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Yikes, that was another bump.

The car lurched to the left a little, and Stacey over corrected. The kids sitting in the back shrieked. I can see them in the rear view mirror - they're clutching the seat cushions, and it's kinda funny how terrified they look.

"Stace?"

"Yes, Marco?"

"How much farther?"

She points to the window on my side, "See those? Well, those are windmills, meaning, we have got to be in California by this point. I'm guessing we don't have that many more hours left."

"Stace?"

She sighs, "Yes, Marco?"

"When will we hit border patrol?" Last time, we had trouble with the dogs, and Stace had to blink her eyes a lot to get the men to let us pass.

She's grinning now, "Oh, we won't, not making that mistake again. I already checked, there are no stop points on the 108."

Her foot is on the accelerator again, and she better hope we don't pass a cop. Highway or not, I don't think anyone can drive at a hundred miles an hour. The hum of the engine blocks out the whimpers in the back seat.

"Will they stay with us?"

"We ain't staying anywhere."

"I know, but are they coming back?"

"No."

"Where will they stay?" And, Stacey looks over her shoulders, glancing at them for only a second. Another pot hole - and whack! - that one sounded like it would've hurt. Stacey grimaces a little, and she knows that the kids heard it too.

"Well, they'll stay with their mother. That's where all kids stay, right?"

"I don't live with my mother."

"Yeah, but you're a little freak," she waves her arms a little and laughs, "the lord knows I'd get rid of you if I could."

And, that's fair enough. I don't pester her any more, but I count the windmills - fifty three that I can see, and the bumps plus all the wide curves in the road - sixty two. It is a good way to pass the time, and then I can smell it.

"Stace."

"Marco, for fucks sake, what?"

"The trunk." And, she knows what I'm talking about. There's no one else on the road, and she nearly slams on her breaks as she pulls to the side. The kids slide forward - not wearing their seat belts - and nearly whack their faces against the front seats. One of them yells something in a funny language, and huh, I didn't know they could speak.

"God damn it, god fucking damn it," she is pissed and storms out of the car. "Marco, come help, and you two," she's shouting now, jabbing a finger in their direction, "stay the fuck put!"

I follow her out and I know this won't be a pretty sight. This happens every now and then, but it ain't so bad for us. Just more troublesome pulling over, and we gotta hope that no one drives past us too. But, it is late and I haven't seen a car in over an hour.

Stacey pops the trunk, and yeah, that's the smell of pee, alright. "Get out!" She is still yelling, and the woman is shocked. She blinks a few times, gasps, and bolts upright in a matter of seconds. Stace shoves her back down, she hits her head on the hood of the trunk, and the woman yells. She's not nearly as loud as Stace though. "Not so fucking fast, try it again."

She does it right, slowly sitting up before climbing out of the trunk. We lined it with plastic wrap before we picked her up, just in case, and now I'm thankful because there's a little puddle right where her back was. She really peed a lot - more than that one man from last month, and I thought that was a lot.

Stace orders her to undress, and I work at pulling the plastic inwards - very slowly so none of the pee leaks onto the car. When the plastic is sitting on the ground, Stace has her drop the dress on it, and I ball it up and leave it right there on the asphalt. Stace says it's not littering though, this time it's okay.

"My kids-" the woman tries to ask, but Stace shuts her up.

"They're fine. I don't hurt kiddies." The woman looks over at me, and I snare, just like Stacey is. "Now, get back in the trunk. If you fucking piss again, I swear to god I'll kill you."

The woman crawls back in. They don't try to run when they're naked. They're too ashamed of their body flopping around, maybe even a little scared of someone finding them exposed like that. Stace says there are worse people than her, and well, you have to be careful or you'll find a man who diddles kids and hides women in a basement.

And, we drive again. Within the next hour, Stacey hits thirty-one more bumps and wide curves. I wonder if they hurt more while naked. The kids in the backseat are finally asleep. They never saw the woman undress - I don't even think that they are aware of what is in the trunk. But, they can hear the thumping.

"They're probably hopeful," Stace says when I bring it up.

"How so?"

"Well, weren't you?"

And, she has a point there. I was hopeful, and everything turned out more than fine. I don't think I was ever scared of Stacey though. Maybe that's because I never spoke such a funny language. I could always understand her. Stace just seems annoyed with these kids because she can't speak to them - yelling is the only thing they seem to get.

A bit before sunrise, we find the beach. A tiny one - no piers and technically on private property, but Stace doesn't mind the signs claiming "trespassers will be prosecuted." She goes as far as she can before turning the engine off. She goes into the glove box and grabs Tiny Boy. The children are awake now and they gasp in fear, but I shush them.

"It's okay," Stace seems calmer now, "stay put and shut up." She gets out of the car, but this time, I don't follow.

She pops the trunk, and I hear her talking to the woman. The car shifts from side to side and the woman crawls out of the trunk, and she is crying. She walks in front of the car, heading for the ocean, and Stace is at her back, pointing Tiny Boy right at her butt.

The kids are crying, they are screaming something in that language, but I don't try shushing them now. The woman's skin is saggy and pale white, and her body is shaking. Stacey makes her walk in the ocean. She halts her when the water is up to her stomach, but Stace never even touched the wet sand.

She fires Tiny Boy twice - POP! POP! - and the woman falls face first into the water. I can't see the blood from here, and the children stop make all sounds expect for panting. Stacey stands there for a little while, the woman goes away, and she heads back to the car.

Stacey puts away Tiny Boy. She smiles at the kids, and we drive for another hour. I am so tired, and I hope we finish up soon.

We pull into a burger joint, and the parking lot is crowded. "We're meeting them here, then we can get some breakfast too, if you want."

And, that sounds good. We get of the car, open both the back doors for the kids (I don't know why they aren't doing it themselves) and they slowly climb out. They're clinging at each other's arms, shaking, and their faces are tear stained.

"Maia! Armando! Mis hijos!" A huge, burly woman is sprinting towards us, and the children are running right back towards her. They're hugging, bodies pressing as close together as they can, and eventually, they collapse to their knees just hugging and kissing and sobbing.

It's always sweet to see, and Stacey always gets a little teary eyed. A man dressed in slacks comes up to us. He looks a lot like the woman - maybe her brother? - and he talks in funny sounding English. "And, what did you do to that monster?"

Stacey shrugs, "Nothing, really. Oh, but don't worry, I held up our agreement. She'll be dealing with the Lord's hand now. And you, Señor, have nothing to stress about per our decision to.. terminate. If there is any fallback, which there won't be, it will be solely on me. Your family is finally finished."

He looks like he's about to cry too, "Gracias, gracias..." He sticks his hand in his pocket and gives a little bundle of money to Stacey. He hugs her, and Stacey is shocked, but she hugs back quickly. "Gracias," is said one more time, and then he's pulling the children into his arms so he can kiss them too.

We go in that little burger joint, "How much you get?"

"A thousand."

"Rough."

"Not really," she stuffs her face before she speaks again, "their kids were gone for two years. They needed them home. They had about thirteen hundred saved for reward money, but shit, they're gonna need that to put their kids through therapy."

"What happened to them?"

She shakes her head, "I don't know, Marco. Some dingo-ate-my-baby-crazy lady stole them away from home. I don't know anything more than that. What I do know is that their Mom needed them home, and by God's grace, they needed home."

"Was that woman like my mom?"

"I hope not, Marco, but regardless, we get rid of the scum on the earth, right?"

I smile, "Right. We keep kids safe even if they talk funny."

"They speak Spanish, Marco."

"It's still funny." And, Stacey laughs and punches me soft in the arm.

I'm just ready to go home. Stacey says we might have another trip coming up in a few weeks.