UnWholly (Unwind Dystology 2)

73 - Risa

Risa sits in a network studio dressing room, staring at the monitor. The late-night news show on which she and Cam are about to appear has just reported some breaking news: a crackdown on a massive AWOL hideout in Arizona. None other than the airplane graveyard. Kids are already being shipped to harvest camps.

quo;s only when he sees the Dreamliner taking off that he begins to worry. What are the chances that Lassiter’s on that plane? Then he realizes that the riot squad isn’t just tranq’ing and yanking—they’re going against procedure, loading the mob into the transport trucks conscious. If Lassiter gets loaded into a truck before Nelson can get to him, it’s over.

Now he’s worried. He moves closer to the riot roundup, pulling out binoculars, scanning the faces. A gaggle of scared teenagers. No Lassiter. Sure, he might be in the swarm, but if he is, Nelson can’t spot him. He puts down the binoculars.

“Crap!”

He knows that with every passing second his chances get slimmer. Around him, kids who were either too slow to get there or smart enough to stay away from the corralled mob race in all directions to escape. Some get tranq’d as they run, but the farther they are away from the main action, the better their chances.

Up ahead Nelson sees the dark silhouette of one smaller kid struggling to carry an older tranq’d kid on his back—reminding Nelson of the way ants will carry off their wounded. But apparently this kid has better sense than an ant, because he gives up, drops the bigger kid in the dust, and takes off into the shadows.

Nelson almost doesn’t check the dropped kid. He almost walks on past, because he doesn’t want to miss a single face running by, but Nelson is nothing if not thorough. He grabs the unconscious the kid by the hair, lifts his head out of the dirt, and practically yells with triumphant surprise. It’s him! It’s Lassiter! Brought to him like a gift, right in his path!

Nelson wastes no time. He hefts him onto his back, gets his bearings, and weaves through the aircraft, heading toward his waiting van. As he crosses an outer aisle, he’s spotted by another Juvey.

“Forget him,” the cop says. “Leave him for Sanitation and Transport. Our orders are to take out the bolters.” And to emphasize his point, he fires at a girl bolting between two fighter jets, tranqing her into the dust.

“Special orders on this one,” Nelson tells him, trying to get past, but the other cop won’t yield.

“Why? Is he the one who’s been starting the fires in town?”

“Yeah,” Nelson says. “He’s the one.”

Then behind them, three kids try to break for the outer aisles, and their attempted escape pulls the cop’s attention long enough for Nelson to get past him.

The farther from the main aisle, the fewer AWOLs, and the fewer cops. Transport trucks are already here on the outskirts, gathering whatever tranq’d kids they find before moving into the high-density zone. The San & Tran workers treat the fallen kids with much more care than the Juvies, zipping them into padded transport bags—constrictive sleeping bags in either powder blue or pink that cover everything but their faces, so that their precious parts are protected in transit.

Nelson reaches his van, dumps Connor in the back, and drives out the way he came, heading toward the north gate, knowing he’s not in the clear yet.

As he nears the gate, there’s a small showing of Juvey squad cars—as if any of the AWOLs will be stupid enough to try to get out through the main gate. They stop Nelson, and he flashes a stolen badge. “Orders to take this van to HQ. It’s being impounded as evidence.”

“What, are you kidding me? The whole damn place is being impounded as evidence! They couldn’t wait for a tow truck?”

“When can they wait for anything?”

The cop shakes his head. “Incredible!” And he waves Nelson through.

As Nelson leaves the Graveyard behind, he turns on the radio, surfs until he finds a song he knows, and sings with rare joy.

Divan, his black market dealer, will pay a fortune—and the dollar signs Nelson now sees will soon be seen through the Akron AWOL’s eyes. That’s the real reward, far more important than the cash. Nelson doesn’t even remember what this kid’s eyes are like, but it doesn’t matter. Whatever their color, whatever their acuity, they’ll be the last pair Nelson will ever need. They will be perfect!

He’s still thinking of Connor’s eyes when he hears the high-pitched blast of a tranq pistol and feels a sudden sharp pain in his leg, then a second, then a third.

His hands, suddenly lead-heavy, fall from the steering wheel, and with his last bit of strength, he forces his head to turn so he can see his attacker.

Rising from behind him in the van is Lev, wearing a smile as big as the desert around them.

“Tranq’d by your own gun,” Lev says. “How pathetic.”

71 - Lev

Nelson had used Lev to help him find Connor—and now Lev has returned the favor. With so many Juvies, and so many riot police, getting anyone out of the Graveyard would be a miracle. And then Lev realized that, at least for the moment, Nelson was his greatest ally. Both Nelson and Lev had the same objective: get Connor away from the Juvies and out of the Graveyard alive. So Lev carried an unconscious Connor right into Nelson’s path. Lev risked exposing his identity, but with so many kids running, and the only lights from headlights and spotlights, it was easy to keep his face in shadows, then drop Connor and run, letting Nelson do the hard work of getting Connor out.

While Nelson carried Connor off, Lev raced ahead and slipped into his van, keeping low—hoping that Nelson would be distracted by the events around him and euphoric enough at his catch to never notice that Lev was hiding in the backseat.

Now, half a mile from the Graveyard, Nelson slumps in the driver’s seat, unconscious, and Lev hurries to take the wheel, keeping the truck from flying off the road. Then, pushing Nelson aside, he stomps on the brakes, and the van comes to a halt.