Maria Martinez walked through the field behind her grandparents home searching for their white Andalusian horse. She knew it was around here somewhere. They were in the middle of nowhere. A village full of retired Americans who had come to the small community of, Resorte Hermoso in Mexico for peace and quite. Maria was staying in her grand-parents guest house while visiting them. In two weeks she'd go home, back to Chicago. Back to her boring, no end job. In her empty house, with her boring girlfriends talking about their husbands and kids. Maria sighed as she yelled for the horse again.

"Mariposa! Mariposa donde esta?" Maria yelled. "Where are you?"

Maria was getting ready to continue on when she caught a glimpse of something shiny out of the corner of her eye. She could see something in the middle of the corn husks and began to walk towards it. As she grew nearer she saw what it was. A small airplane. She took off in a sprint across the rest of the field as she neared it. As she got closer she noticed that the only passenger seemed to be one man sitting in the back.

"Wonder where the pilot is?" Maria wondered.

She reached her hand in and checked his pulse. It was there. She could tell by looking at him that he was an American. He wore black slacks and a white button-up shirt that was now soiled with blood.

"Sir." Maria said, shaking him gently. "Can you hear me?"

She cringed with him when he moved and groaned in pain. He had a big slit on his forehead, his left arm was laying limp as if it were broken or cracked and he had a piece of the metal from the pain stuck in his side.

"Can you move?" She asked, trying to help him out.

He merely shook his head and tried to get out. The two made the fifty foot walk to her grandparents guesthouse and Maria ran to her bathroom to get the first aid kit she had there.

"My name is Maria. I'm going to help you." She said, trying to deal with the stomach wound first. "Do you remember your name?"

"Randy." He said, through gritted teeth. "Randy Orton."