“Yes, a very honest line of work. But I think he did it to rebel against me. For never being around, for being absent when his mother first became sick.”

Downshifting, slowing down, Matías hangs into a curve that becomes a rutted road. The truck’s suspension bumps and lurches, and he tells Jack, “Sit back, my friend, and enjoy the ride. The view. My delivery is just down this road. Then I can get you to the border of Bolivia. One thing we have is plenty of scenery. Maybe we can hit a truck stop, grab some food and drinks.”

Not having any money, Jack lays his head back against the seat and yawns. Tired. Not even thinking about food. The sun has zapped and sapped his energy. Cold air from the truck’s vents relaxes him, and he realizes he hasn’t thought about his job since he landed in South America. Hasn’t thought about what he used to do. The constant go, from the moment he woke until he laid his head to rest late every night. All he has contemplated since arriving in Argentina is loss. His daughter. His mother. His wife, whom he misses the most.

What would Sarah make of him? Of his hitchhiking from Argentina to Chile? He never did anything adventurous with her. Never traveled outside the country. Only all over the United States. Taking her to the best hotels and resorts, eating the best food, buying the best clothing and jewelry. Everything nice and safe and sterile.

Jack’s breathing slows, and the rise and fall of his chest becomes free of tension. He feels nothing but smoothness until the semi slows down and Matías pumps the air brakes.

Jack has dozed off. He’s in and out of sleep, aware only of the semi’s idling engine. He wonders what Sarah would make of any of this. Of what he is doing. His quest of self-discovery. He has arrived at a time of life when things no longer make sense. Crazy how he had thought he had everything figured out, only to realize that he didn’t know anything. All those years working twelve- to sixteen-hour days, six days a week—they went by so fast.

Matías mumbles, “What the hell’s going on here?”

Jack is in a state of numbness when he cracks open his eyes—a weary gaze out the windshield, where trucks are blocking the road. Shapes of men exit from the trucks.

“Oh, I don’t like this.” Shaking Jack’s arm, Matías says, “Wake up, my friend. Wake up!”

As his senses fire up, Jack feels the truck shift on Matías’s side—the weight of a man reaching up and yanking the driver’s side door open. A second later, Jack feels the same thing on his side.