Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    Velocity
    Velocity
    Velocity
    Ebook168 pages2 hours

    Velocity

    By D C Grant

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    Jason Shaw is on summer break and struggling to recover from the aftermath of the car crash at the beginning of the year. His father is a broken man and their relationship is strained, made worse when Jason is told that he’s adopted. When his biological father takes him on a trip to the back country of Yellowstone Park, Jason begins to doubt that the man is who he says he is but they are too far from civilization for him to seek help. When he come across a youth wilderness survival camp, Jason realizes that there is more at risk than his own safety, but also a threat to national security and that the results of his actions can have a critical outcome. Can Jason outwit and outrun a man with a gun?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherD C Grant
    Release dateJul 3, 2015
    ISBN9781310886256
    Velocity
    Author

    D C Grant

    D C Grant was born in Manchester, England but she didn’t stay there for long as the family moved to Lowestoft, Suffolk when she was four. She didn’t stay here for long either, moving to South Africa with her family when she was thirteen. This is where she found that she liked words to string words together and create a story out of thin air. Just when she thought her inter-continental moving days were over, she moved to New Zealand with husband and two daughters. Here she was first published by Scholastic NZ Ltd.Since then she has proceeded to write and publish books, expanding into digital ebooks as the format became more popular. While her first few books are set in New Zealand, later books expand into other parts of the world, drawing on her experiences whilst living in other countries.Her favorite authors are Lee Child and Bernard Cornwell and, while she reads diversely, she leans towards the mystery/thriller and historical fiction. So it is only right that she writes in these genres for children and young adults.D C Grant lives in a New York loft style apartment in Auckland, New Zealand with a slightly psychotic cat called Candy and drinks lots of coffee to power her through the late night writing sessions – because she’s a night owl!Find D C Grant at:www.dcgrant.co.nzhttps://www.facebook.com/dcgrantwriterhttps://www.goodreads.com/D_C_Granthttps://dcgrantwriter.wordpress.com/

    Read more from D C Grant

    Related to Velocity

    Related ebooks

    Amateur Sleuths For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      Lies I Tell My Father

      Feb 10, 2024

      “How’s your job at the newspaper?” my father asks me. He is sitting on a couch, a plush throw blanket spread across his legs. “The newspaper’s fine,” I lie. I lie because it is simple. I lie because it is quick. I lie because it is easier than trying

      10 min read

    • Article

      Choosing the Flowers

      Oct 10, 2022

      Choosing the Flowers
      10 min read

    • Article

      Birthday Surprise

      Sep 17, 2021

      Birthday Surprise
      5 min read

    • Article

      Festival

      Sep 15, 2018

      My husband, who loved festivals, who was a great fan of festivals, wanted to get to the square in time for the first band at eleven o’clock. From bed, the dog and I watched him dress. He tried on various T-shirts, declaring some of them too tight and

      13 min read

    • Article

      Chouette

      Nov 12, 2021

      Chouette
      16 min read

    • Article

      Mr. Bojangles

      Feb 26, 2022

      Mr. Bojangles
      4 min read

    • Article

      The Rebellion

      Oct 2, 2023

      The Rebellion
      23 min read

    • Article

      Garage Sale Treasure

      Jan 24, 2020

      Garage Sale Treasure
      3 min read

    • Article

      The Blind Dates

      Mar 15, 2021

      I spot him immediately when I walk into the bar. He smiles at me like he knows me, despite the fact this is a blind date and we’ve never met before. Nerves take hold of my body and my hands begin to tremble as I approach him. “Hi,” he says. “Hi, um,

      5 min read

    • Article

      Let Me Do It

      Jun 1, 2023

      Let Me Do It
      6 min read

    • Article

      Yellow Is the Color of Choices

      Dec 10, 2023

      For whatever reason, when she sees me each weekend, Megan still hugs me like when she was five. Her skinny arms wrap around my waist, and her eyes squeeze tight like she’s absorbing me into her skin. This is both heartening and heart-wrenching. I wan

      13 min read

    • Article

      I Am the Ghost Here

      Jan 16, 2023

      I Am the Ghost Here
      12 min read

    • Article

      Why, Dad? Why?

      Oct 2, 2022

      Why, Dad? Why?
      7 min read

    • Article

      Coming To Terms

      May 25, 2021

      Coming To Terms
      14 min read

    • Article

      Lol

      Jan 25, 2023

      Lol
      3 min read

    • Article

      Kids & Angels

      Jun 25, 2019

      Kids & Angels
      4 min read

    • Article

      All The Different SHADES

      Jul 6, 2022

      All The Different SHADES
      6 min read

    • Article

      Beauty And the Beast

      Apr 27, 2023

      Beauty And the Beast
      6 min read

    • Article

      This Is Our Secret

      Sep 1, 2022

      This Is Our Secret
      6 min read

    • Article

      Counter Waves

      Oct 23, 2020

      Counter Waves
      8 min read

    • Article

      Vicious Rat

      Oct 5, 2023

      Vicious Rat
      6 min read

    • Article

      After “The End”

      Oct 10, 2022

      I walked down the road with a hunched back and a wet cigarette in my mouth—the fire had died a while back. My hands were tucked into the pockets of my jacket, and my hair fell over my face, limiting my sight. But I wasn’t really seeing where I was go

      10 min read

    • Article

      A Father’s Touch

      Jan 30, 2021

      A Father’s Touch
      5 min read

    • Article

      Not Just For CHRISTMAS

      Nov 24, 2021

      Not Just For CHRISTMAS
      9 min read

    • Article

      Honey

      May 18, 2020

      It’s dark in here but I don’t mind. I wish I had a cushion, though. The floor is hard and I have pulled my knees close to my chest, arms around them, to try to keep warm. It’s a strange place to hide but I find the familiar scents of my family comfor

      3 min read

    • Article

      My father MY HERO

      Apr 30, 2020

      My father MY HERO
      4 min read

    • Article

      The Workbench

      Dec 23, 2020

      The Workbench
      6 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for Velocity

    0 ratings

    0 ratings0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      Velocity - D C Grant

      I’m only going to Hawaii for a week, Ben says.

      I know. I sink my chin into my hands.

      You’re acting like I’ll be gone for a year.

      I sip at my milkshake before I reply. It’s just that this has been the crappiest summer break ever.

      You could come with us. My folks won’t mind.

      Ben, I’ve spent too much time with your family already. You need time on your own.

      We don’t mind you being around, Jase. You saved my life, remember?

      How could I forget the fire in his bedroom?

      It’s not that, I say. It’s just … My voice dies.

      It’s your dad, isn’t it? Ben asks.

      There is only one word to describe my father – broken. His body has healed as much as it’s going to but it’s still broken, snapped in half at the spine, the lower half useless. But it isn’t just his body – his mind is broken too. I doubt that he will ever mend, that he’ll return to being the father I knew before the accident that killed my mother.

      Ben looks at his watch. Our bus is due soon.

      I’ll just finish this, I say, but I can’t. I feel nauseous and the shake is sickly sweet in my mouth. I push it away.

      It’s been happening a lot lately – not being able to eat – and I know that I’m losing weight. I know Ben is worried. I am too. It was bad enough coming close to being killed six months ago; now instead I am starving myself to death. We are in the food hall of the mall and the sight of all the food just makes me want to throw up, but I need to eat. I try again to finish the shake, thinking a vacation might be good for me although I’m not willing to leave my dad. Who knows what he’ll do if I’m not around?

      That guy’s staring at you, Ben says, disrupting my train of thought.

      What guy? I ask, looking up at him.

      To the right, behind you.

      I turn and look over my shoulder into the eyes of a man sitting two tables away. He holds my gaze for a second, unembarrassed, then breaks contact and looks down at his cup of coffee.

      What’s his problem? I say.

      He looks a bit like you.

      What?

      Well, he does. I’m sitting here and I can see you both. He looks like an older version of you.

      I glance over but the man is looking away, so I can’t really see his face. We have the same dark hair, but that’s all I can see.

      You’re off your head, Ben.

      No, seriously, his eyes look the same too. Wait, he’s getting up … he’s going to walk past you … behind you.

      I hunch down over my milkshake and wait for him to pass. But as he does, his fingers brush the back of my neck and I jerk like I’ve been kicked in the stomach.

      What’s up? Ben asks when he sees my reaction.

      He touched me, I whisper. That pervert touched me!

      I look over my shoulder and watch as he disappears into the crowd. The hairs on the back of my neck are still standing upright.

      You got that knife in your belt? Ben asks eagerly.

      Nah, I didn’t think it was a good idea to bring a concealed weapon to the mall. Mike had given it to me, a replica of his own – the buckle, the handle, and the small blade sheathed inside a pouch. Six months ago his knife belt had saved his life and mine. If Dad found out about it, I’d be in so much trouble.

      So why keep it then?

      He has a point. But since being held hostage, tasered, gassed, scorched, and almost killed, I feel safer when I’m wearing it. And right now I feel vulnerable without it.

      The random touch from the stranger emphasizes the feeling, and aggravates the nausea. I push the milkshake away. Come on, let’s go.

      CPS

      I’m quiet on the bus on the way home. Ben sits next to me without saying anything. I’m hunched over, the sensation of the man’s fingers lingering on the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. I’m not sure why that random touch has affected me so badly.

      We get off the bus close to Ben’s house and walk in the warm summer sunshine. It’s well after six o’clock, but it’s still light and will be for some time. I figure that I will change into my running gear when I get home and go for a long run to clear my head and shake off the effect of the man’s touch on my skin.

      We arrive at Ben’s house. It’s taken some months to rebuild after the fire; the family only moved back in a month ago.

      Hello, Jason, Mrs Rosenberg says as we walk in. How’s your dad?

      She always asks me, and I always answer with a shrug and say, Much the same.

      Give it time.

      I nod, but I don’t know how much time I can give him. He’s beginning to annoy me. He won’t talk about the accident – says he can’t remember – and won’t talk about my mother. He’s visited her grave only once. He lost his wife, but I lost my mother and he’s pushed me away. Still, I hate to leave him alone in the house for too long.

      I’ve put your clothes in your room, Ben, Mrs Rosenberg says. You’d better finish packing.

      Okay, Mum.

      I’ll catch up when you get back, I say to Ben as I head toward the door.

      Sure, Ben says.

      I pause on the porch. Ben’s been my lifeline for the past few months and now he’s leaving. It feels awkward. I try to lighten it up and say, Watch out for fires.

      And no high-speed chases, Ben says with a grin.

      We laugh – it’s false.

      See yah, I say as I step onto the path.

      See yah.

      I walk toward the sidewalk without looking back.

      There’s a strange car in the driveway of my house when I arrive. It has an official look about it that I’ve come to know from all the official cars that have parked in our driveway over the past few months, but I don’t recognize this one.

      I glance inside the car as I walk past, and notice the sticker on the folder on the passenger seat: Child Protection Services. I miss a step, my heart sinking. Has someone decided Dad is unable to take care of me? I know Dad’s not been the greatest parent lately, but I don’t want to leave him and end up in a stranger’s house. This is my home and I want to stay here, useless Dad or not.

      I look toward the house. Are they waiting for me? Will they take me away immediately? What will happen if I just walk away; if I don’t go into the house? I guess they will only come back tomorrow.

      If I convince them that we’re doing okay, they’ll leave us alone. This is the first time that CPS have come around. Perhaps they’ve just come to assess how we are managing.

      I’ll put on my we’re okay face and lie with conviction.

      I let myself into the house and walk into the living room. Dad and a woman I haven’t met before are sitting opposite each other. Both look up as I walk in.

      Ah, Jason, there you are, Dad says with a smile. It’s forced. This is Mrs Plummer from Child Protection Services.

      Hello, Jason, she says with a smile, also forced, as she stands up. Would you like to sit down? I’d like to talk with you.

      Yes, I’m sure you do.

      I lower myself into an armchair while Dad and Mrs Plummer exchange a look and Dad sighs. Whatever he is about to say isn’t going to be easy for him, I can tell. In my head, I make a list of what I will need to pack in order to stay somewhere else, wondering how long I will be gone.

      Mrs Plummer contacted me a few days ago, Dad says slowly. I invited her around this afternoon to discuss the situation.

      So that’s why he was so keen for me to go to the mall.

      I’ve wanted to tell you this for some time now – since your Mum died, in fact. It never seemed to be the right time.

      Is there ever a right time to admit that you can’t look after your own son?

      I stare at him as he glances over to Mrs Plummer and I see the resignation in his eyes.

      There’s no easy way to say this. Jason, you’re adopted.

      Orphanage

      Dad’s mouth opens and closes and words hang in the air, some of them dropping into my ears as if I can choose the ones I want to hear.

      Russia … orphanage … eighteen months old … adopted …

      I stop listening. Dad looks relieved, almost pleased, as if he’s been absolved of a great sin. He’s still talking as I get up from the chair, leave the room and go up the stairs to my bedroom. Dad can’t follow me there, not in his wheelchair, as we haven’t installed a chairlift.

      It’s quiet. I sit on the bed and stare at the floor. I need the silence. I’m aware that time is passing but there’s nothing in my head to acknowledge it. My brain has stopped processing. I like that.

      There’s a knock at the door, startling me, and I wonder how my father has made it up the stairs.

      The door opens slowly and Mrs Plummer peers in

      Can I come in? she asks.

      I shrug. I have nothing against her; it’s my father I’m angry with. My father who’s not my father.

      She sits on the chair by my desk and rests a folder on her lap. I can understand how hard this must be for you to take in right now.

      I glare at her. She has no idea.

      About a week ago we were contacted by a representative for your biological father. He – your biological father – had been made aware of your existence just a few months ago and had tracked the adoption through the agencies in his country. They contacted us and we followed up on our side. We phoned your father – your adoptive father – and spoke to him about it. He was shocked. He’d been told that your biological father was dead.

      But he’s not? My voice is faint.

      No, it appears not. It puts us in a delicate position, because your biological father never agreed to the adoption.

      I stare at her, my thoughts in chaos. What does that mean?

      It means he can contest the adoption.

      You mean he can take me away from here?

      "He has told us that he just wants to

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1