11.

Seven hours later, past midnight, the last clench passed and the cool world crept back into her bubble vision, evaporating the thick layers of splashed sweat. Above it all was the determined wail between her knees. She tensed her aching stomach muscles and dug one wrist into the course tan carpet and used the other to push hair from her face as she sat up to peer down.

In the moonlight the purple bundle screamed and lightly kicked, but what amazed Ophelia Oswald most, what pulled her stomach into tight knots and pulled from her tired lungs a loud sobbing laugh, was the little girls eyes; they were wide open and shimmering blue, brighter than the moon in the desert sky. She wrapped the girl in her jacket from the front seat, and stroked her cheeks until she stopped crying.

They slept together the rest of the night, curled up in the bucket seats.

In the morning before turning the car in a wide circle to head home, Ophelia hopped out to pee on the side of the highway. She squatted down in the chilly damp morning, with a light breeze pushing her dress and orange clouds slicing behind her. She looked down at the ground for the first time. Rolled into the ditch near the road were four pale naked bodies, crusted with dust, blood and bullet holes.