Going Bush

It was possibly half an hour later when Taylor heard another car approaching from the rear, though he - having lost track of time - could easily have said it were hours.
He debated slipping his foot through the hole again. The other car, hard as it would have been, could have missed it. Maybe they wouldn’t do anything for whatever reason. Maybe they weren’t believed.
Deciding quickly, he did it again. No sooner had he, did he hear police sirens begin to wail.
Quickly pulling his foot back in shock, he felt the car begin to slow. The police car overtook, and they soon had to pull over. He heard the doors of the police car opening – two of them – and then the officers’ footsteps making their way toward the car. Whoever was driving had obviously wound their window down as conversation soon erupted. Though Taylor couldn’t make out the words, he could hear that the tone was worryingly calm.
Not thirty seconds past Taylor asking himself if they were ever going to open the trunk, two simultaneous and loud gunshots rang out into the night. Taylor couldn’t help but yell, purely from the shock, before squeezing his eyes shut and praying they were ok.
He soon heard three car doors open and recognized the hopelessness of his request. Two sets of footsteps became silent, but the third came toward the trunk. Whimpering slightly different prayers now, Taylor heard an exclamation when whoever it was saw what he’d done to the lights before there was a rattle of keys and trunk was opened.
“Come on, get out. We’ve got something to show you,” came Nate’s voice as Taylor kept his eyes closed.
His muffled pleas to leave him alone went unheard as he was pulled down onto the bitumen before being dragged to his feet and pulled around to the side of the car. Nate soon had him up against the side before grabbing his jaw and turning his head to the side.
“Open your eyes,” he ordered.
And despite being smaller than Taylor, he was very persuasive. Taylor had opened his eyes barely a crack when he closed them tightly again. On the road beside them was the body of one of the officers.
“People keep dying because of you, Taylor,” Nate taunted almost childishly, “first your brother, you almost killed the three of us, and now these two. Who’s next?”
“I say he is,” came Trent’s voice from somewhere nearby, “he looks to be proving more trouble than he’s worth. Do you really need him?”
“Bernie needs him to get him over the border,” Nate replied, not without regret.
He soon returned his attention to Taylor, almost hyperventilating and still refusing to open his eyes. He finally let go of him and backed off a little, turning his attention to his accomplices.
“Get them in the car and run it off the road. No one should come looking for some time. It’ll give us a while to get a new car and continue on to the safe house.”
Trent nodded and began dragging the nearest body back to the car. Bernard was already at the car, sifting through the contents.
“And you,” Nate tapped Taylor on the shoulder, “are riding in the front from now on. You’re lucky the car’s already no good for anything.”
Taylor managed to slide to the ground as Nate left him and went to help Trent. Once they had the policemen in the car and Bernard had everything from it he wanted, they took the brakes off and pushed it from the road.