One mile from the Canadian container, Matt and Lola bring their bikes to a stop and park them up on their stands. Lola kneels, unsheathes her knife, and uses it to trace a large circle into the ground. She steps into the circle and sits down.
"American, we sit in here," she announces. She opens her rucksack and unpacks food rations and a bottle of water. "Join me."
Matt steps into the circle. "No white tablecloth? I'll call over the waiter." He sits opposite Lola.
She ignores his joke and slices open the ration packs and places them between herself and Matt. Finished, she sticks the knife into the ground next to her, then pours some water into two metal mugs and hands one of them to Matt.
"Cheers," Matt toasts Lola.
"Skol." Lola clinks her cup against Matt's.
They drink and stare at each other.
"So, hello again," Matt says.
"Hi."
"Nice place for a picnic."
Lola smiles. "You have a hunger, American, yes?"
"Always."
Lola feeds Matt provocatively with small pieces of dried fruit.
In between bites, Matt says, "Last time someone fed me like that, I was in a hospital bed and on a drip."
"Why?"
"I was in an accident."
"You have scars?"
"Here and there."
"I like scars. Show me them."
"That's kinda weird, but if you insist." Matt unzips his uniform and bares his scarred chest.
Lola leans over and glides a fingertip over a vicious-looking welt. "Every hurt tells a story—tell me about this one?"
"That one?" Matt reaches up and places his finger on top of hers. "I had a fight with gravity, and I lost. Funny thing, gravity—always trying to bring you down."
"You make jokes about everything, yes?"
"It's my job."
"If you were Swedish, you would be more serious. The Swedish men are dark."
He raises his cup and does his best Humphrey Bogart impersonation. "That's not my style, kid."
Lola laughs. "We, we are Casablanca. You are Rick and I am Bergman. Bergman was beautiful. You think I am more beautiful than Bergman?"
"You and that beautiful thing again. I think you're—"
"Say it, American."
"Magnificent."
"I know—I am." Lola's voice deepens as she whispers into Matt's ear: "Bergman once said, 'A kiss is a secret told to the mouth instead of the ear. Kisses are the messengers of love.' "
She kisses Matt. Her tender kisses become urgent, then forceful. With one hand, she grabs his hair and draws him closer to her. She squeezes his hair in her hand, then pulls him away from her. Their faces are inches apart. She bends forward and bites his lip. She controls him.
"Owwww," Matt yells.
She pulls him to her again and French kisses him, then releases him. "You like, American? You like pleasure and you like pain?"
Matt catches his breath. "You always do this on a first date?"
With her other hand, Lola places her finger on his lips. "Shhhhhhh—this could be my last, so now you make me happy."
They kiss once more––again, passionately.
Lola pushes Matt to the ground. She undresses him. She straddles him. She takes him.
***
At the Canadian container, Sophia stands and looks through a pair of binoculars and watches Lola and Matt making love.
"She's doing it! They're doing it! Out there—out there in the open," Sophia exclaims, aghast.
Cutter and Lloyd sit nearby. They eat rations from their canteens.
"Has to be better than eating this dog shit. She's Swedish—what you expect?" Cutter asks.
"I told you, those Swedish chicks fuck like rabbits," Lloyd says. He throws his food down onto the ground. "We should have used this crap to fix the puncture on the Humvee—that's about all it's good for."
Sophia ignores Lloyd and continues to watch the distant sex scene. "Has the woman no morals—no shame?"
"Hey, I don't see you looking away." Cutter laughs.
"I'm just concerned for Matt, that's all."
"Sure you are."
Books walks over to Sophia. "Here, give me those." He gently reaches over and takes back his binoculars. They reveal a mean-looking black eye. Books winces to himself as he sees Sophia's swollen eye socket. "You okay? That looks kinda painful. She really got you good back there."
"Okay! Do I look okay?" Sophia scowls at him.
"Not really, but I think you should take a break now. I'll get you something to eat. You'll be giving them some privacy."
Sophia explodes. "Oh, that's just great. You're asking me to give her some privacy, and she's out there mating like a sex-starved stripper, looking like, like, like Cle-o-patra! And I'm looking like—THIS!"
Sophia puts her hands on her hips and stares at Books.
Jedi stops what he's doing and wanders over to Sophia. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a metal regulation army comb and holds it out for her. "I found this in the back of the Humvee. It might make you feel better. You know if you do something with, uh, your hair . . ."
"Oops," Jim mutters to himself.
Sophia snatches the comb from Jedi and tries to bend it and break it. The comb is unbreakable. Sophia screams and throws the comb on the ground and stamps on it. "I don't need a comb because I do not have any fucking hair left."
"Jeez—okay, okay." Jedi looks hurt and goes back to work on his map.
Sophia is beyond pissed. Her lips tremble and her eyes well up with tears. She tries not to show it and turns away from the Americans. She uses the sleeve of her uniform to wipe her dribbling nose.
Books rips off a bit of his ragged uniform and hands it to her to use as a hanky. "Here."
She uses it to blow her nose—long and hard, then wipes her tears away. "Thanks."
"Hey, there—come on now, you're doing good." Books places his arm around her shoulder. "It's only a black eye, and it makes you look—"
"Like shit," Sophia interrupts.
"I was going to say strong, but okay, you look like shit. So what?"
"And I feel like shit."
Books puts another arm around her and hugs her. Sophia wraps her arms around Books.
"Jesus Christ, what is this, a fucking love fest?" Lloyd says.
"Quiet there, Lloyd. Can't you see she's upset?" Jim says.
In Spanish, Books whispers into Sophia's ear, "My Spanish is not good, but I think you still look gorgeous. This is all I have."
Sophia draws her head away from the protective nape of Books' neck. She replies in Spanish, "That, that is all you need!"
They hug.
Jedi calls over, "Guys, I hate to break this up, but I figured out where the next container is."
