I get caught.

I try to run for my life but before I know it, the sheriff in his car seriously closes the gap between him and me. I turn my head around and I see the headlight and the siren lights getting closer and closer. As a glimpse, I see another glow, illuminating the road in front of me. I turn my head back and see another set of headlights and siren lights. The vehicle looks more like a truck than a car. I continue to dash down the road toward the new vehicle.

The officer in the truck hesitates and tries to block me but I try to avoid him. His truck manuevers one way and the other the next, until it skids to a halt perpendicular to the road. It stops me in my tracks, forcing me to run the other way, towards the sheriff's car. His car is more agile than the truck as it easily skids into place with the driver's side door opening after. The sheriff quickly gets out and runs after me. I run back, away from the sheriff, and back the way I was going. But as soon as I changed direction, I am tackled, and caught off guard by the police officer, who got out of his truck to stop me as well.

The police officer gets me on my stomach and takes both my arms and pins them behind me. The sheer **** and agility of this man sends pain rushing through my upper body. With my hands stuck in a cuff-like manner in the officer's hands, the police officer lifts me up and slams me onto the hood of the sheriff's car.

The sheriff stands by the side of the road as the police officer pins me against the hood of his car. The sheriff catches his breath and turns to walk towards his car. With my head turned to the right side of the car and my right ear pressed against the warm hood with the engine running, the sheriff looks me in the eye and gives out a brief lecture. I don't doubt that he will spit on me if he yells and I brace for any residue after he finishes. He bends down to say to my face and scolds me, "Now, if you left your hands on the vehicle like I told you to, we wouldn't be in this mess. Now I have to arrest you for assaulting a police officer, fleeing from police, and grand theft auto."

I struggle to free myself, but the officer is in control, his young voice saying, "Don't fight it ma'am, you'll only break it this way." He starts to search me. One hand stays on my pinned arms while the other feels along my arms, my torso, and my legs. He also gets a feel in between my legs, which disgust me, both by my female body and confused male mind, which after a while is adjusting to the sensations and feelings connected to the body. After finding nothing on my body, he answers to the sheriff, "She's clean Sheriff."

"Cuff her and call a tow truck to haul that nice ride to the police impound, and check it too," he says the officer. The officer, being more gentle than he was, places the cuffs on me. Since I know the setting of the cuff can be tightened, the officer doesn't tighten it to its limit.

After the officer cuffs my hands behind my back, he puts me in the back of the sheriff's car, the last place I wanna be in. The sheriff and the officer converse with one another and they decide that the young police officer will drive me to the police station. The sheriff and the police officer exchanges keys. The sheriff is then seen running to the truck and leaving back down the highway, to the place where the Hemi Cuda was put.

The police officer climbs into the police cruiser, puts the keys into the ignition and turns it on. He drives down the highway, away from the parked Hemi Cuda and the sheriff. During his drive, the officer doesn't speak, neither turning to talk to me or picking up his radio to call in to HQ. All I can do is sit with my hands cuffed behind my back and continue to stare at the back of the officer's head through the cage divider.

He turns a left at a four-way crossroads some twenty miles down the road and starts to drive towards the maroon-colored mountains in the distance. The cruiser climbs up and climbs down winding, hilly roads through what looks like a desert. It looks like a desert because the only things I can see is the moon, the horizon, and miles and miles of sand. As much as I want to get out, I find out the road is brief. The police cruiser is driven closer and closer to the orange hued rocks as large as asteroids. As the police car drives through the canyon road, it slows down and speeds up as it carefully navigates through sharp corners and hairpins. After the series of turns and corners end, a sheer cliff with a guardrail appears in view. As the police cruiser carefully rolls past the rail I look out over the cliff, seeing a large, city lit up like a fireworks show.