I’m already worked up about running out of gas and now he’s asking Clay, not me, what to do. I can’t take it anymore. I swear and I punch the Jeep’s dash. All it accomplishes is a loud thud and some throbbing knuckles.

“Hey, relax,” Clay says to me.

I want to tell him where he can shove his advice, but he’s already turned to Ethan, giving him that reassuring smile. “Listen, bud, we’re fine. There’s a town about ten miles up. We’ll just hike on up and crash in some beds for the night. In the morning, I’ll catch a ride back and gas up the Jeep. Easy peasy Japanesey.”

Yeah, right. Easy? He doesn’t mention to my brother that three kids on the side of the road are open to any number of hazards—coyotes, snakes and road gangs to name a few. He doesn’t mention that we’re walking on desert blacktop in the heat of the day. That ten miles will feel like a hundred in this weather. Nope. He just keeps smiling at my little brother.

I don’t smile. I concentrate on the throbbing in my knuckles and try not to hit anything else.

We throw the most important supplies in our packs. Water, of course. Then food. Then Clay packs bullets, antiseptic, the amber bottles with little white pills he brought to trade for gasoline and shelter for the night. He slings his rifle over his back. He hesitates for a moment and then hands me Bennett’s father’s rifle.

“Just don’t shoot me in the back,” he says with a crooked smile. He slips on his pack and helps Ethan with the lightest one. “Okay, bud, let’s go. Bet we see some lizards if we keep our eyes pealed. First one to spot a scaly buggers gets this.” He holds up a red and white peppermint wrapped in plastic for Ethan to see.

Ethan’s eyes grow big. “I’m good at spotting lizards. Aren’t I, Ri?”

“Yep, the best,” I say, as I pull on my pack. I can’t manage the enthusiasm he’s looking for, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s beaming up at Clay. “Let’s go. Sooner we start, the better.”