Millie touched her throbbing leg, lifted her fingers, and smelled, what she could only conclude was, her own blood. Winston had uncannily remained secure in her lap during the melee.  Millie then felt a warm, but tender, sensation on her trembling knee. She felt about in the dark, found Winston's silky noggin and realized he had been busily licking her gaping wound. She remembered reading dogs had natural antibodies in their mouths and, if true, she welcomed his gentle care.

​

      The incessant up and down, side to side, jolts caused Millie's head to pound excruciatingly. She felt her queasy stomach rise to join the pounding above. She strained both to focus and draw a deep breath. Millie finally looked ahead and saw Michael behind the wheel of his SUV; that realization flooded her heart with desperate relief.  But up against him was a large man’s hand which held a gun pointed directly into Michael’s ribcage while he drove.

​

      She traced the extended arm in his side until she saw the back of what could have only been Bubba’s huge head in the passenger seat in front of her.  Millie then panned out the back window again and realized they were surely somewhere in a frigid wilderness - traveling on rough terrain.  Millie wondered how she possibly ended up there; in the middle of the wintry night, in an SUV with two men, two dogs, and a cat. None of which, just twenty-four hours before, she had laid eyes on.

 

      ...And where, for God's sake, was her husband?

​

     “Lord, please help me,” was all she could muster as she suddenly dropped her head back, gasped for air, and passed out.