Salman bangs on the roof of the truck. “Here she comes.”
Chaim watches through the windshield as the woman crosses the street, an imitation SKS slung across her shoulders, her hiking boots shimmering with newness.
He considers pretending he only speaks Hebrew but decides against it. Doubtless she’s been hazed enough. Besides, she’s pretty.
“Chaim?” she says in her American accent. “I’m Hannah Stern.”
Salman says something Chaim can’t hear that makes the girl blush crimson.
She unslings her rifle and sets it in the back next to the Uzi.
“Lot of firepower,” she says as she climbs in. “Especially with that ma deuce upstairs.”
“Ma deuce?” says Chaim. “Oh, the fifty cal. Right. Is that what you call it in the American army?”
“I was a Marine,” says Hannah. “And yes, that’s what we call it. It’s a Browning M-2 heavy machine gun, but ma deuce is easier to say.”