Arena Three

I’m inclined to side with him; the longer we stay out here in the middle of nowhere the more likely we are to run into danger. But there are risks to driving in the darkness as well. We’re so close to Chicago we’ll have to drive without headlights so as not to draw any attention to our whereabouts. That will make it far more difficult to navigate and far more dangerous to drive. But despite the danger, I’m certain it would be better for us to keep going, albeit slowly and cautiously, than risk being discovered or ambushed in the middle of the night.

“Ryan’s right,” I say. “We should pack up and ride through the night.”

“I think we should stay,” Ben says, challenging me.

I frown, looking at him with confusion. I’d assumed Ben would be on my side—he’s seen firsthand what the slaverunners can do after all. A part of me wonders if he’s saying that just to start an argument with Ryan.

Whatever his reasoning, it works. I can’t tell whether Ryan’s making up for lost time or just being overzealous because he has an opposing opinion to Ben, but he pushes his point rather aggressively.

“We’d be sitting ducks!” he cries. “We’re far too close to Chicago.”

“We’d be driving blind,” Ben counters. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Hardly,” Ryan scoffs. “It’s not like we’re going to run into anyone else out on the road. But if you’re worried that your driving skills aren’t up to the challenge—”

“My driving skills are fine,” Ben shoots back.

Stephan starts laughing, seemingly finding the two boys bickering a source of amusement. I decide that things are getting too heated and step forward to intervene.

“Guys,” I say, holding my hands up. “Arguing isn’t helping anything.”

“But you’re siding with him,” Ben says.

I can see the hurt in his eyes.

“It’s not about sides.”

Molly steps in, again trying to be the peacemaker. “We need to do what’s best for the kids.”

“What’s best for the kids is not getting kidnapped by slaverunners,” I say. I look at Ben, appealing with my eyes. “You know that. You’re just being argumentative.”

Ben looks down at the floor. He knows I’m right. He knows the fight he’s picking with Ryan isn’t about whether we drive through the night or not, but about me.

“Ben, I’m sorry,” I say. “But there’s plenty of bikes. If you want to stay back and sleep the night, you can. Ryan and I can just go on ahead and meet up with you later.”

His gaze snaps up. “No way.”

Once again I know he’s arguing against me and Ryan being alone together more than anything else.

“There has to be some kind of compromise,” I say diplomatically.

Bree, overhearing the dispute, comes over.

“Brooke’s right,” she says. “We have to keep going. If we stay here we’ll get caught by slaverunners.”

Ben folds his arms. “I’m not just going to change my mind because an eleven-year-old girl has told me to. That’s not how democracy works.”

“Who said this was a democracy?” Bree says haughtily. “Brooke’s leader. It’s her plan. She gets to decide.”

Everyone looks at me. I curse silently in my head. I wish Bree hadn’t put me in such a difficult situation. I know Ben’s going to read more into my answer than he ought to, that he’s going to think that I’m choosing Ryan when really all I’m choosing is common sense. But right now staying alive is more important than not hurting Ben’s feelings.

“I’m sorry,” I say to him. “But we’re driving on. It’s only a couple more hours before we reach the Mississippi. We can rest there.”

Ben shakes his head and looks so disappointed it makes my stomach ache. The atmosphere is beyond tense. Then suddenly, Stephan starts clapping.

“I’m so glad you guys brought me along for the ride,” he says. “This is so entertaining.”

Molly shoots him an angry glare.

With a heavy heart, I get back on my bike and try to kick it to life. But nothing happens. I check the gas gauge and realize that it’s practically on zero.

“Um, guys!” I call out. “I’m out of gas!”

One by one, everyone checks their own bikes and realizes that the same fate has befallen them. Every single one of our bikes has run out of gas.

I turn on Stephan.

“I thought you said the tanks were full!” I snap. “You said we could make it all the way to the Mississippi.”

He looks sheepish. “They were. I guess they just… well, the bikes are really old, you know? Maybe there were leaks in the tubes or something.”

Furious, I run over to the road that we’d come along. Sure enough, there are little droplets of gas all along the road. I run back to the others.

“Okay, now we really have to get out of here,” I say, urgently. “We’ve made a trail with gas all the way here. If there are slaverunners on that road, we’ll lead them right to us.”

Everyone looks terrified.

“You want us to walk?” Bree says, trembling. “In the pitch black?”

“We have no choice,” I say, marching ahead. “Come on! Everyone, get a move on!”

I’m starting to lose my cool. But the rest of the gang knows I’m right and they start to follow.

As the night grows darker and colder I curse under my breath. Our two-hour drive has just turned into a twenty-four-hour trek.

* * *