They saw only one vehicle that night. It was a silver Paykan. I’m the supplicant of Fatima was written on the rear windshield. Fatima was the prophet’s daughter, the mother of Shia Muslims, the majority in Iran. At first Mary thought she was the Virgin who appeared to three shepherds. Baz told her no.

She was cold when they reached camp, near four. They were at the highest elevation so far. The thinned air was damp. Baz’s father greeted them. A grouping of men stood at a distance. Mary’s shivering made Will insist she sleep before the talking Baz’s relatives wanted. Through her fatigue and the mixing languages, she understood they wanted her to join unmarried women a small way from Will’s place among the men. Will wouldn’t agree. They would bunk together or they would leave.

He took her by the arm to get in the Khodro. It offended her, really, his possessiveness. She could walk to the truck herself. But she yielded. He was tense, perhaps anxious. Stubborn when uncertain, he needed her indulgence. She leaned against him as if weak and felt him relax. It was no problem this way; they could sleep in the truck bed.

Baz’s father came running as they reached the front bumper. Here, he said, take what is ours. They straggled back with him, Baz a sitting Buddha before his family’s tent. When they came near, he rose and pulled back the flap.

“I thought we trusted them,” she said to Will once they were inside, not wanting to challenge him but doing it out of leftover pique, and something else maybe; she was almost too tired to know.

“Not that much,” he said, unholstering his HK 23, his voice unfriendly. “Here,” he said. “Clean it for me. I’m too tired.” She thought, “Why? We’re not in a sand squall” but said nothing. She just dropped to the ground and started. She sure wasn’t going to clean her own.

He sat down and then lay down after a bit. He watched her go through the rote motions.

“Okay,” she said, handing back the pistol, laser module, and silencer.

“You’re gonna have to piss in front of me; I can’t let you out of my sight,” he said.

“All right.”

They waited for the last sounds of the men to go away. She took a look through the flap. Smoke creviced above a far tent. Otherwise, nothing.

They walked to rocks near a stream. She pulled down her pants and used the water. He stood next to her, looking over her head at the embankment. When she was finished, they put their backs together and he pulled out his cock and pissed. They went a little upstream and splashed the frigid water on their hands and faces.