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.