He laid her on the ground, then he and Flix slipped inside the greenhouse right as the other guard burst through the western door, rifle at the ready.
“Who’s there?” the kid shouted.
“Don’t shoot, okay?” Flix called. “I’m gonna stand up, but I don’t want to die. There’s a girl out here who fainted, and I need help with her.”
Hidden behind a bed of okra plants, Joe watched with grudging admiration as Flix stood, arms raised, calm and confident.
“I heard a noise,” the boy said.
“Me, too,” Flix said. “It sounded almost like the hum from the drone that dropped the bombs. I think that’s why she fainted.” He gestured toward the back door. “Can you come help me with her? She probably needs to go see Dr. Suarez.”
Tentative footfalls sounded muffled by the tarps laid out to keep mud from getting everywhere. Three. Four. A fifth. How many steps would it take before the kid was close enough for Joe to get a clear opportunity with his stunner?
“I know who you are.” The boy took another step. “You’re one of those guys staying with Navi and Liliana. Have you really, um, done the, you know, the whoring?”
Flix huffed. “Yes.”
Two steps closer. “They say you and your brother —”
“Shut up, kid. Are you going to help me with this girl or not?”
“I was just asking,” the boy mumbled and shuffled forward.
Joe aimed in the direction of the boy’s movement and stood. He fired before the kid even looked his way.
Flix didn’t move, just watched the boy fall.
Joe rushed to him and jammed the VICE-shot into his hand. “Keep watch.” He scrambled past Flix and shoved the table off the plywood trap door he’d first seen days ago. Devin was just feet away. Joe felt it. In moments, they’d be together, and Devin would be safe. Joe yanked at the plywood and stared down into the darkness.
“Papi?”
A low groan answered, and Joe dropped to his belly to get a better look. The earthen room was dug around ten feet deep. Wooden bins filled with vegetables lined the walls. Cool, stale air tickled Joe’s nose. Nothing moved, and for a moment, Joe panicked and worried he’d guessed wrong.
Joe said a silent prayer. “Devin? Peter? Can you hear me? It’s Joe.”
A scuffling sound came from a corner, and Peter crawled into view. He tilted his dirty, tear-streaked face toward Joe and whimpered. “It’s bright.”
“You’ll get accustomed to it. Is Devin with you?”
Peter glanced behind him. “He’s here. They drugged him or something. He’s so big, and I hurt my elbow when they dropped me down here; I can’t move him, and I can’t wake him up. He’s breathing, though.”
The choking worry Joe had been fighting all day returned. He needed Devin out of there, needed to see that he was okay. At the same time, Joe wasn’t sure how he’d retrieve an unconscious Devin, let alone leave town quickly. Why hadn’t he considered that Devin or Peter could be incapacitated?
“There’s a ladder.” Flix stood at the edge of the opening, his feet next to Joe’s head. His big toe stuck out of a hole in his shoe. “Outside. Against the side of the greenhouse.”
“We’ll be right back, Peter,” Joe said. “I’ll climb down and help you with Devin. Try again to wake him up.”
Joe pushed himself to standing and followed Flix to the door. He peered outside and found it deserted. The female guard still lay unconscious on the ground. One of the Sons was bound to come by at some point. If not a Son, some townsperson who’d tell the Sons something was up in the greenhouse. Joe had to hurry.
He found the ladder perched on the northern face of the greenhouse. Powdery aluminum, long and awkward, it wobbled in Joe’s hands as he rushed back inside. He lowered the ladder into the root cellar and had one foot on the rung when Flix swore.
Illuminated in the solar lamp one of his sycophants carried, Sanders called out, “Come out here in the open, boys. Let’s have us a talk.”
Joe peered into the root cellar. Peter’s nervous, pinched face was all he saw. “Stay there. Keep trying to wake Devin. I’ll be back.”
Peter nodded. Joe put his hand on Flix’s shoulder, and they walked outside.
“Nice night for a stroll, isn’t it?” Sanders said. Eight of his gang stood with him, including Aria. Her blank eyes and large gun were focused on Flix. The others in the group had their rifles pointed at Joe. None of them were the Sons who’d been showing Joe respect.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Flix snapped. “You put our friends in a hole in the ground, you sick son of a bitch.” His words came out breathless and shaky, but when Joe glanced over at him, looking for the VICE-shot, Flix’s hands were steady and the gun was aimed at Sanders.
“Shut up and let the grownups talk, plastic boy,” Aria said. As she sneered at Flix, her eyes were colder than Joe could have imagined.
“Thanks, darlin’,” Sanders said. “Now, I know you’ve been messed up, living the way you have, and I’ve tried to make allowances for that, give you time to figure yourselves out. But you can’t be taking our prizes.”
Fury seared through Joe. Devin was not some sort of object, some thing. He took two quick steps toward Sanders before Aria’s gun whipped around and trained on him. Joe stopped, but he wasn’t done. “I will not let you hurt him.”
The Sons laughed, loud and raucous. Joe could slam into one, maybe take out another if he shoved the first the right way. Could Flix take out the rest before they could get a shot off? No. Flix had terrible aim. Damn it. Joe should have held on to the gun. He had to get them out of this, get Devin out of that hole.
