The Benders Read Online Free PDF Page A

family in pieces on the floor. I walk over, pick up my picture, and dust off the dirt. There we are, the stick figure family I drew as a child. I trace my fingers over Mama’s scrawled face and then Arn’s. A sob stutters in my chest and the tears come. The urge to cry is so powerful I stumble into the wall, dropping my knife.
    I can’t do this. I can’t go on in a world where they’re dead.
    Clay strides to me, his face awash in sadness. Then suddenly he stops and swivels to the window, the look of a buck sensing a hunter. Something’s wrong.
    Outside, Ethan cries out.
    Dear God.
    Clay’s running before I can register what’s happened. The next beat, I’m after him, sprinting for my life. For Ethan’s life. Please God don’t let anyone hurt him.
    We barrel through the broken screen door and thud down the porch steps. Ahead, the truck sits off to the side in a patch of dirt, the rusty paint job turning red in the last rays of dawn. My eyes snap to the figure tugging open the driver’s side door. A man. A man is climbing into the truck cab after my little brother.
    Panicked, I scream. “Leave him alone!”
    The man, halfway into the truck cab, turns. The right side of his face is carved up like a sliced ham. One eye is missing, as are half the teeth on one side. His long hair is a straggly mess, and he’s skin and bones. Starving men do desperate things. I realize this as he pulls up a crossbow and aims it at my head.
    I jerk right as the bolt releases with a sharp thwack . The air next to my ear parts as the bolt zips past, inches from my skull. I stumble and fall, rolling into the dirt. Pain flares in my shin and blood blooms in my mouth. I roll to a stop, flip over, and am up on my feet as quick as I can.
    A shot cracks the air to my left. Clay. The man’s chest explodes as the bullet hits him, blood and tissue flying like a human firework, splattering the truck, the ground. The man topples into the dust, not a twitch to be seen. Just like that the threat is snuffed out. Clay stands with the shotgun set into his shoulder, his eyes sighting down the barrel. Once he sees the man isn’t moving, he turns to me.
    “You okay?” he asks, reaching for me. His eyes travel over my body, looking for injury.
    I nod and pull him forward. “Ethan.”
    We run to the truck cab. Stepping over the dead man is awful, but I’m so worried about my brother I manage to avoid looking at the splattered pieces. Yanking open the door, I haul myself into the cab.
    “Ethan?”
    My brother sits with his back to the passenger’s side door with Clay’s knife clutched in his fist. His eyes are wide and his hands tremble, but he’s alive.
    “You okay, bud?” I ask, crawling across the bench seat toward him.
    His eyes drag up to my face and slowly he nods. He points through the open driver’s side door to where the body now rests in the dirt. “That guy said he was gonna eat me.”
    “He ain’t eating nobody,” I say, resting a hand on Ethan’s hair. I stroke his fine brown locks and offer a smile. “You knew we were coming for you, right?”
    He nods again, this time a little more surely. “You always come.”
    My smile deepens. “That’s right. I’ll always come.”
    He looks out the window. “But I could’ve taken that bastard.”
    I raise an eyebrow. “You coulda, huh?”
    He nods, showing me the hunting knife. “I remembered all you taught me. I saw him coming up the walk. I didn’t yell ‘cause I thought I could maybe deal with him myself. But he was bigger than I thought. And the crossbow.” He leans over and looks down at the mangled body bleeding into the dust. “If he hadn’t had the crossbow, I coulda killed him.”
    “Listen, Ethan”—I say, feeling cold despite the baking heat outside—“I know you’re nine now and working on being a man, but you’re still a kid. You shouldn’t be taking on men like that by yourself.” I take the knife from his hand. “Next time you see someone coming,