There were two of them and they split up, each taking a different side of the car. If I had any doubts about their intentions, that certainly erased them. Sabrina put the book under the seat. I could have tried to start the car and pull away before they reached us, but was it worth it? That would be assuming the car would start, and then what? It would result in a high-speed chase down the highway. What would it accomplish? So we waited.

My guy was right outside my door. He rapped on the window with the butt of a gun. Not a good sign. I rolled down the window, the light rain quickly coating the inside of my door.

"Can I help you?"

Without warning, he smacked me on the side of the head with the butt of his pistol. I fell into Sabrina's lap. In my dizzy state, I saw him raise his pistol. He was going to shoot us! Then I heard a gun go off. Heard was putting it mildly. The explosion was right in my ear. I looked up, afraid that Sabrina was the victim. Needless worry. She was holding the gun. A split second after shooting, she whipped open the passenger door, and I heard—with my one good ear—an umph on the other side of the door. She jumped out and I heard her kick the other assailant. As I was finally starting to move, she handed me the second man's gun.

"Check the other guy." I was oddly pleased to hear—again, with my one good ear—a tremor of fear in her voice. Or maybe it was just adrenaline. I opened my door and looked down at Sabrina's victim. He wasn't going anywhere—ever again. He caught one in the throat.

I was regaining my senses. I pulled out my phone and dialed 9-1-1.

"We've just been attacked on Interstate 91, just south of Brattleboro," I reported to the dispatcher. I was still shaking, and it was reflected in my voice. "We've killed one of our attackers and have the other one subdued. I will lay their two weapons and my own—which I have a license for—on the hood of the car."

"Officers are on their way. Is anyone hurt?"

"Well, other than the dead guy, I don't think so." I was calming down. "I can't hear out of one ear from the blast of the gun in the car, and my girlfriend kicked the other guy, but I don't know his condition."

"Do you know why you were attacked?"

"I have no idea. A carjacking, maybe?" I was learning to lie with the best of them. "I have to check on my girlfriend. I hear the sirens now." I hung up, retrieved the dead guy's pistol, and went around to the other side of the car. The live guy was sprawled on the ground in that ever familiar position, holding his crotch. Sabrina was good at that.

She handed me the two pistols and I put the three of them on the smashed-in trunk of my car. Then we waited. A Vermont Highway Patrol car pulled up, and the officer got out, pointed his gun at us and told us to lie on the ground, with our arms spread. Easy for us, not so easy for the other guy. A minute later another patrol car pulled up, and then a couple of Brattleboro cop cars. Once they assessed the situation, they cleared us and we were able to get up. A few minutes after that an ambulance arrived. They put a bandage on a cut on the side of my head and determined that my eardrum probably wasn't ruptured. The other guy's balls definitely were.