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imagined a mouth much bigger than hers clamping on my neck. I imagined the wound and texture being like that of a giant celery stick. All sinew and tissue. I didn't imagine blood. Just the feel of the bite.
    I braked and put it in drive when I had room enough to do a U-turn.
    My headlights ran across the two of them. She was running at me.
    I was making my way back to where the state trooper pulled me over. I saw headlights in front of me and soon I saw the police car in the approach between the road and the everlasting plains.
    I drove past, did a U-turn again and pulled onto the shoulder. I turned on my interior lights and got out. I didn't want to walk up to his car so I waved at him with both arms.
    The International Distress Signal, as I was taught in Open Water .
    The officer got out. This time I saw his partner. He looked "no bullshit" for sure.
    Before he could say anything I yelled that I needed help. His partner must have heard because he pretty much jumped out. They both did a strange thing. They drew their guns. I assume that's strange to do to someone who's just called for help.
    "Bit?"
    I think I started to say, "What?"
    "Are you bit ?" the "easy speaking" officer yelled.
    I just thought I heard him wrong so I took the opportunity to talk. My heart was racing. My blood pressure was making my ears ring—I felt a cold heavy pressure behind my ears. My upper arms were tingling. I felt ice water in my veins. I felt needles in my chest—the contrast in my vision was getting intense—his gun leveled with my head.
    "There's a woman and child up that route you gave me. They must have been in an a—”
    He yelled the question again—moving the gun with emphasis on each word.
    "Bit? No-not bit. I couldn't get through to 9-1-1 so I didn't know what to do. The lady is moving around all right, but I'm worried about the boy," I explained.
    He held a flashlight up over his gun and it seemed like forever until he said anything.
    "Are you hurt?" he asked.
    I told him, "No."
    "They need help. I don't know what happened to them—but they're hurt," I added.
    The gun and flashlight lowered. He looked like he was seeing me for the first time.
    The car was in the middle of the road, I told him.
    He turned to the radio on his shoulder and called something in.
    "Do you need to get to Wisconsin?"
    "I'm heading home."
    His shoulders drooped and if he sighed it was too quiet for me to hear, but it was a "sigh" movement.
    He told me to go back the way he told me to go and to drive around the car. He told me not to stop, that someone was on the way.
    "I feel bad for leaving them. And I'm worried about the little boy. His mom was acting really weird."
    Someone will take care of them, he said. The words were right, but the tone was wrong.
    I didn't know if I could just drive by.
    Okay—the lady freaked the hell out of me. She was obviously hysterical or something. But that fragile looking little boy—that bleeding, hurting, desperate little kid?
    I was driving a lot slower when I came upon the luggage again. In the same moment the arch of the headlights lit the station wagon. The gate was slightly ajar. They were nowhere in sight. I wonder if someone else hadn't come along. A few different roads came out on the stretch behind me.
    I cringe when I feel tires run over frogs on the road- I cringed the same way when I felt those people's things thump-thump under the car.
    I never saw them or any reason for the car to have been left in the middle of the road.
    I followed the officer's route back to I90-E.
    I passed several vehicles on the shoulder. Most were also packed like sardines.
    I went to the opposite side of the road to avoid a car that must have recently pulled over because there were several people there. I think I would have stopped if it had been a family stuck out there in the middle of the night, but they were all adults.
    And they looked like they were looting it.
    And I went by pretty slow because I wanted to see what was