Beyond that, Devin had questions, Joe was sure. Of all of them, getting to a dome held the most promise for Devin, the biggest potential reward. He’d had a taste of it at the Maze-On store, found out a bit about his family. What if they made it to the dome and Devin connected with his family right away? What if they asked him to leave, to travel to wherever they were? Joe had tried so hard to keep that worry from his thoughts, but the inevitability of losing Devin crept in. Even if Devin stayed with him, northern culture would tug them in different directions. And even if they survived that, they were still two men in a place where their kind of love was a crime.
Joe shook his head. He wasn’t traveling down that road. He’d choose to believe in society and science and Devin.
“The dome must be on the other side of downtown,” he said, just to keep himself focused. The central part of Old Kansas City sprawled out ahead of them, not as impressive as Austin or Dallas, but still big, the buildings too tall to be enclosed inside a dome.
Aria gripped his arm. “I don’t like this. Why does it smell so bad?”
Joe summoned Peter. The kid’s knowledge of life inside the dome was proving more extensive than Joe had expected after Peter’s early cluelessness. Peter’s wide green eyes darted to the buildings all around before settling on Joe. “It didn’t smell like this in Columbus, boss. I don’t know.”
“Maybe there’s a landfill nearby,” Joe said, hoping it was true. They’d passed one last week that stretched for miles. A landfill was better than other options that smelled this bad.
“I hope not,” Peter said. “I don’t want to vomit again.”
Nobody wanted that. Peter had puked for two days, just thinking about the smell. On the third day, Devin carried him piggyback for almost ten miles — that was before Joe knew about the headaches. That left Joe to deal with Flix and Aria, who both alternated between snarling at him and crying. Joe had breathed deeply and counted each breath in his head, just to keep from snapping at them. He wouldn’t have minded taking out a little frustration on Aria, but Flix deserved to be able to fling at him every rude comment he could think of.
Joe patted Peter’s back. “Remember to hold your nose and breathe through your mouth if you need to.”
“Hey,” Devin said, and Joe turned to see him squinting to the left, his arm wrapped over Flix’s shoulders. “What do you think that building used to be?”
“Corporate oppression of non-white individuals,” Aria said.
Like usual, Joe ignored her. He considered the building. Long and oval. Glass and metal. Half of the glass was broken, but the remaining panes resembled rectangular mirrors. “They played sports there. Basketball.”
Aria snorted. “That’s what I said.”
“I have no fucking idea what either of you just said,” Devin said.
“That’s because you’re an idiot,” Aria replied.
Flix jumped to Devin’s defense, and before Joe could take a moment to breathe and think patient thoughts, he had to step between Flix and Aria and push them apart. Aria’s chest was almost as flat as Flix’s, but not quite, and Joe cringed and pulled back his hand. “Sorry. It’s been a while since I was around girls.”
Aria shook her head in short, jerky motions. “You wouldn’t have done that to Sadie.”
“We’ll never know.”
Aria’s eyes filled with tears, and against his still-outstretched palm, Joe registered the sharp, raspy inhale that made Flix’s chest heave. God, he couldn’t take away their pain, but he needed to stop making it worse. His fault, all of it.
He rubbed a small circle on Flix’s collarbone and let go. “Let’s keep moving.”
They walked on in silence, though Devin and Flix didn’t drop as far back as they normally did. Devin’s solid presence helped, kept Joe in the here and now, not allowing him to slip back to the night Sadie and Marcus had died. He remembered a storyline he and Bea had used with their clients, her pretending she was a student on an archeology expedition. That’s what he did now. Studied the old buildings, the ruins. Older than Austin. Brick. Stolid and small. Modern glass and concrete towers sprinkled in. The road rose, turned into a highway, and beyond it stretched vast, empty plains. The stench grew stronger. Another few feet higher, breaking the crest of the incline, and... Oh.
“No.” Joe covered his mouth with his hand. No. His dad had told him it could happen. Atmospheric instability. But Joe hadn’t pictured it. Not like this.
Aria’s hand on his elbow. Peter’s hand on the other. Devin’s firm grip on his hip. Flix’s timid finger dipping into his pocket.
“Shit.” Devin, his breath on Joe’s neck.
All that soil — dark brown, fertile — the ground scraped clean from highway to highway, a wide cradle of devastation nestled between the roads. Jagged, foul debris piled into the ruin of a river, clogging its brown stream into a mountain of decay and death. Piercing the sky, stretching for at least a mile along the earth, a jutting crystal remnant of the broken Kansas City dome.
“Tornado,” Joe said to no one. The others breathed tight against him, flanking him, drawing from and adding to his strength. “Do you all know what that is?”
Murmured affirmatives.
“We have them in Columbus sometimes,” Peter said, his voice soft. “They slide over the dome. Like water over your fingernails. This...”
“Isn’t supposed to happen. I know. The domes are engineered with aerodynamic levitation. Stronger than steel. But the potential for radial fissures...” Joe shuddered. “My dad was worried about it, especially here, with the AEF5
