Dawson Rolling Seas - Eastern Monarch

Dawson Rolling Seas - Eastern MonarchDawson Sun-Flecked Foam--The Barnabas Webb of ThomastonMonsted By The River, BrondbyvesterDawson Swinging Along
door and the ramp beyond at such acceleration that a man on foot couldn’t catch it.Stepping from a run into an isosceles shooting stance, squarely facing the target, right leg quartering back for balance, left knee flexed, both hands on the weapon, Ethan than before, and the exposed wheel rim bit at the quartzite with a sound like a stone saw cutting cobbles.When Ethan reached the top of the ramp, he saw the car following the driveway along the side of the mansion. Heading toward the front. Forty feet away. Making speed in spite of being crippled. Nothing to stop it from grinding all the way to the distant gate, [581] which opened automatically from the inside when sensors buried in the pavement of the exit lane detected traffic.risked three quick shots, aiming low in fear of hitting Fric with a ricochet, targeting the rear tire on the passenger’s side.The fender skirt shielded almost half the wheel, giving him a narrow window in which to place the shot. One round pocked metal, one went wide, but one popped the tire.The car sagged back and to one side. Kept going. Still too fast to be chased down. The slap-slap-slap of loose rubber marked its ascent along the lower half of the ramp.The quartzite paving provided good traction, dry or wet, but the Buick’s rear tires spun briefly, churning up a spray of dirty water and blue smoke, maybe because of the cant to the right.As Ethan closed the gap once more, the Buick found its footing, lunged forward, upward. Spin-shredded rubber flapped louder