She sang along with the song, letting her hand dangle out the window and surf the wind, and cast an absent glance at the rear view mirror. Her heart froze as she saw the flashing lights of California Highway Patrol. A glance to the speedometer revealed she was going 110 mph, which was slightly higher than the posted 70 mph speed limit.
“Oh no,” she groaned as she let off the gas. Daddy actually would take her keys away if she got another speeding ticket.
She took her time slowing down and pulled over along the shoulder. The officer pulled in behind her and let her sit and stew for several long minutes. When he was sure she'd had enough, he got out of his car and began walking towards her with purposeful authority. She tugged at her dress, pulling it down and pushing the girls up for maximum cleavage, and put on her best smile as the officer drew up along side her door.
“Hi officer,” she said, batting her eyes innocently. “Did I do something wrong?”
Like most patrolmen, he was young, muscular and hard-nosed, his jaw set in scowl, and while his eyes were hidden behind mirrored aviators she could tell he'd noticed the girls. She'd made daddy buy them for her eighteenth birthday and they'd proven to be worth every penny.
“License and registration, ma'am. And proof of insurance if you have it.”
Her smiled thinned as she realized the girls weren't going to get her out of trouble this time. “Of course, officer.”
She dug through the glove box, looking for the registration and her proof of insurance.
“Holy shit,” the patrolman cried. “Look out!”
Ashley looked up and saw the patrolman scrambling away from her car, tripping over his own feet. He wasn't looking at her, but above and behind her and she follow his eyeline to the sky, where a massive, swirling ball of purple and white light hurtled down towards her. She screamed as it enveloped the car.
The intense white light enveloped Ashley, blinding her, and a chill run through her body. Then the light was gone, her vision returned, and she was sitting in a moon-lit forest glade, without a sign of her car, the patrolman, or the Pacific Coast Highway in sight.