Flix wrenched away from his brother and pulled down his shirt. He kept his back to Joe, arms stiff, fists clenched.
“Boggs said we’d be his favorites until you got brought back,” Marcus said. “He also said we’d take your punishments, one a day, every day, until you came home. The bastard took Flix back to his office and gave him a choice: share the punishment with me, or take it all. You can see what he chose.”
Flix turned back to them, and his eyes were rimmed red. “It doesn’t matter. What does is that we’re here now, and we’re not going back.”
Joe thought it mattered a whole lot. Flix hadn’t deserved that. No one deserved it. Joe couldn’t send them back, couldn’t hand them to Boggs. He wouldn’t be like his father, wouldn’t abandon vulnerable kids. He lowered his voice and spoke to Devin. “Papi...”
Devin squeezed Joe’s hand. “We have to let them come with us, don’t we?”
Joe nodded, forgetting for a moment that Devin couldn’t see. “They’ll be tortured if we don’t. The twins won’t even be sixteen for another month. Peter looks even younger. I need to help them.”
“Of course you do.”
Joe stood on tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to Devin’s cheek. He was heartened when Devin wrapped an arm around him and drew him in, even if it ended a moment later. Joe raised his voice so the boys could hear him. “Do you want to go with us to New America?”
The boys practically skipped over, a desire for adventure splashed across their faces.
Joe worried they’d all made a terrible mistake.
TWO
At the first sign of the sun, Joe decided to lead the boys off the highway and let them get some rest. They’d done well on the long nighttime walk; their youth and excitement no doubt helped. Twice they’d stopped for food breaks and once when a spider crawled down Flix’s shirt, but they hadn’t made Joe and Devin lose too much time.
During the night, Devin had given Marcus and Peter the sleek black sleeping bags to use as coats. Now, tucked up beneath the highway in an underpass, they laid out the sleeping bags and crawled in. Marcus and Flix were small enough to share.
Intending to get them organized while he kept watch, Joe busied himself sorting through the supplies the boys had stolen from Flights of Fantasy. If only he could unpack his brain, pick out the useful parts, and get rid of the rest. It had been two days since they’d left home, and already it felt like a different life. The ache of Bea’s death, and all the guilt, had numbed. Not like it would fade; more like it was nestling in, making itself at home. And Victor. That pain was still white-hot. How could it hurt so much to lose someone Joe had hated? He slid his fingers over the V he’d carved near his elbow. “Make it matter,” Victor had said of his sacrifice. Joe kept his promises.
He needed to fix his relationship with Devin. He still had an overwhelming desire to protect Devin, but it had to be something mutual, not a plan shrouded in patronizing secrecy. Joe got it. He did. They were equals. Partners. He just had to commit to living it. And now the kids were tagging along. More complications, more distractions, more ways to let people down.
Joe rolled his neck, stretched his aching back, and went back to picking through the boys’ stash. Mainly, it looked like they’d given little thought to what would be useful and instead packed everything they could get their hands on. Clothes, which were plentiful at the Flats, lined the interior of their makeshift luggage. Too bad only Flix’d had enough sense to put on more than one layer of clothes as they had ventured into cooler weather. Marcus and Peter had shivered for hours, teeth chattering, even under the warmth of the sleeping bags.
Their pack also had plenty of perishable food. Tasty, but not as valuable as the nutrition bars Joe had brought. They’d probably end up leaving most of the food to rot in the sun.
Joe found a few worthwhile items: another flat-fold water jug, three forks, a serrated knife, and a jar of rash preventative. It had to be Flix who’d packed four bottles of lubricant — Joe pocketed one — and a set of worn, carefully folded maps. Joe thought back to his last days at Flights of Fantasy and how Flix had used his maps to plan and track their searches for baby Nina. The kid may have a creepy, oversexed crush on Joe, but he was also smart and inventive. Even if the maps were old, they’d be a big help if the group was ever forced off course or getting desperate for water.
Joe repacked the useful items inside a shirt, then stuffed the new package sideways into a second shirt. He cut apart a pair of pants to fashion straps for his improvised backpack. There. Now they could travel more efficiently.
“Find anything good?”
Joe jumped and whirled toward the voice. Devin sat apart from the younger boys and stared straight ahead. His golden hair stuck up in every direction, and his eyes burned a vibrant blue in the natural light.
“I thought you’d gone to sleep.”
Devin smiled. His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I wanted to talk to you.”
Joe sat next to him, close enough to let their arms brush. “What’s up? How are your eyes?”
A frown creased Devin’s face. “Better, I think. I can see light.” He waved his hand in front of his face. “Shapes are a little clearer. Should we be worried?”
A week ago, Joe might have lied and convinced himself it was for Devin’s benefit. Not anymore. “I’m concerned. Getting better is a good sign, but you should be fine by now.”
Devin nodded. “I’m scared.”
“Here.” Joe reached across Devin for his backpack and withdrew a pair of vision shields. He put them in Devin’s hand. “You should wear
