Dis-Adjectivisation

On the grounds that I still hamper my own ability through a reliance upon adjectives (and the occasional adverb), I'm revisiting that first chapter of Second Fist.

It's interesting to pull them all out and see the difference it makes to the flow of the writing:

Adjectised

We ran the next red, slid across the sweaty tarmac and tore away into the night. The road was ours and though the town’s breath was heavy on our necks we didn’t look back. Behind us the central precinct sprawled like a ruptured wound; picked clean of community and hospitality. And at its concrete heart where the darkness swelled and a poison had taken root, the land had begun to die.

Okay, so there are four adjectives there, though admittedly the second is allowed since we'd otherwise not know what kind of precinct. So, what does it read like without the other three?

Sans Adjectives

We ran the next red, slid across the tarmac and tore away into the night. The road was ours and though the town’s breath was heavy on our necks we didn’t look back. Behind us the central precinct sprawled like a wound; picked clean of community and hospitality. And at its heart where the darkness swelled and a poison had taken root, the land had begun to die.

I can then address further ideas with the new text, namely that third sentence, which now hangs limply at the middle, around the word wound:

Behind us the central precinct sprawled. A wound; picked clean of community and hospitality.

That serves to break up the structure a bit more, puts wound into the mouth of the narrator - more like a direct thought than just a description, and helps increase the pace.

It's a far shine from my original opening, which was desperately clunky:

We ran the next red, slid across the sweaty tarmac and tore away into the night. The road was ours and though the town’s breath was heavy on our necks we didn’t look back. We left behind the labyrinth of roundabouts and diversion signs that surrounded the central precinct and disorientated visitors, who more often than not found themselves lost or returning from where they’d come. Inside that perimeter the town’s hub sprawled like a ruptured wound; picked clean of community and hospitality. And at its concrete heart where the darkness swelled and a poison had taken root, the land had begun to die.