Bruce Zimmerman
“Hey man, pull over wherever you can. You can’t see shit in this weather. Turn on those flashers and the strobe. Base, this here’s Steve; I’m with the rookie,” he said shielding the mike against his chest.
“What’s your name son?”
“William, but everyone calls me Billy Boy.”
(Cough) “Billy Boy… Visibility zero, squall winds, lightning striking trees everywhere.”
Then as if orchestrated, there was hostile stillness.
In an instant, it turned dead calm. Just like the eye of a hurricane. Eerie and chilling silence. Hell, you could almost hear the fish fart. No birds chirping, no crickets or love calls. No animals rustling along the leaf carpeted paths.
