Rachel hired bush pilot Alex to fly her to a remote Guatemalan archeological site to find her long-lost lover, but their plane is shot down, they're captured by armed men and tied to a tree.
A scruffy-looking dog emerged from the woods to sniff one of her discarded boots. They watched as he lifted a leg and peed on it.
"That's probably symbolic," Alex said. "A representation of our fate."
The dog investigated the other boot. After sticking his nose inside, he picked it up and carried it off into the woods.
"How would you interpret that?" she asked. "We'll be rescued by an unlikely hero?"
Alex snorted, but said nothing.
Rachel moved her tongue around inside her mouth, trying to work up some saliva. Her mind couldn't quite grasp the situation; it felt like she'd stumbled into a bad movie. "You don't really think they'll kill us, do you?" she asked. It was just too much. This sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen in the modern world. "I can't believe that I came all the way to Guatemala to get shot."
"That's probably what everyone says before they get blown away."
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