The massive black armored bus lumbered heavily onto an auxiliary road, leaving the smooth pavement of the highway behind. The area immediately became desolate—nothing but scrub brush, dry dirt, and low, rolling hills stretching toward a hazy horizon. The eight armored escort vehicles that had surrounded them like a protective shield kicked up plumes of red dust.
Inside the bus, the atmosphere was tight, but controlled. The 25 men sat silently, their hands subtly manipulating the unsecured handcuffs, a pretense they maintained even though no one official was watching. The five guards, now allies, were tense, gripping their weapons.
"We should be arriving at the State Road junction soon," said Officer Davis, the lead guard, his voice barely audible over the rumble of the engine. He sounded uneasy.
A tense minute passed. Then, the convoy betrayed them.
