“I’m hungry,” he said for the fourth time, and he walked toward the kitchen. Brad jumped to his feet to stop him, then pulled back. What the hell? They were all hungry. Maybe with food in their bellies, everybody would feel less edgy. He followed. “Don’t even think about pulling a knife on me,” Brad said. Scotty didn’t bother to acknowledge him; he just kept on into the kitchen. That’s when Brad thought of the back door. “Wait!” he commanded, his booming voice making everybody jump. He quickstepped past the boy into the kitchen. “What’s wrong?” Scotty asked. Brad checked out the door in the back. Only the storm door was closed, the solid wooden door wide open and inviting. “Nice try,” Brad said. He walked past Scotty and pushed the door shut, leaning on it until he heard the tongue find its keeper. “I wasn’t going to run away,” Scotty said. Brad rolled his eyes and turned the key in the dead bolt above the knob, double-locking the door. He placed the key itself on top of the refrigerator, out of reach.
