My eyes trace Clay’s body, begging him to wake up. “Clay’ll find us,” I say, my voice breaking. I won’t cry, though. I bite my cheek until I can taste blood. “He’ll kill you.”

Bennett looks down at me as if surprised I’m still here. “We’ll have our dough and be half way to Jacksonville by the time those tranqs wear off. He can tackle the Riders if you’re really the treasure ya think ya are.”

“The Riders?” I ask, afraid for the answer.

Bennett nods. “Riders pay decent money for benders, but better for boys. That sweet-faced brother of your’n out to fetch us a nice price.”

I tuck my head into the dirty mattress as tears well up. I’ve heard of gangs like the Riders. They buy boys and use them for … disgusting things. I glance at Ethan’s fragile frame and then back up at Bennett, hoping see a glimmer of human compassion behind his eyes. Bennett’s eyes are like dry pebbles. He won’t look at me.

“Why’re you doing this?” A sob wavers at the back of my throat.

“Money’s all. Gotta get out of this God-forsaken hole.” Bennett takes a dirty bandanna from his pocket and brings it over to my face. “Shut up, now.” He gags me and slips a burlap sack over my head.

I let the tears come. They soak into the rough burlap pressed against my cheeks. Bennett lifts me. I struggle, but his farmer’s hands are strong. He limps outside, his uneven gate rocking me back and forth. Then he tosses me onto a hard surface. I shift around until I get the feel of it with my arms and back. It’s the trunk of our Jeep. A few moments later, a body slides in next to mine. Ethan. I curl myself around him as Bennett closes us in and the engine flares to life. We bump down the road, toward unknown horrors and all I can do is close my eyes.

* * *

Shards of light press at my eyelids. I moan, blink and squint into the brightness. A shadow slides in and blocks out the sun. My eyes adjust and find Bennett’s hooked nose, sunken cheeks and pocked skin. I search his face for compassion and find none.

During the night, the gag has worked its way out of my mouth. My tongue tastes like sweaty sock, but I’m able to speak again. “If you let us go,” I croak, “I’ll give you all our supplies.”

Bennett shrugs. “Already got those.”