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to stop.
    The other goon in the front, a blue-eyed young man, shouted. His voice sounded like a warning siren. Shaken up, some sobbing, some hanging on to children or spouses, people began to rise.
    Join the queue to be gunned down on the desert or stay in the bus to be shot like a fish in a barrel. The choices brought new meaning to rock and a hard place.
    The leader took hold of the bus driver’s shirt and jerked him down the stairs and outside. Blue Eyes waved his gun and shouted and people shuffled slowly down the aisle.
    Annie wiped her hands on the thighs of her jeans, streaking them with Hassan’s blood. How was she acting so calm when she felt like screaming and bolting? She looked at David. “Who are they?”
    He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the leader. “I don’t know. We’d better get off, though.”
    Annie helped Hassan to his feet and into the aisle. They followed David down the stairs and stepped onto the sand of the darkening desert.
    “What do they want?” Annie whispered to David. Her voice didn’t sound shaky. Amazing she could even breath with her heart’s pounding using all her energy.
    One of the guards from the back, a man with a length of curling black hair, waved his gun. He shouted, leaving Annie no doubt she was to stop talking to David.
    The leader stepped before the passengers who had formed a sort of line. He looked at them all, eyes menacing behind his black mask. The other three goons raised their guns at the passengers.
    The leader grabbed the top of his ski mask and pulled it off with a rush of impatience. His head was nearly shaved, giving his eyes an exaggerated size. His mouth was wide and cruel. In halting and accented English he started. “We do not want to hurt the good people of Israel—the faithful and true sons of Zion who have made their lives on this northern kibbutz, so close to the danger zones.”
    He moved down the line, his gun casually resting in his arms. “However, we know you are harboring enemies of Israel. We know for most of you this was not your choice.”
    Annie’s stomach roiled. Not everyone on the kibbutz was a practicing Jew. But Hassan was the only Muslim there.
    The last gunman—the eldest of the group—stepped from the bus and shouted. The leader turned to him and a grin spread across his face. Old Guy held up Hassan’s computer with triumph. He tossed it into the sand and raised his gun.
    “No!” Annie shouted.
    It did no good. Old Guy took aim and the automatic weapon shredded the computer like a Vego-matic with spuds. He turned and went back into the bus.
    The leader raised his eyebrows in a nonchalant manner and strolled down the line, away from Annie and Hassan.
    Annie reasoned with herself. There were backups on the bus. She had one in her bag and Hassan probably had a dozen. The data wasn’t lost for good. What could rational thinking do for her in the face of guns and men in mask? How could she be calm when any minute they could be treated with the same respect as Hassan’s computer?
    The leader spoke in a conversational tone. “The murdering agents of Islam have infiltrated your ranks and caused this destruction. It is from their information that this attack was planned. This deadly attack that killed our dear friend, Avrel.”
    Several women wept. Children clung to their parents.
    Hassan pulled the sweatshirt away and daubed at his nose. He saw he was still bleeding and pressed a clean portion of sleeve to his nose, tipping his head back and allowing the shirt to cover his face.
    David reached for her hand and held it firmly. What protection holding her hand gave she couldn’t say, but it helped calm her.
    Annie didn’t know what this was about but she knew that good people or not, the passengers would willingly give Hassan up to defend their own families. She eyed the other guards. Old Guy was inside the bus. Blue Eyes and Long Hair looked in her direction. They knew who they were looking for. Why the pretense?
    Annie studied