Chix On Speed (PROLOGUE)

Running through time now all she could hear was her own footsteps reverberating through her body and the deep rhythmic inhalations of oxygen into her lungs. How long had it been now? Ten minutes? Twenty? It was impossible to tell; the peyote made her concept of time a little fuzzy. All she knew was she couldn't stop until she felt ready. And so now, miles from her original location, across the alkali flats of Salar de Uyuni, she saw the first signs of life in the region rise from the water; she saw the first man slicing a freshly caught fish; she saw Lake Minchin drying out, leaving that desert of salt; she saw the first salt miners, and she saw the first scientists. She saw all of this at once.

Turning northeast now, hitting the water within seconds, still running. The Netherlands Antilles looks like a Jackson Pollack painting. She can hardly make out a slave ship before losing it in the void.

And now where? France? No. Italy. What feels like inches translates to miles, and by the time she's tired she's already circumnavigated the globe twice. She stops and looks around.

And she's in Atlanta. And she thinks to herself, fuck. I hate the Braves.

Picking a vacation spot is hard for someone with super-speed, especially when they're high. Luckily for Colleen her sponsor was already abreast of the situation.

(*Spoiler: Colleen's NA sponsor is an anthropomorphic cat who finally kicked the habit after overdosing on heroin in 1994.)

At the speed of light Mr. Muffins was on his way.