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... The clamor reverberated throughout the cabin of the ’89 Oldsmobile, causing Quinn’s head to violently snap up from his chest. ... Quinn focused his attention to the soft mumbling coming from the radio. The golden voice of the DJ slowly announced that it was nearing 2 AM and 56 degrees in the Cattle Capital of North Texas. ... Especially for why he felt the urgent need to leave school in the last semester of his senior year. ... ” Quinn amusingly thought, that if anyone could understand his journey from New Mexico to Montana, it would be Reverend Willie. ... He noticed muffled barks coming from the puppy’s dreams as he lay sleeping on top of the old tattered and coffee stained Rand McNally road map. ... As if the dog was expecting to see a squirrel to chase, his head shot up and quickly scanned from side to side. ... As Quinn struggled to grab the paddle a branch from a downed oak reached out and hit Patrick jarring the paddle from his hands. ... The Snake River flexed its muscle and quickly drew him further and further downstream away from his kayak and Patrick. ... He ripped the seat belt away from his midsection to relieve the tension. His dog was yelping from the under the glove compartment as he lay on his side on the floor mat. ... ” The puppy quickly shook off his injury and hopped out of the car wagging his tail like a propeller to help guide his leap from the driver’s seat to the ground two feet below. ... Pausing from time to time to get fresh water from the irrigation ditches and to take frequent breaks in the shade of a cactus. ... He figured that he was far enough away from his wrecked car and destroyed cross that he could stop here and catch up on some sleep under the shade of the bridge. ... He frantically pushed the dish in a circle on the ground as he tried to lick every last morsel from the pot. ... Evel immediately stopped his chase when he heard the three short whistles from Quinn. ... The dog quickly came over and tried to lick up the drops of water as they fell from his clothes. ... Evel remained awake for a while to protect the campsite from any roving gangs of predators. ... The idea that he was away from it all brought a smile to his face. ... As he sat there he saw his blue ceramic camping cup slowly tumble down the hillside, about 200 yards from him. ...
Once they both had calmed down, Quinn turned away from his scattered belongings and limped off into the western horizon, with the dog trotting happily along side him. ... ” He pulled out Quinn’s journal from under his seat.
Approximate Word count = 4151
Approximate Pages = 16.6
(250 words per page double spaced)
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