Undivided

The Greater Good Divisional Option—also known as the Parental Override bill—will do just that! It will identify the most dangerous teens and allow for their unwinding, taking the decision away from negligent parents and putting it in the hands of the Juvenile Authority, where it belongs.

Write to your congressman and senators. Tell them that you support Parental Override. Your family won’t be safe until Parental Override becomes law.

—Paid for by Citizens For the Greater Good

As the sun begins to sink low, and the power plant’s grime-covered windows begin to cast long shadows across the factory floor, Starkey descends to mingle among the masses. Many kids greet him; others are too intimidated to even look at him. He moves through the crowd of kids trouble-free. No one brings him their problems. This is yet another way he runs his ship differently than Co

With di

“Hail, O mighty chief.” Hayden says.

“Where’s di

“We were waiting for the delivery from the ‘applause department,’ but apparently the clappers just sent guns and ammo, no food. So tonight we’ll have to make do with SPAM.”

Hayden seems far too pleased by the fact. “What are you smiling about? SPAM sucks.”

“Are you kidding me? SPAM is my god. It’s the only deity that can be eaten raw or fried. The stuff of Holy Communion.”

The most a

“You’ll be serving in ten minutes, or I’ll be looking for your replacement.”

“Ultimatum acknowledged,” Hayden says, and continues his work.

Starkey finds Bam in the weapons locker, unloading unmarked crates that were delivered in unmarked trucks. Their benefactors don’t scrimp when it comes to giving them best of the best in artillery.

“What have we got?” Starkey asks.

“See for yourself,” Bam says. “More assault rifles, submachine guns. And a whole bunch of Glocks. I guess they decided we need pistols for the littler kids.”

Her voice drips with attitude, a kind of vitriolic sarcasm much darker than Hayden’s. “Would you rather they go into a hostile environment unarmed?”

She doesn’t answer the question, but when the kids helping her leave for di

He rolls his eyes. He’s never felt the slightest bit ambivalent about this. You never look a gift horse in the mouth, no matter where that gift horse has been. “C’mon—it’s not like we’re blowing ourselves up.”

“Not yet. But who knows what they’re going to ask in return for all they’re giving us?”

“Has it occurred to you that the more they fund us, the less of their money goes to clappers?”

Bam laughs bitterly. “That’s your best rationalization yet! ‘Mason Starkey: saving the world from clappers one dollar at a time!’ ”

She goes out for di

The next harvest camp they’re taking on is a big one. Lots of security. Lots of firepower. Who’s to say if Bam will even make it back alive?

6 • Co

Stagnation. It numbs him, dulls his senses and his response time. It saps his motivation. The task before them is so immense, he doesn’t know where to start. Now that they have the printer, they need to make plans, but Sonia’s basement is as it ever was, like a black hole drawing them back into the shut-in mentality of the safe-house AWOL. Risa tends to the various scrapes and medical woes, and does a good impersonation of a shrink for those kids who need someone to talk to, which is all of them, although not all of them are willing to talk. As for Co

Proactive.

Co

These relentless wheels turn in the outside world, but in Sonia’s basement the days blend into nights, which blend back into days. It’s hard not to be drawn into lethargy when your sanctuary is a timeless limbo.

“Sonia’s been busy trying to find new safe houses for these kids,” Risa explains, as if it’s an excuse for doing nothing but waiting. “But the old network has fallen apart, and without the Graveyard, there’s no destination anymore.”

It was clear to Co

“We’re not going to save these kids by shuttling them around,” he tells Risa. He can’t help but look to the organ printer that sits so i

They’re going to need help. Help from the outside.