Excerpt: The Case Of Malachi Marin

PROLOGUE

Nula Chambers turned up the radio in the little white Volvo until she could clearly hear the voice of the weather man- “Storm fronts coming in from the South West Coast... Freak storm hit Bristol. Possible casualties.”
And there usually were; casualties. It was a hazard she had learned not to think to much about. Not to put too much time and energy into because it was something she could not control and the realty would stop her in her tracks.
Long, straight brown hair.
Nula checked the fuel gauge which was clearly showing a full tank and switched from the radio to the compact disk player. Red Hot Chilli Peppers blasted out.
“Cool,” she tapped the steering wheel in time to the drum beat and sang along with the lead singer wondering if Blaise was already at the scene, camera rolling.
Blaise had been named before his hair colour had been revealed and aptly so. The bright red shock of curls had been a curse throughout his teen years twinned with acne but he had grown into a handsome man. She thought so any how.
It was a relatively quiet early December evening. Late enough to have missed the majority of the rush hour traffick but early enough for her to have been able to toss her camera in the back seat of her car and high tial it 30 miles to the scene of what could be the lightening storm of the year.
She had fans her checked out her website which was rather like a competition between her and other storm chaser, a widely spread group of fans of all things natural and disatrous. Storms had their beauty and their wild and dangerous side. She liked to think of herself as a bit of a storm herself.
A lot of Storm chasers worked in teams but Nula preffered to work alone. She did had a bit of a compadrate in Blaise though as they lived fairly close and would often meet up at scenes. Some times even text each other with information of good storms. In fact it was Blaise who had told her about this one.
The track changed to the next one and Nula was half lulled by the rocking of the car and the heat from the heater directed on her. The lights from the tails of the cars in front of her were hypnotising her. She could feel her head rocking. She was just thinking about pulling over at the approaching service station for a shot of hot caffeine when -
Nula took a corner too quickly and heard the equipment in the back seat slide to the opposite door.
“Shit,” she turned her head to check it was not damaged, turned back to the front windscreen and slammed her foot on the breaks. Others must have seen it too because they also tried to swerve.
Squeal of brakes, the crunch of metal hitting metal, horns blared.
The car screeched towards the figure looming out from the tree stand and into the busy road. Nula was not a religious person but she prayed the car would not hit anything. In some respects her prayers were answered. Nothing hit her directly but the action of veering of lane caused the neighbouring cars to crash. Her head whipped round and a pain shot through her neck. She heard the expensive equipment in the back lurch to the front and hit the seat back and grimaced. The last thought she had before passing out was – damn, I hope the ambulance comes before the storm dissipitates. Or – I hope Blaise has extra tape.