WIPEOUT

Wipeout Series

Book 1

By

E.S. Richards

Mike Kraus

© 2020 Muonic Press Inc

www.muonic.com

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[email protected]

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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, or by any electronic, mechanical or other means, without the permission in writing from the author.

Table of Contents

Preface

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

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Special Thanks

Special thanks to my awesome beta team, without whom this book wouldn’t be nearly as great.

Thank you!

Wipeout Book 2

Available Here

 

Preface

Throwing the paper from his falafel wrap into the trash, Samuel Westchester wiped his mouth with his handkerchief and smiled. Checking his watch, he saw he still had about ten minutes before he needed to be back in his Wall Street office. It was just long enough for a leisurely stroll along Exchange Place, a nice change from the manic rush he was normally in.

Today was turning out to be a very good day. The new receptionist in his building had definitely smiled at him that morning and the line for his guilty pleasure lunch cart had been non-existent. Everything seemed to be working out and it made Samuel feel optimistic about the promotion he was up for at the end of the month. If he could keep up his work, there was a very high chance he would make partner by the end of the year. That would certainly give him something to smile about.

Samuel fought the urge to whistle a merry tune as he strolled back to his office. A huge grin was plastered across his face as he nodded at tourists and locals alike, trying to spread his cheerful mood throughout New York City. Everyone was always in such a rush around where he worked, their faces glued to their phones or their eyes glazed over as voices blared through tiny, almost invisible headphones.

Samuel had always been much too polite to navigate the sidewalks in such a manner, unlike most New Yorkers. He was an advocate for human conversation and rarely passed up an opportunity to share a smile or a nod of the head where possible. But not everyone was like him. As usual, he refused to let himself get worked up by mentally chastising the way people were. Life was too short to be affected by actions you couldn’t change. With the mood that he was in, Samuel just wanted to get back to work and enjoy his day.

“Hey mister! Watch where you’re going will ya!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Samuel was quick to apologize and move to one side, though he knew the woman he had just walked into was really the one at fault. Unlike most people in the city, he was always polite and respectful of others. It made him different, but that was the way he liked it. His parents had taught him that manners were the most important thing a gentleman could carry, a lesson he had never forgotten.

Someone ran past him, smashed into his shoulder and sent him toppling over onto the sidewalk. “Hey!” Samuel shouted at the runner, but the man didn’t even look back over his shoulder. He ran into someone else as Samuel watched, unable to do anything except huff and shake his head.

Climbing to his feet, Samuel noticed how strangely people were acting. Frozen in place, staring at their cellphones with shocked expressions. Shaking their heads and glancing around with worried looks. One woman nearby muttered under her breath as she did so.

Furrowing his brow, Samuel tried to figure out what was happening. Panic seemed to be rising in the streets around him, people sprinting off in one direction or another. Samuel reached for his own cell when a piercing scream cut through the air and once again, he was knocked to the ground.

Dazed and confused, he put a hand to the back of his head and groaned. His hair was wet, his ears rang, and his head pounded. Looking at his hand, Samuel could see the red stain even with his blurred vision. Blood. His whole body had been thrown backwards and his head smashed into a parking meter. He didn’t even know what had caused it until he looked up, but then it was unmistakable. The blood on his hand wasn’t the only blood now leaking onto the street.

Samuel gagged and wretched. His stomach lurched, he fell to his hands and knees, and vomited into the gutter. The sight ahead of him was horrific. A car had veered off the road, the driver’s body hung half out of the front window, limp and lifeless from where they’d smashed through the glass. They had no hope; neither did the woman crushed underneath the hood. She was screaming. Struggling. Trying to free her lower body from the car that was crushing her. But there was no hope for her either. Between screams she coughed and spluttered, blood gurgled out of her mouth and sprayed up onto the sidewalk and over her clothes. The life was fading from her fast. In a matter of minutes,

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