Going Bush

After having to half drag Taylor back to the car because he could barely balance himself on one leg, Bernard let him lean on the side as he opened the passenger door. Taylor took the moment to finally put the jacket on, zipping it up halfway at the front.
“Give me your hands,” Bernard instructed suddenly.
When Taylor turned back to him, he saw he had the handcuffs ready.
“Please don’t be serious,” he shook his head desperately.
“Prove to me that you’re not going to cause any more trouble than you already have,” Bernard’s eyes narrowed, getting both sides open and ready.
Taylor looked in through the window of the car, stalling for a moment, before stretching his arms behind him and then holding them out to Bernard. The cuffs were on in seconds, and he hung his head submissively.
“Get in the car,” Bernard ordered, opening the door for him.
Taylor took one last look down the road before complying. The door was locked and shut after him, and Bernard made his way around to the driver’s side. They were soon once again on their way to the border.

*

Isaac cringed as he watched the patrol car in his rear vision mirror. They didn’t have their lights on or anything, but he was sure they were going to pull him over eventually. And about twenty minutes later, those lights and sirens came on.
Grudgingly, Isaac pulled over. They pulled up behind him, and he waited for one of them to come to his window.
“Sir, I’d ask you to step out of the car please,” the officer announced as he approached.
Isaac rolled his eyes, trying to resist grinding his teeth. But he opened the door and stepped out obediently.
“Come around to the back of the truck.”
“Officer, I am in a serious rush right now,” Isaac shook his head insistently.
“We can see that. Can I see some identification please?”
Isaac pulled out his wallet, holding his I.D. out so the officer could see. The man took one look at it before looking up at him again.
“So you’re his brother, huh?”
“Distant cousin,” Isaac scorned sarcastically, “can I go now?”
“See now, word on the street says you were asked to turn back to the ranger station you came from,” the officer began, as Isaac hung his head trying to think of a way out.
He frowned.
Kneeling down, he reached to the side of him a little and gently touched the road. A dark patch of something wet had caught his eye, and it wasn’t motor oil. The officer soon saw what he did and knelt down with him.
“It’s recent,” Isaac informed him, rubbing the red substance between his fingers.
The officer immediately went to inform his comrade and tell him to radio forensics. Isaac pondered for barely a moment before standing again and going back to the truck.
“Sir! Wait!” the officer called after him when he saw what he was doing.
But Isaac simply started the truck and pulled out without speaking a word. Now he knew he was on the right track, and nothing but distance was going to stop him getting to Taylor before they reached the border.
The knowledge that he was bleeding as badly as the spatters showed on the road egged him on even more.