=== Some hours later / Near Galveston ===

The woman had been running till she fell exhausted on some lawn and people looked at her, muttering about drug addicts and drunkards. She had no really aim; she just wanted to get away as far as she could from everything. Have I killed him, she wondered, or only injured? The latter would be worse…. Or not? She had never considered murdering someone – to have done it was an awful feeling! I did not want to, I did not, she constantly repeated to herself. The scene how he went down with blood all over his face was imprinted in her. She was afraid of herself. With shaking legs she stumbled forward again. She had to move faster! Escape! Shortly after, her desperate eyes caught the glimpse of a big black car driving slowly through the street.

Slowly I drove along the small street; towards the Mexican border. Going faster was out of the question, even if I badly wanted to leave this country. But I had difficulties enough with keeping the car under control and react to the little bit of traffic here. The drugs still did their work, however the pain had returned. Some minutes ago, I checked my bandages. My fingers came back gleaming with fresh blood. The injury below the rib case worried me most…

Something hit my car! An animal? A person? Can't these daft villagers not evade a car driving that slow?! The police on my heels because of a stupid traffic incident was exactly what I needed! I tried to move on, get away, before someone would notice –
A hand padded against the windshield, then another against the side window, and the door was torn open. I saw a woman; dark long hair, her makeup mixed with tears and smeared over her face. "Help me!" she gasped in panic and already half in the car. "Drive me! Over the border!"

What the fuck?!
"I have money!" She stretched a bunch of bucks in my direction. "Please!"
I have enough money myself… enough for a splendid gravestone… "Get … out!" I demanded raspy and fumbled for the rifle I had positioned next to me. It was just an instinctive reaction; I doubted that I could shoot from that angle, and I doubted that I was able to raise the gun actually.
The woman stared at me. Not because of the rifle, but rather because she had just discovered the blood on my cloths. "Madre mía…" she whispered, stumbling backwards to the door again. Surely, she would scream in a moment and finally betray me! And I could not get the weapon in firing position!
"Madre mía…" Her trembling hand missed the door grip.
Spanish… I thought. She spoke Spanish! Another idea crossed my mind. "Wait… wait…please." O it was disgusting to beg like a crippled hobo! The woman still stared at me, frightened. At least she was not already on the run and yelled the whole town together. "Please", I asked again. "We make… a deal."
I sensed blood trickling from my mouth and wiped it away with a hasty move. If I had no surgery soon I would die, for sure.
"A deal?" Her voice was shaky and she rested alarmed, as if I could do anything right now to harm her! "What do you want?"
"Same as you do… getting to Mexico. Please, I need … I need help."
Now she cautiously touched my arm. She was a typical woman after all, I thought, full of compassion and the urge to help those in need. This was the reason why so many of them ended up in oppression and abuse…Had I been in her stead I would've thrown me out of the car and taken it!
"What happened to you? I… I don't think I can help you…"
"Look. You drive us to Mexico and… get me to a hospital there…. Without rising too many suspicions… Understood?"
She nodded and tried hard to overcome her panic.

=== Some miles before the American-Mexican border / some hours later ===

After refuelling, we still drove on what seemed an endless highway, at least for me. This woman – I still did not know her name, it was of no importance – managed driving relatively well, despite her panic and her tears. I lay on the backseat and fought against the need for sleep. Now, after I had nothing to do anymore to keep me awake and Randolph's damned drugs began to cease doing any good, I felt more tired and weak than ever. Moreover, I was thirsty. With open eyes, I dreamt of all sorts of liquids… cold water above all, rivers of cold water. My body burned and my mind burned, and a seductive darkness touched me again and again with its cold wings.
Death, my hunter, was closing in.
I sensed him. Greedy bastard… enjoying already his trophy… I was about to give up… shut my eyes and sleep… end of pain, end of everything. The soft humming sound of the motor was like a lullaby. Sleep, just sleep…
No… I don't want to die! I don't want to die! I don't want to give up!
"Talk!" I whispered in the direction of the driver's seat. Probably too low, because there was no reaction. I felt like screaming in desperation. I stretched my arm, let it fell on her shoulder and repeated: "Talk!"
"What about?" she asked shaky.
"Doesn't matter… just…say something! Keep me … awake!"
"I don't know!" She cried again and sniffed. "I'm so afraid! All I can think about is the police; that the police might find out; or that he will find me and kill me! I don't know if he's dead, I don't know! I'm so afraid…"
I missed half or her discomposed speech. However, her voice held me back from falling into the darkness.
"…I simply took the pot and smashed it over his head, can you imagine? Now I do not know if he is dead, I'm so afraid…" the woman repeated again crying. "Do you know how that feels?"
Certainly a rhetoric question; she seemed content to let out her mind right now without hoping for an answer. I gave her one, in my mind, at least. Of course I know how it feels if you cannot be sure if your prey is dead. Means you have done a shit of a work! And if this happens twice, you are a shit of a hunter!
"… I did not want to kill him… really. Do you understand? It was just… he hit me, and everything was in my head again, all his foulness, every day before…But I did not want to kill him!"
Why not? Seemed a fitting end, though! What is bothering you? If you are too weak handling your victory, I thought, drifting slowly away despite all my efforts, you do not deserve it.

….

Something cool dripped down my throat. It did not taste like blood. More like…water. Delicious cold water… Water?
"Hey! Wake up! Do you hear me?"
Who is crying there? Awful noise… Why don't you let me sleep?
"Do you hear me? Wake up! PLEASE!"
I attempted to answer something, coughed and eventually regained consciousness. The woman was crouching beside me, a bottle in her hand. From what I could see, she was trying to estimate my injuries. She had opened my vest and torn the shirt and half of the old bandages were on the seat.
"I thought you were dead! Madre mía! You didn't say anything… you didn't move…"
She continued mumbling in Spanish, while she placed a package of Kleenex or similar stuff on me. I wanted to say she should stop. I felt exposed and somewhat humiliated in front of her. It was ridiculous having such thoughts under the circumstances, but I did not want to die half-naked like an animal ready for gutting! My entire struggle was in vain; I could only cough and spit blood.
"Don't try to speak, okay? We are right over the border now. I get you into a hospital! Just hold on some more!"
She vanished from my viewing angle and shortly after the motor started to hum again. I passed out as the car gained speed.

=== Four hours later ===

The woman walked out of the hospital, bracing herself against the suddenly cool night air. Her exhaustion made her freeze more than usual.
She had brought the injured stranger into the hospital and then was gone before anyone could ask her any questions. She could not say much about him anyway. In addition, hundred Dollars let the curiosity of the nurse at the desk vanish. Why she had helped this man, the woman wondered now. He could be a criminal… no, he certainly was. Ordinary people did not end up shot half-dead as he was. This could not have been an accident like the one her father died in, back in Puerto Rico! A stray police bullet had hit him…
A psychologist might have deducted, she wanted atonement for the man she thought to have murdered by rescuing another man from death. For now, this and her fatigue kept her troubled thoughts at bay. She had only enough strength for the basic things: a place to sleep, something to eat. Next day she would decide what to do with the rest of her money, and where to go.