The 1.82-meter-tall Ismail, along with the senator Steva's son Kadar Stava, covered their heads as they walked along the road. Upon hearing a car behind them, they put their thumbs up.
However, after half a day had passed, no one was willing to stop and pick them up.
A day and night of walking in the wild had sapped much of their energy, leaving them looking particularly unkempt. The sweat from the sweltering weather had marinated them, and their ill-fitting clothes were both dirty and wrinkled.
"We need to find a place to rest." Kadar Stava finished the last bit of water from his bottle, threw it away, and said.
Ismail muttered, "I can still go on."
"We can't wait until we're too tired to move before resting. We won't be able to kill anyone then," Kadar said, patting the gun at his waist. He then adjusted Ismail's backpack before turning his gaze towards the village on the right.
