“Unless the next set of soldiers has taken the night off,” Silas said, “there should be one more control point.” Their car rumbled from the rougher streets onto proper, large roads. A rhythmic chanting drifted through the night. When Phoebe rolled down her window, the cries of the protest were close enough that audible words entered the car. “Boycott! Boycott! No more accommodating Japanese interests!” “I don’t think they all took the night off.”
