MASON DIXON: MONSTER HUNTER
COMING APRIL 2017
A NEW NOVELLA SERIES FROM FALSTAFF BOOKS
“Mason, I’d really rather not go to lockup tonight.”
The gowrows squawked agreeably from the back seat.
“Put your harness on,” I said.
“Mason?” Emma asked hesitantly as she pulled the racing harness over her shoulders.
I did the same, awkwardly buckling the crotch piece with one hand. “Drop a couple apples on the floor board. I want the gowrows as low as they can get.”
She pulled two out of the glove box and tossed them into the back. My seat bounced forward when the first gowrow dove for the nearest apple.
“Alright kid, let’s see what you got me.” I pushed the power button on the radio and held it down. Three seconds later, a panel slid out with a series of very much not factory approved features.
“What the hell are we doing?” Emma asked.
I floored the accelerator. We hit 60 pretty fast, at which point I said, “Nitrous,” and hit the big blue button. The engine screamed as the injection hit, and rocketed us up to 110 miles per hour, which is a really stupid thing to do on a country highway.
“Oh shit oh shit oh shit,” Emma said as the force of the acceleration smashed us into our seats. The gowrows squealed in the back, their necks stretched over the seat, and jaws widened like they were screaming. I ground my teeth together. It felt like we were leaving the earth as we crested the small hills, and the tires screamed around gentle turns that were barely turns at all.
In the end, it would only buy us a few seconds against the helicopter, but that might be enough. We soared through another two miles, and I crushed the brakes when I saw the turn off for Swinging Bridges Road in the distance. Smoke and screeches and the squeals of the gowrows filled the early morning air.
I wrenched the wheel and bounced off the highway as fast as I dared in the old truck.
“Gravel!” Emma shouted. “Why are there still gravel roads out here!”
“Wait until you see the bridge.”