Royal Blue
2020
Lies, Greed, Insanity
Seeking refuge from a rogue blizzard, a young woman on horseback stumbles upon a lost village locked away in rugged Appalachian terrain and two men locked in adversity from a childhood tragedy perpetrated by an insidious lie. Her persistence to unravel the deceit instead results in deadly consequences.
A psychological suspense tale of deception and the redeeming power of personal and universal truth, Royal Blue weaves between the past and present on a countdown that accelerates to an explosive reckoning.
Rourke caught up to Jake on the other side of the bridge and tackled the fugitive to the ground from behind. Jake twisted around to flail at Rourke with the mallet, but the poor angle of attack rendered most of his strikes ineffective. Nevertheless, one jab found Rourke's side, leaving him gasping in agony and providing Jake enough time to scramble to his feet and continue running toward the farmhouse.
Rolling on the ground and unable to breathe, Rourke wondered in spite of the pain why his adversary had not lingered to inflict further damage. Jake was hell-bent on something in particular, and it wasn't escape. Had he wanted to leave, Jake should have been running south to the gorge bridge, not northeast to the house. What could he possibly want? Is he going to try to snatch some more gold from the house vault? Nope. That would take too long and the sledgehammer wouldn't be an effective way to open it. Jake probably knew the combination anyway. Is he after his horse? Unlikely, as he just passed up three saddled mounts a minute ago. Why the sledgehammer?
It wasn't until Jake bypassed the farmhouse that the real danger began to dawn on Rourke, and Rourke drew every ounce of alarmed determination he could muster to rise to his feet. But he already knew he would be too late.
Jake rushed to the immense gas well head, assumed a wide leg stance, and pulled back the sledgehammer in a two-fisted wind-up. The powerful swing of metal on metal rang out through the valley. Then again, and again.
The valve gave way with a roar as the six-inch-diameter pipe ruptured, shooting a clear gas column upward. Jake turned to Rourke and grinned. Then he looked away and swung one more time. The sparks from the scrape of the metal mallet head ignited into a jet of fire 20 feet high, knocking Jake off his feet.
Anticipating the force of the reaction, Rourke had flung himself back on the ground and covered his head and ears. After the shock wave passed, Rourke peeked out to locate Jake, who was now scrambling away from the Christmas tree of pipes. Even as he clawed to get away, Jake stared upward, sneering. Rourke followed his gaze. The drought-dry camouflage canopy was on fire.