DELTA STORM

TAG LINE: THERE ARE TIMES A MAN MUST STAND ALONE AGAINST THE STORM A stranger arrives in a small Delta town and desperatly tries to conceal a secret that could cost him his life while protecting the one woman who befriended him: Imagine you're a man..

Delta Storm blends suspense and intrigue among the backdrop of local color in the searing heat of the Mississippi Delta.  My motivation for Delta Storm is to create colorful characters affected by circumstance to drive suspense and emotional turmoil. This creates opportunity for characters to grow, evolve and come together.  Delta Storm is the vehicle to introduce and unite the characters for storylines to follow in Reflection and the Benjamin Files. 

 

 

Delta Storm Excerpts

 

Clayton heard the powered door locks deactivate, and voices within him urged restraint.

Clayton…don’t do this.

He stepped back. “I can’t… really.  Thanks though.”

Clayton managed to distance himself from her, but his eyes were still locked onto her own. They were deep with passion and empathy, and he knew he could become lost in them. He feared he already had, but the voices within him urged caution, and he always listened to them. He finally forced himself to turn away from her and look north, a silent and subliminal effort to focus on his goals, but he noted the distinctive lines of a gray Crown Victoria in the distant heat waves, a Mississippi State Trooper. Clayton Kenesey’s voices, his senses, rarely failed him, and as he considered his options, options and consequences that could change direction like a leaf on a breeze, his goal remained the same. He watched in silence as the state law enforcement vehicle drew closer.

Amanda watched him as well, sensing a change within him, but a wave of smothering heat and humidity drifted over her through the opened passenger window.

“You look like a smart man.  I find it difficult to believe you’d turn down leather seats, air conditioning, and a stereo system for the hundred degree heat your in.  You’re lucky it’s March or I’d be spooning you off the pavement.”

            Clayton watched the Crown Victoria slow and he immediately reached for his green duffle bag and tossed it into the truck bed.

            “I am a smart man.”

Amanda heard a distinctive clunk as the heavy, yet nearly empty bag came to rest in her truck bed, but as Clayton Kenesey slid his frame onto her leather seats, she met his eyes, clear, distinct and confident in his moment of decision, and she found herself mesmerized by them.

 

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 …morphed from within them.  She met the eyes of the Mexican, dark and threatening, the eyes of a predator, an animal you could never turn your back on, and Amanda nearly gasped as he rose from the office chair.  She stood motionless as he approached her, but as he drew nearer, Amanda stepped back, her own eyes threatening. The Mexican’s lips offered a smile of anticipation while he absently rubbed his fingertips along the border of his mustache, and Amanda understood he violated her in a most obscene way. She worked to protest his advance, but the office door behind her crashed open further, and she turned to find him behind her. The morning light from the window played across his face, but its warmth could not overcome the dark, cautioning emotion in his blue eyes. Clayton eyed Petri carefully, “There’s a party here, and I’m not invited?”

Petri’s smile began to broaden as he worked to light a slim cigar, but Clayton ended him. “You’re in my office. Get out.”

The flame never met the carefully rolled tobacco.

 

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 Clayton squinted against the yellow hue of the security lights, noting the indentions on the hood from the hail, then he climbed in the Ford. Their body heat fogged the windshield, and Clayton welcomed the fall weather, rain and all, he cared nothing for the heat of summer. He cranked the Ford and worked the controls to clear the fogged windshield, his blue eyes staring blankly into nothingness while he swiped the moisture away. 

            Amanda cast a sincere look in his direction, knowing that he would hear her voice, despite his subtle distraction. “You know…I’ll gladly listen to anything you want to tell me.” 

Clayton stopped abruptly at her words, the very words that he had spoken to her earlier, and he offered a sincere and honest reply. 

“One day I hope to tell you everything.  I only hope you’ll still be willing to listen.”

 

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Clayton clenched his jaw against the emotional pain once more, his throat tight with regret, but as the music faded he realized the two of them looked at him now, despite the solitude of his shadows. Dillon offered a cautious nod, but Clayton, his expression despondent, only turned away; he could bear to see them no longer. He turned his attention back to the cell phone as a crooning voice flowed through the sound system, a voice promising a love forever, but the voice pleaded, hauntingly, for the simple opportunity.  Clayton breathed in deeply against the pain, eager to leave it all behind, preparing himself to go, but once again he sensed her. The ambience around him became surreal as she stood before him, her dark eyes questioning, her jaw set firmly in the attempt to mask her own emotional pain, her hand reaching for him. 

God, she’s come to me…she’s come to me and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

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Clayton met Dr. Edmont’s eyes, his own somewhat empty of emotion.

“You know nothing about me, Dr. Edmont…and the night is young. I still have hours in which to die.” 

Rebecca looked to her husband, her voice firm.

“Paul, do as he says.”

“Rebecca…”

“Paul! Give him the keys!”

Clayton held the phone up. “Trade you.”

Dr. Edmont, defeated, tossed his keys over the balcony rail, his scowl as cold as Clayton’s skin as they made the trade. Clayton then checked his watch, dismayed that it read past five a.m. He was uncertain how long Petri had been gone.  Unable to meet the fear and concern in Rebecca Edmont’s eyes, unable to face the hatred in Dr. Edmont’s own, Clayton turned to go.

“Where’s your gun, Kenesey?”

The words Dr. Edmont spoke, his tone cold and sardonic, cut Clayton to the bone.

“Where I’m going, Dr. Edmont, a gun won’t save me.”

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Reviews

[Jim Bob]

"The world seemed to me that it had paused entirely. I could not hear my crow-brothers and sisters wheeling above. I did not even hear the rustle of wind through guide-feathers. The ocean, distant behind him somehow dulled its licking roar against the sand and the sun seemed to hiccup in her fiery orange, lazy decent into the water. It became so still that all I heard was my heart beat and the breath that kept trying to die a rattling death within my throat. Perhaps I will faint, I thought. Or he will kill me now in this swallowing hush."

I love this piece. Welcome to Writer's Cafe. I've sent you a friend request, and I hope to get to read a lot more of your work. Thanks for sharing.