Almost Free

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Abrams didn't think it was possible to be even more fucked than he already was and yet here he was. Red and blue light flash through the back window of his car. He grips the steering wheel until his fingers hurt, nails biting into the leather. He wasn't speeding or violating traffic laws, but he knew that had nothing to do with why he was suddenly pulled over.

A heavy knock rings on the top of the car, the officer standing outside the driver side window, motioning for him to turn the frosted glass down. Abrams slowly motioned to the crank handle and slowly wind the window down.

"Do you know why I pulled you over, sir?" It was the sheriff if the large-brimmed hat and star-shaped badge was any indicator. A bead of sweat lost its fight with gravity and slid down the back of Abrams' neck. They pulled out the big guns for him it seemed.

"No, I don't actually," Abrams replied, a sarcastic grin plastered on his face that he fights to keep from turning into a sneer. He was so close to the boarder, so close, so fucking close…

The sheriff didn't seem amused, just stared those false eyes at him. It made his skin crawl how these things pretended to be human, how they thought if they blinked right or or timed their breathing right, they'd be human, they'd be just right.

"I'm gonna need you to step out the car," he spoke with that stereotypical asshole-in-authority voice, that just pissed Abrams off even more. He sighed and hung his head against the steering wheel before resigning to his fate and exiting the car. The rain had stopped while he was driving only to resume as he stood on the slick pavement and leaned against his beaten up sedan, arms crossed.

"You know we can't let you leave," the sheriff said, standing in front of him, both hands on his hip with one of them uncomfortably close to the gun resting there. Abrams swallowed.

"It's a free country, I can go wherever I want." The words were bullshit and they both knew it. Abrams was trapped in that small town just like the rest of the sorry saps that were sucked into the lies and theatrics. He was so close, though, just five more miles to the city line and he would've been free.

"I can give you a ride back to your apartment and have your car towed to your lot, free of charge." Abrams could buy that the smarmy dick standing in front of him was human if it didn't blink that way. That thing must have been programmed with the arrogance of a real city cop.

Abrams sucked his teeth, looked out at the open road and hung his head. He walked towards the sheriff's car and rested a hand on the backseat handle. He took another look at the sheriff and then the road.

He must have paused for too long, because the sheriff piped up to say, "Now, I'd advise you to take my generosity and get in the car." His hand was now sitting on top of his gun, begging Abrams to make a wrong move to give him the excuse he needed to use it.

Abrams didn't tempt him, he opened the backseat door and slid into the cramped seat. The sheriff closed the door behind him and slid into the driver seat.

"I got 'em," he said into his radio.

The sheriff whipped the car around, driving the pair farther and farther away from the city line. There was indiscriminate chatter on the police radio that accompanied the squeaking of windshield wipers wiping away fresh drops of rain. Abrams leaned his head against the worn leather, a reluctant smile played against his lips. He might not have made it out this time, but next time…