It must be a difficult landing: everyone is strapped in. The older man, Ron, has been calm and controlled this whole time. Now I can see tension in his face when he turns to speak to pilot, or his brother. Jerry reaches over to stroke my arm and shoulder in a reassuring manner as I feel the plane begin to descend.

I consider telling him I'd just as soon the plane crashed, that way it would be over with quickly. But I don't, because that isn't really the truth. There's always the chance that I'd survive the crash and linger for a while. It would be just my luck. And besides, I'm not ready to give up life yet, even if it means facing what the melodramas used to call 'a fate worse than death.'

Because I've finally given up on telling myself that I'm a hostage, or a ransom kidnap victim. If I really want to live, I'm ironically going to have to hope that he's sincere in what he's told me: that he's taken me to be his wife. Otherwise it means that, when he's tired of me, I'm headed for an anonymous, shallow grave, and I don't want that.

I don't know enough about flying to tell if it's a particularly rough landing but I can tell that it isn't particularly smooth. I'm grateful for the straps holding me to the chair, or I'd have ended up against the back of the pilot's seat, or on the floor. But everyone and everything is intact when we stop moving, and I can see the three men relax. I wonder how they intend to explain a trussed passenger.

They're not going to have to, because we aren't at an airport. I don't think it's even a private landing strip. Jerry unbuckles himself and opens the door, and I'm hit by a frigid blast of wind. My God, it's cold! I don't recall them predicting a cold front.

Ron says goodbye to the pilot while Jerry is unbuckling me. "Help me get her out, Ron. I don't want to drop her."

"Can't you untie my arms?" I wince at the pleading tone in my voice. At least I phrased it as a request.

"Let me check your circulation." He tips me forward and I feel him prodding my hands and wrists. "That's a little tight. Just a second." He fiddles with something. I hadn't realized my hands and forearms had gone numb till I feel the fiery prickle of the blood returning to almost starved tissues.

"That hurts!" I complain. As I say it I feel foolish, but he answers calmly.

"I know. I'm sorry. I'll try not to tie you up any more than I have to, but I can't take the chance on you trying to bolt out here."

He hardly needs to worry about that. After my enforced immobility, my legs are rubbery. They support me over to one of a pair of jeeps.

As we go I try to get a look at my surroundings. We're at the end of a long, wide graveled strip that is lined on each side with flares. In the distance, the flares along one side are going out one by one, and I realize that someone is snuffing them.

The area around us, beyond the flare light is pitch black, featureless. I look up, and can barely see the moon behind thick, odd looking low clouds. I realize that the surrounding blackness is the bulk of mountains. Mountains? This afternoon I was on the Gulf Coast, and the closest mountains would have been way up in the panhandle. Where the hell are we?

Jerry maneuvers me up into the back of one of the jeeps and climbs in next to me. Ron is talking to a man I haven't seen before, near the other jeep. The man nods to where another flare has been extinguished close by. I see that a woman is collecting them, and she waves at Ron and Jerry, who return her salute.

Ron passes an envelope to the man, who tucks it in his pocket without opening it. It isn't too hard to figure out what's going on. This is an arranged leg of the escape and the bandits are paying the people who set it up. There's something disturbingly practiced about this. This isn't the first time they've done it.

Ron comes over and gets in the driver's seat. They both slip into thick coats and Jerry drapes a heavy denim jacket, lined with fleece, around my shoulders. He buckles me in and I figure it's another security measure till he buckles himself in, too. He gets a folded blanket off the floorboard and swathes me in it from chin to knees as Ron starts the jeep, puts it in gear, and drives into the darkness.

This scares me more than the plane landing. There's no road, it's only clear spaces between the trees, and we're going up hill. The terrain is steep enough to make me worry about us tumbling back. I find myself wishing desperately that my hands were free. Not so I could try to escape, but so I could hang on. Now I'm glad I'm wearing the seat belt, otherwise I might just have been tossed out into the snow.

Snow? Hell yes, snow. I guess I've been too preoccupied to notice, but there's snow on the ground. It spins up almost as high as my head, thrown by the churning tires, and it's starting to snow again. Huge, fluffy, fairytale flakes are drifting down, settling in my hair and on my face. Maybe I have gone crazy. I'm pretty sure there hasn't been any snow reported yet in Texas this year.

We seem to drive for a long time, jolting and rocking. Jerry puts his arms around me to steady me and speaks to me over the roar of the engine. "You're wondering where we are." I nod. Well, it's the truth. "We're the middle of nowhere, sugar. I want you to remember that when you get ideas about slippin' away. Where we're goin', you need to be a really good hiker just to make it to the next house in this weather. That's when you're dressed right, and equipped. And even if you found the next house, it wouldn't do you any good, 'cause they'd just call me to come fetch you. Understand?"

I understand. He's telling me that trying to escape is tantamount to a suicide attempt. I believe him. He's watching me expectantly, and I say, "Yes, I see."

His eyes narrow. "You see, but do you accept it? You know up here," he taps my forehead. "But I don't think you know," he pokes my belly "in your gut."

Jerry's POV

She has to understand. She has to be taught that there's no use trying to run from me. How can I explain that even if she somehow manages to make it down the mountain I'll hunt her down and bring her back? Even if she makes it back to civilization, back to her own little world, wherever it is, that she's not going to be done with me. That I'll come for her, wherever she is. That she's mine, that she's owned.