“Ready?”
I looked at Lazaro and he looked back. “Ready.” He squinted at me suddenly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
I shrugged. “No reason.” I took a deep breath. “Okay. Remember, hands in the air.”
He put his hands in the air.
Then we moved out; stepping into the sunshine from the cool shadow of the expedition vehicle, raising our hands as though we were surrendering.
“Easy does it ...”
There was a rattle of arms as they noticed us and hurriedly re-trained their weapons.
“Halt! Who goes there?”
Both of us froze. “A-Americans. Two of us,” said Lazaro. “We want to talk.”
The wind blew; the sun beat down. Nobody said anything.
“Daryl,” snapped one of them at last—after which a skinny blonde dude stepped out (he couldn’t have been more than 17) and seemed to hesitate; looking at us over his r
