“Manny.” Wheelchair Henry’s voice sounded far away.
Farther away than the candy. The candy was important. He pinched the oval between his finger and thumb. He’d brush it off and eat it. No point in it going to waste.
A child cried out.
His heart stopped in his chest. The niños! He squeezed the candy. The yellow coating cracked at the edges and the cream-colored guts oozed out. He had to protect them! They were his responsibility. He curled his legs under him. Muscles bunched.
The grip on his wrist tightened. “Stay where you are.”
His body relaxed at Wheelchair Henry’s bark. Stay. Yes. He would… Wait a minute. He wasn’t like the others. After his parents died, he’d survived for four months in gang infested South Phoenix. He’d kept his younger brother and sister alive, rescued the five-year-old twins from next door and saved his best friend’s sister from the gangs. He could—
“Focus on my voice, Manny.” Wheelchair Henry smashed his hand against the bottom of the truck.
Pain radiated from his knuckles up his arm. Manny jerked his hand back. “Hey!”
Wheelchair Henry held tight. “Good. Look at me.”
He glared at the old man.
“You’re mad. That’s good.”
He wouldn’t think it was so good if Manny punched him in the face. “Let me go.”
“No.” Using his elbows, Wheelchair Henry dragged himself closer. His useless legs wiggled like cooked spaghetti when he pulled free of the wheelchair. “You’re going to do something stupid.”
Bullets pinged against the side of the truck.
Embarrassment heated his face. A girl mewled. Lucia! He rose a little off the floor. His sneakers slipped until they gained traction against an obstacle on the floor. “I’m going to protect my family.”
“Think boy.” Spittle flew out of Wheelchair Henry’s mouth. “You won’t do the niños any good dead.”
He was thinking. He had to get the niños.
“Hold your breath to the count of four. Hold it.” Wheelchair Henry tightened his grip.
Manny felt the man’s fingers grind against his wrist bones. He caught his breath.
“Good. Now let it out for four.”
The dust and ash swirled as he slowly let it out.
“Now, lifting only your head, tell me what you see.”
He raised his head. Heaps of arms and legs writhed along the bottom of the truck.
Wheelchair Henry jerked his wrist. “Start with the faceless doll on your right and tell me everything.”
“Doll? What doll?”
“The girl doll who’s ankle you tapped. Tell me.”
Manny studied the girl. No, not girl, a doll. Red dripped on the chewed nails of her right hand. Gray blobs clung to her pink tee-shirt. “Her jaw is slack.”
“She didn’t see the bullet coming so it came at her from the back,” Henry translated. “Do the holes in the canvas blow in or out?”
A few long threads drooped from the bullet holes. “In.”
“Check the other side to be sure.”
Manny’s attention swiveled to the other side. Scanning the canvas, he didn’t see any threads hanging on the inside. “The firing seems to be coming from the right side only.”
A soldier in a khaki tee-shirt slid on his belly through a slit in the canvas. A soft thud marked his landing on the left side.
“Good. Our boys will be heading out there to give them what for.” Wheelchair Henry tugged. “What else do you see? And I’m specifically talking about the truck this time.”
Rolling over onto his shoulder, he eyed the canvas then the ribs. “The roof seems free of holes.”
“Lower. Look lower.”
He did. The mass of bodies breathed as if they were one. A few dolls remained in their seats.
“What do you see?”
Frustration clawed at him. Obviously the old man wanted him to name something specific. “People.”
Guns fired close by. The rat-a-tat filled the canvas shell beating down the inhabitants. He ducked lower.
Wheelchair Henry chuffed. “The lower sides of the truck are metal while the upper half and top are canvas. What’s more, there are supplies and belongings packed under the benches. That’s the original Kevlar. It will stop your poop chute from getting plugged with lead.”
Poop chute. Chuckles bubbled out his mouth.
Footfalls crunched on the gravel behind him. A dog barked. Bullets whizzed by.
He covered his head with his free hand. Why had he been laughing? People were trying to kill him. People were dying.
“Laughter is one of your best survival tools. Now, you know where the enemy is positioned.” Henry jerked his head to the right. “You know where your safe zone is. Now what do you need to do?”
Another round and the doll on the bench spasmed.
He flinched. Please, God, don’t let her fall. God what if she fell on him. Her brain could gush out and splatter him.
“Manny. What do you need to do now?”
She’s just a doll. It’s just a doll. He drew in a deep breath to the count of four. “Survive?”
“Too broad. Think smaller. Something in this truck.”
Something in the truck. His thoughts spun. Some— “The niños!”
“Exactly.” Instead of gripping his wrist, Henry patted it. “Now, can you see them?”
Eying the side, he rose on his hands and knees in a half push-up. In the dim interior, he spied Connie’s white hair. Her red cane lay folded on the bench behind her. Henry’s wife, Mildred’s bright red bun settled like a cherry on a sea of brown. He scanned the mass of curved backs and bowed heads. A soldier crouched near the front moving back and forth, a red cross marked his metal helmet. Manny looked for the twin’s blond hair, his sister’s shorn black locks, or his brother’s Diamondback’s cap.
“I don’t see them.” Fear tattooed his heart, changing its rhythm to a primitive beat. Where were they? Where could they have gone? Oh God! What if they’d been shot and lay bleeding out under the people.
Henry grabbed his hand and slammed his knuckles against the floor. “Stay with me.”
Pain swept aside the fog of fear. Dropping back down, he stared at the old man. Blood beaded on a cut on his hand. Outside, the time between shots blurred into one. Someone screamed. Then another. More footsteps sounded at the rear of the truck. The soldiers were advancing.
“You know where the niños are. Close your eyes.”
Manny squeezed them shut. But his ears kept feeding him information. The crunch of gravel. The rumble of engines. The waves of ragged breathing.
“Picture the interior. The way it’s been for the last two hours.” Wheelchair Henry’s voice remained monotone. “The landmarks haven’t changed. The Doc’s niece is still up front on a stretcher near an IV on a pole. A tent is still next to you.”
As if conjured by his words, Manny assembled the images. An ancient man with an oxygen tank sat next to the sick girl. An angry kid inspected his bag of arrows with jerky motions. Two white-haired old women in matching jumpsuits had read books with half-naked men on their covers.
“Do you see the niños?”
His memory panned down. They’d sat in the cramped center of the floor. The twins had colored apples on a page with a big letter ‘A’. Blind Connie had cradled his sister while Lucia read Green Eggs and Ham. Twirling his ball cap, his brother guessed at the multiplication facts when Henry’s wife flashed the cards. “Yes. I see them.”
As they had been. But when he’d looked up, they hadn’t been there. He’d seen Connie and Mildred…
“Were their heads above or below the protective sides when you last saw them?”
He rolled back the memory when he opened his eyes. “Below. They were below.”