to extend a hand to Yukio and Gabriel as they jump. The other Seasons are quick to follow.
Julio and Amber shout at our Handlers to hurry. Behind us, electrical wires hiss and spark and another archway collapses. Sirens wail from both sides of the border.
The fissure is jagged, as deep as I saw it in my mind. Marie and Woody take a running leap, the weight of their backpacks propelling them to their knees on the other side. Chill holds Poppy around her waist, close to the edge. It’s already too late, the fissure’s too wide. There’s no way they’ll make it across together.
The other Seasons watch as Marie and Woody stretch their hands over the gap, calling for Chill and Poppy to throw their packs. Chill slides them off and hurls them across as Amber and Julio lean over the crack.
“We’ll catch you,” they shout. “Hurry, Poppy!”
“Don’t worry,” Chill says. “I won’t let go.”
They jump. My breath catches on a silent scream when Poppy’s feet land short, one hand still clinging to Chill’s, one grabbing blindly for Julio’s outstretched fingers as she slides down the wall of the fissure. Noelle reaches down, catching her under her arms. Her eyes find mine across the rift as she hauls Poppy to her feet.
“We go together, on three.” Jack takes my hand and counts us down. Our feet push off the precipice and we jump, propelled across the gap by a blast behind us as the immigration building’s windows blow out and the structure is engulfed by fire. Amber and Julio drag us off the ground, running toward a hole in a chain-link fence. No one notices as our group slips among the cars parked inside it.
Crouching low, Julio assesses the lot, guiding us to a Winnebago that looks older than all of us. I squat against the side of it, willing the earth to settle as Jack picks the locks. We all file in. Julio climbs into the driver’s seat and reaches under the dash. He strips a few wires, pinching them together in one hand. Then he reaches across the console with a crooked grin at Jack.
Jack chokes out a laugh. He slaps a palm into Julio’s outstretched hand. With a spark and a sputter, the van’s engine turns over, and the border disappears in a cloud of smoke behind us.
46
Dust to Dust
JACK
The Sonoran Desert is brutal in the daylight. The Winnebago’s window tinting is a weak shield against the sun’s daggers, and the AC only manages to blow more hot, dry air through the vents. The hazy peaks on the horizon feel like a mirage, slipping farther into the distance the longer we drive. I lick my parched lips at the sight of them. Would give anything to stick my bare feet in a cold mountain stream or lie naked for one minute in a bed of snow. But these aren’t the mountains I’m used to. They’re jagged and bare as bone, cutting up through flat, fiery landscapes dotted with yellow grass and thorny scrub.
Julio drives the first leg of the trip. Mostly because he’s more awake than the rest of us. The climate favors him, makes him nod his head and hum along to the ranchera music on the radio. I lay mine back and try to rest, but I’m kept awake, unable to ignore the familiar disquieting cough that’s started somewhere in the back of the camper. I turn in my seat. Gabriel and Yukio slump beside each other on the floor, hugging their knees. Their skin’s flushed, their eyes glassy, wary as they watch the Autumns huddled on the far side of the cab. According to the map we picked up at a gas station south of Tecate, we have at least thirty hours of driving ahead of us, a third of it through Sonora.
“Oh, for Chronos’s sake,” Amber grumbles, holding the back of a chair for balance as she surveys the lot of them. “You,” she says, pointing to the row of Summers taking up the length of the couch. One of them yelps as she grabs him by the elbow. “Don’t be such a baby. It doesn’t hurt.” She shoves him into the tight gap between Gabriel and Yukio. Their eyes widen as their skin brushes.
I turn back to the road, drifting in and out of a hazy sleep as the coughs quiet. Every few hours the terrain changes and the air smells different, pungent oils of parched vegetation and dust giving way to