UnWholly (Unwind Dystology 2)

“You know how you get.”

“No,” Lev says a bit coldly. “Tell me how I get.”

But Marcus doesn’t have to, because Lev knows exactly what he means.

The first letter from Cousin Carl was a complete mystery at first, until Lev realized it was a coded message from Connor. With the possibility that Lev’s mail is being monitored by one government agency or another, it was the only way Connor could get him a message and hope that Lev was clever enough to figure it all out. One arrives every few months, always postmarked from someplace different, so it can’t be traced back to the Graveyard.

“So what does he say?” Lev asks Marcus.

“It’s addressed to you. Believe it or not, I don’t read your mail.”

When they arrive home, Marcus hands the letter to him but holds it out of reach for a moment. “Promise me you won’t go into some black-hole brooding funk where you sit and do nothing but play video games for a week.”

“When do I ever do that?”

Marcus just gives him his “Are you kidding me?” scowl. Fair enough. Being under house arrest leaves Lev with little to do to occupy his time. But it’s true that hearing from Connor always gets him thinking, and thinking gets him spiraling, and spiraling sends him to places it would be better not to go.

“It’s a part of your life you need to leave behind you,” Marcus reminds him.

“You’re right, and you’re wrong, “ Lev tells him. He doesn’t try to explain himself, because he’s not even sure what he means, except to know that it’s true. He opens the letter. The handwriting is the same, but he suspects it’s not Connor’s, to prevent it from being analyzed and linked to him. The paranoia that engulfs them has no end.

Dear Cousin Levi,

A belated birthday card for you. I know fourteen means more to you than to most, what with the things you’ve been through. The ranch has been busy. The big beef companies keep threatening to take us over, but it hasn’t happened yet. We got a business plan that could save us from that, should it come to pass.

Hard work since I took over the ranch, and not much help from the neighbors. Wish I could just up and leave it, but who could handle these ranch hands but me?

We know of your current situation, and how you can’t come visit. Wouldn’t want you to. A lot of mad cow going on around here. Best to stay away and hope for the best.

Take care, and say hello to your brother for us. He’s almost as much of a lifesaver as you.

Sincerely,

Cousin Carl

Lev reads the letter four times, trying to parse out the various possible meanings. The Juvies’ looming threat to take the place out. The difficulty of running a sanctuary without enough help from the resistance. Lev’s daily life has grown so distant from that underworld of desperate souls, hearing about it is like listening to ice crack beneath his feet. It makes him want to run—anywhere. Run to Connor, or run away from him. He doesn’t know which direction, only that he can’t stand running in place. He wishes he could write back but knows how foolhardy that would be. It’s one thing receiving a random letter from a generic “cousin,” but sending one to the Graveyard might as well be painting a target on Connor’s back. To Lev’s frustration, communication with “Cousin Carl” can only be one-way.

“How are things on ‘the ranch’?” Marcus asks.

“Troubled.”

“We do what we can do, right?”

Lev nods. Marcus is no slouch when it comes to the resistance. He volunteers time pulling AWOLs off the street and getting them to safe houses, and gives a healthy share of the money he makes as a legal assistant to the cause.

He hands Marcus the letter to read, and Marcus seems as bothered by it as Lev does. “We’ll have to wait and see how it all shakes out.”

Lev paces the living room. There are no bars on his window. Still, they might as well have put him in solitary for the sudden claustrophobia he feels.

“I should speak out against unwinding,” Lev says, dispensing with all their coded talk. There’s nobody listening anymore anyway. Now that his life has settled into this reclusive version of normal, surveillance feels like a nonissue. The Juvey-cops have better things to do these days than to keep their eyes on a kid who’s not doing anything but hanging around his brother’s house, trying to disappear.

“If I speak up, people will listen to me—they had sympathy before, didn’t they? They’ll listen!”

Marcus slaps the letter down on the table. “For a kid who’s been through as much as you, you’re still so damn naive! People don’t have sympathy for you—they have sympathy for the little kid who became a clapper. They look at you like you’re the one who killed him.”

“I’m tired of sitting here and doing nothing!” Lev storms into the kitchen, trying to distance himself from the truth in Marcus’s words, but Marcus follows him.

“You’re not doing nothing—you still have your weekend ministries with Dan.”