Lola returns to the American Humvee. She skids her KTM to a stop next to the orange truck. She yells, "It's safe!" then spins the dirt bike around and heads back out to the Canadian container.
Books accelerates the big truck and follows her.
"Hey, up there," Sophia calls up to the gun turret.
"Yeah?" Jim yells.
"We're heading in—you still okay up there?"
Jim laughs. "Like I've been invited to a Texan spit-roast, except it's me on the menu."
Books shouts up to him. "You need a break—Cutter's up next."
"I'm still good for it, Books."
"I know."
Sophia turns to Books. "For someone collecting the pension, he sure has a lot of stamina left in him."
"Warriors don't respect their age." Books clenches his fist and bangs on the cab's roof above him. "Next stop, CANADA—you hear."
In the rear of the Humvee, Cutter and Lloyd's eyes spring open.
"Motherfucker—did someone say we're going to Canada?" Cutter asks.
Jedi puts the remotes into his pocket and picks up his M16. "Never been to Canada before."
"You've not missed much, kid, just a bunch of lakes with a load of big-assed trees," Lloyd says.
"I like trees," Jedi says. He turns to Cutter. "Books says we're at the Canadians' container."
The Humvee stops.
Books shouts through the hatchway, "Okay, kid, go do your stuff."
Jedi shuffles back and opens the Humvee's rear door and steps out into the blistering heat. He takes a moment and looks around. "Boy, it's like we're living in monochrome."
Cutter joins him. "Whiter than a white man's shorts."
Lloyd steps out of the Humvee. "Still fucking nothing. It's like we're on another planet." He shields his eyes from the sun and gazes out over the salt pan, then shakes his head. "This is so fucked up—we're so fucked up."
"Come on, Lloyd," Jedi says.
"What?"
"Attitude up, dude."
"Yeah, you negative fuck—start getting optimistic," Cutter says.
"Cutter?"
"Yeah, Lloyd?"
"If you were a traffic light, what color would you be right now?"
"What you talking about, Lloyd?"
"Forget about it—nothing. Let's go help the kid get what he wants."
"You okay, Lloyd?" Cutter asks
"I think he wants you to be green, Cutter," Jedi says.
"Green!"
"Yeah, it's a traffic light thing." Jedi trots over to the container. "Ask him later."
"Have you people been medicating?" Cutter looks perplexed.
***
Nearby, Lola has parked her bike next to Matt's. They stand, opposite each other, and use their bikes' seats to lean on.
"You ride well for an American," Lola says.
"You too—I mean ride well. Not ride well for an American because you're not . . . an . . . American. I'm sounding really stupid. Norwegian, right?" Matt asks.
