Chapter Eight, Verse Seven:
Soon they roll down the highway, Joe’s magnum
In his lap, the shotgun on Val’s shoulder.
Bodhi flanks the camels. With field-glasses
And Glock, Sam melts with the trees, climbs the ridge.
Pushing hard, he takes high ground, jogs ahead,
Outruns the Jag until he finds the mall.
He ducks behind rocks, surveils the structures,
Ragged fence, rugged garden, scattered cars.
A long swig of water and a quick puff.
Sam drops to the road, trots back to the car.