“You’re good,” the man said as he waved Long through.
We crossed the border and Long drove a hundred yards from the checkpoint before pulling off the road. He exited the car, then knocked on Snyder’s window. Snyder jumped out of his sleep, rubbed his hand across his face, then through his short brown hair before turning to his window and sighing.
“Your turn to drive,” came Long’s muffled voice from the other side of the window.
Snyder stretched, then opened his door. The two men danced around each other, and a few seconds later Snyder was at the wheel and Long was in the backseat with me. A moment after that, the SUV eased back onto the road and I closed my eyes enough to rest them, but not so much to where I couldn’t track where we were going. After two more hours of driving, we ended
