She stood up taller and strutted past all the people, trying not to make eye contact. Or she tucked her head in and slipped away.

She couldn’t tell what her body was doing anymore.

chapter seventeen: Wage Love

Mama Vivian had listened to the news, each morning of her adult life, even while she labored with Brendon, even in the sunrise hours after Wes’s death. Each day, Dune asked Mama Vivian if she wanted to hear some news on her little antenna radio.

Today, as was often the case, the only response was a fleeting eye contact, Mama’s face still tilted towards the window. As much a yes as anything else. Dune inserted her grandmother’s hearing aids, turned them all the way up, then turned on WDET.

“Tuning in to the live press conference from Atlanta, with Sally Burns, Center for Disease Control’s expert on Syndrome H-8.”

Dune laughed, everything was terror or entertainment in a free fall. An expert on H-8? In Atlanta?

Now a voice that sounded anxious and authoritative. “And please don’t put even more people at risk by taking this disease beyond the barriers of Detroit! So far the majority of cases have been identified within the 8-Mile inner city radius and we want to keep it that way. But it depends on you, on all of us. Please keep yourself and your sick hydrated. If you are not sick, we want to keep you that way! Listen for the food shuttles passing through your area.”

There was some shuffling sound and then the host’s voice came back on the radio. “Well. There you have it, Jim. Stay put, stay hydrated and get some free food.”

Dune’s mouth twisted her nose sideways and she peeked at Mama Vivian, whose lips were pursed, possibly also annoyed. Dune said, “No one’s staying here Mama. They’re just saying that to cover their asses. If it’s contagious like that, it’s out there.”

Mama Vivian held Dune’s gaze, which felt like encouragement. Dune shook her head, showing her judgment. “Stay hydrated. But it might be in the water. Stay in Detroit. It’s contagious there.”

Mama Vivian almost seemed to smile, a softening around the mouth. Dune couldn’t remember what her grandmother sounded like. She played with the knobs on the radio, turning to WWJ.