QUICKSILVER

QUICKSILVER

BY

DAVID JOHN LLOYD

CHAPTER ONE

1

Damien Quicksilver looked up at the heavy purple/black clouds for the tenth time that evening, knowing that at any minute the heavens were bound to open and piss down on him. Ordinarily it wouldn’t be a bother. He was rather fond of working in the rain at times, but he was coming down with a cold and a drenching would do his cough no favours.

He was working in his family vineyard on the outskirts of Bethany, a small town in the famous Barossa Valley wine district in South Australia. Most of the major pruning work had been done, and now only the purely cosmetic stuff remained.

The Barossa is a prime tourist area, and Damien’s father believed that appearances were everything; even in the off season. When the leaves fall from the vines, they are not the most appealing things to look at, so Albert Quicksilver liked to keep evergreen bushes and flowers at the ends of the rows.

It’s all good for Dad, Damien thought as he moved on to set the next stake. He doesn’t have to come out here every Thursday night.

When the rain began, it was clear that it wasn’t going to mess around. The first few drops felt like exploding water balloons; single droplets that were too huge to be real.

It became a barrage in less than ten seconds.

The first thunder crack sounded in Damien’s ears like a roar of Satan.

The strike was so close that Damien felt every hair on his body wave with the pulse of electricity. For something that sounded like doom, there was surprisingly no physical concussion like one would expect from a blast.