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another run, after this?” Jeb lowered his voice to a genuine whisper. The officer shook his head.
    “Last one.”
    Oliver's heart thudded loudly in his ears. He stared at the corndogs as an involuntary shiver crept slowly through his arms and legs. They rotated on their poles. Fat and oil bubbled and popped, coating the container with a thick grease.
    "Your boy can't even get his food, got his hands all tied up."
    "You know the rules, Jeb. Keep them tied up, especially this one." Oliver looked up sharply at this remark, his sudden movement garnering the attention of the officer and Jeb. The officer regarded him silently for a moment before walking over. His footsteps echoed on the grimy, tile floor of the convenience store as he approached.
    "The corndogs?"
    Oliver nodded, mum. The officer grabbed a plastic bag and cranked open the corn dog container. He speared two and walked back up to the counter. Oliver followed awkwardly behind him, wondering how he was going to eat the corn dog with no hands.
    “Boy.”
    Oliver stared at the gossip magazines near the front counter.
    “I said, boy .” He turned to see the officer gesturing for him. The officer bent down and looked him right in the eye. Oliver could see his own reflection in his sunglasses, and he looked terrified.
    “Now, I’m going to take these off so you can eat your dinner. Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.” Oliver looked sideways at Jeb, who eyed him suspiciously over the top of his Maxim.              
    When he felt the handcuffs unlock, Oliver rolled his wrists and sighed. The officer handed him his corndog and turned back to Jeb.
    “Now, magazine isn’t as good as it used to be. I’ll tell you that.”
    Oliver bit into the corndog, and despite the rubbery texture and burnt batter, it felt like a meal fit for the most precocious of kings. It wasn’t long before he felt the wooden stick beneath his tongue.
    “You want to get your boy a magazine there, so he can have something to do? Idle hands are the devil’s playthings.” Jeb took a drag of his cigarette.
    “A box for you?” The officer shook his head.
    “I quit, but thanks. He’ll be at school soon enough.”
    Oliver perked up. Was that it, then? He thought, heart speeding up quicker than what was probably healthy for a boy of his age. He was burning with questions, questions the officer knew the answers to.
    What seemed like an hour later, the officer finally bid Jeb a goodnight, reattached Oliver’s cuffs and led him back to the van.
    “Where will I sleep?” Oliver blurted out, increasingly aware of the deteriorating cushion beneath him. The officer said nothing, but turned around in his seat and smiled. Oliver lay down and curled up as much as he could. The cushion crackled beneath him. He clasped his hands together and closed his eyes, dreading the next day’s drive.
    Chapter 4
    All around him, green mountains rose to the sky. The van sped along, whipping the scene outside into a blurred, visual salad, but Oliver was able to catch the end of a sign that read: Welcome to Wynton, Massachusetts . The highway had long turned into a two lane road, and the cascading foothills into flat farm land. Tiny houses dotted the landscape before him, sitting far back from the road surrounded by an ocean of green land. The scene was peaceful, more peaceful than anything Oliver had ever encountered before in his life. He could imagine spending hours lying back on the grass, with his eyes trained towards the stars. This was a land of possibilities, far away from the strange realities that he had come to know. Oliver wasn't sure what he preferred, the fantasy of normalcy or the horror that was his reality.
    The police officer had been quiet for some time, though occasionally Oliver thought he saw his head tilt ever so slightly towards the rear view mirror as if he were looking at him through his dark glasses. He drove on, his arms in the same 9-6 position they had been