Chapter 32There were a few windows of opportunity during which Jacob Ford could’ve raised his voice and tried to call someone for help, perhaps even attempt an improvised escape. However, before he had even dared to seriously consider this line of reasoning, those opportunities had irreversibly flown by – the last of which was on the small border pass near Columbus. As they were passing the section of the road right after Puerto Palomas, Ford found a fragment of grim consolation in watching the landscapes interspersed with desert shrubbery. The visions of torment which he had witnessed over the past days were rooted in his thoughts, reinforced by a primal fear for his own life and steeped in an incurable hopelessness. The three boys in his car, their faces bloodied and their chests torn. B
