We make it back to the place at the edge of the forest where we pulled over to find that Ryan and Molly have made a sort of camp. Charlie, Bree, and the dogs are all sleeping curled up around each other beside a fire pit lined with hot rocks.

“Grouse,” I say to them, holding up the two dead birds. “The others caught fish.”

They all look thrilled.

It takes a few hours to cook the fish and birds on the hot rocks. The smell while we’re waiting makes us salivate. But the results are better than I expected and everyone sits around munching on the tender meat, relieved to finally be resting and filling their stomachs.

Soon, the light begins to fade.

“Should we set up camp for the night?” Molly asks.

“No,” Ryan says. “We should get a move on.”

I’m inclined to side with him; the longer we stay out here in the middle of nowhere the more likely we are to run into danger. But there are risks to driving in the darkness as well. We’re so close to Chicago we’ll have to drive without headlights so as not to draw any attention to our whereabouts. That will make it far more difficult to navigate and far more dangerous to drive. But despite the danger, I’m certain it would be better for us to keep going, albeit slowly and cautiously, than risk being discovered or ambushed in the middle of the night.

“Ryan’s right,” I say. “We should pack up and ride through the night.”

“I think we should stay,” Ben says, challenging me.

I frown, looking at him with confusion. I’d assumed Ben would be on my side—he’s seen firsthand what the slaverunners can do after all. A part of me wonders if he’s saying that just to start an argument with Ryan.

Whatever his reasoning, it works. I can’t tell whether Ryan’s making up for lost time or just being overzealous because he has an opposing opinion to Ben, but he pushes his point rather aggressively.

“We’d be sitting ducks!” he cries. “We’re far too close to Chicago.”

“We’d be driving blind,” Ben counters. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Hardly,” Ryan scoffs. “It’s not like we’re going to run into anyone else out on the road. But if you’re worried that your driving skills aren’t up to the challenge—”

“My driving skills are fine,” Ben shoots back.

Stephan starts laughing, seemingly finding the two boys bickering a source of amusement. I decide that things are getting too heated and step forward to intervene.

“Guys,” I say, holding my hands up. “Arguing isn’t helping anything.”

“But you’re siding with him,” Ben says.

I can see the hurt in his eyes.

“It’s not about sides.”

Molly steps in, again trying to be the peacemaker. “We need to do what’s best for the kids.”