That had to be where Devin and Peter were.
One way or the other, Joe would find out soon.
As Joe neared the wall, Sanders stared at him. His posture was loose, arms dangling, shoulders relaxed. He was holding the Bowie knife Joe had given Devin their last night in Austin.
Joe wanted to punch him, but he schooled his reaction, played the part, took deep breaths. He needed to get this right. On the other hand...
He rushed forward and shoved Sanders against the wall. “I know you took them.”
Slick, sharp metal pressed into Joe’s side.
“You want to back on up now, José,” Sanders said. “We wouldn’t want your pretty face to get as messed up as your little friend’s there.” He waggled his fingers in a wave toward Flix and jabbed the knife a little tighter against Joe’s ribs.
Joe felt a slow sting and then the trickle of blood on his skin. He pushed hard enough to ram Sanders’s back against the wall before letting go and stepping away. “I know where they are. I will get them back.”
He’d expected Sanders to leer, to taunt him, to give him enough cover to fling his misinformation, but Sanders didn’t. Instead, he said, “I’m sorry, son, but those boys would’ve hurt you in the end. It’s better this way.”
Joe deflated. The breath rushed out of his lungs, and his fingers and toes tingled. He glanced past Sanders and the Sons, to the huge metal wall that divided the land. On the other side, Devin and Peter and their whiteness belonged. They would find homes and jobs and maybe even families. They could build a life. The best Joe had to hope for was an immigration pass he wasn’t sure he’d earn and maybe a glimpse of the man who’d left him behind nine years ago.
Flix moved next to him, wedged his bony shoulder right up against the back of Joe’s. Regret gathered in Joe’s stomach and reached out for Flix like lightning finding its target. How had Joe dragged this boy — because Flix was a child, no matter how much they pretended otherwise — more than 300 miles, with 600 more to go, for Joe’s own little-boy fantasy about finding his father?
Joe and Flix and Marcus would suffer, and Peter and Devin would thrive.
Flix pushed harder against Joe’s shoulder, vibrating against him, then opened his sassy, yappity mouth. “Devin would never leave Joe. And we are not better off without them. Listen here, you slimy-haired dickwad. Those people matter to me, and I do not give a shit what their skin looks like. You’re as bad as those government racists who left us behind. Now, give us back our friends.”
Sanders snorted, and there was the leer. “You’re a piece of work, little plastic boy. You’re lucky I’m even giving you a chance. Aria’s told me how it was down in Austin. White men raped you. And you’re ready to bend on over and give it up for a couple of bastards who’ll ditch you as soon as something better comes along? Spare me.”
“Don’t talk about things you know nothing about,” Lil snarled. In the crisp wind, her fiery hair blew around her like a halo. “We spared Aria from that life. She could never understand what we went through.”
Joe appreciated both Lil’s righteous anger and Flix’s devotion, but he had to intervene, to get the conversation back on track. “I want my friends back. Are you going to give them to me, or are we going to raid your compound and get them ourselves?”
Sanders tilted his head and twisted his pursed lips like he was getting ready to spit. “We saw the flyers. Flights of Fantasy. They want you back. The white boys. The little twins. But especially you. The reward for you is twice as high.” He narrowed his eyes. “You must’ve been all the sick men’s favorite. Or was it just the boss who liked you best?”
Joe swallowed, and swallowed again, but his throat still felt sticky and raw. That last time Boggs had touched him, pinned him down and forced his mouth open, he’d been so scared. But not for himself. For Devin. And that feeling, that surge of protectiveness that Devin had hated and Joe had fought against, exploded front and center right now and gave him the strength he needed. “We’ve heard where your base is located. We know what to look for. And we’ll come.”
He didn’t give Sanders a chance to goad him more. He turned and left the hateful man standing in the sun.
“It won’t draw his men out of town, you pretending like his hideout is still there,” Lil said.
“I don’t need it to,” Joe said. “All I need is for them not to expect me at the greenhouse.”
“Us.” That was Flix. And when Joe glanced his way, Flix’s big brown eyes blazed. “Us.”
Joe wanted to argue, wanted to protect Flix as surely as he’d wanted to protect Devin that day back in Boggs’s office. But he needed Flix.
“Us,” he repeated.
***
Sitting at Lil’s kitchen table, Joe made the plan simple.
Navarro didn’t like it, and he was loud in saying so, but Joe didn’t care.
At dark, Navarro, Lil, Sadie, and Marcus would head out toward the spot where the Sons’ compound had been. Lil had even strong-armed two of her mayor’s deputies — slight, dark-haired boys, just like Joe and Flix — into going with her. After fifteen minutes, they’d start back toward town and Joe and Flix would head for the greenhouse. Stun the guards. Rescue Devin and Peter. Rendezvous with the others. Run like hell.
Joe could devise a more elaborate plan, but it wouldn’t stand any better chance of working. All he really needed was a cool head and the element of surprise. And his friends’ safety. Back at Flights of Fantasy, he’d believed, mistakenly, that he’d be able to live with trading off the safety of others in order to
