“Suppose . . .” said Alberto, almost as if he were frightened of an answer. “Suppose it’s a roadblock. Suppose they have your description. Suppose they know of me. Suppose they are looking for two Arabs heading as far away from Rock Springs as possible.”

“Suppose we spend the rest of our lives in an American prison. Suppose the FBI sends us to the Jews. Suppose we are killed. Suppose we do not go to Heaven. Suppose Allah is without understanding of our failure. And without empathy.”

“Everything you say could be true.”

“And everything I say could be untrue. Pray, brother, even if you don’t believe. That is all that remains. You are in the hands of God.”

“You are said to be a practical man. Perhaps the practical thing to do would be for you to jump out and head cross-country on foot. We can pick a rendezvous site, and if I clear the roadblock, I will head there and pick you up.”

“Outside is the one place I am not going. I have no idea where we are. I hardly speak the language. I am being hunted by all men and women with badges. No, it’s much better to wait this ordeal out, and if indeed we get to a police blockade, to bluff our way through on the strength of our excellent credentials, all of which are professional. You have a glib tongue in Arabic and Spanish, I’m guessing that you speak English as well.”

“I do.”

“Then our weapon will be your charm.”

“Right now, I feel as charming as a goat.”

“You will astonish yourself as you rise to the occasion. I know. I have been hunted as many times as I have hunted, and under the duress of being the prey, one is capable of amazing feats.”

They reached the crest of another hill. As before, what lay ahead was a long, slow transit by a barely moving convoy through the rain and the dark, across a valley, and up another hill, beyond which, no doubt, lay exactly the same.

Alberto saw it first.

“God be praised. Or cursed! Look, do you not see it?”

Juba squinted, trying to focus through the smeared light.

It was a blinking light at the top of the hill.

“Roadblock,” said Alberto.

•   •   •

It seemed to take hours, when, in actuality, it took hours. Finally, they edged up to the crest and could see the light just over it, casting an intermittent blaze against the low clouds, illuminating the slanting rain and the engine vapors and the tire spray.

“All right,” said Alberto, “should I drive? Should we switch?”