PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
“Should be safe to rest here,” Ron lowered Percy’s carrier. The straps left red gouges on his shoulders. The boy was too big to be carried but we had to leave the wheelchair behind.
Ron rolled his neck, glanced at the underpass’s puddle, and reached for the tablets. “I’ll purify some water.”
“Will they find us, Mama?” Percy put words to my heartache. He’d endured silently through miles of jarring terrain.
“We’ve been careful,” I looked into his worried eyes as I massaged the contracted limbs. “Also, new laws or not, we won’t let you be taken by Leave-Only-Abled-Children raids.”