The first order of business was ammunition.
Soren went through the pockets of the man whose AK rifle he'd taken, found a full magazine, and swapped it in. The other bodies yielded two more magazines, a folded wad of local currency, and a set of identity documents he couldn't read but pocketed anyway. Then he grabbed the nearest pair of ankles and started dragging.
Evan watched him for a moment, then grabbed the other ankle without being asked. They worked without talking, pulling the bodies one by one into the banana grove on the right side of the road, pushing them far enough into the broad-leafed shadow that a passing vehicle wouldn't catch them in a casual glance. The blood on the asphalt was a different problem. There was too much of it and too little time, and Soren made the call qu
