The South Africans' vehicles are parked next to the Chinese container. The whole team readies itself. Some check weapons, while others carry ammunition boxes and load them into the back of the Humvee.
Botha stands in the gun turret and supervises. "Pieter, we finish now."
Pieter replies, "Yes, we have everything we need." He steps out of the container. "Only a few more supplies to load."
"Good, then we are ready."
"Which direction?"
"The sun is a heavenly body—it will guide us."
The South Africans finish loading the crates, then jump on board their vehicles. Pieter hops on the KTM. He nods a ready to go toward Botha.
Botha pauses, then looks out over the dead Chinese bodies. "Tell me, Pieter?"
"Yes?"
"One billion Chinese—you agree?"
"Maybe more."
"One billion people of a lesser race and we fight and kill the ten weakest ones. Why is this?"
"They had no fight in them."
"Then this is our penance."
Pieter shrugs. "We are punished for being strong?"
"No. We are punished for being weak."
"I do not understand."
"A man's soul cannot rest until the inner torture of uncertainty is cast aside. It is only then that he will know the truth. We are weak because we do not know how strong we really are."
"We are Afrikaners—we are invincible," Pieter protests.
"Afrikaners who have only culled frightened cubs in a locked cage. This is no sport—it is only slaughter of the meek. There is little nobility for us to fill our chests with honor our forefathers could be proud of."
Pieter says, "We live, and now we have their money also. This is what we wanted. The message said, make South Africa proud today—this is what we are doing. Have we not just won the first battle?"
"Only a shallow victory. This is not our legacy."
"Then what is?"
"The war—to win this war." Botha shouts to his team, "WE GO!"
Engines start and the convoy moves out.
As Botha leads in the Humvee, he talks to himself, "To hunt the beast, we will go to the beast's lair."
***
Several miles away, João Garcia sits in the yellow Humvee's front passenger seat. He is a small man but carries a big gun, which is pointed at the temple of the old man sitting next to him, Marcos Garcia. Marcos drives the Humvee over the salt pan.
"You like to drive?" João asks.
Marcos stares straight ahead. His hands grip the steering wheel. Fearful, he nods.
"I also like to drive, but today, I let you drive. I'm a generous man. You think I'm a generous man?"
Marcos doesn't divert his eyes from the salt pan ahead. He nods again.
João shouts out the window to Carlos Garcia, who rides a dirt bike alongside the Humvee. "Hey, amigo, when we get out of here, you and me drink tequila and go fuck some Latina whores, eh?"
Carlos pats the yellow case strapped on the back of his KTM. "No, we drink the best tequila that money can buy, and only fuck the dirtiest whores!"
