Burn by Bill Ransom

captured six Sentries in six years, and they sold well at Saturday market. Lupita pried the sensor-transmitter unit from the tree while Manuelito dug the small staging plate from under the leaves on their trail. The Sentry delivered its message one more time before Manuelito could shut it off and lock it safely inside his caja.
    “Such a toy might scare the deficientes or the mountain indios,” Lupita said, her small chest puffed out, “but they don’t scare me.”
    The Sentries didn’t scare Manuelito, either. But the presence of a Sentry delivered another message, loud and clear: this had been no ordinary farm beneath the dam. Manuelito’s heart beat a little wilder at the anticipation of something more valuable than farm implements to fill up his cart. And something more dangerous than a Sentry to protect it.
    Manuelito had just stepped back into his harness when Roberto and Ricardo found the steel bottles.
    “Ma’lito,” Roberto called, lifting the shiny cup over his head. “Sí o no?”
    Once again, the boy dropped his traces to inspect his brother’s find.
    “What is it?” Lupita asked.
    “It looks like a little bottle to keep hot things hot,” he said, turning it over in his hands. He rapped his begrimed knuckles against the top. “Stainless steel, I believe!”
    “Look, Manuelito . . . a hundred of them!”
    Indeed, many of the small metal containers poked out of the mud ahead of them. Ricardo and Roberto had already gathered an armful each. They dumped them onto the back of the cart and went looking for more. Lupita cleaned one of them with a stiff brush and tried to open it. After struggling with both ends, she handed it to Manuelito.
    “Open it, skinny one. Maybe you have the hands.”
    Manuelito hefted the bottle and liked the feel of it in his hand. He shook it and heard only the barest rattle inside. Some writing was etched into one end, but he understood only one word: “ViraVax.”
    “This is the company that makes the vaccinations, the medicinas,” he said. “Maybe this is the medicina that will make the deficientes normal.”
    Lupita laughed.
    “Maybe it will turn clay into gold and pebbles into diamonds.”
    “You laugh,” Manuelito said, and nodded towards Roberto and Ricardo. “I have heard it myself. They are working on such a thing.”
    “You can’t open it, can you?” she said. “You’re too skinny.”
    Manuelito snorted his disgust.
    “You never see past your nose. If the package is stainless steel, what must the cargo be worth? If it is a medicina, perhaps it loses value when it is opened.”
    Lupita rolled her eyes and helped Roberto unload another armful.
    “No one bids on an unknown cargo,” she said. “One has to know what something is to know its value. One has to open the package to identify the cargo to know its value.”
    Lupita cleaned another canister and handed it to Roberto.
    “Open it,” she said. “Twist the top, so.”
    She put his hands in the right place and showed him what she wanted. Roberto grunted, but nothing happened.
    “No, amor,” she said. “You have to twist hard”
    Roberto bit down on his tongue and put all his effort into it, and the top twisted off. Manuelito hurried over to see what was inside. He took the canister from Roberto and pulled out a very cold rack of small blue bottles. Something was inside the center of the rack to keep it cold; already it was covered with a frost that appeared from the air like magic. The little glass vials contained a beautiful blue liquid, and Roberto reached out a finger to touch one.
    “No, amor,” Lupita said. “Don’t break. You are very strong to open this bottle for us. What do you think, skinny one?”
    “I think we should keep them closed. They are supposed to stay cold, so perhaps they lose their value if they warm up.”
    He replaced the rack of vials and snugged down the lid.
    “And how will we know their value? And how will we sell them?”
    “When we return to La Libertad, I