Joe raised his hands. “Take me instead. You said I’m worth more. I’ll go without a fight. Just let my friends leave peacefully.”
“What are you doing?” Flix hissed.
Joe didn’t turn to him. “I need you all safe, Flix. You and Devin, together you can get north, keep Marcus and Peter in one piece.”
“You’re in no position to bargain, son,” Sanders said, his wide grin and yellowed teeth nauseating. “I can take all of you down to your old boss if I want to. Collect all the money. But you need to learn. The white people, they aren’t your friends. They don’t like you, won’t accept you. They take all that’s good and throw us away like corn husks. But we’re the golden kernels, boy, strong and packed with life. They are the rot, the garbage. We’re going to rise up and show them all that we have what it takes to survive in this world.” He pulled a pistol from his pocket and aimed it at Flix. “So you get a chance, José, you and the one with the crutches. But I’ve changed my mind, we are not changing the world by associating with no goddamned gays.” He huffed a laugh and nodded at the gun in Flix’s hand. “It’ll even be self-defense.”
Sanders and Flix raised their guns at the same time. Joe shoved a shoulder into the nearest Son and grabbed for his gun. A crack sounded, loud but from far away. Most of the Sons turned, but Sanders stayed frozen. Blood drained from his face, and it poured out of the hole in his chest. As he fell, he shot Joe.
FIFTEEN
The force of the impact knocked Joe on his ass, stripped the air from his lungs. He touched his shoulder, saw his fingers come away bloody. His shoulder didn’t hurt, just felt wrong. He gasped for breath, and another shot rang out, closer this time. Louder.
Adrenaline and old memories pushed Joe into action. He grabbed Flix’s legs and pulled him down, climbed over him and wrested the VICE-shot from his hand. “Stay down. Stay quiet.”
Flix had his head turned to the side in the dirt, his eyes wide and darting, and Joe caught his brief nod.
Joe looked around. The Sons had their backs turned, peering into the darkness for the source of the gunshots. Behind Joe, the greenhouse offered the only escape. As soon as more gunfire erupted, and Joe was sure it would — violence always escalated — he’d grab Flix, they’d race back into the greenhouse, free Devin and Peter, and run.
“I think I see someone over by Miz Cadia’s place,” one of the Sons said.
Feet shuffled in the dirt, then Aria’s sharp voice rang out. “Stop, idiots. We don’t want to fire at anything that moves. What if it’s someone innocent?”
“Shoot, girl,” a deep voice said. “Anyone with any sense was on their bellies in their houses after the first bullet.”
“Guys.” Another voice. Lighter. Younger. Scared. “He’s dead. Sanders is dead. I...I don’t want to die. I...”
“Leave your gun and go,” Aria said.
From the sound of things, the boy was walking away, which was good, because it left one less person who could shoot Joe or Flix. But if the shooting didn’t start up again soon, one of the Sons was bound to remember what they’d come there for.
Joe put his lips against Flix’s ear. “When I say go, run through the greenhouse and don’t stop until you’ve crossed the border. Wait for us there.”
Flix shook his head violently.
“I’ll get Marcus,” Joe whispered. “I swear.”
“Family. Won’t leave you.”
Damn it. Joe could feel Flix shaking underneath him, knew he was terrified. Joe didn’t want the kid to be loyal and brave right now. He wanted him to be alive.
Two more shots rang out from far away, and a Son hit the ground with a heavy thud.
“Now! Go!” Joe hissed, springing off Flix’s back and pulling him upright.
A girl’s voice cracked open the night. “Wait!”
Sadie.
No, no, no.
The thick, leaden sound of the Sons’ rifles discharging sent ice through Joe’s veins.
“No!” Aria screamed. Kept screaming.
“Oh, God,” the deep-voiced Son said. “I think we shot her sister.”
Despite every instinct that told him to escape, Joe stopped and turned. A body lay on the ground fifty yards away. Aria ran toward it, her gun swinging wildly at her waist. From the other direction came another runner, tall and limping. Navarro.
This had to end. Joe raised the VICE-shot, and a rifle discharged from somewhere in the darkness, the bullet whizzing past him and ripping a hole in the greenhouse wall. He pushed Flix into a crouch and eased toward the building. The farther he was from the Sons, the easier it would be to stun them without getting himself or Flix killed.
“There!” the deep-voiced Son shouted. “To the right.” He shot once, twice, and an answering shot followed. He fired again and again, and this time got nothing in return. “Yeah, motherfucker!” he yelled. “Shoot at me while you’re standing out there on crutches, you dumb son of a bitch, I’ll put you down!”
Joe barely caught Flix as he lunged toward the man. Every nerve in his wounded shoulder screamed now, on fire and straining under the effort to save Flix’s life. With his other arm, he raised the VICE-shot and stunned the deep-voiced man.
And while he fought with Flix, endured being pinched and kicked and head-butted, a primal scream rose through the night. A hail of bullets, faster than any Joe had heard, rained down on the space outside the greenhouse. Joe finally succeeded in forcing Flix down, and from the ground, he watched Aria scream over and over, “You killed my sister! You killed my sister!” as she marched toward the Sons, firing round after round, long after they’d all fallen. She reached the deep-voiced man, lying prone where Joe had stunned him, and put a bullet in his head.
She watched the dead man, seemed to study his face, then turned glassy, wild eyes toward Joe.
