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EARMARKED | MESSAGES | SUBSCRIPTIONS
 
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    Blue Heron Marsh, by Douglas Quinn
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    Excerpts
    Blue Heron Marsh, by Douglas Quinn
    My thoughts were interrupted when Amanda said, “I wish that damned car behind us would either drop back or go around us. It’s really starting to piss me off.” I turned in the passenger seat and could see a vehicle behind us, following too close. “Has it been following that close for a while?” “Just for the past few minutes,” Amanda said. “And the bastard has his high beams on. People can be so damned stupid and inconsiderate.” As she was talking, I felt her accelerate. We were already doing seventy-five and I looked over at the speedometer and saw it jump up to eighty-five. The guy behind us not only kept up but seemed to be edging even closer. “What in hell is this idiot trying to do?” I shouted. Probably some damned asshole kid out on a Friday night trying to show off to his girlfriend or buddies. “Idiot’s going to get himself killed,” I said. “Or us,” Amanda said, and punched it up to ninety, then ninety-five, then a hundred. “Shit! He’s hanging right there with us.” I held up my hand to shield my eyes from his brights. It seemed like he was right in our damned trunk. “Hold on,” Amanda said and punched it up to a hundred and ten. I hoped her engine was well tuned and wouldn’t blow. Without warning, Amanda slammed on the brakes and I was jerked forward toward the dash board. I felt like the seat belt was ripping through my chest and waist. Behind us I heard more screeching and suddenly the high beams that had been flooding through our back window were gone. Then, just as suddenly, I was thrown back in the seat, my head bouncing off the head rest as Amanda floored the Toyota and shot ahead. “Jesus H. Christ!” I shouted. “I told you to hold on, didn’t I?” Amanda said, laughing. As I regained my composure, I twisted around in the seat, looking for the other car. I couldn’t see anything. “What the hell happened to the other guy?” I asked. “Last I saw, his headlights were doing 360s in the dark.” “Damn. Should we go back?” “Fuck that,” Amanda said. “I hope the bastard’s in a ditch somewhere with his head busted open.”