“Nothing today.” He squeezed his eyes until they cleared of tears then kissed her head.
Sighing, she rested her head on his arm. The ends of her short hair tickled his chin. “Maybe tomorrow?”
Damn Guardsmen. Why hadn’t they shown? Didn’t they know people depended upon those supplies?
“Maybe.” He stroked her shorn hair before setting her on the ground. “Dinner will be served soon. We just have to wait for the power to turn back on.”
Lucia raised her hand to her head. Her lower lip trembled as her fingers encountered not the cork-screw curls she’d had before she’d gotten sick, but emptiness. Lowering her hand, she stared at her palm. “Can we have enchiladas?”
“Not tonight.” Maybe not ever. His stomach growled again. He’d bet the gringos had gotten their supplies. Rich, white folks didn’t know hunger. Stepping around his sister, he retreated back into the kitchen. “Tonight, it is rice and beans.”
She groaned, smacked her palm against her forehead, and collapsed against the wall. “Not again.”
“Yes, again.” And they were lucky to get it. Manny removed the lid from the pot on the burner. Tilting the opening toward the flashlight, he peered inside. The pintos had swollen since he’d set them to soak last night. Normally, he picked out the ones that had popped out of their husk. But that waste was a luxury they couldn’t afford. “Don’t you like my beans?”
Crossing her arm, Lucia stuck her bottom lip out further. The dot of light shone on the water-stained ceiling. “I want a Tween meal from Burgers in a Basket.”
“Wouldn’t we all?” Manny’s stomach rumbled in agreement, and he tasted the sourness of hunger. He closed his eyes and images of juicy burgers and crisp fresh vegetables used his eyelids as screens. Setting the pot down with a clunk, he rubbed away the temptation. Damn commercials.
“We’re going to Burgers in a Basket?”
Manny opened his eyes in time to see his seven-year old brother, Jose, leapt into the air and punch toward the ceiling.
“Yes!”
“No!” Manny yelled over his shouting brother and winced. He resisted the urge to pull back the tattered curtain over the sink. With the window boarded up, he’d see nothing. But his brother’s shout would carry, making them a target to the two-legged animals prowling the darkness.
“But…” Jose’s brown eyes shone brightly in the dim light.
Manny ruffled his long hair. “Sorry, Little Man. Even if we had money, we can’t go outside after curfew.”
“Soldiers?” Jose wrapped his thin arms around Manny’s thighs. “I thought they were gone?”
“Not yet.” Manny set his hand on his brother’s head.
“They won’t come here, will they?” Lucia chewed the pink off her thumbnail.
Manny sighed. He didn’t quite know what had happened before he’d been released from Adobe Mountain Juvenile Correctional Facility, but he knew without a doubt that the missing portions of brick wall around their neighborhood and burned out cars had something to do with it. What had the military done?
And why hadn’t they killed the gang-bangers while they were at it?
The Aspero certainly deserved it.
Jose tugged on Manny’s baggy shirt. Hope shone in his brown eyes. “Can we go tomorrow?”
“I don’t know.” Manny’s throat tightened and his knees trembled. Flattening his palms against the chipped linoleum countertop, he propped himself up. They were his responsibility now. He’d brought home the Redaction. He’d infected his parents, his aunts, his uncles, and his older brother and sisters.
The whole neighborhood.
The fluorescent lights flickered overhead and the house began to hum as electricity once more flowed through its copper veins.
Lucia clicked off the flashlight and set it on the counter.
“Can I go to Burgers even though I wee-ed again?” Five-year old Mary Volchek spoke around the thumb in her mouth. Wetness stained the front of her pajamas and darkened an area on the pink blanket she clutched to her narrow chest.
“Of course, you can.” Releasing the counter, Manny sank to the tiled floor. Cold seeped through his skin and settled in his bones. He eased the blanket from her dirty fingers.
She gripped it until her hands shook and her knuckles turned white. “No,” she whimpered.
“Here now. You know I’m only going to wash it.” He brushed her flaxen hair out of her wide hazel eyes and tucked the long strands behind her ears. God only knew what had happened to her, or how long she and her brother had been alone before he’d found them eating moldy and maggot-infested garbage. Two weeks had passed since, and still she woke up screaming and wetting the bed. He needed to add soap to his grocery list. He stopped trying to pry the blanket loose and held out his hand. “Please, Mary.”
She bit her lower lip before nodding. “I’ll get it back before bedtime?”
“Of course.” He accepted the blanket. Holding it away from his body, he dropped it into the mound of dirty clothes by the carport door. He’d have to go outside tonight. Hopefully, the curfew would keep everyone else inside. “If the water is on, why don’t you go take a bath? Then you can have clean pajamas and a blanket tonight.”
Lucia wrinkled her nose. “Water is on, but we don’t have any soap.”
Sucking her thumb, Mary eyed the blanket. “I don’t want to take a bath.”
Her twin brother, Michael crept up behind her. “Can we go outside tomorrow?”
Outside. Where people would see them?
“Not tomorrow, Mikey.” Manny pounded his chest to get his heart pumping.
Michael’s forehead wrinkled. “When?”
“Manny, how are we to wash without soap?” Lucia tapped her pink toes on the dusty tile.
“I—” How had his parents raised seven children? Answered all their questions, fed them, kept them clean? He rubbed his forehead, but his head still ached. Turning slightly, he reached for onion in the wire basket when a splash of orange caught his eye. He scooped up the bottle and shoved it toward his sister. “Use this to clean both of you now.”
Lucia sniffed the bottle, before wiping her nose on the back of her hand. “Cool. We’ll smell like oranges.”
“Oranges?” Mary licked her lips and followed Lucia out of the kitchen. “Does it taste like them, too?”
“Don’t eat the soap and don’t use it all up.” Stepping into the hall, Manny raised his voice as loud as he dared. “And leave the tub full when you’re done. Your brothers need a bath, too.”
The water was starting to prove unreliable. Another thing the gringos probably didn’t have to worry about.
“Okay, Manny.” Lucia waved the bottle at him and disappeared inside the pink bathroom.
Mikey blinked his blue eyes. “I wanna go outside, Tio Manny.”
His pulse traveled across his forehead and resonated at his temples. “Maybe the day after.”
Jose smiled, flashing his oversized front teeth. “Really?”
Mikey picked at the frayed hem of his shorts. “Promise?”
Manny raked his fingers through his hair. The words of denial were nails in his tongue. It was such a simple request, yet filled with danger. “Yes.”
“All right!” Jose pumped the air, hooked his arm through Mikey’s and dragged him out of the room. “Let’s ride bikes and skateboards. Then we can play cars and…”
Shaking his head, Manny turned back to the counter. What had he done? They could all be killed for an hour of sunshine.
His hand trembled when he opened the cabinet and pulled out the only item inside. It weighed nearly nothing. He jiggled the box of powdered milk, before dumping the contents into the measuring cup. Crouching down, he shook the white granules level and eyed the amount. Enough for breakfast. He dumped it into the pitcher then dipped water out of the bucket in the sink, adding a little more water than the directions called for.