Standing and watching the TV pictures they see the shaky, hand-held footage of the storm battering Reykjavik. Heather gasps, and raises her hand to her mouth.
“My poor children.” She turns to face the window as a fork of lighting bisects the view and two. The house shakes with the crash of thunder that follows.
“Where are they?” She looks up at her husband.
Current wordcount: 51,599
Current pagecount: 189
I’m hoping, as this chapter builds to it’s climax, that my readers will be thinking, oh no, not again…