vipers."
"What about them?"
"Vipers are instinctive. They don’t think. Terrorists think."
Carter said nothing.
"You don’t think there’s any justification for their actions? Like poverty and injustice? Anything that excuses their behavior?"
"There are billions of people in the world who live in poverty under unjust and corrupt regimes. A whole lot of them are Muslims who don’t blow up busses and schools and markets because they’re pissed off."
"No excuses? To the British, George Washington was a terrorist."
"That’s different. That’s revolution, organized rebellion against a regime. Armies fighting armies, soldiers against soldiers. Washington didn’t bomb markets to make a point. He didn’t target civilians, even the loyalists who didn’t agree with him, unless they picked up a rifle. Then they were fair game."
"But it’s different now. Take the Palestinians. They don’t have armies and planes and tanks. How are they supposed to get what they want?"
"It doesn't matter what they want. Nothing justifies the murder of innocents."
"We kill innocents, too. Except we call it ‘collateral damage’, as if that makes it okay. War kills plenty of innocents, civilians, non-combatants. It’s immoral."
"There’s no morality in war. People are always trying to impose moral values on something essentially immoral. It’s a contradiction in terms."
"So the end justifies the means?" She hiked the AK up on her shoulder.
"That’s the question, isn’t it?" Nick said. "In the end, it comes down to survival. Then all bets are off. Morality doesn’t stop bullets and bombs."
"It could," she said, "if there was enough of it."
The soft lines of her face were a moonlit contrast to the harsh angles of the AK on her shoulder. They walked on across the desert.
They reached the rendezvous point two hours before dawn. Carter eased himself onto the hard ground. Selena unslung her rifle and sat down.
"Jesus, I’m tired," she said. "It's cold." She leaned against him.
He put his arm around her. "Just a couple of hours to sunrise. We’ll be out of here."
She turned her face toward him. "Did you know your eyes shine in the moonlight?"
The kiss was electric. She said, "Take off that stupid beard."
He pulled off the beard. The next kiss was deep and long, her hands on his head, pulling him to her. His hand moved to her breast and she sighed. She reached for him.
Her breasts were pale in the moonlight, the nipples standing out in the chill night air. He kissed and nuzzled them. He kissed her belly, tongued her navel. He moved down and spread her legs. She smelled of sweat and sex. He buried himself in her. They made love on the rumpled clothes and the sand. For a while there were no terrorists in the world.
The sky started to change color.
Selena pulled away. "We’d better get dressed. It’s almost dawn." They got their clothes on. Picked up the rifles.
She was pensive. "Ever notice we kick it up a notch after someone's tried to kill us?"
Nick looked at her. "Yeah. I think it's about life. About being alive, feeling that."
"Feeling. Sometimes I feel like we're characters in a Quentin Tarentino movie."
"Selena…"
"I think I hear the plane," she said.
Part Two:
Home
"We have the right to kill four million Americans, two million of whom should be children."
Suliman Abu Ghaith
A spokesman for al-Qaeda
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Lamont's arm stuck out at an odd angle, locked in a rigid cast. Ronnie's left hand was bandaged. Selena and Stephanie sat to his right.
"We know more than we did." Nick
"What about them?"
"Vipers are instinctive. They don’t think. Terrorists think."
Carter said nothing.
"You don’t think there’s any justification for their actions? Like poverty and injustice? Anything that excuses their behavior?"
"There are billions of people in the world who live in poverty under unjust and corrupt regimes. A whole lot of them are Muslims who don’t blow up busses and schools and markets because they’re pissed off."
"No excuses? To the British, George Washington was a terrorist."
"That’s different. That’s revolution, organized rebellion against a regime. Armies fighting armies, soldiers against soldiers. Washington didn’t bomb markets to make a point. He didn’t target civilians, even the loyalists who didn’t agree with him, unless they picked up a rifle. Then they were fair game."
"But it’s different now. Take the Palestinians. They don’t have armies and planes and tanks. How are they supposed to get what they want?"
"It doesn't matter what they want. Nothing justifies the murder of innocents."
"We kill innocents, too. Except we call it ‘collateral damage’, as if that makes it okay. War kills plenty of innocents, civilians, non-combatants. It’s immoral."
"There’s no morality in war. People are always trying to impose moral values on something essentially immoral. It’s a contradiction in terms."
"So the end justifies the means?" She hiked the AK up on her shoulder.
"That’s the question, isn’t it?" Nick said. "In the end, it comes down to survival. Then all bets are off. Morality doesn’t stop bullets and bombs."
"It could," she said, "if there was enough of it."
The soft lines of her face were a moonlit contrast to the harsh angles of the AK on her shoulder. They walked on across the desert.
They reached the rendezvous point two hours before dawn. Carter eased himself onto the hard ground. Selena unslung her rifle and sat down.
"Jesus, I’m tired," she said. "It's cold." She leaned against him.
He put his arm around her. "Just a couple of hours to sunrise. We’ll be out of here."
She turned her face toward him. "Did you know your eyes shine in the moonlight?"
The kiss was electric. She said, "Take off that stupid beard."
He pulled off the beard. The next kiss was deep and long, her hands on his head, pulling him to her. His hand moved to her breast and she sighed. She reached for him.
Her breasts were pale in the moonlight, the nipples standing out in the chill night air. He kissed and nuzzled them. He kissed her belly, tongued her navel. He moved down and spread her legs. She smelled of sweat and sex. He buried himself in her. They made love on the rumpled clothes and the sand. For a while there were no terrorists in the world.
The sky started to change color.
Selena pulled away. "We’d better get dressed. It’s almost dawn." They got their clothes on. Picked up the rifles.
She was pensive. "Ever notice we kick it up a notch after someone's tried to kill us?"
Nick looked at her. "Yeah. I think it's about life. About being alive, feeling that."
"Feeling. Sometimes I feel like we're characters in a Quentin Tarentino movie."
"Selena…"
"I think I hear the plane," she said.
Part Two:
Home
"We have the right to kill four million Americans, two million of whom should be children."
Suliman Abu Ghaith
A spokesman for al-Qaeda
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Lamont's arm stuck out at an odd angle, locked in a rigid cast. Ronnie's left hand was bandaged. Selena and Stephanie sat to his right.
"We know more than we did." Nick
Similar Books
