Free The Breeders by Katie French Page A

sizzling wakes me. The delicious aroma of cooking meat sends my stomach twisting. My mama cooking bacon? Then I remember.
    I drag my useless body into the kitchen. Ethan’s at the stove tending whatever’s smelling so wonderful. I walk over to him and see two prime cuts of beef sizzling on the skillet.
    “Where’d you get that?”
    A smile forms on his face. “From the package. Who’s Clay?”
    I recoil. “We can’t eat those!”
    “Why not?”
    “They might be poisoned.” I grab the nearest fork and stab the delicious steaks. Warm red juice drips down my hand as I open the belly of the stove. I toss the steaks into the fire.
    Ethan cries, “Stop! What are you doing?”
    I slam the stove shut and stand in front of it. “Clay’s a monster.” I look Ethan hard in the eye. “He killed Arn. We can’t trust him.”
    We watch through the slats in the stove door as the steaks crinkle in the fire. The delicious aroma turns to a charred stink. Ethan bursts into tears beside me.
    “What’s wrong?” I say, standing over him as he sinks to the floor.
    He buries his head in his hands. I crouch down beside him and put my hand on his bony shoulder. He shrugs it off.
    “Listen,” I say. “I’m sorry about the steaks, but it was for your own good.”
    He lifts his head and glares at me. “Since when do you care about me?”
    I lean back, hands up in defense. “What’re you talking about?”
    He pulls at his hair in frustration. “You’ve been sleeping for three days! You won’t even look at me! You said you wouldn’t leave me, but you already have.”
    I didn’t think it was possible for me to feel worse. The one person in the world I have left to care for, and I’ve turned my back on him. I put my hand on his shoulder. This time he doesn’t shrug it off.
    “I’m sorry.” If I can get through this without crying, it’ll be a miracle. “It’s just real hard.”
    He sniffs. “I know.”
    “Yeah, you do. But I gotta get over it. Get my ass in gear, as Auntie would say.”
    He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. “She’d say you were being a lily-livered dirt eater.” He frowns, remembering.
    The memory of Auntie’s strange sayings lingers bitterly on my tongue. I stand and my legs buckle. Ethan grabs my hand and helps me up.
    I throw my arm over Ethan’s shoulder and press my face into the top of his head. “We’ll eat lunch and then set some snares. A couple of rabbits and we’ll be all set.” He looks up at me, his face searching mine for reassurance. I squeeze his shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”
    What a terrible liar I am.

Chapter Seven

    The next day there’s three unopened aluminum cans in a small pyramid on our porch. I squat down and examine the rippled cylinders. The labels are long gone, but the cans are in good shape, no dents or weird bulges. Food from another time. I wonder how long ago these were made. I’m about to chuck them in the trash when Ethan appears behind me. He looks longingly at the cans.
    “Those can’t be poisoned, right?”
    I shrug. “Maybe there’s poison on the outside of the cans.”
    He disappears, returns with Mom’s rusty tongs. “There,” he says, picking one up. “Now we can’t get sick.” He smiles at me. “Let’s eat.”
    His feet thud smack on the wood floor as he runs into the kitchen. I hear him open drawers and digging out utensils. I stand on the porch and stare down the road. There’s no motorcycle, no sign that Clay is lurking around. Something glints in the distance behind a large pile of rocks. Is he watching us? I stare in that direction for several minutes until Ethan calls from the kitchen that the food’s done. The smell that trickles past my nose is enticing, but I can’t stand the thought of eating something Clay’s brought us. On the other hand, what choice do I have? My snares haven’t caught anything, and the canned goods in the cellar won’t last more than a week. We either eat Clay’s offering, or we