Revised Prologue

I've made some changes to the prologue, not major surgery but hopefully changes that make it slow a bit more smoothly. Anyway, here's the update:

Prologue

It was just after 11PM and the night air was thick and muggy from the long hot day that had preceded it. Excitement surrounded the group of teens in an electric buzz that tickled their senses; adrenaline flowing though them as the light turned green and the roar of engines and squealing of tires rose to an almost deafening level. Both vehicles launched forward, leaving trails of rubber and traces of smoke in their wakes. Steve was driving the Mustang and Randy the Trans Am. Both fairly evenly matched, even with the various modifications that the two boys had made to their vehicles. As they tore down the road, neither seemed to have an edge over the other and they rapidly reached and then exceeded the posted speed limit of 45MPH. It was a little traveled road on the outside, the last light before leaving city limits and entering the county patrolled area that surrounded it. This was one of their favorite spots, rarely any cars out this way, especially this time of night.

Angela squealed with delight as her long brown hair flew backward in the breeze over the top of the passenger seat of Randy’s Trans Am. The sounds of the radio blasting Stabbing Westward drown out her scream, Randy hadn’t even noticed it. The top was down, adding to the buffeting of the wind that raced by the car’s occupants. She gripped the arm rest tightly and looked over at her older brother as he shifted gears once more and the unmistakable sound of climbing RPMs emanated from the black convertible’s engine. She turned to her right, looking at Steve who was staring straight ahead and had just finished a shift of his own. The dark green of the Mustang looked almost black in the pale light that surrounded the vehicles as they raced down the empty street.

It wasn’t so much a race as it was a game of chicken. If either boy missed the jump off the line, the race was over, but this time neither had. Now it was about how fast each dared to go before reaching the hill and the blind curve that followed it.

Greg gripped the handle of the Mustang so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His eyes were glued straight ahead, not daring to venture a glance to either side. The familiar feeling of the surge of adrenaline was flowing through him, making him feel alive. However, it made him very uneasy racing towards the famous hill at close to 100MPH. The hill would be fun, dropping down it at that speed was certain to send you stomach up into your throat. But at that speed, the blind turn would come quickly and it was impossible to tell what or who might be coming the other way. Perhaps it was the danger that heightened the sense of excitement, but that same danger made him very nervous.

“Enough!” Shouted Greg as he felt the ground fall away beneath them and tightened his stomach in a futile attempt to keep it where it was.

Steve dropped back a gear and Randy’s Trans Am pulled ahead and then banked hard to the right. Steve’s Mustang followed and tires squealed loudly as the two cars drifted into the turn. Randy saw the headlights first and his heart raced even faster, the pounding in his chest overpower the roar of the Ram Air 400 and the squeal of the tires. He aimed for the inside of the right lane and juiced the throttle to correct the understeer. Steve was right behind him, following suite and Randy glanced up in time to see the old man in the passing car glaring angrily, waving his fist in the air and shouting something. The two boys knew better than to stop and raced on, taking a few more turns before slowing down and pulling over.

Just another summer night in Huntsville Montana.