The second day of their slavery went much as the first one, with one exception. Now there were eight of them. The van pulled up moments after the truck had taken them back to the corn fields. Three teens, all close to Davie’s age he thought, got out. They were put through the same routine as the others had been the previous day, having their IDs taken and leaving their backpacks in the van, and then Butch ordered everyone to start working. After an hour in the hot sun, everyone had stripped off their shirts, tying them around their waists.
Around noon, one of the newcomers asked where lunch was.
“You get fed tonight,” Butch replied.
“Yeah? Then I’m out of here,” the teen replied, starting to walk toward the road.
“Me, too,” Ken said, looking defiantly at Butch. “You can’t stop me.”
Bu
