Devin shifted closer. “The survivors —”
“There are no survivors. The weight of the dome prevents subterranean structures. Basements. And it’s situated right on the riverbank where digging would be a bad idea anyway. The tornado scraped the earth to the bone. No one lived through this.”
“Will it come back?” This was Flix.
“It’s gone. Judging by the smell, this happened at least a week ago.” Joe had to be honest. “But there will be more.”
Shivers brushed their bodies against his. Tight. Scared. Suffocating. But it reminded Joe of who he was, what he did. He gently pulled Flix’s finger from his pocket and turned so he could see all of their faces. “I will lead you through it. I will keep you safe. Papi, we’ll find a way to fix the headaches. We are going to get back on the highway, and we are walking to Minneapolis.”
He hadn’t been able to save Marcus, but he wouldn’t make mistakes again. He would save his little family. He stood on his tiptoes and kissed Flix’s forehead, apology and promise. Then he turned around and led them north.
NINETEEN
Peter shivered and wiped his hand over his face. Cold. And wet. Not again. He sighed and snuggled deeper into his sleeping bag.
He had grown accustomed to waking in tears. Not very marshall at all — the kids from home would have teased him — but at least with these companions, he wasn’t the only one. The way Flix thrashed and screamed during his nightmares scared Peter as much as his own dreams did, and despite her rude talk, Aria cried more than anyone. After last week, seeing the horrible gouged ground where the Kansas City dome had been, Peter felt even more justified in his fear. If his peers back in Columbus really knew how bad the world could be, they’d have nightmares, too.
The tear on his cheek dribbled toward his ear, and he wiped it away. A moment later, his lips were wet. He was still trying to puzzle out how a tear had gotten all the way down there when a gentle weight settled on his shoulder.
“Peter, wake up.”
Joe’s quiet voice knocked away the last of Peter’s cobwebs. He swiped his hand over his mouth and opened his eyes. Joe squatted close by, his dark eyes relaxed, one cheek pink and lined with creases from his sleeping bag. Beyond Joe, low clouds colored the sky gray.
Something wet hit Peter’s cheek. He brushed it away. Water. “The sky is falling.”
Joe glanced up at the sky and smiled, his straight, brilliantly white teeth on full display. When he looked back at Peter, his eyes danced with amusement, but his voice didn’t hold any teasing. “Rain is falling from the sky. The temperature drops much more and it’ll start to snow.”
Rain? Snow? Peter sat up and stretched his arms in front of him to watch the raindrops hit his skin. He had learned about rain in school, of course, and Momma had told him about the big rainstorm in Tennessee when she was a girl, the one that had flooded the lake and burst the dam and washed a whole town away. He’d even seen storms, lightning and tornadoes, rolling over the dome, but feeling this, the wetness on his skin, fat dollops of chilly water hitting his face and arms, and the smell...
“Rain smells?” he asked. “I didn’t expect that.”
Joe nodded. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Fresh and renewing. Listen, I thought you might like to practice with the rifle while Aria and Devin get some sleep.”
“Marshall! Yes! Please.” Peter scrambled up and trotted after Joe. Learning to shoot would be the best. Even with the artifact rifles Joe and Devin had, Peter could learn how to aim and fire, and then when he got his hands on a real weapon, he could be a protector, the kind who could have saved his parents, saved Sadie.
Joe stopped next to Flix, who was sitting cross-legged on the hood of a rusty vehicle, and tilted his head toward Devin. “Wake him if anyone comes around.”
Flix’s lips were tight, his voice clipped. “I can handle a gun.”
“Can you honestly tell me you want to?”
Flix dropped his head and mumbled, “Marcus saved our lives.”
Untrue, probably. Peter had been in the cellar with Devin, of course, and hadn’t heard what was happening above-ground, except for the gunshots, but from what he gathered afterward, Marcus started shooting without getting all the facts. Joe would have gotten them all out of it. And Joe got shot in the process. He could have died. And it was Joe, not Marcus, who’d saved Flix’s life. Peter dearly missed Marcus, but the truth seemed a lot less clear-cut than Flix made it out to be.
Joe reached out for Flix’s knee, then let his hand fall before it got there. “I need you to keep watch. Please. Take care of Devin.”
Whatever Flix grumbled in reply must have been enough to satisfy Joe because he headed down a side lane leading away from the highway embankment where they had set up camp the night before. Like every other road they’d come across in Iowa and northern O’Klansas, this one led between two farm fields. After so long spent walking along the flat-scorched Texas highway, then the endless red dirt of Oklahoma territory — dirt Peter was still finding in his ears and between his toes — he actually liked the green, rolling hills here, the ponds. What bruised his mood was the absence, still, of any actual people.
A few randoms had popped up here and there, but none of them came close. Joe had tried to approach a man once. They were running out of Insta-food bars and wanted to know if Maze-On had another store nearby, but the man raised his hands and backed away as soon as Joe started to walk in his direction. They hadn’t tried again.
Which was okay, but Peter hoped every day that they would wander into someone or somewhere that would take him home. Which was silly because he had
