“Isn’t there a better road?” Yani asked.
“Always—” Chhuon began.
A warning burst of rifle fire cracked over them. Samnang jerked. Chhuon scanned left and right. A small plastic lean-to at the road’s edge protected four or five soldiers from the rain. A corporal stood by the road’s edge. Behind his carbine he smiled broadly. The soldiers didn’t even look up. Two rifles lay on the pavement as if abandoned. Not far off the road three smaller huts of plastic had been set up amid a cluster of trees. Women and children, the families of the soldiers, were busy collecting firewood and cooking.
“Your papers,” the corporal said. Chhuon had never seen him before. He handed the corporal his pass and smiled ambiguously. The soldier studied the form, then said, “From Stung Treng you come this way? Ev
