Survival Stories
And then we watch helplessly as the jeep burns. Flames leap from the driver's window and lick at the door frame, red tongues reaching into the black smoke. A wall of heat pushes toward us.
A dhow, an open wooden boat about the same length as ours, is motoring alongside, thudding into our hull. From the edge of the sun, another boat hurtles toward us.
I sense the gunfire more than hear it.
Duncan is yelling at Mom, "Those are warning shots. Cut the engine! They won't hurt us if we cooperate."
She drops the rifle to her shoulder. "Like I'd let you run around the forest with a loaded gun." She aims the rifle at the ground, and it occurs to me she's going to fire it. She thinks it is unloaded because that's how she keeps the gun, but I'm thinking about the cartridge I loaded, and I can't get the words out in time. She squeezes the trigger.
