The two men from the farm truck checked to ensure all of the troopers were dead. Grabbing a few supplies from their victims, the man from the back of the truck placed a small device directly under the gas tank of the trooper’s vehicle.

Turning the dial of an old cooking timer he turned to the driver and grunted out, “let’s go”.

Soon the farm truck’s tired spun through the dirt near the side of the road where it had stopped. Dust clouds shot into the air as the tires finally gained traction. As the truck sped away it was clear that the equipment under the hood did not match the dilapidated exterior of the truck. The truck sped down the road with alarming speed taking both men to safety.

“He should be right up here” instructed the passenger.

“I see him,” said the driver as he pulled the truck over to the side of the field. Soon an older man popped up, seemingly from nowhere. He was a short, squat man with a crew cut and barrel chest. In a different time he’d look at place on a recruiting poster or yelling at new recruits in military basic training.

The man, rifle slung across his back, quickly approached the truck a jumped into the small section in the back carved out between the cab and the collection of junk.

As soon as the black man driving the truck heard the taps on the roof he accelerated rapidly. The engine between the farm truck gulped in air as its pistons heaved and launched the truck forward.

The truck had just crested over a small hill when the kitchen timer beneath the Trooper’s SUV reached zero. As the ringer stuck the metal bell inside the timer, it completed a circuit sending an electrical impulse to the package below the gas tank. Within a fraction of a millisecond, the package exploded, which in turn detonated the petrol tank beneath the SUV.

The thunderous explosion destroyed the SUV and reduced it to a hulk of twisted and burning metal.

****

As the farm truck pulled into a small wooded area off the side of the road, their passenger jumped down from the bed.

“Thanks for the lift. Give me your rifle. I’ll take it back on the bike in case you are stopped,” he instructed.

The driver dutifully handed over the weapon.

The older man looked up and said, “I’ll break them both down and they’ll disappear in a saddle bag. See you back at the farm.” With that he dashed off into the wood to retrieve a dirt bike.

Before he reached it the farm truck had accelerated out of sight and hearing.

“That went off better than I expected” announced the passenger.

“Ya think?” came the drivers reply.

Nodding his head the passenger said, “Sure do. For two reasons”.

Sighing in mock frustration the black man behind the wheel said, “ok…….”

“First off, that was a hell of a risk we just took. Sixteen different things could have gone wrong with that little caper,” he declared solemnly.

After a couple seconds of silence the driver was forced to ask, “And the second reason?”

Chucking, the passenger said “no damn fire-ants”.