If you've run from cops you know there's an instant at the outset, before the jets fire, when your feet suddenly weigh a thousand pounds apiece. The body seizes for a moment, every synapse in the flight system jacking massive adrenaline rushes into the bloodstream at once. The engine redlines - you feel your pulse stretching your arteries, first in your stomach, then your neck. Your hands go numb; your jaw's a clamped vice; your brain games the next ten moves at light speed. I bolt up the driveway, out to the street, but then what? Do I bolt for another fraternity house, run inside and hide in a random room? Make a dead run straight into the woods across the street? Is the guy with the flashlight fast enough to run a pattern with me? Could I burn him? Why am I wearing boat shoes this time of year?

-- "You Can't Go Back, Part 1"
The Philadelphia Lawyer


"I got it. I got it." Harris was coming back, shaking off the last trails of the gas. "Wheeew. That's pretty intense." He grabbed the wheel from my hand and pressed on the accelerator. I pulled a cartridge from the bag on the floor and slid it into the cracker. The balloon filled; I inhaled deeply and slid back into the seat, numb, mouth breathing, staring out the window, a short bus mongoloid. The City was coming up fast on my right and I was warm with joy. This was a teaser; in four hours, I'd be a million miles out of mind. Maybe I'd even get some...

-- "The Drought, Part 2"
The Philadelphia Lawyer