UnWholly

Soon Hayden feels his eyesight starting to black out, and he goes places too. A house he lived in as a kid before his parents started fighting. Riding his bike up a jump ramp he can’t handle and breaking his arm in the fall. What were you thinking, son? A fight his parents had over custody in the heat of their divorce. You’ll have him, all right! You’ll have him over my dead body, and Hayden just laughing and laughing, because it’s his only defense against the prospect of his family collapsing around him. And then overhearing their decision to unwind him rather than allowing the other to have custody. Not so much a decision, but an impasse.

Fine!

Fine!

If that’s the way you want it!

If that’s the way YOU want it!

Don’t put this on me!

They signed the unwind order just to spite each other, but laugh, laugh, laugh, Hayden, because if you ever stop laughing, it might just tear you apart worse than a Chop Shop.

Now he’s far away, floating in the clouds, playing Scrabble with the Dalai Lama, but wouldn’t you know it, all the tiles are in Tibetan. Then for a moment his vision clears and he comes back to the here and now. He’s lucid enough to realize he’s in the ComBom where the temperature is too hot to imagine. He looks around him. The kids are awake, but barely. They slump in corners. They lie on the ground.

“You were talking about stuff,” someone says weakly. “Keep talking, Hayden. We liked it.”

Then Esme reaches over and touches Tad on the neck, feeling his pulse. His eyes are still half-open, but he’s no longer babbling about tropical beaches.

“Tad’s dead, Hayden.”

Hayden closes his eyes. Once one goes, he knows the rest of them won’t be far behind. He looks at the machine gun next to him. It’s heavy. It’s loaded. He doesn’t even know if he can lift it anymore, but he does, and although he’s never used it, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. There’s a safety, easily removed. There’s a trigger.

He looks at the suffering kids around him, wondering where “machine-gun fire” falls on the list of bad ways to die. Certainly a quick death is better than a slow one. He considers his options a moment more, then says, “I’m sorry, guys. I’m sorry I failed you . . . but I can’t do this.”

Then he turns the machine gun toward the cockpit and blasts out the windshield, flooding the ComBom with cool, fresh air.

82 • Co

He wakes up in a comfortable bed, in a comfortable room, with a computer, a late-model TV, and sports posters all over the walls. He’s groggy enough to think he actually might be in heaven, but nauseous enough to know he’s not.

“I know you’re pissed at me, Co

He turns to see Lev sitting in the corner, in a chair that’s painted with footballs and soccer balls and te

“Where are we?”

“We’re in Sunset Ridge Homes, model number three: the Bahaman.”

“You brought me to a model home?”

“I figured we both deserved comfortable beds, at least for one night. It’s a trick I learned from my days on the streets. Security patrols are looking for thieves, not squatters. They roll past but never go into model homes unless they see or hear something suspicious. So as long as you don’t snore too loud, you’re fine.” Then he adds, “Of course, we’ve gotta be out by ten; that’s when they open. I stayed too late at a model once and nearly scared a realtor to death.”

Co

“It’s been on the news since last night,” Lev tells him. “Not enough to preempt the infomercials and stuff, but at least the Juvies aren’t hiding it.”

“Why would they hide it?” Co

On TV, a spokesperson for the Juvenile Authority a

Co

“Why? Would you rather be a trophy to go along with their collection of Unwinds? If they find out that the Akron AWOL is alive, they’ll crucify you. Trust me, that’s one thing I know about.”

“The captain is supposed to go down with the ship.”

“Unless the first mate knocks him out and throws him in a lifeboat.”

Co

“Fine,” says Lev. “You wa

Co

“Yeah, I noticed that. There must be a story there. I mean, you hated Roland, right? Why’d you get the same tattoo?”

Now Co

Onscreen, they’ve cut live to the Graveyard, where “an unfolding drama” is taking place. One last batch of AWOLs has held off the Juvies by holing up inside an old World War II bomber.

“It’s the ComBom! Hayden held them off all night!” For Co

The ComBom hatch opens, and Hayden comes out, carrying a limp kid in his arms. He’s followed by a bunch of other kids, none of them in good shape. The Juvies move in, and so do the media.

“We’re witnessing the capture of the final AWOL Unwinds. . . .”

The reporters don’t get close enough to stick microphones in Hayden’s face, but they don’t have to. In spite of the Juvies’ attempt to spirit him into the transport van, he shouts loud enough for everyone to hear.

“We are not just AWOLs! We are not just parts! We are whole human beings—and history will look back on these times in shame!”

They shove him and the other kids into the van, but before they slam the door, Hayden shouts, “To the new Teen Uprising!”

Then the van carries them away.

“Way to go, Hayden,” says Co

The news briefly reports on the plane that got away, but as that’s an embarrassment to the Juvies, not much is said. At first they had forced a plane to land in Dallas, thinking it was the AWOL Dreamliner, but it turned out to be a passenger flight from Mexico City. There have been unconfirmed reports of a plane going down in a California lake, but nothing further is said. Co

Damn Starkey! He brought the Juvies down on them, then took half the weapons, hijacked their only means of escape, and left everyone else high and dry. And yet as much as Co

When it’s clear that the news has moved on to other subjects—weather woes and celebrities behaving badly—Co

“Actually, there’s one more thing I want to show you before we go.” Lev goes to the room’s computer and pulls up, of all things, a website for hot tubs.

“Uh . . . sorry, Lev, I’m not in the market for a Jacuzzi.”

Lev is stymied for a moment, until Co

“Duh!” Lev types it over. “I was never good at keyboarding.”