Joe turned around and watched Devin stand. “I’m fine. It gets even better. It’s not just the two of them. Wait for it.” He hustled back to the median, switched the VICE-shot off, and shoved it in Devin’s pants pocket.
Devin managed to climb over the guardrail on his own, and Joe hoped that meant his partner’s vision was improving. He grabbed Devin’s elbow and led him toward the side of the road, away from the incapacitated men. For the benefit of the boys, he gestured north, then hurried Devin along the road, trying to put as much space between themselves and the unconscious men as he could. Everyone seemed to understand the need to get away. Even Flix kept his mouth shut and followed along behind.
After half an hour and no sign of strangers, Joe stopped and allowed the boys to catch up. When they got within fifteen feet, Flix broke away from his twin and ran to Joe. He flung chilly arms around Joe’s neck and burrowed into him.
Joe patted Flix’s back awkwardly and tried to warm him up. What had they been thinking, coming out here without warmer clothes? They shouldn’t be out here at all.
“You saved us, Joesy. Thank God we ran into you.” Flix rubbed his cheek back and forth on Joe’s shoulder but stiffened when Joe’s hand grazed his ribs.
Devin grabbed at Joe’s arm and pushed Flix away. “Back off, Junior. Why the fuck are you out here?”
Marcus — slower, gentler, and blessedly not attracted to Joe — answered. “You said we could come with you.”
The expression on Devin’s face — mouth open, brow furrowed — had to match the one Joe was sporting. They had said that. When they’d left their home at the Flats, they’d offered to let anyone come with them. No one had. Only Peter, new and too green to make the trip, had expressed any desire to leave. And now, in between Marcus and Flix, here was Peter.
His ruffed-up brown hair hung in his eyes until he pushed it away and glared at Joe and Devin. “You left me. I needed your help, and you left me with a man who was going to make me a” — Peter hesitated and dropped his voice — “prostitute.”
The accusation, ugly and true, hung in the air. Joe had felt guilty about it, of course, but they hadn’t taken the boy with them when they’d left.
“Shit,” Devin breathed. “Peter. Man, we left you because we believed it was for your own good. We’re both sorry.”
Peter opened his mouth, but Flix cut him off. “He’s here now, asshat, so —”
“Shut up, dickwad,” Devin snapped.
Joe sighed and grimaced at Marcus, who seemed as disinterested in Flix and Devin’s crude insults as Joe was. They had more important things to worry about right now. “Tell me how you ended up out here.”
Marcus set down the huge object he’d been carrying, which had turned out to be a bed sheet serving as a makeshift suitcase, and ran a hand over the sides of his head, where his dark hair was shaved. He half-smiled. “After you left, Peter came back in bawling and —”
“I wasn’t bawling,” Peter said. At least he’d gotten distracted and stopped shooting Joe dirty looks.
Marcus shrugged. “Anyway, he came back in. Mr. Boggs came out of your room and screamed at us all, wanting to know where you’d been planning to go. None of us knew.”
Good. That not knowing, the little head start it had afforded them, had probably kept Joe and Devin from being caught already.
“We got assigned to train Peter, probably since he’s about our age,” Flix added. “We took him downstairs and got all the checkups and stuff, so he’s not going to get sunburned or die of worms or something.”
Peter straightened. “You people are disgusting. I never had worms.”
Devin chuckled and reached his arm out blindly, his hand groping at the air. Once he hit Joe, he walked his fingers around until he held Joe’s hand. “This is fun, but Joe and I need to head on down the road.”
“We’re going with you,” Flix said.
Joe hated to turn them away, but when he and Devin had left, he’d been very clear that anyone who went with them would have to be self-sufficient. “We don’t have enough food and water for you.”
“We have supplies. We promise we won’t be a burden.”
Flix’s enormous brown eyes tugged at Joe’s soul. Flix could promise all he wanted, but taking these boys along meant slowing down. It meant a greater chance of being caught. This wasn’t a decision Joe could make alone. He’d promised Devin they’d be full partners. “Give Devin and me a minute, please.”
The boys walked a short distance away, and Joe poked around at the outside of their sheet of supplies. Quietly, he said, “What do you think?”
“I think they’d get us all killed.”
“I don’t want to be like my dad.”
Devin sighed heavily. “You aren’t leaving behind your child, Joe. Let’s give them some food. Give them one of those guns. Send them back, and when they’re stronger —”
“Tell them,” Marcus almost shouted. He shoved Flix by the back of the neck over to where Devin and Joe stood. “You tell them or I swear I will show them.”
Flix scowled. “It isn’t their business, Marc.”
“To hell it’s not. They’re going to send us back to Flights of Fantasy.”
“Boggs will be angry,” Joe said, “and he’ll probably punish you, but it’s better than starving —”
Marcus yanked the back of Flix’s shirt up over his head and spun him around so his back was to Joe.
Joe’s stomach lurched. Flix’s back was covered with fine, long cuts in a row of four, starting near his left shoulder and snaking lazily across and down, all the way to his waistband. Not deep enough to scar; more than enough to torture. The perfect balance, so Flix could heal on his own, slowly and painfully, and still be a pristine, marketable whore afterward.
