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The Fourth Kinetic
Clairvoyants Book 1
by Brady Moore
Genre
YA Fantasy
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“What’s the problem, Officer?”
Her voice sounds polite as can be. But still, the officer stops and leans over the hood of the car with a vacant grimace. Slowly, he scans the inside of our vehicle like he’s searching for something specific.
“Someone called in a stolen SUV,” he grumbles.
My heart freezes. I can feel the nervous perspiration building along my brow. I’ve never been in a car that’s been pulled over, but I’m pretty sure they’re supposed to ask for license and registration first.
“There must be some mistake.”
This time, there’s an unsubtle belligerence to Mom’s tone. It’s the same familiar, faulty twinge her voice has when she’s asking me a rhetorical question after I’ve pissed her off.
“Out of the vehicle. Both of you.”
My eyes grow wider when I notice his hand hovering over the taser along his belt. Mom turns to me and our gazes lock. My chest continues to thump until she gives me a fervent nod and gentle smile.
“It’s okay,” she whispers before opening her door.
The look in her youthful brown eyes is one I’ve never seen before, and I can’t quite pinpoint its nature. Is she worried? Angry? Perhaps both?
“Hands on the vehicle,” the state trooper barks, barely a second after I’ve stepped into the cool air.
I glare into his tinted frames with a fearsome snarl, but do as he says.
“Are you carrying any firearms?”
“No,” Mom groans.
As soon as she has her palms placed against our vehicle’s crimson shell, the officer begins rigidly patting her down from her shoulders to her ankles. I can feel my blood boiling every time his hands slap against her.
“You’re under arrest,” he says, as if Mom has done something to provoke his anger.
My eyes nearly jolt from the sockets when he pulls out his handcuffs and yanks Mom’s wrists behind her back.
“What for?” I scoff as I release my hands from the car and rush for the other side of the SUV.
“Stop where you are, right now!” the officer shouts.
My footsteps cease. My intense glare hasn’t diminished, and my fists are still clenched. I’m mere feet from Mom and the officer. He has one hand clamped around my mother’s wrists, and the other clasping the handle of the gun inside its holster.
“Get on the ground and put your hands on your head!”
I don’t budge.
“I said, on the ground, now!”
He yanks the gun from his belt and points it toward my chest. My heart is thumping, and my teeth grind between my tightened lips. I’m certain I could mentally rip the weapon from his grasp, but I don’t want to risk Mom’s safety. As I slowly un-ball my fists and begin to raise my hands , my gaze finally drifts to Mom. There’s a strange look of stern desperation on her face, but I can sense a sureness beaming from her stare and into mine.
The sun bares down. There is still a chilling breeze in the air, but I feel like I’m in a sauna. I finally begin to lower my knees to the ground, but I keep my focus on Mom. Her eyes grow more fearsome as the state trooper steps forward, his gun still drawn. My head is fluttering with questions that I don’t have time to ask. My heartbeat races more rapidly, and the sweat on my forehead seems to flood my face like I’ve been doused with a bucket of water.
Then…it happens. Mom makes one quick nod. It’s the last gesture necessary to cease my frantic mind. The look in her eyes is as unrelenting as any look I’ve ever seen from anyone. She plants an elbow into the officer’s nose. Once he clutches his face, she dives for the ground.
It’s as if my heartbeat has ceased, and everything is moving in slow motion. My face molds into an intense grimace as I focus on the officer’s frame like the rest of the world is a black void. He releases his hand from his bloodied nose and points his gun forward. A new sensation surges through my body. It is a feeling I’ve never had before when attempting to use my abilities. Fear, nervousness, desperation, even anger—they are all there. I can feel adrenaline coursing through my veins, and my insides flaring like my chest is an overheated tea kettle.
Without hesitation, I fling my arms forward with fingers splayed. Invisible energy seems to shoot from my mind, and through my outstretched limbs, with the ease of a blink. The officer zings into the air like he’s a baseball being smacked by the bat of an All-Star slugger. His body curls like a stuffed animal as he flies backward and slams against the windshield of his police car.
Brady Moore was born and raised in Charlotte, North Carolina. He began writing stories and drawing his own comic books at the age of ten and never looked back.
After graduating high school, he attended the University of North Carolina at Greensboro. In December of 2010, he graduated with a Bachelor's degree in Media Studies. Heavily influenced by film and television, his writing includes elements from multiple genres and multimedia styles.
He currently resides in Charlotte, NC where he enjoys writing everything from poetry to movie scripts. His ultimate goal is to see one of his works adapted for the screen.
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