Making a split-second decision, you hit the accelerator and grip the wheel as firmly as possible as you aim for the northern Pakistani border. A quick mental estimate puts the border guard stations no more than a kilometer or two away. Behind you, the long-barreled rifle fires, and dust clouds your vision as your jeep swerves unintentionally and hits a pothole.

$%@&, you think to yourself as the rented Chinese jeep starts to roll. They managed to blow out a tire.

You hang onto Karen with one hand and clamp a fist onto the inner frame of the barebones jeep, hoping to hell that neither of you ends up dead as the jeep bounces onto its side. Uninjured and running entirely on adrenaline, you grab an semi-conscious Karen and pull her out of the prone vehicle. Your hand quickly jumps to the back of your waistband as you feel the reassuring bulk of your father's Ruger .44 Magnum. Good thing he hadn't noticed you borrow it from his gun collection before leaving town last time...

Dazed and bruised, Karen's tousled hair frames a face as white as a China doll. Her fearful and teary-eyed expression is all you need to keep going.

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