Alphas and Omegas Book Two
Aside from being the only kid at Super camp with no super, Michael’s discovered a plot to destroy him, and his mother has finally had enough. She’s divorcing his father. As if this wasn’t just freakin super enough, his not-exactly girlfriend Charlotte has started seeing some Asian kid named Brian. Seriously, you survive one attempt to destroy the town…isn’t one enough?
Think that’s not enough for one kid to handle? How about the legacy of the bad guy: subconscious orders placed in people’s heads to make them go berserk at random times? Lincolnshire is a time bomb, and Michael is going to need some serious help to get through it this time.
*Super Anybody is carefully crafted to be completely free of harsh language, but may have veiled references to sex, and references to alcohol. PG-13 rating moms.
Excerpt from Super Anybody
In less than two minutes he had hung up with Grandpa and pulled up outside the McClaren house.
Which continued to be the McClaren house for about five seconds, before it exploded into smithereens.
This was not the movies. In the movies explosions are graceful blooming things that roil fire up into the sky and shower debris, and you get it from all sorts of different angles, in slow motion. There’s a definite element of artistry there. Someone has spent a long time trying to cook up this particular explosion that you are watching, and they want you to appreciate it.
Whoever made this explosion didn’t care about making a spectacle. This was human rage amplified times a million, channeled through whatever power Jared’s father had. The windows and pieces of timber, the shutters and blinds went first, a split second before the walls buckled outwards and came apart, blown out by the exiting studs. The studs came out almost whole, flung with tornado force into the street, Jessamine’s car, and in a few places, as far as the opposite side of the street, where one lodged itself into the sofa and had to be cut out hours later. As for the roof, it lifted completely off and went into the backyard. On its heels came everything that wasn’t nailed down or weighed less than five hundred pounds. It was like a giant piñata, smashed with a bat the size of a city bus.
If Michael’s eyes and ears were like a television, he lost reception. One second he had crystal clear HD picture, and the next, fuzzy static. His ears were stuffed, and his eyes refused to operate. Something had brushed his head, but even when he put his hand there he couldn’t feel anything. Only when colors swam back into being could he see his hand was half-covered in his blood.