Epilogue
The sun was rising over a vast, bright wheat field, broken only by a wide gray stripe of highway. A white pickup truck sped west, hurtling forward after its own shadow. Inside, a young man stared straight ahead, gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles white. Beside him, on the passenger seat, sat a heavy gym bag full of computer equipment. In the back of the cab were three long guns, clattering noisily against the windows as he drove. And hanging from the rear view mirror - tied to a black shoelace - was a small blue USB drive with one word scrawled on it in black marker:
"Init."
