They stayed still in the sudden quiet and stared at each other.
“I’m done now,” Flix whispered.
Joe let Flix’s arms free. “Do you feel better?”
Flix nodded. “Thank you.”
Joe rolled off and stood before helping Flix to his feet, too. “I think you’re going to have a black eye.”
With tentative fingers, Flix touched his cheekbone and winced. “I’ve never had a black eye before.”
Joe snorted. He hooked his hands in his pockets and started toward the metal-roofed building. “Congratulations.”
Flix fell into step next to him. “I’m scared.”
“I know. Me, too.”
And he was. They could die before they ever made it to Purcell. They could get there and find nothing, no help. He didn’t even know which side of the border Purcell was on. What if it was north, in New America, and they weren’t allowed in right away?
Peter and Devin would be welcomed. Devin had the microchip that confirmed his status as an American citizen. Peter’s had been removed, but all it would take was a simple DNA test to confirm his identity. Surely the murder of his parents had been a big deal. People would recognize him, help him, take him in.
Joe and Flix and Marcus? They weren’t citizens, didn’t have the right genetic makeup. They could still test in, demonstrate a gift prized by the government. It was what Joe and his father had banked on, what Joe had prepared for years ago. Would he even remember half the stuff he’d learned? He hadn’t put it to much use working as a prostitute. And Joe and his dad had expected the testing to occur at a biodome, not along the border. The border might not even have testing facilities. He could reach it and be turned away.
Joe tried to put it out of his mind and focus on the here and now. Turned out the metal-roofed building was a small house with dusty white siding and a wide front porch. Brush had been cleared around the perimeter, so Joe slowed his steps and watched for any sign of people moving about. In Austin, most people stayed inside during the day since they didn’t have access to the dermal fortification injections Flights of Fantasy administered to their runners. Joe assumed it was the same out here. Whoever lived in the house was probably asleep.
He led Flix around to the back. Greenish plants sprouted from a small garden right near the house. The rooftop greenhouse back at Flights of Fantasy surfaced in Joe’s memory, and his stomach rumbled in response. Real food had tasted so good.
To the right of the garden, a small pump jutted from the ground. If the pump was in regular use, they might even be able to get at the water without waking the house’s owners.
Joe crept closer but stopped about twenty feet from the garden.
Something was off.
A sickly-sweet smell tinged the air. Insects buzzed in heavy swarms over the garden. The back door was ajar.
Joe withdrew the VICE-shot. “Stay here, Flix.” He crept closer, keeping an eye on the house.
The smell turned into a stench, like something rotting. The garden was laden with vegetables, all decaying.
Joe covered his nose and mouth with his hand. People didn’t let food go to waste. He approached the house and stepped inside.
He found them in the living room. A man and woman, maybe, shot through the head. The man near the front door, the woman a little farther in. Blackened blood pooled around their bodies, though not as much as Joe would have guessed. Their bloated forms and vacant eyes occupied the entire room, and every sense at Joe’s disposal. He turned away and managed to choke out a call in case anyone was alive and injured.
No one answered, and Joe didn’t find any other bodies when he ransacked the house, searching for medicine.
Back outside, he dropped to his knees and worked the pump furiously. All he wanted was to run. He’d seen dead bodies before, left to rot on the streets. But something about these people, dying, decaying in their own home... The killers hadn’t even taken the vegetables.
“They’re dead, aren’t they?” Flix bent at the waist and laid his hand on Joe’s shoulder.
“I told you to stay back.”
“I have the other jug.”
Flix handed it over and stood. Out of the corner of his eye, Joe watched him walk toward the other side of the house.
“Hey, Joe? I found something.”
Joe finished at the pump and capped the jugs before following the sound of Flix’s voice. When he rounded the corner of the house, he gasped. Finally, something had gone right.
In front of him, a long metal kayak stood propped against the siding. Joe lifted it. Lightweight. Two seats. Intact bottom. Along the bow, an eye hook threaded with rope. Joe laid the kayak on the ground and settled the water jugs inside.
“What’re you doing?”
Joe did something he hadn’t done in ages. He smiled. “This is how we get Marcus to Purcell without working Devin to death or leaving Peter behind. Flix!” Joe threw his arms around Flix and kissed his forehead. “We’re going to make it.”
***
Devin pulled the rope over his shoulder and stared at the wall looming ahead of them. The rope attached to the small boat that carried Marcus. The wall attached to New America. The massive white barrier obscured the horizon and disappeared out of sight to the east and west. When they’d first seen it, it had seemed like a small thing. A fence. A garden wall, like the concrete enclosure that had secluded his backyard when he was a boy. The height of the wall was difficult to gauge. The closer they got, the taller and more impenetrable it seemed.
They’d been naive. He and Joe should have realized New America wouldn’t let people waltz on in. But what did they know? Nothing, really. Joe’s entire knowledge of the north came from fairy tales his dad had fed him. Devin’s only knowledge came from Joe.
How had they gone this far and not asked? Not
