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In dust-choked darkness, the driver’d hit brakes way too late, and the bus nose-tipped into the reservoir, and while all the kidnapped girls were screaming, the only things keeping the now-vertical vehicle from plunging all the way into the dark pool were its rear wheels clutching the edge. In seconds, the three gunmen at the front of the bus—including the driver—were waist-deep in water, and moments later neck-soaked and flailing. For one breath in, Niang thought to herself, Is this how I’m gonna die? And then for the breath out—all the time that she permitted herself to savor the schadenfreude—Niang