Jason Jones in: Borderline

Jason Jones was feeling comfortably full as he drove south towards the border in the evening twilight. He'd just stopped at a cheap diner, and was now was feeling sleepy and satiated as he neared the border. He'd seen signs for hotels ahead, so he planned to check into one for the night, and deal with his lack of a passport (and cargo of illegal arms) in the morning.

So when his tires popped with a series of sharp cracks and sent Jason skidding across a lane of traffic and off the road entirely, Jason was caught entirely by surprise. As Jason hurriedly unstrapped himself and made to exit (two crashes in one day! he lamented to himself), a flash in the night darkness unleashed another set of cracks on the car's door and engine. Jason cursed, realizing that he was under attack, and dove out the passenger-side door. He'd made it no more than thirty feet before an unfriendly face greeted him. The man, head covered in a black ski mask, held an pistol in his hands, leveled directly at Jason Jones.

Jason Jones jumped towards the terrorist, who sidestepped while firing three shots; one of which hit Jason squarely in the side. Jason lay on the ground, momentarily incapacitated by the pain of the landing and the gunshot wound. The terrorist stood over him and seemed about to fire when a thought came on him; quickly, he asked, "Où sont les pistolets?"

Jason looked at him; terrified by the thought of his imminent death, but still retaining enough control to ask calmly, "What?"

The terrorist repeated, "Where are the guns?"

Then the van, hit by a stray shot and slowly smoldering for the entire conversation, burst into flame; shortly followed by a second, much larger explosion, as the weapons (and explosives) in the back of the car ignited. The terrorist was knocked down by the pressure and heat of the blast; Jason, already prone, took the opportunity, wresting the pistol from the man's hands and turning it on him.

Then he remembered the old man's warning. The terrorist, now unarmed, showed no willingness to continue the fight; especially with the arms destroyed and police doubtless inbound. Jason backed away slowly, training the gun on the terrorist, then whirled and ran for the border once he'd reached a safe distance. Behind him, the terrorist ran in the opposite direction. Sirens wailed in the distance. Jason was hard up for breath, with a bullet (wound) in his side.

At least now he didn't have to worry about how he'd smuggle all those guns.