Flanked Read online

  “You’d take a chance like that with Marcus?”

  No. Of course not. Flix would do anything to keep Marcus safe. Besides, he hadn’t endured Boggs’s cruelty only to let Marcus get hurt anyway.

  So he stood by and watched the second jug fill. The water flowed as freely as it had the entire time, but the wait dragged. When the jug finally could hold no more, Joe turned off the tap, pocketed the filter, and offered the jug to Flix, who accepted it with shaking hands.

  Oh, so good. Warm, slightly tinny, and so wet. Relief hit Flix like a bolt of lightning. No dying of thirst today. He chugged the water, let it dribble down his chin and chest as he swallowed, swallowed, swallowed. He’d finished off a quarter of the container when Joe pulled it away.

  “Enough. You’ll puke it all out if you take too much.” Joe put the jug to his lips and gulped, his Adam’s apple rising and falling. He groaned and set the jug on the counter. “Do you want another small sip before I fill it again?” His voice sounded so much stronger.

  Flix did, then Joe refilled the jug and set it next to the first one. He capped them both and pointed to a silver canister mounted on the wall. A small, clear, oval cutout showed it contained a blue-green liquid.

  “Oh, yes.” Joe placed his hand under the canister and pressed up. A squirt of the liquid fell into his palm. He brought the liquid to his head and rubbed it into his scalp. He gripped his shirt and pulled it off, then turned on the water again and bent so his head dipped into the stream.

  A thick lather formed between Joe’s fingers, and Flix listened to Joe’s pleasured moans and tried not to pop more wood. The guy’s back muscles tensed and stretched while he washed his hair, reminding Flix of the pulleys he’d read about in second grade. Joe straightened, water dripping from his hair onto his shoulders and chest, and collected another dollop of soap.

  He nodded toward Flix. “Get cleaned up. Who knows when we’ll have the opportunity again?” Joe slid the soap between his palms, then scrubbed his face, neck, and chest.

  Flix watched as Joe raked his fingers across his armpits. At Flights of Fantasy, they’d all been given shots to eradicate body hair. For the first time, Flix thought the company had made a mistake. Body hair on Joe would be... Flix pinched his inner arm to distract himself.

  Joe dunked his face under the water and tilted his head, so the stream reached his throat. He repeated the awkward maneuvering to rinse his armpits but couldn’t quite reach his chest. He turned off the water and faced Flix. “I’m being a hog. Go on.”

  Flix repeated the gesture he’d seen Joe make under the soap dispenser. The cool liquid tickled his palms and squished between his fingers. He ran his hands through his hair, enjoying the slick slide and the pressure on his scalp. He turned on the faucet and stuck his head under it. The water tumbled over him, filling his ears and running over his eyes and mouth. The pitter-patter of the water hitting the basin, along with the warm caress over his head, relaxed him in a way he hadn’t been in days, maybe weeks. He understood what had made Joe moan.

  Reluctantly, he withdrew from the water and rested his forehead on the counter. He stretched and pinched his hair, wringing it dry as best he could, then turned his head sideways and gasped. “Holy shit!”

  Joe had stripped balls out naked and was vigorously scrubbing the crease of his thighs. Flix stood like a statue and watched Joe manhandle his junk.

  “Quit staring and wash up.”

  Flix startled and got on with it, tugging off his shirt and pants and lathering everywhere. He kept his eyes off Joe and tried not to hope Joe was watching him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Joe climb onto the counter and somehow drag his entire body under the faucet. He hopped down behind Flix and swerved around him to pick up his clothes. Flix had to remind himself to breathe, the want was so intense.

  When Joe had dressed, Flix clasped his hands in front of his own too-happy dick and looked up. “How did you do that crawling over the counter and under the faucet thing?”

  Joe shrugged and showed off a set of gorgeous white teeth. “I scooted on my ass. It wasn’t that hard. You’re tiny enough that it should be even easier. Mind your back, though.”

  “Can you, um...” Flix gestured toward the other side of the room. He couldn’t think of any way to get the soap off besides what Joe had done, but he was not crawling around on the counter, sticking his erection up in the air, not unless Joe was nowhere near him. With his luck, his dick would get stuck in the end of the faucet.

  “Oh, sure.” Joe cast a pointed look at Flix’s hands. “Didn’t realize you were so shy.” He walked away, into the cafeteria, and kept his back to Flix.

  Flix was so not shy. About anything. Ever. Usually. Except the whole “naked in front of his one true love” thing. That. He rolled his eyes at himself and climbed onto the cold metal counter. He put his feet in the sink and rinsed them, then scooted and twisted and almost fell off, but managed to slide his body under the water a little at a time. He couldn’t turn off the water while he was under it, so he ended up with a face full of the stuff. He spluttered and coughed, but thank God, Joe didn’t come check on him.

  After Flix freed himself, he slid off the counter, turned off the water, and waved his arms and legs around, trying to dry off some. He was jiggling his right foot when a door slammed.

  He grabbed his clothes and ducked behind the row of cabinets opposite the sink.

  “Afternoon,” Joe said. His voice sounded lazy and unconcerned enough that Flix almost stood up.

  “Who you?” A deeper voice. Older, probably.

  Flix slipped into his shirt and stuck his feet through his jeans. He fell over twice, but he managed to get them pulled up and fastened without coming out from his hiding spot.

  “Traveler. Just finishing up with a bit of water.”

  Flix poked the top of his head over the counter. Two men and a woman stood fifteen feet from Joe, watching him like they’d never seen another human before. Their hands were empty, and their filthy clothes hung loose on bony frames. A rare surge of appreciation for Abuela Carmen and even Flights of Fantasy zoomed through Flix’s brain.

  “You’n look young,” the second man said. Even from this distance, Flix spotted his rotted teeth. “You got a momma witch you?”

  “I’m almost twenty. Mom’s dead.” Joe’s back was straight, and his hands were in his pockets, where that VICE-shot would be. “What brings y’all here?”

  Flix doubted Joe had ever said “y’all” before in his life. He was too educated, too slick. The trick made sense, though. Why give these people any reason to suspect Joe was different?

  “Getting us some water, too. You’n a pretty little thing, ain’t ya?” The woman didn’t sound like she thought that was a good thing. Her lip had curled in a bit of a sneer, but she also seemed fascinated with Joe. She took a step closer, close enough that Flix made out the blisters on her face. “Why you’n got no sun damage?”

  “I stick to the shadows, ma’am. Y’all here for the water?”

  “Back up, Leezy,” the deep-voiced man said. His dark skin shone like he’d been the one to bathe under the sink. “Less let the little feller scat. We got stuff to take care’n.”

  “Sure,” Joe said. “My brother an’ me were just leaving.”

  Flix scrambled out from behind the cabinets, grabbed the backpack and the water jugs, and walked to Joe’s side like he wasn’t about to crap his pants.

  The strangers watched Flix’s every move. On the bright side, if they were armed, they’d probably have drawn their weapons when he came out of the kitchen. On the darker side, they all looked between Flix and Joe like something was wrong.

  The lady’s expression soured even more. “You two’s brothers? Why you so...white, pretty boy? You’n lying about this boy being your brother, an’ taking ’vantage?”

  Flix barked out a laugh. It just slipped. Joe was seriously closed off, but Flix did know Joe’s momma had been Mexican. Flix had exactly zero Mexican blood. The idea that
these people were worried Joe was a white man taking advantage was so ironic. “Sorry, miss...”

  “Lisanne, but folks call me Leezy.”

  “Miss Leezy.” Flix poured on his best “sweet, innocent me” smile, the one that had usually made the clients at Flights of Fantasy fuck him a bit gentler. “My brother an’ me got different dads. His split, but he’s been my brother all my life.”

  Joe had stiffened next to Flix, but now he threw an arm around Flix’s shoulders. “He’s a good kid. Well, we best be going.”

  “Wait.” The deep-voiced man held up a hand. “Want to show you something.” He reached in his back pocket, and Joe and Flix tensed as one. All the man pulled out was a piece of paper. He unfolded it, looked at it, and turned it around. “You boys seen this man?”

  Flix didn’t think twice about touching Joe this time. The picture was of Devin.

  FOUR

  Joe crunched over the highway. The pavement here had crumbled, leaving behind gravel and dust. The wind whipped his hair and threatened to dislodge his vision shields, not that they mattered all that much for sight. With all the dust swirling in the air, he could barely see a few steps in front of him. He was almost too preoccupied to notice.

  He had to tell Devin about what he’d seen in the hospital. Back in Austin, keeping secrets had ruined Devin’s trust, and Joe had promised he’d never do it again. He wanted to tell Devin, even. Needed the support Devin could provide. Three days had gone by, though, and he hadn’t said a word. Flix hadn’t either, even though Joe hadn’t put any limits on what he could tell the others.

  Devin put a hand on Joe’s elbow. His vision had improved steadily over the past few days, so he didn’t need to be guided anymore. Joe missed the constant contact.

  “We need to take a food break.” Devin’s voice was garbled by the t-shirt he’d fastened over his nose and mouth to keep out the dust. He gestured at the kids walking a few steps in front of them.

  Flix and Marcus pulled Peter along. The poor boy’s toes dragged the ground as Marcus and Flix stumbled and swerved with the effort to keep him upright. After the fire, he’d been able to keep up for a couple of days of walking, but today he hadn’t stood a chance. His hair dripped with sweat despite the cooler air. His arms and legs slipped around like wet noodles.

  Joe stuck his thumb and forefinger in his mouth and whistled. The noise cut through his own makeshift mask. The younger boys jerked and stopped. He caught up with them, nudged Flix aside, and wedged his shoulder under Peter’s arm. He hooked his hand around Peter’s waist and started forward again. “I think I see the outline of a building ahead. We’ll see if it’s empty and take a break.”

  Peter sagged into Joe and murmured, “Thank you.” His head lolled around. “I can’t do this.”

  Joe grunted. Peter was heavier than he looked. Joe hitched his hand lower, onto Peter’s hip, and held tighter. “You’re doing fine. You’ll feel better after you rest and eat.”

  The building turned out to be a large, faded red barn. The roof had fallen in on one corner, but the rest of the building seemed stable. Joe pried open the wide door and peeked inside. Vast and empty, with a dirt floor, the place smelled like shit and mold. Joe didn’t care. Despite the hole in the roof, the air was still and free of dust. He pulled Peter inside, dropped him out of the way, and inspected the support beams to be as sure as he could that the barn wasn’t about to collapse around them.

  Devin stood next to him, though Joe hadn’t even heard him approach. “I gave the little shits some food. We don’t have much left.”

  “I know.”

  They’d found water each of the last two nights, first at a farmhouse with a well, then again in a dilapidated school. But food... Joe checked every place they stopped. He hadn’t found anything. Back in Austin, before Devin came along, Joe had spent years storing away enough food to make this journey alone. When his plans changed, he’d been sure he could stretch his supplies to feed Devin, too. The kids, though? He didn’t have enough for five people.

  Devin lowered his voice. “What’re we gonna do?”

  “What can we do? Keep trying to find more.”

  “We told them they’d have to fend for themselves.”

  Joe felt a hundred years old. Devin was right, of course, but neither of them would let the twins and Peter starve. Joe leaned forward and pretended to study the cracks in the board in front of them.

  “We’ll find food,” Devin said. “We will. Until then, what if you and I took meals in turns? Only one of us eats per meal.”

  “We’ll have to be careful so the boys don’t notice.” Joe turned to face Devin, whose eyes focused on him for the first time since the dazzler left him blind. “Maybe we should split things so we’ll be eating at every meal, only half as much.”

  Devin cupped Joe’s cheek. So tender, even when his hands were caked with grit.

  Joe tilted his head toward the touch and closed his eyes. The words sat on the tip of his tongue, the overwhelming need to tell Devin about the encounter in the hospital, when one of the boys yelped.

  Joe jogged toward the boys, Devin at his heels, and found Flix halfway undressed and Peter rolling on the ground.

  Marcus, arms crossed, leaned against the wall and smirked. “Morons sat in ants.”

  Joe groaned.

  Devin took a huge step back. “Fire ants? Vicious motherfuckers. I’m allergic.”

  “Everyone’s allergic,” Joe said. “Marcus, help your brother.” He bent and yanked Peter out of the dirt. Ants crawled all over him, thick enough to turn his arms red. “Get your clothes off.”

  Fire ants had earned their name. Small and red, they bit and stung and left behind a patchwork of little blisters and hot, swollen welts. Like a thick carpet, they swarmed over the barn floor, still pouring out of the flattened mound. Joe slapped one off his arm and dodged Peter’s shirt, which flew through the air. Peter tripped when he pulled his pants off, and he cried out when he fell, though Joe wasn’t sure whether the fall or the ants were responsible for Peter’s distress. As soon as Peter was on his feet, Joe tugged him to a relatively ant-free area and swiped over and over at Peter’s back and legs, brushing off the ants. More moved in, and some clung to Joe’s hands, biting and stinging, the immediate pain sharp before blurring to a dull throb.

  Peter sobbed, shoving frantically at his skin, flinging ants in all directions. His wide green eyes, full of horror, flitted from his own body to Joe’s face. His mouth hung open, practically inviting ants down his throat.

  “Close your mouth,” Joe snapped more harshly than he’d meant to. He smacked at Peter’s face and worked his way down, all around Peter’s neck, his shoulders, and over the half-healed surgical incision on his shoulder blade — probably the place where his New American citizenship chip had been dug out by his kidnappers. Joe swiped across Peter’s back and chest. “Get the rest of them off your front, and for God’s sake, keep your mouth shut.”

  Tears still streaming down his cheeks, Peter nodded, and Joe resumed work on Peter’s back. They had to move to a different spot in the barn when too many ants dropped to the ground. Getting the ants off took forever, but they eventually got rid of them all. Joe’s hands had swollen so much they were numb. Red, raised patches covered Peter’s body. Joe touched Peter’s chest and felt the flush of his skin. He needed medicine.

  Joe glanced behind him. “Devin?”

  A tube of antihistamine cream was shoved into Joe’s hand, and Devin coaxed Peter to open his mouth. He placed two pills on Peter’s tongue and held up the water jug so Peter could drink. “Marcus is rubbing Flix down now. I think he’s better off than Petey.”

  Peter whimpered when Joe spread the cream over his shoulder. Every part of Peter needed covered, and Joe worried they’d waste all their antihistamine topical on this one event. How many more times would they run into fire ants or other pests on the way north? First the lack of food, now dwindling medical supplies. It meant they’d have to find people, have to ba
rgain to get what they needed.

  Joe hated the thought. Talking to people meant taking chances that they’d be caught by Boggs.

  The strangers at the hospital had told him they’d gotten Devin’s photo from a drone that had dropped flyers from the sky. The reward Boggs offered for information was high: three weeks’ worth of food and water. How anyone would contact Boggs to collect, Joe had no idea.

  Joe had weapons, guns and knives. His companions, except Peter, were fast and strong. But the same could be true of anyone. Joe couldn’t lose Devin, couldn’t go back.

  “Hey.” Devin nudged Joe’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out.”

  Joe knelt and swept his hands down Peter’s calves, spreading the cream as quickly as he could. “Let’s get them dressed, fed, rested, and ready to move.”

  ***

  Devin hated being the group asshole. He should have helped with the fire ants last night, should’ve helped Joe drag Peter along the highway, should be the one inside this house checking for safety. But he wasn’t. Like always, he’d let Joe investigate while he stood outside with the kids, toeing the dirt and hoping Joe would be okay.

  His head throbbed. The lack of food had him even more uncomfortable than the walking. He couldn’t decide which hurt worse, his stomach or his head. Blaming his behavior on hunger would be nice, but Joe was just as hungry. Sometimes Devin hated how unflappable Joe was.

  The dust storm had mostly subsided, and Devin’s damned eyesight had almost returned to normal, so in the purple sunrise, he had no trouble picking out the house’s red brick, its tiny windows, the jagged crack running up the front big enough for him to stick his whole hand inside.

  “Hey.” Marcus lightly punched Devin’s forearm.

  Devin raised his brows.

  Marcus yawned so hard his jaw cracked. “I had to take a break from my brother. He thinks he needs to tell me how to wipe my own ass.”