UnWholly (Unwind Dystology 2)

Trace grins. “I’ve been flying Cessnas since I was sixteen, and military aircraft for a year before I joined the ADR, so yes, I could fly a commercial airliner. Hell, I could make it do loop-the-loops.”

“Good. You may need to do loops if we’re being targeted.”

Trace puzzles over this for a second, then grins. “Escape jet?”

“If we gut it, we can fit everyone in. Won’t be comfortable, but it’ll work.”

“I’ll research the specs and see if it can handle the weight.”

“We’ll gut the cabin, then have the front-office guys post it all for sale,” Connor tells him. “We’ll include the engine parts and the cockpit console on the sale list, but we won’t really dismantle any of the plane’s actual working parts.”

Trace gets it without having to be told. “So, to anyone keeping tabs on us, it’ll appear that the jet has totally gone to salvage, but we’ll know it’s still operational.”

“Exactly. Then we’ll tow it to the main aisle—make it seem like we’re using it as a dormitory jet.”

“Brilliant.”

“No,” says Connor, “desperate. Now, let’s get out of this thing before we fry.”

- - -

Trace drives Connor back to the main aisle from the runway. In addition to being head of security in the Graveyard, he’s Connor’s acting bodyguard and chauffeur. Not Connor’s idea, any more than the private jet and the blue camo, but it helped create that illusory leadership pedestal. From the beginning, though, Connor hated the idea of being set apart.

“Get used to it,” Risa told him. “You’re not just some random Unwind anymore; to these kids, you are the resistance. You need to project the image of someone in charge.” He wonders if she still feels that way, now that being in charge doesn’t leave enough room in his life to truly be there for her. He wonders if he should invent himself some illness just so he can visit her in the infirmary jet. Is that proper behavior for a leader?

“The Dreamliner is a good idea,” Trace says, bringing Connor back to the here and now. “But I know there are other things on your mind.”

“Always,” Connor tells him.

“I know you’re worried about the Juvies, and why they’re still leaving us alone.” Trace waits a moment, then adds, “I think I know why, but you’re not going to like it.”

“When have I ever liked anything about the Juvies?”

“It’s not about them as much as it’s about you.”

“I don’t follow.”

“You will.” They hit a bump, and Connor reflexively grabs onto the door. Trace makes no apologies for his driving. “See, Connor, the kids here, even though they’ve been legally made nonentities, that doesn’t make them worthless. They’re as valuable as diamonds. Do you know why diamonds are so expensive?”

“I don’t know—because they’re rare?”

“No, they’re not rare. In fact, there are so many of them, they could be as cheap as the fake ones. But there’s this thing called the diamond consortium. All the owners of all the world’s diamond mines get together, and you know what they do? They hide their diamonds in this huge vault in this huge bank in Sweden or Switzerland or wherever. Thousands upon thousands of them. And hiding them creates the illusion that diamonds are rare, driving the prices through the roof.”

The Jeep hits another pothole, and this time Connor absorbs the impact without bracing himself. He follows Trace’s line of thought, beginning to worry about where it’s leading.

“So,” says Trace, “after the Cap-17 law passed, there was a shortage of Unwinds, right? The price for every kind of transplant doubled—tripled even. But people pay the price, because everyone’s used to getting the parts they want, when they want them. They’ll go without food, but they won’t go without their parts.”

“So what does that have to do with me?”

“You tell me.”

Connor considers what Trace had said, and the truth hits him. “We’re the vault! And as long as we pull AWOLs off the street, it keeps the price high. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Better that all those AWOLs are here, nice and safe, than caught by parts pirates and sold on the black market. That would just drive the price down.”

Connor thinks back to that day he was caught and hauled off to Happy Jack Harvest Camp. It had been a shock when the Juvey-cop interrogating him admitted that they knew all about the Graveyard but turned a blind eye, because going after the kids here wasn’t worth the effort.

But this is different.