Flanked Page 24

  “Fuck it all,” Devin grumbled, and Joe took that to mean he was starting to feel better. “It’s just a headache.”

  “Something’s wrong with Devin?” Flix’s worried voice carried before he climbed over the rock and dropped down on the other side of Devin. Flix’s fingers bumped into Joe’s as he caressed Devin’s hair.

  Joe snarled. He shoved Flix’s fingers out of the way and tightened the hold he had on Devin’s shoulders.

  “Better yet?” Aria asked.

  “Somebody better tell me what the fuck is going on,” Flix snapped.

  “It’s just a headache, Junior,” Devin repeated, only this time his voice had lost that rough edge. “And it’s going away. Can you all leave and let me sleep?” He crawled back between the sleeping bags and quickly began to snore.

  Joe wanted to follow him, hold him and reassure himself Devin was okay. Instead he stood and rubbed his hands over his face.

  Flix jumped on him instantly, but instead of the anger and accusations Joe had expected, Flix wrung his hands and bit his lip before saying, “He’s getting worse. It hurts him all the time. I don’t know if he’s told you. He didn’t want you to worry.”

  Joe clenched his fists. Devin had said something to Flix first? “He should have told me right away. You should have told me.”

  Flix stepped closer, and damned if he wasn’t taller than Joe now. “He says you act stupid when it comes to protecting him. That you’d want to fix something that probably can’t be fixed out here.”

  Truth. Joe had done awful things to protect Devin, and though he was sorry he hadn’t been honest with Devin about them, he wasn’t sorry he’d done them, not even when it had cost a life. He’d do whatever he needed to keep Devin safe.

  Flix sighed and moved to walk away.

  Joe caught him by the arm. “You need to tell me whenever anyone here is keeping secrets from me. Our survival could depend on it.”

  Flix moved into Joe’s space. “I’ll tell you if I think it’s something you need to know. Stop pissing on me because you’re jealous.”

  Joe grabbed a fistful of Flix’s shirt. He twisted the rough fabric until it was taut across Flix’s chest, until his fingers burned from the tension. He pulled a little, drawing Flix closer, until Flix’s heart thumped against Joe’s fist.

  “Why doesn’t one of you just pee a circle around him, mark your territory?” Aria said. “That’ll speed things along. Joe, I need a word.”

  Joe blew out a slow breath and released Flix’s shirt. Why was he acting like this? This was Flix, who’d just lost his brother. “Sorry.”

  Flix’s breath blew hard and hot in Joe’s face. “I know you’re trying to keep us safe.”

  “Joe, let’s talk,” Aria said more insistently.

  Joe patted Flix’s shoulder and followed Aria to the edge of their campsite. “How bad is it?”

  “It isn’t weird that he’s still having headaches. The problem is they’re getting worse instead of better. I’m worried about his vision, too. That seems like more than a concussion would have caused. He needs real medical treatment from a doctor.”

  “Okay, well, we’re only a few days away from Kansas City, maybe two if we push it.”

  “No. You’re already pushing him, all of us, too hard. He needs to rest, maybe more than anything. The patches and pills will keep him comfortable, and we have enough for maybe two weeks. Stay here a little while. Let him sleep.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  He walked over to Devin and lay beside him. As soon as Joe was flat on his back, Devin’s head clunked onto his chest and an arm wrapped around his waist. A leg followed, stretching across his own and pinning him to the earth.

  He stroked Devin’s hair, smelled his sweat and the lingering fake-clean scent of the Mrs. Smith’s. He had to fix this. He couldn’t up the pace of their walking if that was part of what was worsening Devin’s condition, but if they stayed in one place, they risked inertia, and Joe couldn’t do that again. They should have left Purcell days before they had, as soon as Marcus could hobble even a short distance. But Joe had been weak, tethered by his need for comfort and family, his uncertainty about New America. Marcus had paid with his life. A day. Joe could give Devin that. One day to stay put, to sleep, and then a slower walk toward Kansas City.

  Devin groaned and tightened his grip on Joe’s ribs.

  Two weeks.

  ***

  Joe noticed the odor as they walked between buildings on the outskirts of Old Kansas City. The path took them down a potholed road bathed in deep shadows slanting away in the early morning sunlight.

  Two weeks past the Maze-On store, New America had been as desolate as Texas. A week ago, after Devin admitted the severity of his headaches, the group had veered off the main highway, onto roads that would get them to Kansas City, then on to Minneapolis, more quickly. And they’d seen no one. Every little town, every tucked-away factory, every dilapidated farmhouse as empty as the last.

  As much as they’d tried to avoid people when they’d been south of the wall, Joe found himself hoping to find them here. Anyone. Someone to help Devin, to give them answers, to explain where New America was — the New America Joe had read about and dreamed about from the first day his father said he was leaving. This — ruined towns; parched fields; deserted, broken roads — wasn’t the proud nation he’d imagined.

  His father had left him for this?

  No. He’d left for the domes. And they were about to see their first one. Marvels. Miracles. The salvation of the planet. Clean air, plentiful water, moderate temperatures, protection from blizzards and hurricanes and tornadoes. That’s why his father had left — the dream they’d both invested in. The answer to the earth’s problems, or at least the problems of the chosen few. And Devin could get help. The pain patches had kept him comfortable, and the day he spent sleeping seemed to have restored some of his strength and vigor. His vision was still blurry, Joe could tell, but Devin never complained.

  Beyond that, Devin had questions, Joe was sure. Of all of them, getting to a dome held the most promise for Devin, the biggest potential reward. He’d had a taste of it at the Maze-On store, found out a bit about his family. What if they made it to the dome and Devin connected with his family right away? What if they asked him to leave, to travel to wherever they were? Joe had tried so hard to keep that worry from his thoughts, but the inevitability of losing Devin crept in. Even if Devin stayed with him, northern culture would tug them in different directions. And even if they survived that, they were still two men in a place where their kind of love was a crime.

  Joe shook his head. He wasn’t traveling down that road. He’d choose to believe in society and science and Devin.

  “The dome must be on the other side of downtown,” he said, just to keep himself focused. The central part of Old Kansas City sprawled out ahead of them, not as impressive as Austin or Dallas, but still big, the buildings too tall to be enclosed inside a dome.

  Aria gripped his arm. “I don’t like this. Why does it smell so bad?”

  Joe summoned Peter. The kid’s knowledge of life inside the dome was proving more extensive than Joe had expected after Peter’s early cluelessness. Peter’s wide green eyes darted to the buildings all around before settling on Joe. “It didn’t smell like this in Columbus, boss. I don’t know.”

  “Maybe there’s a landfill nearby,” Joe said, hoping it was true. They’d passed one last week that stretched for miles. A landfill was better than other options that smelled this bad.

  “I hope not,” Peter said. “I don’t want to vomit again.”

  Nobody wanted that. Peter had puked for two days, just thinking about the smell. On the third day, Devin carried him piggyback for almost ten miles — that was before Joe knew about the headaches. That left Joe to deal with Flix and Aria, who both alternated between snarling at him and crying. Joe had breathed deeply and counted each breath in his head, just to keep from snapping at them. He wo
uldn’t have minded taking out a little frustration on Aria, but Flix deserved to be able to fling at him every rude comment he could think of.

  Joe patted Peter’s back. “Remember to hold your nose and breathe through your mouth if you need to.”

  “Hey,” Devin said, and Joe turned to see him squinting to the left, his arm wrapped over Flix’s shoulders. “What do you think that building used to be?”

  “Corporate oppression of non-white individuals,” Aria said.

  Like usual, Joe ignored her. He considered the building. Long and oval. Glass and metal. Half of the glass was broken, but the remaining panes resembled rectangular mirrors. “They played sports there. Basketball.”

  Aria snorted. “That’s what I said.”

  “I have no fucking idea what either of you just said,” Devin said.

  “That’s because you’re an idiot,” Aria replied.

  Flix jumped to Devin’s defense, and before Joe could take a moment to breathe and think patient thoughts, he had to step between Flix and Aria and push them apart. Aria’s chest was almost as flat as Flix’s, but not quite, and Joe cringed and pulled back his hand. “Sorry. It’s been a while since I was around girls.”

  Aria shook her head in short, jerky motions. “You wouldn’t have done that to Sadie.”

  “We’ll never know.”

  Aria’s eyes filled with tears, and against his still-outstretched palm, Joe registered the sharp, raspy inhale that made Flix’s chest heave. God, he couldn’t take away their pain, but he needed to stop making it worse. His fault, all of it.

  He rubbed a small circle on Flix’s collarbone and let go. “Let’s keep moving.”

  They walked on in silence, though Devin and Flix didn’t drop as far back as they normally did. Devin’s solid presence helped, kept Joe in the here and now, not allowing him to slip back to the night Sadie and Marcus had died. He remembered a storyline he and Bea had used with their clients, her pretending she was a student on an archeology expedition. That’s what he did now. Studied the old buildings, the ruins. Older than Austin. Brick. Stolid and small. Modern glass and concrete towers sprinkled in. The road rose, turned into a highway, and beyond it stretched vast, empty plains. The stench grew stronger. Another few feet higher, breaking the crest of the incline, and... Oh.

  “No.” Joe covered his mouth with his hand. No. His dad had told him it could happen. Atmospheric instability. But Joe hadn’t pictured it. Not like this.

  Aria’s hand on his elbow. Peter’s hand on the other. Devin’s firm grip on his hip. Flix’s timid finger dipping into his pocket.

  “Shit.” Devin, his breath on Joe’s neck.

  All that soil — dark brown, fertile — the ground scraped clean from highway to highway, a wide cradle of devastation nestled between the roads. Jagged, foul debris piled into the ruin of a river, clogging its brown stream into a mountain of decay and death. Piercing the sky, stretching for at least a mile along the earth, a jutting crystal remnant of the broken Kansas City dome.

  “Tornado,” Joe said to no one. The others breathed tight against him, flanking him, drawing from and adding to his strength. “Do you all know what that is?”

  Murmured affirmatives.

  “We have them in Columbus sometimes,” Peter said, his voice soft. “They slide over the dome. Like water over your fingernails. This...”

  “Isn’t supposed to happen. I know. The domes are engineered with aerodynamic levitation. Stronger than steel. But the potential for radial fissures...” Joe shuddered. “My dad was worried about it, especially here, with the AEF5 tornadoes so common.”

  Devin shifted closer. “The survivors —”

  “There are no survivors. The weight of the dome prevents subterranean structures. Basements. And it’s situated right on the riverbank where digging would be a bad idea anyway. The tornado scraped the earth to the bone. No one lived through this.”

  “Will it come back?” This was Flix.

  “It’s gone. Judging by the smell, this happened at least a week ago.” Joe had to be honest. “But there will be more.”

  Shivers brushed their bodies against his. Tight. Scared. Suffocating. But it reminded Joe of who he was, what he did. He gently pulled Flix’s finger from his pocket and turned so he could see all of their faces. “I will lead you through it. I will keep you safe. Papi, we’ll find a way to fix the headaches. We are going to get back on the highway, and we are walking to Minneapolis.”

  He hadn’t been able to save Marcus, but he wouldn’t make mistakes again. He would save his little family. He stood on his tiptoes and kissed Flix’s forehead, apology and promise. Then he turned around and led them north.

  NINETEEN

  Peter shivered and wiped his hand over his face. Cold. And wet. Not again. He sighed and snuggled deeper into his sleeping bag.

  He had grown accustomed to waking in tears. Not very marshall at all — the kids from home would have teased him — but at least with these companions, he wasn’t the only one. The way Flix thrashed and screamed during his nightmares scared Peter as much as his own dreams did, and despite her rude talk, Aria cried more than anyone. After last week, seeing the horrible gouged ground where the Kansas City dome had been, Peter felt even more justified in his fear. If his peers back in Columbus really knew how bad the world could be, they’d have nightmares, too.

  The tear on his cheek dribbled toward his ear, and he wiped it away. A moment later, his lips were wet. He was still trying to puzzle out how a tear had gotten all the way down there when a gentle weight settled on his shoulder.

  “Peter, wake up.”

  Joe’s quiet voice knocked away the last of Peter’s cobwebs. He swiped his hand over his mouth and opened his eyes. Joe squatted close by, his dark eyes relaxed, one cheek pink and lined with creases from his sleeping bag. Beyond Joe, low clouds colored the sky gray.

  Something wet hit Peter’s cheek. He brushed it away. Water. “The sky is falling.”

  Joe glanced up at the sky and smiled, his straight, brilliantly white teeth on full display. When he looked back at Peter, his eyes danced with amusement, but his voice didn’t hold any teasing. “Rain is falling from the sky. The temperature drops much more and it’ll start to snow.”

  Rain? Snow? Peter sat up and stretched his arms in front of him to watch the raindrops hit his skin. He had learned about rain in school, of course, and Momma had told him about the big rainstorm in Tennessee when she was a girl, the one that had flooded the lake and burst the dam and washed a whole town away. He’d even seen storms, lightning and tornadoes, rolling over the dome, but feeling this, the wetness on his skin, fat dollops of chilly water hitting his face and arms, and the smell...

  “Rain smells?” he asked. “I didn’t expect that.”

  Joe nodded. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Fresh and renewing. Listen, I thought you might like to practice with the rifle while Aria and Devin get some sleep.”

  “Marshall! Yes! Please.” Peter scrambled up and trotted after Joe. Learning to shoot would be the best. Even with the artifact rifles Joe and Devin had, Peter could learn how to aim and fire, and then when he got his hands on a real weapon, he could be a protector, the kind who could have saved his parents, saved Sadie.

  Joe stopped next to Flix, who was sitting cross-legged on the hood of a rusty vehicle, and tilted his head toward Devin. “Wake him if anyone comes around.”

  Flix’s lips were tight, his voice clipped. “I can handle a gun.”

  “Can you honestly tell me you want to?”

  Flix dropped his head and mumbled, “Marcus saved our lives.”

  Untrue, probably. Peter had been in the cellar with Devin, of course, and hadn’t heard what was happening above-ground, except for the gunshots, but from what he gathered afterward, Marcus started shooting without getting all the facts. Joe would have gotten them all out of it. And Joe got shot in the process. He could have died. And it was Joe, not Marcus, who’d saved Flix’s life. Peter dearly miss
ed Marcus, but the truth seemed a lot less clear-cut than Flix made it out to be.

  Joe reached out for Flix’s knee, then let his hand fall before it got there. “I need you to keep watch. Please. Take care of Devin.”

  Whatever Flix grumbled in reply must have been enough to satisfy Joe because he headed down a side lane leading away from the highway embankment where they had set up camp the night before. Like every other road they’d come across in Iowa and northern O’Klansas, this one led between two farm fields. After so long spent walking along the flat-scorched Texas highway, then the endless red dirt of Oklahoma territory — dirt Peter was still finding in his ears and between his toes — he actually liked the green, rolling hills here, the ponds. What bruised his mood was the absence, still, of any actual people.

  A few randoms had popped up here and there, but none of them came close. Joe had tried to approach a man once. They were running out of Insta-food bars and wanted to know if Maze-On had another store nearby, but the man raised his hands and backed away as soon as Joe started to walk in his direction. They hadn’t tried again.

  Which was okay, but Peter hoped every day that they would wander into someone or somewhere that would take him home. Which was silly because he had no home to go to. Momma and Dad had been his only family. His grandparents had died in an airplane crash when he was a baby, and he had no aunts or uncles, no cousins. All he had was Joe, Devin, and Flix.

  Not what he wanted.

  But still, if they made it to Minneapolis, Peter could stay with Devin, like he was a little brother, at least until he turned eighteen. He could go to business school, get his credentials, and become suitably employed. Move out of Devin’s house and into one of his own. Find a girlfriend. Make a new family. Hope the nightmares went away.

  “This is far enough,” Joe said. He tied a long-sleeved shirt around the trunk of a rotten tree, then he pulled the gun from his back and walked a few meters away. “All I know about this gun is how to load it and fire it.”