I traveled through town checking in at the station and then veered off onto the old familiar dirt road. It was getting dark and the sun was just about gone by the time I made it to the river. I could hear my radio buzzing on and off with talk. Several hours went by as usual. I went from spot to spot driving slowly. Several times as the job required silence I'd just stop the car and listen. Other times get out of it and walk a distance scanning.

But it seemed that all for now was quiet. That sort of relieved me at three a.m. in the morning. It's nice when it's quiet. But still, we have to be alert. Though there are kadabba dogs out here. We still miss them sometimes. And it's at night when most immigrants tend to try and make their escape. Technically you could call it a forced entry....or trespassing.

I had my headlights on and was driving up the road as quietly as this thing could. I felt the car strangely slow. It made the all too familiar thumping sound of a tire losing air.

"You have got to be kidding me?", I groaned stopping and put the car in park.

I mumbled getting out and squatted. Yup flat tire. The front left one, not that it really mattered if it was any of the other ones.

"What the hell did I run over?", I muttered scratching my head. I looked around. There was no glass anywhere. Plus these tires were supposed to be meant for off roading.

I sighed, "Oh boy", I muttered getting in the car and grabbed the radio. I knew there was an extra tire and a jack in the back of the trunk, but per procedure I had to radio it in and let people know. Maybe get a little help.

I knew how to fix a tire but in the dark, alone, never a good idea in this job.

I sat in the car waiting for a response after I informed the station of my situation. First question was, "Klein did you run over glass?", asked the station managers.

"No, no, I did not run over glass, I already checked", I replied.

"Well? What'd you hit? Those tires don't bust randomly".

"I know, I'm going to try and get this thing fixed", I said.

"Wait Officer Klein we're on our way", said another voice.

"Alright I'll--!", I turned my head in time to see a punch nail me.

"Holy shit!", I cried dropping the radio.

There were muffled questions as I was pulled out of the car. I crossed my arms over my face as the assaliant tried to hit me again.

"Where's my dope?! I told you to watch your back! Where's my dope you woman?!", he yelled.

"What the hell!?", I slammed my fist into his face.

It was several swings back and forth till he stumbled. I stood my hand going to my pistol about to detach it as I saw him turn with his own.

His gun went off though and my leg slipped out from under me as I felt his aim reach my skin. I cried out and the man grabbed my vest slamming my back against the ground.

"Where is it!?", he yelled.

I clenched my teeth together pained. "It's long gone! You aren't getting it back!", I yelled.

I could barely see this man. But he was spitting in my face. "Where is it!?", he yelled.

I closed my eyes tightly feeling him slam me back down again clearly not liking the answer. He shook me shouting insults angrily.

"Shut it! That stuff is a bunch of crap and I can't tell you where it is because I don't have a clue!", I yelled.

I smacked him and shoved him off. But he was strong. I gripped his arm as he wrapped it around my throat in a headlock. I could hear the radio muffling sounds and there was shouting in the distance. The dogs were barking and I slammed my elbow into his gut making him stumble.

I grunted feeling the tree branches cut me and my body hit sandstone and the grass folded underneath me as I rolled down the edge. I coughed my hands and knees wet. My vision was blurred. I still couldn't focus on what was going on.

I felt the man grip my hair and he smashed his fist into my face again. He snagged my throat again. My head was swimming and everything ached. I felt the water get deeper and colder. I yelled thrashing and kicking. I pried away but the man pulled my leg and I went under before I heard.

"Kathy!", yelled Chris.

I gasped, swallowing water and felt a hand clamp against my mouth and I kicked trying to make a commotion as the stranger pulled me farther across the Rio Grande. I could feel the current pushing and drifting us both down.

"Katherine!", yelled Rogers.

Both were knee deep when gunfire erupted flickering in the darkness of the shore. They dove getting cover.

"Kathy!", yelled Chris again.

I gasped as the man resurfaced but I only had that moment when he clamped his hand over my mouth forcefully. My heart pounded and I squirmed trying to get out. But he hissed at me, "Be quiet!", He jammed his pistol against the side of my head with such pressure that I had to tilt to the right. But he kept pushing.

I swallowed tearing up. I had a gun barrel to my head. His grip tightened and he pulled deeper the tree leaved gripping my hair as he moved now his back against the shore. My feet could touch the soggy, muddy ground of the river again.

I moved but he held even harder with pain. "Don't....do anything", he warned hearing the shouting of law enforcement calling. There was the sound of a boat and a large light was traversing over the water as the gunfire stopped.

"Juan, Juan", whispered a voice.

"Shh! ¡Cállate! ¡Ven aca!", he ordered angrily. (Shh! Shut up! Come here!)

Juan pulled me back walking onto the shore the second hit my gut and I toppled over but Juan hoisted me back up.

¡No! ¡Aqui no! Ayúdame a esta puta de aquí!", he hissed. (No! Not here! Help me get this whore out of here!)

I felt myself get pulled back. I tried to hold my ground but Juan kept pressing the gun harder and harder. The entire time I was shaking. I was thinking he'd pull the trigger. He'd pull the trigger. He'd pull the trigger.

I felt something scruffy and unclean cover my head and someone kicked my knees down. My hands were bound tightly with my out personal cuffs. It pinched hurting and I was whimpering.

"Oh god, oh god, no, no, no", I whispered.

I was frightened as the shouting and the hitting continued. The kicks and the smacks everywhere. My head, my back, my shoulders, my neck, my stomach. Again and again and again. I was crying. Shaking. Tears stained my cheeks where ever they were. I couldn't see anything. It was all dark and the bag was hair. This cloth was itchy and dark. I couldn't see what was coming.

The spewing of spanish cuss words and horrible insults. They kept asking for the dope. They kept asking where it was. They just kept asking.

But I could barely hear them. My head was pounding and all I could do was feel that bag scratch and tear and flop around with my head. My heart was shuddering and pounding as hard as it could sending adrenalin through my body. But it wasn't any use. I could fight back. I was bound. I couldn't retaliate. I didn't know how many there were. There seemed like thousands of them. Thousands of hands, fists and feet.

I couldn't focus on what they were saying.

All I could think about was, dear god.....

Am I......

............ going to die?