Mercenary at heart - стр. 19

– 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.