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...taken from the pages of Hypercar...


 

 

   “Kerry!” Ollie shouted after her. He saw her run across the road, to the other side. “What are you doing?!” A waist-high fence blocked her way, but that didn’t stop her. She ducked between the wires and ran on, disappearing into the bushy trees of the forest that grew beyond.
   For a moment Ollie sat stunned, then he too unbuckled himself and his fingers scrabbled for the door handle. But, pressed against the ditch, the door wouldn’t budge. Leaving it, he clambered over the driver’s seat and tumbled out head-first onto the grass. Picking himself up, he sprinted across the road, after Kerry, but stopped short of the fence.

   “Kerry?” his eyes searched the dense forest. “Kerry!” he called out again sharply. She had disappeared and he received no reply. Instead, his ears detected the distant wail of a siren. Quickly it grew louder. Spinning around, he saw the police car tearing towards him, all noise and flashing lights. The driver saw him at the same time and braked sharply, screeching to a halt beside the stranded Porsche. Two officers jumped out and ran towards him. One young, with a clean shaven face, the other older, with a grey moustache and sunken eyes.
   “Hey, you!” Big, burly and faces grim, they meant business. Involuntarily, Ollie took a step backwards – away from them. “Stay where you are!”
   “Get on the ground! Now!”
   “Hands behind your head!”
Ollie hesitated. “Alright, alright.” He raised his hands and sank onto his knees. “Take it easy.”
   “Trying to run away, were you?!” The older cop reached him first.
   “No–” a knee jarred into his back, knocking him onto his face.
   “Do you know what speed we got you at?” Viscously, he twisted Ollie’s hands up behind his back and snapped a pair of cuffs tightly over his wrists.    “270 kays!”
   “I wasn’t the one driving!”
   “Yeah, right,” the policeman sneered.
   “My friend was,” Ollie protested, with his lips pressed helplessly against the grass.

   “Uh-huh, and where’s your friend now?”
   “She ran off into the trees.”
  “I bet she did,” he sneered. “The stories you racers come up with. You really think we’re that dumb?”
   “It’s true!”
  “Well, good luck explaining that to the judge. C’mon pal, you’re coming with us.” Roughly they grabbed his shoulders, one on either side, and dragged him across the road to bundle him into the back of the patrol car. In a daze, Ollie stared back at his Porsche, sticking out of the ditch, with the driver door still open.
   “We’ll have someone tow it,” the younger cop saw the direction of his gaze and laughed snidely.

   “But, rest assured, you won’t be driving it again for a long time.”
   “If ever,” the older cop confirmed nastily.

 

 

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