Flying on the Rail

Pete lowered his head and stepped inside the back of the police cruiser. Presently, he heard a low humming when the vehicle lifted off from the ground in one smooth motion.

He looked out to the distant, where the traffic of the metropolitan area at the evening shimmered in vibrant colors, as different carrying vessels blew past each other in the predefined paths and drives, which looked to be intersected from the ground up or from the sky down.

The police cruiser quickly approached the city and joined one of the line, but it was congested and barely moving in any direction, which frustrated the driver. Without wanting to waiting any longer, the man handling the wheel blasted the cry of the deadly siren and cast the murderous lights of blue and red into the crowd. People were blinded as the cruiser flew away. The inaudible cursing and honking filled the space, Pete saw the it all, but not the two sitting in front.

Soon they descended on a landing pad and the one who rode shotgun dragged him out from the warm seat and escorted him down to the holding cell.

There was several heavyset in there, which seemed like they were from the same place as far as Pete could tell from their fancy clothing.

The cell door banged close and Pete sat silently down on the bench in the middle. The man who occupied the corner turned to look at him.

“What’s your deal?” said the man with a mustache.
“Fantasizing.” said Pete.
“What?”
“Have thoughts about stuff.”
“They arrested you for that?” questioned the man.
“No.”
“Don’t play with me, son.”
“I ain't you son.”
“So?”
“I deal.”
“I heard that’s pretty risky.”
“So you see.”
“How long?”
“Two days shy.”