The masked man continued: “You're not a mercenary and never have been. You don't know how such matters are handled. What was all that heroism for? You don't know how to analyze the critical situation around you. And look where it's gotten you: you've hurt yourself and put your… son… in danger… I guess. What did you expect? For the police to come? Ha! I'm gonna disappoint you. This is the suburbs, baby! And the cops don't come here. It's not their territory. So there's no one to help you.”

George didn't move. His eyes were still open, and he was breathing heavily, trying to stay conscious. The masked man walked slowly toward the car where Michael was sitting. The boy straightened up. He looked back and forth at the steering wheel, the gearbox, the glove compartment, the pedals and didn't know what to do. At the same time, his father's last words flashed through his mind. Finally, he turned the ignition key, started the car and shifted gears to get going. All that was left was to release the brake pedal. There was a knock on the passenger window. Michael turned his head.

The masked man was standing across the street, pointing one of his guns at him, “Turn off the engine, kid, and get out of the car unless you want to end up like your daddy!”

There was nothing to do. Michael turned off the power to the car and got out of it. Questions ran chaotically through his mind: “What happens next? Is this the end? Has the order failed? Is the father alive? Will the police and the ambulance come? Will anyone help them? What will happen to Mom when she finds out?”

The gang leader approached Michael from behind, searched the boy, took his cell phone out of his pocket, shoved him in the back and said: “Now go to that car and sit in the back with the other kid. And sit still so I don't hear or see you, or it'll be worse!”

Michael headed toward the wrecked car. For a moment he stopped to look at his father and even wanted to approach him, but then he felt someone's hand on his neck.

– Go forward, I said! Don't make me angry! – The masked man behind him said through gritted teeth.

– Eric! Go take a look at the car. Tell me if you find anything interesting. And don't forget to take the geolocator out of it, if it's plugged in. – the thug turned to one of his goons. Michael looked away from his father in horror and continued driving. Opening the door of the wrecked car, he saw the other boy. He didn't look frightened at first glance and immediately moved to the opposite edge of the back seat, giving Michael his old seat. Silver got into the car and slammed the door behind him. Both of them were silent, neither saying a word as they watched the thugs search the expensive retro car.

– In the glove compartment only their papers and the navigator! I couldn't find anything else! The geolocator was turned off! – One of the bandits shouted, waving a small round device. His name was obviously Eric. It was clear that these were not just outcasts looking for a meal, but people with enough knowledge and skills to be able to carry on a full-fledged criminal activity.

– Bring them here,” the masked man replied. He put the documents in the back pocket of his pants, and the “Logist” carefully examined and threw him to the ground with all his might, so that he shattered into several pieces. After that, the leader kicked the monitor a few more times to make sure that the device was finally broken.

– You two get in the first car, Eric and I will drive the second one! – The masked man ordered his subordinates, pointing at each of them in turn.

– What are we going to do with the boys? – asked one of the bandits.

– They'll come with us, we'll decide later. We've done enough damage here already. It's time to get out of here! – replied the gang leader.

The group split into pairs, and the bandits took the front seats in the stolen cars. The body of the dead driver was thrown out of the car and they headed into the desert, turning off the main road. Michael looked out the rear window of the car. George continued to lie motionless, bleeding more and more by the minute. His eyes were closing 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.

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.”