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HURRICANE ZEPHYR
Action Adventure Romance
BY SHANON GREY

BLURB

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HURRICANE ZEPHYR
Action Adventure Romance
BY SHANON GREY

Excerpt

It was at that moment that she felt the steering wheel go light in her hands and knew that the Jeep had started to hydroplane. She held the wheel straight and went to put pressure on the brakes, but before her foot touched the brake, the Jeep started to spin like a top. All she could do was hold on and pray. It was one of those moments when time seemed to go in slow motion. And it was the motion she had no control over. Luckily, there was no traffic as she spun across the highway and slid off the road where the Jeep jolted to a stop, resting, tilted, at a slant, in the median.

Darcy lowered her head against the steering wheel, taking deep breaths. She felt tears coursing down her cheeks and swiped at them. She pushed the door open and stepped out into a torrent of rain. Several cars across the median had stopped. She looked at them and waved them on, letting them know she was okay. She turned back to the Jeep and looked at the tires buried on one side almost to the rims. She’d kicked up a lot of mud, but her tires weren’t completely sunk. As she took one step, the mud squished and became slick. She lost her footing and started to slide down the steep embankment. “Shit,” she cursed and threw herself forward, dropping to her hands and knees, stopping right before she landed in the water-filled middle. Staying on hands and knees, she clawed her way back up. Soaked and muddy, using the Jeep, she pulled herself to her feet, opened the door, reached across the console, and grabbed some paper towels. Wiping off her hands, she kicked her shoes against the running board and watched as she flung mud off each shoe. Using towels and the rain pummeling her, she wiped at the mud. “Damn you, Zephyr,” she said under her breath and worked to get as much mud off of her legs and shoes before sitting down and swinging around into the Jeep.

Pushing her hair back and out of her eyes, she threw the Jeep into 4-wheel drive, turning the wheel and rocking back and forth. Finally, the wheels caught and she moved, edging up onto the paved shoulder. She let herself just sit there for a bit, thanking the powers that be that everything seemed okay and that there hadn’t been any traffic. Patting the dash as a thank you to the Jeep, she eased back onto the highway.

She pulled into the truck stop at Satsuma and filled up, grabbed her overnight bag, and headed inside, dripping across the floor. Apparently, she wasn’t the first. The man at the counter just pointed her toward the restrooms. His loud whistle stopped her. He held up a plastic bag for her wet clothes. “Thanks,” she said as she took it. He just nodded.

Power went off and came back on several times while she was changing. Carrying the bag with her wet clothes, she managed to get a couple of sausage biscuits, a large coffee, and send a couple of texts, one to Reese and one to Janice, not mentioning the spinout, before the power shut down completely. At least the torrential rain appeared to be slowing.

With the brunt of the storm apparently farther north of her now, everything seemed better, albeit deadly quiet, until she got close to Pascagoula. She hit the brakes when what little traffic there was came to a standstill. They were routed into one lane on the right. As she crossed the unusually bumpy bridge, she looked down. Debris littered the river bayou. Not debris really, but pieces of metal, small boats, chairs, chunks of concrete. Odd things. She looked over to the other side. Sections of the bridge were missing on the eastbound lanes. She swallowed hard, thinking she was driving on an untested road. Then she felt relief. They had rebuilt the bridge after Katrina. Stronger. Yet, looking at the missing sections across from her, she didn’t feel reassured. She slowed, letting a couple of National Guard vehicles pass and lead the way. Law enforcement vehicles were stopped to the side, inspecting abandoned vehicles.

Traffic came to another stop. The Guardsmen got out and dragged the soggy remains of a mattress off the road. She looked around and realized she wasn’t far from where Pop-pop had pointed out her first ‘gator. It had scared her to death. Barely a ripple in the water, and there he was, gliding lazily not 10 feet from their dinghy. “Oooo-weee,” Pop-pop had cooed, sliding effortlessly into his native Cajun. “Coooh, luk at da size o dat gator! Don ya go on ta Na-nan, cher. N’est pas?”

“Oui, pa-ran,” Darcy had replied back, “I won’t tell Mam-mam.” She hadn’t, but knew Mam-mam wasn’t fooled for a moment. She smiled at the memory. Looking back up, she realized just how far in the past that was.

The traffic crept forward. Trees were bent in half. Actually bent. Branches and full trees littered the road. The guardsmen stopped and removed what they could, as they inched forward. They couldn’t do much about the cars, abandoned and tossed, twisted, on their sides or upside down. When they came upon a boat, they used the truck to push it further to the side. Her stomach tightened. Very few people were out. The military took the next exit, and she found herself driving alone, westward, toward the heart of the damage. Hopefully, this would be as bad as it got. After all, the reports were that the storm was tearing itself apart the farther inland it moved.

Darcy felt the perspiration trickle down between her breasts and knew it was stress and fear, as well as the sweltering heat that came with the clear skies and bright sun following every storm. She turned the AC to full blast. She took a slow, deep breath, as Mam-mam had taught her. In with the good, out with the bad, and she wiped each hand down the thighs of her jeans, removing stress along with the dampness on the palms of her hands.

Darcy eased her way up the cloverleaf onto I-110. She looked over toward where the Waffle House and gas station were supposed to be and saw only the fuel pumps standing, the buildings gone. She opened the windows and turned off the AC, conserving what gas she had. People stood next to their cars, talking. She was only a couple of miles from home. Her heart lightened as she imagined all the homecomings she’d enjoyed. Then, she looked ahead and slammed on the brakes as she came over the overpass.

“What the hell?”

Tears blinded her.

Gone. It was all gone.

About Author Shanon Grey…

Links to Shanon’s websites, blogs, books, #ad, etc.:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FNKYDH3P

Books2Read: https://books2read.com/u/4jd20D