Only later did I figure out what must have happened. The gap in the fence had been mined with nasty little antipersonnel devices, designed to take off a leg and leave the victim alive but maimed. Kind of a goodbye present from the Azzies to any of their nationals arrogant enough to think that they could escape that nation on foot. The mine had taken out the rear wheel of our dirt bike, throwing the cycle up into the air and sending Rafael and I tumbling end over end. The saddle bags had taken most of the blast, protecting my legs. We’d been going fast enough to avoid being injured by the explosion ourselves, and slow enough, thanks to Rafael having to swerve around the corpse, that we stood a chance of surviving our respective landings.