Chapter 26
Dubois stumbled back to his cot.
“Don’t ever do that again,” Joe said, lying down.
“I won’t.’’ Dubois’s tone told him he meant it.
And it killed Joe inside. 5
December was here again. So much darkness. And more cold. Another Christmas in the Icebox. Joe’s third.
Yesterday had been his twenty-first birthday. His mother had probably sent something, but it hadn’t gotten to him.
Pushing through a foot of fresh snow, Joe walked a little faster, eager to be inside again. He was starving. His bones ached. They’d been working longer days, the guards getting antsy about production and having enough wood to burn through the winter. Everything in Joe hurt.