Rye Town
Ethan didn't get far before he was tackled into the wheat field.
Noah tumbled off his back and rolled away.
"You little brat, trying to run?" The director, no longer kind and gentle, grabbed Ethan by the collar and dragged him back.
Noah, who had been hurt in the fall, reached out from the haystack and cried out, "Brother!" But he too was caught by the approaching driver.
Ethan was held down by several strange men, his neck pinned. His eyes were red as he glared fiercely at the director.
The director slapped him across the face. "What are you staring at? Your miserable days are just beginning!"
"We're the sons of Alexander Blackwood," Ethan said. "You'd make more money ransoming us than selling us."
"Alexander Blackwood?" The director burst into laughter. "You're lying through your teeth! The Blackwood Group is bankrupt!"
"Even if you were a young master, you don't even have the money to treat your brother's illness now, do you?" The director searched Ethan thoroughly, taking the last of his money, then threw him and Noah back into the van and slammed the door shut before walking away.
Inside the van were six or seven other children and a man tasked with watching them.
Ethan held his brother in a corner. Noah's cries were weak.
"Brother… my back hurts so much…"
Ethan looked at Noah's back.
It was covered in bruises, blue and purple, from the fall in the field. Ethan frowned, brushing off the hay stuck to Noah's back. Noah sobbed again, "Brother, do we have any money left? What are we going to do now?"
Ethan whispered, "Don't worry. I hid some money from you. They didn't check you."
Noah felt a few bills tucked into the sole of his shoe and sighed in relief. "Brother, you're so smart."
Ethan didn't want to say more. Noah needed rest, and both of them were trying to regain their strength.
The sky grew darker, and soon rain began to pour, pattering against the newspaper-covered windows of the van.
Noah woke from a fitful sleep, his fever still raging. Dazed, he clutched Ethan's shirt. "Where are they taking us?"
Ethan didn't know. Exhausted but too afraid to sleep, he kept watch.
The van drove through golden wheat fields and along highways.
Time lost meaning as the world seemed to hurtle toward its end.
Finally, the van came to a stop in a small town. The man began going door to door, asking if anyone needed children. If someone nodded, he would open the back of the van and let them pick. If they found someone they liked, they would negotiate a price on the spot. If not, he would close the door and drive to the next house.
Girls were always the quickest to sell, followed by younger boys, and then the older ones. Noah was initially chosen and led out, but when the buyers saw how sickly he looked, they changed their minds and turned their attention to Ethan instead.
The man explained that they were brothers and asked if the buyer wanted to take both.
"No way! They're not girls! Feeding two extra mouths is too much!"
The convoy passed through several more towns. Some bought children, while others sold them.
New faces came and went, but the Blackwood brothers remained in the van.
By nightfall, the driver stopped in Rye Town to buy some food for the children.
Ethan saw his chance. He told Noah to say he needed to relieve himself, or else he'd wet the van.
The man cursed, calling Noah a sickly burden, and dragged him out to take care of it. When the door closed, Ethan wedged a piece of wood into the gap. The door didn't shut properly, and once the man was far enough away, Ethan slipped out through the crack.
Some of the other children tried to follow him, but Ethan pushed them back. "Don't ruin this for me." He shut the door firmly and headed toward the brightly lit town.
At first, Ethan walked quietly, but soon he was running as fast as he could. He ran to the local police station and told the officers that someone was trafficking children. The officers didn't ask where it was happening but instead asked whose child he was. Ethan said, "I'm one of the ones being trafficked."
The officer told him to sit and wait, then picked up the phone to make a call. But just then, a group of men barged in, asking who had reported child trafficking.
The officer immediately put down the phone and went to have tea with the station chief. Ethan sat on the metal chair, feeling like he was on pins and needles. He replayed the looks the men had given him and realized something was wrong. He stood up and bolted out the door, just as the man from the van caught up to him.
"You little bastard! If I hadn't gotten a call, I wouldn't have known you ran off!" The man grabbed Ethan by the ear. "You've got no conscience, leaving your brother alone in the van! I'll break your legs when we get back! Ah! You bit me!"
Ethan bit down hard, drawing blood, and ran desperately toward the night market. The man chased after him, but Ethan was thin and agile, weaving through the crowd. The man, much larger, could only watch as Ethan got farther away.
This town is trouble, Ethan thought as he ran. Right and wrong had become blurred. The people he had been taught to trust—teachers, parents, police—had all turned into monsters. Ethan couldn't trust anyone. Everyone seemed more and more despicable in his eyes.
Ethan ran under a bridge.
A group of drunk men noticed him.
They set down their drinks and narrowed their eyes. "Where'd this kid come from?"
Ethan was surrounded. The tall shadows of the men loomed over his pale face like grotesque monsters.
He licked his dry lips.
"Do you buy children?"
---
There was a long silence.
Only the sound of water flowing under the bridge could be heard.
One of the men, a bald guy, suddenly laughed. "How'd you know I'm in that business?"
"Your hands," Ethan said. "People in our line of work always have bite marks from the kids."
The bald man chuckled. "Interesting. You're pretty young to be in this business. You're not from around here, are you? What can you even do? You can't even drive."
"I lure them; they sell them," Ethan said, grinning. "Selling kids is easy, but luring them? That's something only a kid can do best."
One of the men said, "There's a guy in the next village who uses a black kid to help lure other kids. Are you that kid?"
"Hell no. He's pale as a ghost—what does he have to do with being black? Kid, who are you really?"
Ethan stayed calm. "What black kid? What luring? I'm a child trafficker. Do you want to see what I can do?"
The bald man was skeptical. "The guy we're talking about is from the next village. He's got an eight- or nine-year-old black kid he uses to lure other kids. The kids trust him, and after a few sweet words, they stop trying to run away. Some even help him traffic other kids."
"Enough talk. Watch me." Ethan turned and left. Less than fifteen minutes later, he returned with three little girls in tow.
One of the men's faces changed. "Damn it, isn't that my Shaoni? What are you doing here? Who told you to come?"
"The big brother told us to come."
The little girl pointed at Ethan.
Ethan waved, and more children came running from the distance. The men looked at each other, unsure how to react.
"Not enough?" Ethan turned to leave.
"Wait, wait, little brother," the bald man stopped him. "Don't go."
"You said it wasn't enough," Ethan said without looking back. "I've got more."
"Alright, alright, we get it! You've got skills! But these are kids from our town. We can't traffic our own—the neighbors would come after us! We only take kids from out of town."
Ethan stopped. "I've got a batch of out-of-town kids. They're in the woods outside town." He looked troubled. "I had a falling out with my partner."
"What do you mean?" the bald man frowned. "A falling out with who? The driver?"
"He wanted to change the split to 70-30. It's always been 50-50," Ethan said angrily. "Don't I deserve to make money too? All he does is drive! He doesn't know how to handle the cops or anything! Now he thinks he can just change the deal? Does he think he can do this without me? Plenty of people want to work with me!"
"Hey, little brother, calm down," the bald man said. "Take us to see them."
Ethan didn't agree right away. He held up five fingers. "I want this split!"
Ethan led the group toward the edge of town. On the way, they ran into the man from the van and the driver, who were also looking for him.
Ethan pointed at them, seething. "That's him! And his friend! Those two bastards! They have no integrity in business!"
The bald man hadn't planned to get violent, but the two men charged at them with steel rods. A fight broke out in the street, blood splattering everywhere. Ethan joined in, throwing a few punches and smashing a bottle over one of the men's heads. The others stared in shock.
"That's what happens when you mess with me!"
Ethan panted, his face twisted with rage.
"What do we do with these two?" someone asked.
"Sell them where they belong," the bald man sneered. "Isn't the mine short on workers?"
The bald man made a call, and a black car arrived. The men dragged the barely conscious driver and his accomplice into the car, which sped off into the night.
Ethan watched but didn't linger. A heart hardened by hardship becomes unyielding. Once again, he thought of her—the one who always hid behind a mask of coldness.
"Let's go," he said, leading the way without looking back.
When they reached the van on the outskirts, they opened the door to find seven or eight children inside. The bald man inspected them and found them all healthy, except for one sickly boy.
"Can you drive?" Ethan asked. "Let's team up and deliver this batch first."
"It's too dark to drive on mountain roads," the bald man said. "Let's rest here and leave in the morning."
Ethan disagreed. "We just came from BJ city. If you don't put distance between us and there, resting is a bad idea. I shouldn't have dealt with that driver!"
"Don't worry. Once we're here, we're out of their jurisdiction," the bald man said, clearly impressed by Ethan's boldness. "You can trust our people. Is this the only van you've got? That's not enough to make a profit. I'll bring two more vans tomorrow."
The bald man then asked, "What's wrong with this kid? He looks sick. No one's going to buy him. Should we just dump him somewhere?"
Noah's face turned pale.
"He's sick," Ethan said. "He's my decoy. I use him to trick kids into following us to the hospital, then we grab them in the alley. He's useful. Stop burning him with cigarette butts. We can also use him at highway checkpoints."
Ethan continued trafficking children, moving further south.
Children came and went from the van, but Noah remained unharmed.
They traveled like this until they reached HB province.
As they got closer to WH city, they approached a toll station.
"Inspection," the police officer said, stopping the vehicle.
Ethan pointed at the bald man and said he was trafficking children.
The bald man and his convoy were immediately detained. The police noticed that Ethan wasn't tied up in the back of the van like the others but was sitting calmly in the passenger seat. They asked if he was an accomplice.
Ethan said he was forced into it. Being forced meant he had participated. The police asked how many children he had trafficked. Ethan pinched his fingers together. "Just a few."
"How many is 'a few'?" Vivian asked.
Ethan was silent for over ten seconds.
"More than thirty."