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backwoods beanheads

Decemeber 29, 2002

Route 27, northbound
Maine

The nondesript Honda with a full rooftop rack of skis to thwart those who would want to stop HAE from entering the woods was successfully heading northbound.

Tim hummed happily along to the lame song on the radio. JB wasn't so cheerful.

"Not one State Police car pulled us over. We just breezed by the heat." JB said, scratching his chin. "I dunno, Tim... looks too good to be true."

Tim confidently reassured JB. "I told you the skis on the roof and the D.A.R.E. bumpersticker would throw off the Staties."

JB wasn't paying attention. He was the first to see the wall of flashing lights way up ahead.

Tim saw them, too. His eyes revealed an evil that must have been deep inside him. With a hard pull on the wheel, the car became airborne above the steep embankment along side the highway. As the car reached the peak of its deadly arc, Tim reached behind him, grabbed his pack and jumped out of the doomed vehicle. JB was way ahead of him, one arm flailing as he decended into the trees below trailing his own pack.

What seemed like minutes was barely a whole second. The car disappeared behind a clump of trees and hit the ground with a loud crunch before bursting in a Hollywood style ball of flame. An impressive cloud of black smoke rolled high above them.

JB landed in the embrace of a healthy pine tree, sliding gracefully to the ground. Tim landed ten feet away in a rolling tuck, thumping to a stop next to his backpack.

Tim stood, brushing the New England snow from his wool. He reached down for his pack as he spoke. "That should keep those donut eating gomers off our backs, eh JB...?"

JB didn't hear a thing. He was already in the woods headed towards that knarley peak in the distance.

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