Samantha reached out of the truck window and handed me a bottled water. "Just carry her out into the woods."

"We can't leave her," I said. "What if she wakes up?"

"Then don't leave her. Hide out there with her."

I unscrewed the cap and poured the warm water over my shoulders and chest. "We can't leave you, either."

"Then don't leave me," said Samantha, as if speaking to a remarkably stupid child. Many people have spoken to me in that tone of voice over the years. When we finally made it home I'd have to look into improving my intelligence level. "We'll all hide out there."

"Okay," I said, emptying the rest of the bottle. There were still streaks of blood on me, but that wouldn't matter if we were hiding out in the woods. "Roger, you carry her out there, and I'll keep our friends covered with the gun. Witch should be okay for a minute while you come back and get Samantha."

"Sounds good," said Roger, handing me the gun. Goblin and Troll had dragged Charlie's corpse out of sight and now Goblin was in their truck, driving it off to the side of the road so the approaching vehicle could get past. Troll was scattering dirt on the remnants of Charlie remaining on the road.

Roger got out of the truck, and then reached into the back and picked up Witch, putting one arm under her knees and one behind her back.

Had she stirred?

Nah.

Roger lifted her out of the truck and walked toward the woods.

"What are you doing?" Goblin demanded.

"We can't have her just lying in the back of the truck," I said.

"This part of the woods is loaded with traps! If you want to march through there, be my guest, but if you try to bring her with you the deal is off. I didn't swallow my pride just to have her ripped up by three dozen rusty poison darts."

Roger hesitated.

Troll looked at his watch. "You'd better decide either way. We don't know how fast they're driving."

"Let's put her inside the truck," said Roger. Samantha opened the door for him and he not-so-gently set Witch inside in an upright position. Then he and I got into the truck as well, brushing safety glass off the seat from the shattered windshield, the four of us tightly squeezed together. I looked over my shoulder and saw Troll get into his own truck with Goblin.

"Shouldn't we have worked out a cover story first?" asked Samantha. "What if the people stop and want to know what happened?"

"I think we're going to have to wing it," I noted, as I heard the sound of a vehicle approaching.

Witch twitched.

Then coughed.

The vehicle, a dirty but impressive black limousine, came around the corner. It slowed down.

Roger grabbed Witch by the collar and yanked her down, bashing her forehead against the dashboard. She jabbed him in the side with her elbow, and he yanked her down again, bashing her forehead once more.

The limousine came to a stop right next to our truck. The windows were tinted, preventing us from seeing who was inside.

"I'll kill you!" Witch screamed, lashing out at Roger and Samantha. They struggled to keep her under control.

I reached past Roger and pushed the gun into her side. Witch seemed unaware of it and kept up her violent flailing.

The limo's door opened.

"Stop it or I'll shoot!" I whispered.

She didn't seem to hear me.

"Stop it or he'll shoot!" said Samantha, taking her own turn at bashing Witch against the dashboard.

Witch seemed to hear that warning. She settled down just as the driver got out.

It was a woman. Early thirties. Attractive. Wearing a red blouse and skirt. Red sensible shoes. Perfect hair and makeup. She grabbed a red leather purse as she exited the vehicle.

Our bloodied, dismembered, mangled, bruised, sweaty, and exhausted group tried to look nonchalant.

"Is everything… okay?" the woman asked.

I nodded and leaned out the window. "Everything's cool. We just had a small accident. We've called the police and they're on their way."

"Looks like a big accident."

"Well, yeah. But it was an old truck."

The woman bit her lip. "Look, I don't want to intrude on anybody's business, but are you sure everything's okay? I mean, I saw what happened with… you know, what happened to the woman."

I forced a smile. "They were just roughhousing. It's a dysfunctional family."

"I guess."

"Really, we're okay. Just waiting for the cops."

"It's kind of hot for all of you to be crunched together in the truck like that."

"Yeah, but the bugs were eating us alive out there."

"Oh. I have a first aid kit in my trunk. All of you look like you could use some patching up."

"That's all right," I insisted. "Like I said, we're just waiting for the cops."

I glanced at the other truck. Goblin and Troll were watching the scene, carefully.

"You don't even want to borrow a Band-Aid?" the woman asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

I heard a pair of doors open. I looked over and saw Goblin and Troll getting out of their truck.

"Actually, a bandage would be great," I said, opening the door to our truck and sliding out.

"Oh my God, what happened to your hand?" asked the woman.

"Lost a finger."

"Oh my God! Do you still have it? Where is it?"

"In my pocket."

The woman gaped at me. "You have your finger in your pocket?"

I nodded.

"You can't do that! You have to keep it clean! I've got a small cooler in my car with a couple of Cokes, so we'll put it in there until the police get here. What in the world were you thinking?"

Goblin and Troll walked toward us.

"Ma'am, I appreciate your trying to help, but we're fine. Really."

"You're not fine! You're probably in shock. You need to lie down. I'll get my first aid kit and we'll fix you up as much as we can."

I was feeling myself begin to panic. I gave her a cold stare. "Ma'am, please, mind your own business," I said, trying to sound threatening.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Get out of here. We don't want your help."

The woman looked at Goblin and Troll and seemed to realize her help was, indeed, not wanted. "Okay. I understand." She unzipped her purse. "Let me at least give you a Band-Aid, for God's sake. I've got one in here."

"I don't need one," I said.

"Don't be rude," Goblin told me, walking up right next to the woman. "Let her give you a Band-Aid."

Troll ran his finger along the blade of his knife.

"Ma'am, please get back in your car before-"

I saw the gun an instant before it went off.

The tiny dart, a red one, protruded from my stomach. The pain was absolutely incredible, instantly searing through my entire body like a fireball. Without hesitating, the woman walked out of my line of sight.

Some commotion, a scream from Samantha, and two more shots.

I fell to my knees. The pain quickly gave way to numbness.

"Nice shooting," said Troll with a grin as the woman walked back in front of me.

"Thanks," she said, not returning his grin. She placed the dart gun into her purse and straightened her skirt.

My arms and legs were completely stiff. I couldn't even move my fingers… those that were left.

The back door of the limousine opened.

Troll's grin vanished as the occupant stepped out and walked around the front of the car. He was a tall, well-built man in his forties, wearing an immaculate grey suit.

He did not look happy.