We sat in his white Jetta, my sweating palms resting on the wheel, me waiting for him to tell me where we were going.
"Uh, just follow my instructions, I guess," he scratched his head. "Go that way."
"No," I put the key in the ignition and turned on the car. "I'm not taking instructions from a drunk guy. I'm taking you home."
As we sped along the highway, he shouted, "No!" and leaped out of the moving car. I pulled over far enough away so I wouldn't run him over, got out, and by the light of my cell phone searched for him.
"Come here, Alison!" he was far past the guardrail, in the field below.
I cursed, leaping over the guardrail. "What are you doing?"
"Shhhhhhh. Lissen," his words were beginning to slur.
In the distance I heard shots and a vehicle - probably a four wheeler. I also saw the sun rising above the forest that Greg was waiting for me by.
"Hunters. Bad. Les teachem a lesson."
I tell you, I would've gone home right then if it weren't for a couple things that kept me here.
1. I couldn't leave Greg alone, no matter how drunk and stupid he was. He was my best friend and he probably would do the same for me.
2. If the police caught me driving alone without a licensed driver with me, I'd get in big trouble.
3. I had a feeling that if I didn't intervene, things would go horribly, horribly wrong.