Ethan furrows his brow. We watch as Clay peeks in the broken sidelights beside the front door.

I pull the bandanna up over my mouth and nose to disguise my face. I have to pee, but I’ll hold it as long as I can. Catching me peeing would uncover my secret for sure. The smelly outhouse might be my only bet. The dozens of flies buzzing around the back promise an interesting experience.

The front door bangs open. A naked man stands in the doorway. His emaciated frame reminds me of a skeleton wrapped in beef jerky. He points a double-barrel shotgun at Clay’s chest. The cocking of the barrel echoes around the front yard.

“Who’s goes?” the naked man growls. His look is wild, almost rabid.

Clay holds up his hands and takes a step back. “I—I’m looking for Bennett.”

“Who in Sam Hill are you?” The wrinkly old man keeps both barrels pointed at Clay.

My hand reaches toward the driver seat, but Clay took his revolvers with him. Damn. I reach around the seat for some sort of weapon.

A figure steps behind the old man and puts a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Pop. Clay’s a friend.”

The old man spits a wad of phlegm on the porch, but lowers the shotgun. The young man steps around his father and pats Clay’s shoulder.

The young man, who must be Bennett, is bare-chested and I’m worried nudity is a rule here. Luckily, his lower half is clad in a pair of jeans more holey than Mama’s colander.

“What you doing here?” Bennett smiles and whacks Clay a couples more times on the back. “Wasn’t expecting you.”

Bennett is a little older than Clay, probably in his early twenties. He has most of his teeth and a thin, wiry physique. He’s got long, dirty-blond hair that trails down to his bare shoulders and a crooked nose that looks like it’s been broken a few times. I notice a heavy limp when he shuffles around the porch. Nearly everyone falls prey to some injury or illness by the time they reach their third decade. Bennett seems friendly enough though, clapping Clay on the back, but something about this whole scene makes my skin crawl.

Clay tucks his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “We’re just passing through. On my way to Albuquerque. Thought I’d stop by and say howdy.”

Bennett hitches up his jeans that have slipped down his hips. “Albuquerque, eh? Big daddy got you taking stock to the Breeders?” Bennett leans around Clay and scans the Jeep. I stiffen as we lock eyes.

“Naw. Just some friends who need a lift into the city.” Clay waves us out. I stiffen. After seeing this place, I want to stay in the Jeep the whole visit.

“Well, bring ‘em in,” Bennett says, waving us into the house.

Clay gestures again and, when we don’t move, glares at us while Bennett’s back is turned. I guess staying in the Jeep isn’t an option. Ethan and I slink toward the house. When I step on the porch and Bennett sees me, his smile falls.