Each chapter is a vignette. The degree of cursings, violence and sex variates. Only two persons: the Stray Woman and Sands.

Disclaimer: The Stray Woman is mine. I would hate if anyone used her and changed her the way I've done with Sands! ...or maybe I would love it... who knows ;-)

A Stray Woman

Intrigued

Through the spiralling pain Sands suddenly realized someone was near. He felt the presence looming there, the moment stretching out to eternity - or was it only a few seconds?

Then slow, soft steps toward him, coming inexorably closer, too close, bringing the smell of burnt hair, blood and powder. Sands had to fight for each painful breath, and he felt a burning anger, a burning fear, while all he could do was cling to his awareness, and struggle to keep the black infinity at bay.

A low, dull, female voice said, "Hi." Fingers brushed away the stray strands of hair, sweat-plastered to his face. Even that soft a touch sent a bolt of pain through his head, making him gasp. The hand hovered close to his face, hesitating, before it lowered his sunglasses. He tried to gauge her reaction, but he could only hear distant gunfire and discordant ringing from afar; she was all silence, black and numb. A force of stillness, making time stretch - stretch - and then finally he heard her take a deeper breath, and the tension eased as it turned into a sob. She leaned her body close to his while she wrapped her arms around his waist, her face inches from his, and her voice husky "Come with me."

Sands feebly tried to pull away, but she silenced him by putting her lips to his. He could feel wet salt from tears, and a warm gentleness, scorching him. Suddenly going limp, she broke the kiss with a whisper, languid and enveloped in tiredness, but still insistent: "I'll help you. Come."

When she stepped back, her intruding warmth was replaced with stifling hot dust, and - she left. Panic turned his bones to fragile ice and joined the spiral of spinning pain. Something tearing, he couldn't make out what the noise was. Back, she was coming back. Close again, but everything was still spinning, spinning faster. Too much, it was too much, a circle, a vortex of pain, pressing into his leg - searing - electrifying -

Red, using the forgotten banners, deftly wrapped and tied the gunshot wounds, then gently laying the beautiful, bleaching gringo on a large dusty flag, she dragged him to the nearest car, hauled him into the backseat - unconsciousness was one of God's greatest gifts - and drove off.