear for wading through water? Mom’s going to be pissed that I soaked my new shoes.
Sarah grabbed the handle and tried to open the door. It didn’t move. She reached over and tried the back door. It was also stuck, or locked. She glanced in the window and looked across to the other side of the car. The doors on that side were bent inward. That was the side that hit the river first, buckling it a little.
Her stomach churned when she looked at the woman. The water had risen to her hair line and was swirling around the top of her head.
She could hear people yelling from the bridge behind her. Someone was asking if everyone was all right.
Water was touching the woman’s eyebrows. Sarah had to act and she had to do it now.
She looked at the hammer in her right hand. If she bashed the driver’s side window it would shatter and could hurt the woman. It would have to be the back door window.
She raised the hammer and whacked the pane.
She looked back at the woman. Her eyes were submerged now. Sarah guessed she had less than a minute before the woman’s nose started taking water on.
She brought everything she could muster to the next blow. The back window shattered and blew inward. She used the hammer to remove stray pieces of glass still attached to the door frame.
The water was tolerable when she stood in it, but it was cold on her arms and stomach when she dropped down on all fours. She went as fast as she could while being careful to maneuver around the shards of glass.
She was completely inside the back, lying down in the water that rushed in faster now. A book that must have been in the back seat floated by. She brushed it aside while reaching for the woman.
From the back, she angled herself between the front seats. She reached out and lifted the woman’s head just as water flirted with her nostrils.
That was where she stopped.
Sarah reasoned it would be difficult to undo the seatbelt that suspended the driver. How could she push or drag her from the car? Impossible for Sarah alone. Especially since she couldn’t go through the driver’s side door.
She would have to stay here leaning on her side, holding the woman’s head up against her shoulder. She used her free hand to cling to the steering wheel.
The water level inside the car matched the outside now.
Until help arrived, she had done all she could do. It was over.
Another unknown reality had become known.
Minutes later, she could hear sirens. And not soon enough, she thought. The adrenaline rush was ebbing and the shivering had started. With her strength diminishing, Sarah held the woman’s head above the water until firemen showed up. The firemen went to work on the driver’s side door. They cut the seatbelt and then lifted the driver out.
Another fireman reached in and helped Sarah out and up to the bridge. A Paramedic provided a blanket for her. She sat on the bumper of an ambulance. They asked her if she’d been a passenger. Did she see the accident? How was she involved? As before, in situations like these, she was evasive. She hated cops. Even the sight of them. She told a police officer she would answer his questions after she warmed up.
Paramedics were attending to a minivan where a man in the driver’s seat was being fitted in a neck brace. A garbage truck had lost one of its wheels, which looked to be the cause of the accident.
In the confusion of people, some hurt, some helping, Sarah dropped the blanket and disappeared behind the ambulance. She removed the red bandana she wore to cover her missing hair. She never wanted to be identified as the girl with no eyebrows and hardly any hair on her head. She knew without the bandana she would stand out a lot more.
She started to run a little. She had to get home before her mother began asking questions of her whereabouts.
She hated it when she had to lie to her.