When Dema had gathered her wits, she saw that the car was on a narrow back road, winding slowly up into the hills. Vance and Turk were exchanging meaningless banter, paying little attention to her, and Porky was drowsing, almost asleep. 

The way wound on, and she watched the roadside attentively as they went along. They were in a wooded stretch, and the trees cast long spidery shadows in the late evening sun. Cattails growing in the watery roadside ditches gave back the low light in stark relief. There was a curve to the left ahead, with a guardrail indicating there was another such ditch beside it. She quietly lifted the door lock button, then hooked her fingers in the door handle and readied herself to spring.

As the car leaned into the curve and she felt her weight press against the door, she pulled the handle and the door swung wide. She made her leap. In an instant she had sailed clear of the car, was over the guardrail and plunging headlong into the ditch. Weeds and water broke her momentum, as she had hoped, and she rolled quickly toward the opposite bank, scratched and bruised but otherwise unharmed.

She was already scrambling up the low bank when she heard the screech of tires as the car braked violently to a stop. She ran straight for the trees, a rush of adrenalin fueling her sprint. The shouting behind her told her she did not have much time to get out of sight.

"Shit, Porky, were you asleep back there?"

"I told you to keep the fucking doors locked, Turk."

"They were, I checked them only a minute ago."

"Then the damn thing must be broken. How the fuck was I supposed to know?"

Then several shots cracked the mountain air, and something tore at her side and spun her around. As her body turned she saw Vance, his pistol raised and smoking. 

She doubled over and ducked behind a tree. Clutching at her side, she ran into the woods in a crouch, splashing across swampy stretches and clawing her way through dense thickets of brush. 

She knew they couldn't see her now but she could hear them charging after her. She had no choice but to plunge on ahead, deeper and deeper into the undergrowth. She could feel blood pumping out of her wound with every step.

Whenever she paused for a moment, she could hear them crashing through the brush behind her. She had to keep running, but every movement pulled painfully at her wound, and hot blood was welling out around the hand she held clutched over it. 

Uninjured she could have eluded them easily, but as it was she had to find a place to hide. With no knowledge of what might lie ahead, she let her instinct guide her as she staggered on. 

Crossing a stretch of open ground, she noticed a shadow below a brush-covered rocky outcropping to her left, deep enough that the low sun didn't penetrate into it. She swerved that way and splashed through grassy puddles for several steps, then plunged into the brush, hoping to find a spot where she could crouch down out of sight.

In the midst of the brush the shadow deepened, and she ducked down under the overhanging rock, ignoring the searing pain in her side as she clambered into the tiny space. When she lowered her head she saw that the opening went deeper, forming a small cave. She let go of the wound and went down on her belly to work her way into it.

Something moved under her and she froze. A long black snake slid toward the back of the cave. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she realized that there were several more of them in there. She didn't care. She had to get out of sight. She squirmed and snaked her own way deeper into the hole.

The little cave opened up a bit toward the back. She was able to roll into almost a sitting position, hunkered up against the rocky wall, and pull her legs up in front of her, away from the entrance passage. 

Oddly, the snakes did not seem much bothered by having her crawl in amongst them. They simply coiled out of her way, and looked at her with seeming interest, forked tongues occasionally flicking in her direction. 

One moved toward her and raised its head as if to assess her for a moment, then crawled on out through the front of the cave, stopping where she had left smears of blood, its tongue flicking out to taste the air above them.

Dema heard the pursuers approaching, and went very still. One got closer and she heard him call out, "There's more blood over here!" The others joined him, and they started talking among themselves. 

Dema could not make out all their words, but understood enough to know they had been following her blood trail. But now they were hesitating, uncertain which way to turn. It seemed that because of the swampy ground the trail was erratic, and they were unable to trace it any closer to her. 

They decided to split up and spread out, looking for more blood spatters. One of the searchers came splashing through the puddles near her cave. She held her breath, not daring to move. Then he yelled "Snake! A big black one!" and she heard a shot. The others came running.

"Did you get it?"

"No, it went back into those rocks."

"Well, it's a cinch she's not in there."

"It's a cinch she's not going to make it out of these woods. She must have bled half to death already."

"We've seen a lot of blood, all right. I bet she's already passed out from shock not far from here. She'll bleed out and never wake up again."

"Seen it happen in Iraq. Guy gets hit, runs a mile then keels over dead."

"Yeah, and we could look for her body all day and not find it in these weeds."

"All night you mean. It's already getting too dark. With the black pants and jacket she was wearing, we could walk right by her body and not see it even now."

"Miguel will be wondering why we haven't come yet. I better call and tell him what happened."

"Yeah, you do that, Turk. Her tough luck. But he would have popped her anyway, in the end."

"He's going to be seriously pissed that we didn't bring her, Vance."

"No shit, Porky. But he'll probably only shoot one of us. If you're lucky, it won't be you."

The voices were already fading as they headed back in the direction of the road.