Undivided

“One problem,” the lab tech says. “Our biomaterial is monitored. If any of it goes missing, it gets reported. Our funding will probably get pulled.”

Co

The tech looks over to the broken vials. “Biomatter.” Then he nods and grins at Co

“Yeah,” says Co

“So,” says Co

The tech nods his agreement. “It’s our secret . . . on one condition.”

Co

Then the tech timidly asks, “Can I . . . shake your hand?”

Co

“Naah, forget it,” the guy says. “It was stupid of me to ask.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” Cautiously Co

“A lot of folks don’t like unwinding, but no one knows how to stop it, so they don’t even try,” the man says. And then he whispers, “But if you’ve got an idea—there are people ready to listen. Not everyone—but maybe enough.”

“Thanks,” Co

Co

“A lot of people want to stop unwinding,” the lab tech said. It’s not the first time Co

21 • Risa

The ride home from the hospital is a triumphant one. They play music that makes them feel cocooned in normality. Even though it’s an illusion, Risa’s happy for a respite from being “the one and only Risa Ward.”

Co

Thoughts of a guitar player bring her musings around to Cam. Where is he now that Proactive Citizenry has him in their clutches again? Does she care? Should she care? What a mixed bag of co

There’s no telling what her life will be like a day from now, much less a year from now. That’s the best argument for living in the moment, but how can you live in the moment when all you want is for the moment to end?

“You look sad,” Co

Risa smiles. “We do a lot right,” she tells him. “Why else would random people want to shake our hands?” Or, she thinks, kiss us, and she throws a chilly glance back to Beau in the backseat, who plays the air drums, completely oblivious. Co

Maybe this is better than her dream of normal. Living a high-octane, on-the-edge sort of life has its perks. Namely, Co

“Hey, you know that Upchurch dude, right?” Beau asks between drum solos.

“Who?” asks Risa, having no clue what he’s talking about.

“You know—Hayden Upchurch. The guy who gave the news a mouthful when he got caught at the Graveyard.”

“Oh,” says Risa. “Hayden.” She had never known his last name—and by the look on Co

“What about him? Risa asks, looking nervously to Co

“No—he’s just shooting off his mouth again.”

The next song starts, and Co

“Back in the basement, Jake was fiddling with that old computer Sonia lets us use down there, and he says there was something up on the Web. He tried to find it again to show me, but it was gone. He said Upchurch was calling for a teen uprising, like he did when he got caught. I’m thinking it might happen.” Beau considers it for a moment more. “If it does, I know a whole lot of kids—not just the kids at Sonia’s, but kids back home, too—who’d follow me into battle.”

“More likely off a cliff, like lemmings,” Co

“Careful,” Beau warns, and he pulls out the pistol he had taken from Co

Risa sees Co

“Put that thing away,” Risa orders Beau, “before you accidentally shoot yourself.”

“Best thing that could happen,” says Co

If Hayden’s really AWOL again, hiding out somewhere and calling for kids to take matters into their own hands, Risa wonders how many will be moved to action. There are stories about the first uprising. “Feral” kids took violently to the streets after the school failures. They wreaked havoc coast to coast, spreading terror and fear enough to make unwinding sound like an answer to all their problems. Anger with no direction.

Once the Heartland War ended, no one really spoke about the days leading up to the Unwind Accord. Risa suspects it’s more than just bad memories. If people don’t think about it, then they can deny their complicity in ongoing institutional murder. Well, thinks Risa, we’ll make people remember . . . and we’ll give them a path to penance.

It’s as they reach the outlying neighborhoods of Columbus that Co

“What was that about?” Risa asks, realizing that Co

“Nothing!” snaps Co