“I don’t understand,” she says, “how in the same city you can have people going to the beach and also dying from bombs. How a place can let both those things happen at the same time.” He seems amused. “This country is honest. You have to give it that.” “But these men fighting each other—they were playing football together a few summers ago.” “They still are.” “It’s like some part of their brains got flipped on.” “Like a sleeper cell.” Mazna sits at a table and looks at him blankly. “They’re like spies,” he explains. “They’re inactive until their commander decides to wake them up.”
