the smuggler’s bible

Lowen

Lowen leaves after midnight, and Malkin goes with him. The road is quiet and dark, rolling gently through the scrub and dirty clay of the hills. After a few miles, the car following them flashes its headlights and starts to gain ground.

“Could be anybody,” Malkin says. “Another pair of subversives, just like us, come out here to find some peace.”

Lowen takes a blind curve onto a stretch of asphalt that cuts straight along a ridge, then stands on the gas.

“Did you bring a gun?”

“You never said I’d need one.”

“That isn’t what I asked,” Lowen says.