Savages

223

Lead car, cash car, follow car.

Escalade, Taurus, Suburban.

The Escalade is far out in front, maybe fifty yards, the Suburban is tight on the Taurus.

Ben crouches in the rocks not far from the road.

Remote controls for toy airplanes in his hand.

Two toggle switches.

They’ve been out there all night, planting the IEDs. Studied this road on Google Earth, looked for the right narrow hairpin curve, close to rocks that will contain and channel the blast.

Non-symmetrical conflict.

It won’t be self-defense this time, it will be out-and-out murder.

The men in the caravan must be fairly relaxed. They came up from the flat desert and could see any car for miles, and saw nothing.

There’s nothing out here.

Ben waits.

Hand trembles.

With adrenaline, or doubt?