10 p.m.
Alamo, a small town on the western border of Somalia.
The jeep's tires rolled over potholes in the asphalt road, and the stench of gunpowder crept in through the car window cracks.
Song Heping lowered the car window, vultures perched on the abandoned tank's gun barrel by the roadside, the rusted armor painted with the words "AL-SHABAAB" in white.
"Once we pass this checkpoint, we'll enter the Buntland-controlled area."
Nura wiped the slide of her SIG Sauer pistol with a headscarf.
In the rearview mirror, three child soldiers with AK-47s were dancing around a burning truck, one of them wearing Nike sneakers on his feet.
Song Heping's thumb slid across the tactical tablet, and the thermal imaging map showed a large area ahead, definitely requiring passage through a checkpoint.
The current situation in Somalia is utterly dire.
It's a complete chaos everywhere.
The entire country is basically in a state of anarchy.
