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their wagon.
    “They won’t get far!” Jeff yelled, turning up a neighbor’s driveway and cutting through his yard toward the path into the woods.
    Beth had no doubt her brother could stop those brats. He had to. If he didn’t, the Brannings would go hungry tonight.

three
    “J EFF, THEY ’ VE GOT A GUN! ”
    Jeff heard his sister’s cry behind him as he followed the boys into the woods. He tried to push through the tangle of vines and brush. “Get off, Logan!”
    Jeff’s nine-year-old brother jumped off the back, lightening his load. No way would Jeff let those little rug rats take away the food he and his family had slaved over. He would not go hungry because those two didn’t want to work for it themselves.
    Thorny bushes tore at his clothes and fallen branches slowed him down. He thought of jumping off his bike and tearing after the boys on foot, but he couldn’t take the chance of leaving his bike to be stolen.
    One of the kids turned and threw a limb in his path. He tried to lift his front wheel over it as he rode, but the rear wheel skidded on the dirt path and he fell. Getting up, he tried to mount his bike again, but the branches were tangled in his spokes.
    The kids kept running as he worked his wheels free. They disappeared into the trees, but Jeff knew he could overtake them. They didn’t know who they were dealing with. At sixteen, he was one of the best athletes in his class. If it had been a straight shot, he could have overtaken them easily. But they clearly knew the woods better than he did, and used it to their advantage.
    He got back on his bike and went after them. He found the beaten path they had gone down. Now he would catch them.
    He heard the wagon up ahead and saw the kids breaking out of the trees and running across a parking lot. Perfect. If he got them on level ground, they’d never outrun him.
    But they’d thrown more limbs across the path.
    And they were fast, really fast. Still fifty yards or more behind them, Jeff chased them as they crossed an empty lot and cut behind a church. Then they vanished again. Jeff stopped as he came to the church, balancing the bike with his foot on the ground, trying to catch his breath as he looked around for some sign of them. He heard the wagon rattling, then a gate slammed.
    Taking off toward the sound, he came to a tall fence. He tried to push the gate open, but they had bolted it. He rammed it with his shoulder, but it wouldn’t budge.
    Reluctantly leaving his bike, he scaled the fence. Jumping down, he saw the back of an apartment complex. Garbage was piled waist-high behind the building, and the stench almost made him gag. He saw the boys disappearing around the far corner of the building.
    Wiping the sweat out of his eyes, Jeff followed. The sign said Sandwood Place Apartments. There were the boys — running up the stairs, slowed by the weight of their boxes and the neighbors in their way. They got their loot to a door and disappeared inside.
    Jeff ran up the stairs two at a time — past people sitting on the steps — and banged on the door he’d seen them go in. “Open up!”
    No answer.
    He pounded again. “I’m not leaving here until you open this door, you little thieves!”
    Still nothing.
    Rage exploded inside him. Kicking the door, he shouted, “Give me back my food!”
    But there was nothing but silence behind the door.

four
    T HE DOOR TO THE NEXT APARTMENT OPENED AND A WOMAN looked out. She was pale and skinny with long, stringy black hair and yellow teeth. Even so, she looked young — not that much older than Deni. “Hold it down out here, would ya?” she said. “I’m trying to sleep!”
    Jeff banged again, determined to get to the children inside. “Some kids in there broke into my house and robbed us.”
    The woman looked mildly interested. “What’d they get?”
    He raked his hand through his light brown hair. “Our food, that’s what,” he bit out. “And I’m here to get it back.”
    “Careful, they got