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  I glance back when we get to the end of her street and see that she is still watching us so I raise my hand in a short wave before turning the corner. If this day goes bad, at least Gloria will be with good people who will watch over her.

  The closer we get to the main square where the stations are the more nervous I become. The last time we were here the noise was overwhelming. People were yelling, screaming and crying as the mob took control. Now I hear nothing and the silence feels ominous to me. I glance over at Abuela but she has a determined expression that she’s fixed firmly ahead. The way she keeps clutching and releasing the strap of her bag tells me she’s just as nervous as I am.

  The first block we pass, we don’t see anyone except a few curtains shifting as people look out. It’s the second block that has me tensing up. We’ve moved from residential to the commercial area and there are men lounging in doorways and on steps. They watch us go by like a hawk watches his prey. They know we have nothing of value they want yet but the return trip with the rations will be a different story.

  We’ve almost reached the square when a voice rings out that has me gritting my teeth and clenching my fists.

  “Hey, Indigo? Where have you been hiding? I miss seeing those eyes, Chica!”

  As my grandmother and I share the same distinct eye color, we both turn our heads to the voice. Neither of us happy to hear it.

  Sitting on the stoop of an abandoned flower shop, surrounded by men, is one of the worst people this town has to offer - Boyd Baker. Before school was shut down seven years ago, I was in the same grade as his younger brother, Beckam. We were friends for a few years. I liked how quiet he was and how he loved to read as much as I did. That all came to stop one day when his big brother was bullying him and I tried to intervene. All I got for my efforts was some scrapes and bruises when Boyd shoved me to the ground and Beck never speaking to me again.

  We turned our heads away from the group and kept on walking. But my feet slam to a stop when Boyd yells out, “We’ll see if you want to talk when you head back this way with something more interesting!”

  I turn my body slowly until I’m facing him and tilt my head slightly to the side while meeting his smirking eyes.

  “Does that mean you’re going to attack us? Steal the little bit of food an old lady and two young girls need to live on?” I keep my tone even - like I’m really curious to know if that’s his plan. When I see the smirk slowly leave his face, I hit him with a parting shot. “Cause if that’s what’s in store for us, I can just bring Gloria over right now for you to kill. It would be much faster that way.”

  I don’t show the satisfaction I feel when he looks away with a wave of his hand for us to carry on. Inside though, I’m happy my words hit the mark. I’ve known from an early age that facing a bully down is always better than waiting for them to strike. Abuela pulls at my arm to get me moving again but doesn’t speak until we are almost at the end of the block.

  “Día, you make me so proud and terrified all at the same time! That was a huge risk you just took.”

  I drape my arm around her shoulders as we enter the square. “Just breathing is a risk these days.”

  The sight that greets us in the square is so far from what was here the last time. Two lines of beaten down people on opposite sides of the square await us. No one is speaking and all eyes are cast down to the dusty stones. It’s not hard to see why, with the soldiers standing guard along each line with huge guns. I’m distracted by the sight of them so I don’t see what’s right in front of us and almost trip when Abuela comes to an abrupt stop.

  “State your business here!” A deep voice barks.

  There’s a pair of soldiers blocking our way. I’m so startled that instinctively I look behind me for a place to run. That’s why I see Boyd’s group of men pull a guy carrying a ration box and a jug of water into the closest alleyway. I guess his family won’t be eating tonight.

  “Día! Show these nice men our ration cards so we can line up!”

  I turn my head back around and fumble for the cards in my front pocket. My hand only trembles slightly when I hand them over. One of them snatches the cards from my hand and scans them before hitting me with a piercing glare.

  “Why do you have three? Did you steal one of these?”

  I’m shaking my head in denial but Abuela is already speaking in soothing tones to him.

  “No, no, my small granddaughter. She is too little to stand in the sun all day. I didn’t feel it was safe for her to come. See, see on the card? She is just a small girl.”

  He stares her down but she just gives a pleasant smile back so he finally shrugs and hands all the cards back to me and motions with his gun for us to enter the square. I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding in as we rush past them and join the ration line on the west side of the square.

  Once we are in place, I take a better look around at both lines. It’s a sad sight. There are less than half of the people that were here the last time and the ones that are left look more like the old-world make-believe zombies than real people. Everyone shuffles forward as the lines move but no one makes eye contact or speaks to anyone else. I take a closer look at the soldiers but they all look relaxed and bored. There’s not much else to do or see so I just zone out and make a list in my head of all the things I need to get done back at the house.

  We shuffle along with everyone else but I’m pleased to see we are close to the front of the line after only an hour and a half. That’s less than half the time it used to take. I’ve still sweated through most of my shirt but I’m grateful there was no wind today to pelt us with dust. Abuela says we are acclimatized to the heat from being born into it but I don’t feel like I’m used to it. When we reach the table, an impatient man barely looks at us as he swipes the ration cards from my hand. Once he has swiped them in his fancy machine though, he pauses and looks closer at it before giving us a better look over.

  “You haven’t gotten rations for over thirty days? It says you’re due quite a lot here! I can’t give all that to you today!”

  Abuela gives him a reassuring smile. “No, no señor, of course not! We would be most grateful for anything you can spare for us today.”

  He looks at her and then me for a moment before his shoulders slump.

  “You also have a child at home to feed?” At our nods, he looks back at the line behind us and then at the soldiers. “Ok, give me your wagon. Push it under the table...discreetly!”

  I’m confused but I do as he says. We wait as he pulls it with him behind a temporary screen barrier. Usually, they just hand us our three small boxes and we walk away so this is very strange. I glance at Abuela with a raised eyebrow but she gives a tiny shake of her head so I stay silent.

  When he returns, I catch a glimpse of the wagon but its bed is covered with some kind of burlap sack so I can’t see what’s inside of it. He pushes it back under the table towards us but then also hands us the standard ration boxes from under his arm. As Abuela reaches for hers, he leans in towards her and whispers urgently.

  “You must make this last!” He glances around again. “Do you understand?” Her eyes go wide but she gives him a slow, grim nod so he releases the box to her but speaks again. “Wait for a bigger group to leave the square first then follow them. Do you understand?” Again, she nods her head so he pulls back with a muttered, “Good luck.”

  We turn away from the table and he waits until we’ve moved five feet away before calling for the next in line. It’s then that I remember he didn’t return our ration cards so I turn to go back but Abuela’s hand snakes out and stops me with a painful grip on my wrist.

  “Our cards...” I say but she cuts me off.

  “Leave them, they are useless to us now.”

  I want to argue but she pulls me further away from the table to the middle of the square.

  “Día, you need to trust me and keep your questions until we get home!” When I nod my head with confusion, she releases my wrist and
pats my arm. “Now, which way shall we go? Back towards the devil we know or face the unknown?”

  I scan the four exits to the square but they all look the same to me. She’s asking if we should chance Boyd’s group and hope they don’t rob us or go a different way. I’m guessing that there are predators waiting at every exit but right now there is a group of six heading out of the square where we came in, so safety in numbers might be the best way to go. I point that way and lift the wagon handle to get it moving. It’s much heavier than when we came here and I can’t wait to get a look inside to see what’s causing the weight, but we must get to safety first.

  We hustle to catch up to the group ahead of us but they are a good twenty feet further along by the time we reach the soldiers at the exit. My head spins towards them when I hear one of them say, “Last day of this B.S.”

  I don’t stop to ask questions because Abuela is moving faster than a woman her age should be able too. She’s closed the distance to fifteen feet from the group when she slows right down. I crane my head to see why and a cold shiver runs down my sweat-soaked back. Boyd’s group of men are standing in a line blocking the sidewalk and part of the road. The larger group ahead of us pushes forward but it’s clear to me there will be a confrontation. Abuela is now by my side and she takes a hold of the wagon handle with me and starts to guide us across the street. Boyd and his men are now trying to push the group of six down an alleyway but they are pushing back. Most eyes are on them but a couple of his goons start our way when we reach the opposite sidewalk and start to pass them.

  I don’t know how to play this except to move faster. Abuela has left me to pull the wagon on my own and is fumbling with her messenger bag when I hear a different voice call out.

  “Marco, Peter, back up my brother!”

  I shoot a look to the confrontation that has turned into a mini brawl before looking for the voice that called out. My eyes lock onto Beck’s and he holds my stare for a moment before jutting his chin down the road. He’s letting us go. I don’t thank him or smile at him, just drop my chin and heave the wagon forward and away. I’m grateful to him for letting us by but that doesn’t make him a hero. What he and his brother are doing to the people of this town is monstrous. One good deed doesn’t redeem him.

  Chapter Three

  I watch Claudia and her grandmother rush further down the street to get away from me. I scan the area around them to make sure there are no other gangs around to threaten them before turning back to what my brother and his men are doing. I have to turn my eyes away when I see him push a woman to the ground as he wrenches the ration box from her grasping hands. There’s nothing I can do to stop him or help the people he’s targeted. I learned a long time ago that I have to be very careful about what battles I pick with Boyd. He might be my only family but that doesn’t stop him from having his men give me a beating when he feels I’ve stepped out of line.

  I swear the only thing that keeps me fighting for life in this world is my hatred for him. He’s been a bully my whole life but after my father went north to work in the labor camps when I was ten, he really stepped up his game. My mom was too weak with illness to reign him in but she tried to protect me from him as best she could. When she died three years after Dad left, I was completely at his mercy. The only kind thing I can say about Boyd is that he kept me fed on a semi-regular basis, even if it was only the scraps from our ration boxes or ones he’d stolen from others.

  He’s also the reason I’ve never been able to have friends. Anyone I’ve ever shown interest in became a natural target for my brother to harass and bully. I glance over my shoulder to check but the last person I had a real friendship with has disappeared.

  “So, you’re still sweet on that girl? You let her and the old woman go.”

  I clench my jaw and turn to face Boyd. I look behind him and see the last of the poor people he’s attacked running back the way they’d come empty handed. I take in all the ration boxes and jugs his men are piling on the front stoop of the flower shop and give him a shrug.

  “Small fish. We were occupied with a bigger score so I didn’t think it was worth the fight.” I keep my tone even and hope he buys my explanation. His laugh tells me I failed.

  “Sure, little brother. Whatever you say.” His eyes dance with malicious amusement. “Your little girlfriend’s grown up into a fine-looking woman. She’s feisty, too. You man enough to handle that much woman?”

  I shake my head in indifference. I know if I show any interest he’ll pounce on it and go after her just to torture me. His next words let me know that my tactic no longer works.

  “Well good! I fancy a go around with her myself. I’ll be keeping my eye out for her in the future.” I keep my expression as blank as possible and just raise one shoulder in another shrug. His eyes harden in annoyance that he can’t get a rise out of me so he jabs at me a different way.

  “Get your ass moving! Haul these boxes into the shop and start inventorying all that we got. You’re useless out here anyway.”

  I don’t reply just move to go past him but he grabs my arm in a grip so tight I know I’ll be able to count his fingers in bruises later. His voice comes out in a hiss of warning.

  “You better start carrying your weight around here, Beck. Me and the boys are getting sick and tired of carrying you around on our backs. You feel me?”

  He’s talking about how I don’t participate in taking down the targets. When forced to go at a group, I’ll often pick a woman and then act like a clumsy fool so she can get away or at worst only take a few things from her box so she’ll have something to get through the week with.

  I give him a sharp nod of understanding and wrench my arm from his grip. There’s nothing I’d rather do than carry my own weight right on out of this town and far away from him. The problem is there’s nowhere to go. A couple of years ago I had thought about heading north to find my dad or find work in one of the labor camps but word started to get out about the conditions the workers were forced to endure in the camps. I figure one master and a few inches of freedom was better than being controlled twenty-four hours a day by many masters.

  By the time I get done sorting the stolen rations and water jugs into the wagons we brought to get it all back to the house, Boyd’s ready to call it a day.

  He pulls the door open and yells in at me. “Beck, get those wagons out here!”

  His men all stand around watching me struggle with getting the overloaded wagons out the door and down the steps to the street. Of course, none of them offer to help, but they enjoy making taunting comments on my every move. By the time I get the last wagon out to the street, Boyd’s lost interest in the game and is fuming with impatience. He sends me a look of contempt and then points to Marco.

  “Go do a last sweep of the square for any stragglers and then catch up. The rest of you, grab a wagon and let’s go. I’m ready to eat!”

  I look down at the last two wagons left for me to pull on my own and am not even remotely surprised to see that they’re the heaviest ones filled with the water jugs. I let out a deep sigh and bend down to get the handles. There’s got to be a better life out there for me, somewhere.

  Chapter Four

  When we reach the intersection to Silvia’s house, Abuela waves us past it. I’m out of breath from the pace and weight of the wagon so I can’t question her. It’s probably better to get the wagon safely home first anyway. I can run back for Glo after it’s secured. The predators are only focusing on the stations so we should be safe enough if we are quick.

  By the time we reach the house I’m desperate for water. My mouth and throat feel like the desert that surrounds us has invaded. There’s no way I can lug or lift the wagon up the stairs so I pull it around the side of the house to the back door. Abuela rushes ahead of me and into the house but she’s back quickly with a large glass of water. I take it from her gratefully but only allow myself a few swallows before trying to hand it back. She pushes my hand and the glass back at me and I c
an’t help but look over towards the well. I don’t know if I have the energy to pump anymore today.

  “DÍA! Forget the well! Drink it all and then help me get this beast inside.”

  I compromise by chugging half the water in the glass down before thrusting it back at her.

  “You drink the rest!”

  She’s forced to take it from me or it will spill so I turn away from her and heave the wagon up the one step at the back door and into the kitchen. I’d like to say it's cooler in the house but it’s not. The only difference is that the sun isn’t beaming down on my head. I leave the wagon still covered and rush deeper into the house to the atrium. Full sun is beaming down onto my poor plants and I want to cry at my stupid mistake. I should have pulled the curtains before we left. It’s part of my routine but that got all messed up with the station run and I forgot. I can only hope that none of the plants die from my error. I back out of the room once the curtains have shut out the sun and wearily trudge back to the kitchen. I will be pumping water today after all. If I want the plants to survive then they’ll need another watering.

  When I reach the kitchen, I find Abuela moving quickly to empty the wagon of rations. I’m still surprised at her energy after she was confined to her bed for so long. She’s stacking everything on the counter but not putting anything away into the cupboards. I glance over to the table and want nothing more than to sink down onto one of the chairs with the faded yellow cushions, even though they are paper thin from years of use. I sigh and look away. I need to help get all this put away, fetch Gloria, and then start pumping for water. Everything else on my list will have to be bumped to tomorrow.

  Abuela places a bag of rice onto the counter, turns and sees me standing in the doorway. She looks down into the half empty wagon and gives a curt nod before coming over and taking my arm. She guides me over to the table and motions towards a chair. I shake my head.