What can you bench-press, Sam?” Howard asked. “I’d say put on two forty-fives on each end, right? With the bar, that makes it two hundred pounds.”

“No way he presses two hundred,” Orc opined.

“I think you’re right, Orc. I think he’s going to be busy just keeping that bar from choking him.”

“This isn’t right, Howard,” Sam said. “You know it isn’t right. You don’t do stuff like this, either of you. You’re bullies, you’re not cold-blooded killers.”

Howard sighed. “Sammy, it’s a whole different world, haven’t you noticed? It’s the FAYZ, man.”

Orc lowered the weight. The bar rested on Sam’s bound wrists, which pressed down against his Adam’s apple. He pushed upward with all his strength, but on his best day he couldn’t lift two hundred pounds. All he could do was keep up enough upward pressure to keep breathing.

Gone, Chapter 22