I was a wiry athletic kid of about 13, female. I lived on the big island of Hawaii and my dad was the local sherrif. (This is all modern day, and my father looked like a cross between Kurt Russell and Michael Douglas. He was not my real-life father in any way. Seems like any mother figure was dead or out of the picture.) I was in his office as they were discussing that one of their people was missing... our people, I was often hanging out at the station or with him or his officers somewhere. Seems like it was summer vacation, so school wasn't an issue.
Dad handed a stack of oversized arial photographs to someone else and said, "Here's the photos of a perfect flight on the aircraft." Apparently the gal who was missing was investigating drug running or something, and had disappeared somewhere after leaving the station last. She was supposed to take the plane to somewhere (I forget where, it was important to the investigation) and had obviously met with foul play somewhere along the way because she hadn't made it to whatever rendezvous had called in saying she was missing.
Dad was thinking she'd been intercepted after the flight, but I saw the photos and said, "This is where it happened. You should look into this, the pilot or someone on the plane did it." He asked me why I thought that and I said, "Why would they send you photos of a perfect flight? It's like they want you to overlook them." Seems like there was some reason why it would be difficult to investigate the flight crew, like they were usually trustworthy and had friends higher up. But my words swayed him and he said he'd have to send something to a guy I also knew half way across the island. Dad was plenty busy trying to round up a search of everywhere
but the plane and it's owners and all things related. I offered to take the stuff he wanted to send by bike, I'd done similar things before and knew the way.
He told me to be careful and I left with the file in my backpack (I think it was a file anyways, the dream logic wasn't up to par for that part). Beside the station, along the main road of town were a couple buildings including a bar (on the right when walking out of the station) followed by an auto repair shop. I'd left my bike chained up with a bunch of others in front of the car place. As I got it off the rack a big mean-looking guy came up and accused me of trying to steal his bike. He argued with me for a moment while I was trying to keep him calm (I didn't feel like getting beat up and nobody else was around at that moment.) I said, "Fine, let's go ask Big Louie, he knows my bike," plus Big Louie never let anyone give him crap. Even me, who he was fond of. Big Louie was a huge Polynesian guy who owned the car repair and could always be found on the premesis without looking very hard.
The mean guy backed off as soon as I mentioned Big Louie. Figured, the jerk was just trying to make trouble. I got outa there fast and stopped in front of the bar where an asian lady I knew was selling coffee. I told her I was headed across the island and she asked me to deliver a big ol' pot of coffee since I was going that way already. (The coffee thing looked like a cross between a thermos and a large-style coffee holder from restaurants.) Yeah, I said I could and so loaded that into my backpack. Boy was it heavy... but I cinched up the straps and got going. The bright, sunny weather was kinda hot but I had a bottle of water on my bike and I was used to this kinda thing.
I rode on the sidewalk through the busier traffic of town and before long was zipping along the side of the road after the sidwalk ended. For a while I only passed one oncoming car and nobody passed me, which was typical. Then I hit the stretch where the road got very steep and windy and the area was very sandy. I was carefully maneuvering through this area when someone in a pickup tried to run me off the road. I ended up in the sand, still on my bike, but it was very hard to pedal through the stuff. I made it a ways, shortcutting across the sand to another section of the road, but the truck was coming back. I ditched the bike and ran across the dunes. I knew I was somewhere near the water but couldn't see it.
There were people chasing me now, it's like they'd been waiting in the area for me. One of them was the mean guy from earlier at the auto place. Well, suddenly all of that made sense and I figured these guys were the same ones responsible for the officer lady's earlier disappearance. If I could get away I could tell Dad... but the odds weren't looking good. They caught me and dragged me back to the road. I vaguely remember being hauled off in a van... and as logic really started to bail from the dream I remember hoping that the bad guys had left my bike where I'd ditched it and forgotten about it. Dad would come looking along my bike route when I didn't turn up... plus I'd ditched my backpack there because it was so heavy, but I think one of the guys took it.
Then I woke up.
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