The Americans drive over the salt pan and follow the South Africans' tracks. In front of the Humvee, Matt slows down his dirt bike, then stops. Jedi changes down a gear and eases the big truck to a slow trundle.
"Why's he stopping?" Sophia asks Jedi.
"Not sure." Jedi pulls the Humvee up alongside Matt. "Color me in, dude?"
"We got ourselves an intersection." Matt skips off the bike and walks over to a set of smaller tracks that bisect the South Africans' tracks.
The Americans disembark and join Matt, then study the tracks.
Jim says, "One quad—heading that way." He points out over the salt pan at a right angle to the South Africans' tracks.
"We should split up," Sophia suggests. "I'll go with Matt and get the code from the South Africans' container. The rest of you follow the quad's tracks. We'll then catch up to you on redemption road."
"Explain your thinking," Cutter says.
Matt glances over at Jedi, "Yeah, color us in!"
Jedi raises his eyes and shakes his head.
Sophia explains, "Maybe we get two codes for the price of one."
"Yep. Clock's ticking, Books." Matt taps his collar, the digits count down: 04.58.37, :04.58.36, :04.58.35 . . . "That works for me."
"Same," Jim says.
"Before you people get too carried away, looks like we're not going anywhere," Lloyd says. He walks over to one of the Humvee's front tires and kicks it. "We're getting a flat."
"You're shitting me!" Matt says. "It's a fucking Humvee! I thought these things were indestructible." He kneels down and inspects the tire. He runs his fingertips around the hard rubber, feeling for air. His hand comes to rest next to the tire's valve. "It's the valve—it's leaking. A bullet's nicked it—tire's going down fast. Needs changing—nothing else for it."
"Okay, let's get it done." Books walks to the rear of the Humvee.
Cutter follows him.
"In this furnace! We'll fucking die of heat exhaustion," Lloyd complains.
"This truck's not going anywhere until we change that tire, Son," Jim says.
"Well, you guys go right ahead but this shoulder makes me out of action."
Books calls over from the rear of the Humvee, "There's a spare wheel here, bolted under the chassis."
"And there's a jack under one of the bench seats," Cutter says.
"Can't we just call Triple A?" Matt asks. "I'm a member—or did I let that lapse?"
Books begins to unbolt the spare wheel. "Let's go to work, gentlemen. Less talk and more action."
"I'll leave this to you ladies." Lloyd goes to sit down in the shade of the Humvee.
"Gee, thanks, Lloyd," Matt says. "I guess you prefer the more talking and less action option."
Lloyd shrugs. "As I said, nothing I can do."
"Wrong answer," Books says. "You keep watch up in the turret, while we change out this wheel." He removes another retaining nut on the spare. "Cutter?"
"Yeah?"
"Next to the jack, you see a lug wrench in there?"
"Got it."
"You and Jedi start undoing the flat."
"Sure."
"Lloyd?" Books emerges from under the Humvee and drags the spare wheel out toward him.
"What?" Lloyd hasn't moved.
"Like I said, you're up in the turret."
"Okay, but I'm gonna get goddamned heatstroke up there." With his good arm, Lloyd reluctantly heaves his way up the Humvee's rear ladder.
"Don't worry, Lloyd, if it gets too hot up there, we'll bring you up some iced tea and cucumber sandwiches." Cutter laughs.
"When I get the fuck out of here . . ." Lloyd mutters to himself.
"Hey, Books, I need a few minutes on this." Jedi pulls out his notebook.
Books nods an okay, then looks over at Sophia. "You sit with him—we got this."
"I'm okay—really. I can help," Sophia says.
"Stay with the kid for me—please."
Grateful, Sophia sits down in the shade of the Humvee. She watches Jedi examine the tire tracks. He looks up at the sun's position and makes some notes, then skips to the front of the Humvee and checks the mile count on the speedometer.
Books, Jim, Matt and Cutter grunt and heave as they change the Humvee's wheel. They sweat. Their uniforms become drenched as they work under the sun's blistering heat.
Jedi sits down next to Sophia. They both lean against the truck. Jedi's deep in concentration. He studies his notebook.
"You like math?" Sophia asks.
"Yeah, it's what I do," Jedi says.
"Just how clever are you, Jedi?"
"Not clever enough to know about that Steve McQueen dude."
Sophia smiles. "That was a tough one for someone your age. But he sure made some great movies. A real hunk too."
"You like movies?"
"Yeah, some."
"Maybe when we get out of here, they'll make a movie about us. That would be cool."
"And kind of weird."
"Who do you think would play you?" Jedi asks.
"Let me think now. Obviously, someone who is incredibly beautiful and talented."
Jedi laughs. "Of course. I was thinking Scarlett Johansson. She'd have to dye her hair black. I think she's hot."
"Well, thanks, Jedi. I'll take that as a compliment. What about you, who'd you pick to play you?"
"Richard Feynman."
Sophia's turn to laugh. "He's not an actor. He's a physicist, right?"
"Was. He died a few years ago."
"I see. You like him?"
"He was bit of a hero of mine. He was a numbers man too, and a real cool guy. He'd work on quantum theories during the day, and at night he'd be in Vegas strip joints playing the bongos."
"The bongos. Really?"
"Yeah, he liked playing the bongos. I know it sounds crazy, but he was kind of crazy—genius crazy. He'd draw these little pictures instead of writing down long, complex equations, but people understood them. He did things different than anyone else I know of, and I liked that."
"They say a picture paints a thousand words. Is that what you're doing, Jedi?" Sophia nods at Jedi's notebook. "Drawing pictures?"
"Diagrams."
"And what do they tell you?"
"That I need the location of one more container, then I think I'll know."
"Know what?"
". . . Why we're here!"
