Devin let go of Flix and checked a timepiece he had snatched from the shed behind Navarro’s house. He slapped his forearm and glared at Joe. “This says it’s ninety degrees! Almost as warm as home. We don’t need to stop here.”
“Yes, but it’s still winter. And the farther north we go, the colder it will be. Remember those nights we shivered in the dark?” Joe waited for Devin’s terse nod. “Exactly. We won’t know when it’s coming, papi. It’ll just suddenly be freezing, and we only have two jackets for the five of us. What if it snows?”
Devin shook his head. “Snow is a myth.”
Oh, for the love of God. “Snow is not a myth.”
“Have you ever seen it?”
“Just because I haven’t seen it doesn’t mean it’s not real! Peter...” Joe grabbed Peter, intent on dragging him into the conversation, until he remembered what he’d told Devin about touching Flix. Joe dropped his hand. “Tell Devin snow is real and the air will get colder in the north.”
Peter looked between Joe and Devin and opened and closed his mouth a few times. Finally, he curved his hands in a downward semi-circle and said, “I lived in a dome. All climate-controlled, you know? Some friends of mine used to go skiing, and I think you need snow for that, so, yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s real.”
“Joe’s right,” Flix said. “Snow is real.”
Joe gaped at him. He couldn’t help it. Flix hadn’t spoken since Marcus died. For the first time since the drone dropped the bomb on the bonfire, a tiny fleck of hope flared in Joe’s chest.
“Look,” Flix said, his voice rusty with disuse. “Let’s not arouse any suspicions. Get our stuff. Get out. I don’t care what a bunch of...of...”
“Racists,” Aria snapped. “Racists. And I agree with Blondie. We take our business elsewhere.”
Peter opened his mouth, but Joe cut him off with a low growl. “This is not a democracy. Devin and I make the decisions. The rest of you do what we say.”
Aria put her hands to her hips and jammed her face right in front of Joe’s, her lips twisted and her eyes narrowed. Always pushing.
Joe grabbed her by the upper arms and pulled her close, then spoke against her cheek. “My only responsibility is to keep everyone safe. Let me do my job. You start shouting ‘racist,’ you’re going to get us all killed.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Joe caught Flix whispering to Devin. Then Flix grabbed Aria’s hand and jerked her away from Joe. He nodded to a field of tents behind the building. “Let’s go have a look.”
Aria put up a cursory struggle but stumped along behind Flix. A few of the store’s patrons stood on the front porch, watching, and a man came out of the store and rested his hand on a gun holstered at his waist.
Joe slumped his shoulders and dropped his gaze to Devin’s stomach. “I need your help. We have to get supplies to keep everyone safe, and I’m not allowed. I need you to take care of this.”
“Okay.” Reluctant. Unsure.
“People are staring. Tell me loudly to go stand with the other servants. Call me Mexican. Treat me the way you did when we first met.” Joe was going for humor with that last sentence, but he chanced a glance up and found Devin’s face full of pain.
“I love you,” Devin whispered. Then, strong and commanding, “Get your Mexican ass around back with my other servants, José.”
Even though Joe had asked him to say it, needed him to say it, it still stung. His heritage used as a pejorative. The coldness in Devin’s voice. Being made small.
Joe kept his shoulders rounded and his head down until he’d gone around to the back of the building. The moment he felt safe, he straightened, jutting his shoulders wide and straight, and raised his gaze.
He found Flix and Aria stopped far enough from the tents to avoid invading anyone’s personal space. The tents created a makeshift city that reached the horizon, the same five or six styles of domed tents repeating over and over. A few Latino-looking kids raced between the tent stakes, but other than that, the town seemed empty.
Aria pointed to the west, apparently continuing a conversation with Flix. “See the turbines over there?”
Giant, slender gray towers topped with lazily spinning blades marched out of sight. They had to be at least as tall as New America’s border wall.
“What are they for?” Flix asked.
“Wind power. Electricity generation. But it’s way more than what’s needed for running this shithole. Must be a factory nearby. That’s where everyone is.”
Flix snorted. “A tent factory.”
Aria nodded. “That, too, though it’s probably been closed for years. My guess is biotech. It’s, um” — Aria rung her hands — “biotech uses biological processes to create or enhance lots of stuff: food, medicine, practically anything that uses organic materials. Organic means —”
“I know what it means,” Flix said.
“He’s not stupid,” Joe added. For the good of the group, he needed to do a better job being conciliatory — it was a positive sign that Flix and Aria were talking, something he should encourage — but he was too on edge, and Aria’s assumption that Flix wouldn’t know something pissed Joe off. “Devin and Peter went in. It shouldn’t take long.”
“Can I talk to you privately?” Aria asked.
“Flix can hear whatever you have to say.”
Aria glared at Joe. “I need a cup.”
“We have cups.”
“No, you idiot. I mean for my period.”
“You should have told me that before Devin went inside.”
“And let your white boyfriend buy my supplies? No, thanks. Anyway, there’s a non-white store here on the back side.” She jutted her chin toward the building, and Joe turned around to take
