Mercenary at heart. Scott Melani
and his gaze was fading. The cars were moving away, leaving shallow tracks in the sand behind them. George's body drifted farther and farther out of Michael's field of vision until it was no longer visible.
In confinement
The desert. You can't see anything but her. How could anyone navigate this place? Michael still didn't understand: How could he get out? How to help his father? Was he even alive? And how to get back home? During the ride, he took a closer look at the boy sitting next to him. He was quite sturdy for his age, with short hair, wearing a T-shirt and shorts, and a backpack with a giant sign that said “Fighting” under his feet.
– Hey, what's your name? – Michael asked the boy in a whisper.
– Theodore. – Theodore answered just as quietly. It was obvious that he wasn't afraid, or hid his fear well. It gave some confidence to Michael, seeing how the younger hostage was holding up in a difficult situation.
Michael: “How did they stop you? Where did they get the guns from?”
In front, the two thugs were also talking to each other. One of them, turned half-turned to the boys and shouted: “Shut up, you little brats! Or I'll rip your tongues out!” Then he continued his dialog with the driver:
– I hate kids! What the hell do you need them for, Reno?
– I don't know, Seth, maybe he's trying to ransom them. Maybe he's got something else in mind.
– Since when did he start selling people? Guns and cars not enough for him?
– I don't know, Seth.
– Do you know anything at all? You got one answer for everything.
After half an hour of leisurely driving, the cars stopped at a makeshift camp made of aluminum sheets, tires, sticks, barrels, and other junk. There were three other people in the camp. They were dressed no better than the invaders. The same tattered clothes, dirty, unwashed, and reeking of sweat. Apparently their own stench did not bother them at all.
– We're home,” Seth said happily, addressing either the driver or himself.
– You assholes stay in the car until they call you! If you try to run or move, we'll shoot you where you stand! – Seth said angrily, this time addressing the hostages, and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him.
– Really, guys. Just do what you are asked to do and you probably won't get hurt. – added the driver, and left the car as well. The boys were left alone with each other. They glanced at each other.
Theodore: “We were on our way from Gai to visit my father's acquaintances in another village. Hobos attacked out of nowhere. One of them pulled out guns and started shooting at us. My father did not have time to dodge, as he did not expect it, and several bullets hit him. He died of his wounds almost immediately. I was lucky I was sitting on the other side and was able to group up in time.”
Michael: “But where did they get the guns and the whole camp from? From what I've heard, they're nothing of the sort, and absolutely everything is taken from them before they're expelled.”
Theodore: “I also, like you, know nothing about this gang. Who are they and where are they from? All I can say is that they will answer for it. How old are you?”
Michael: “You'll be 15 in April, how about you?”
Theodore: “I turned 12 in February.”
Michael: “You don't look scared. You're not even scared?”
Theodore: “I'm saving my strength for revenge. I don't know what I'm going to do yet, but I'm not going to sit here.”
Michael: “Are you serious? Alone in the desert, away from the road and home. With no weapons. A twelve year old boy against seven outcasts armed with guns and sticks. What can you do?”
Theodore: “It doesn't matter who your opponent is. It doesn't matter how old you are. It matters what your plan is.”
Michael: “My God! Philosophical sayings and abstruse words for a boy who comes from a small village. No offense, of course… Where did you go to school? Where did you pick this up from?”
Theodore: “At a sports school. My father came from Lockfood City, where he got a good education. Then, after they got married, he and my mom moved to Gaia in search of a quiet life.”
Michael: “So what would your plan be? I'd just be interested to hear…not that I plan on participating in it, as it's completely absurd.”
Theodore: “I don't know yet. We need to scout the situation and figure out what we can do and how to get out of here.”
Theodore's fearlessness and courage both amazed and emboldened Michael. Although these empty words spoken by the younger captive seemed extremely amusing, considering his age and the situation in which they both found themselves. Theodore, however, was not lacking in self-confidence and courage. Michael felt as if he had been involved in a situation like this before.
One of the outcasts approached the car and began to look at the boys. It was a dark-skinned man with dreadlocks on his head and bulging red eyes, “Hey, did you bring us new meat for dinner? Are we going to have another meal of human meat tonight? Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!”
He pulled out a knife and began to lick himself nastily, leaning the blade now and then against his tongue and then against his cheek.
– Calm down, Gorg, and lock them in a container! I have other plans for them. Just don't touch them before they're done! Otherwise dinner will be made of you tonight! – ordered a voice from the crowd.
The bandit quickly opened the door on Ted's side and said: “Welcome, dear guests! Welcome to our shawl! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!”
He led the boys through the camp to an enclosed shipping container at the back of the outcast settlement. The whole gang gathered in the center of the camp, around a campfire where they were burning trash, while discussing something in parallel. Despite the tragic situation in which the boys found themselves, the atmosphere in the camp was quite relaxed: the outcasts were joking, teasing each other, having fun, playing some invented games and chatting around the fire. The little hostages, however, were clearly not in the mood for fun.
The black bandit opened the container. The hostages went inside. It was empty, dark, damp, and smelled musty. The door slammed shut behind them. They could hear the bolts that closed it from the outside creaking. Time passed very slowly in the container. The boys were groping around, trying to find some object or flaw in the metal box that might help them escape the confined space. A gap in the wall would also do. But the search was unsuccessful.
Evening came. It was getting dark outside. Michael and Theodore had been held captive for half a day, still not realizing what would become of them in the future, and not imagining how they could get free. The outcasts continued to burn trash in a rusted metal tank. The outside stank of cinders and burnt rubber. It was not clear how the bandits had not yet poisoned themselves from such a constant nasty and noxious odor. It was almost as if they liked it. And they really enjoyed inhaling it into their lungs. There was no outside light, and only the fire, now and then bursting from the tank, illuminated the outer features of the camp.
The voices intensified, and rough male laughter came from far away. The radio played, tuned to the rock music wave. The outcasts were celebrating their catch of the day. It had been a good day for them: they had gotten a couple of hostages, a couple of cars, and a gun that one of them had armed himself with. And mobile devices that could be sold on the black market. A dinner of gophers they had managed to catch in the desert was planned ahead. This at least meant that the bandits would be well-fed, and there would be no need to waste the boys. The thugs cooked the meat over a fire from under the garbage with smog soaked with burnt polyethylene, clothes, paint, acids, and other junk. How could anyone even manage not to die after such a hypertoxic dinner? But the outcasts didn't have much wood, so they apparently didn't have much choice.
Up to this point, Michael had been on his feet the entire time he had been trapped in the container, because he didn't want to sit down on the dirty metal floor, but he didn't have the strength