UnBound - Neal Shusterman Page 0,65
into a ball, his sobs sounding no different than before the beating.
Then Kemo breaks concentration and rises in a calm, fluid motion. All eyes turn to him as his slow, steady footfalls bring him to Jenson. Even though Kemo is more than a head shorter than Jenson, his presence makes the larger boy shrink.
“You just damaged their property,” Kemo says in perfect English. “You know what they do to you if you damage their property, don’t you?” Colton is taken aback for a moment by Kemo’s calm, by the thought of them as property, and by Kemo’s unexpected command of English.
Jenson doesn’t say anything but backs away, flexing his fingers and looking at his bloody knuckles. His blood? Probably not.
Kemo turns his back to him. “Yes, you know.” Then he returns to where he was meditating and reassumes lotus position.
So the stories about the Dah Zey are true, then, Colton thinks, or at least Kemo believes them. But he has to ask. He approaches Kemo.
“What do they do?”
Kemo doesn’t respond. His face is unreadable.
“What do they do, Kemo?”
It’s Pravda who answers from across the room. “Many things,” she says. “Maybe you vill get to see.” And she smiles as if she might want to see herself.
Jenson doesn’t say anything. He just goes to the back wall and sinks to the ground, putting his bloodied hands to his head, no longer interested in an alien that rips out people’s spines.
• • •
The next morning, when they are lined up for inspection, Sonthi the overlord—if that’s what you call such a person—looks them over. He wears camo, as if he’s living in an eternal war.
Sonthi stops by Gamon, quickly noticing his bruises and swollen face. The kid shivers and whimpers.
“Who did this?” he asks, looking to the others.
No one says anything.
So he approaches Colton, grabs his hands, then turns them over to look at his knuckles. Satisfied, he moves on to Jenson and catches him, very literally, red-handed. Sonthi glares at him until Jenson looks away, then Sonthi turns to all the members of their little cell squad. “Guilt for one is guilt for all.” He turns to the guards around them. “Take them to the Haunted Mansion.”
Colton has a feeling this will not be a fun ride.
• • •
They’re marched across the harvest camp, passing five other buildings, each larger than the one they’re being housed in. Colton wonders if they’re all full of Unwinds awaiting their fate. There’s no way to tell from the outside, since there are no windows.
At the far side of the camp there’s one building that stands alone. It looks like it was once an elaborate residence, or maybe even a temple, but now it’s covered with forest growth and moss. Pravda suddenly tries to bolt, but she never gets past the guard beside her, who grabs her and pulls her back in line.
Sonthi opens a heavy door and leads them in.
The inside is spotless. Oddly so, considering the exterior. The stone walls echo with strange noises from deeper in the structure. Grunting and panting. Gibbering and licking. Colton feels the perpetual knot in his stomach seize tighter.
The narrow entry corridor leads them to a huge open-air courtyard. Around them are doors. Many, many doors. It is from behind these doors that the sounds come.
“Ah! Mr. Sonthi! You bring me visitors, yes? Welcome to the Green Manor!”
Dr. Rodín descends a grand staircase into the vast courtyard, his arms wide in a warm gesture of greeting, followed by a dark-skinned teen—not umber, but perhaps Pakistani or Indian. He lumbers with an odd side-to-side gate.
Rodín reaches them and claps his hands together. “So these five have been exceptionally well behaved—and you thought you’d treat them to a glimpse of creation, yes?”
Sonthi is clearly annoyed but remains respectful. “No. They’ve caused trouble. They are here as punishment.”
Now it’s Rodín’s turn to be annoyed. “Yes, well, we do see things differently.”
“What is this place?” Colton dares to ask.
Rodín smiles at him. “This place I call my factory of miracles.”
That causes Sonthi to stifle a guffaw.
Rodín indicates the boy who came down with him. “This is Kunal, my valet.”
The boy nods to them respectfully, but his eyes dart back and forth between Rodín and Sonthi with practiced caution.
“Show them, Kunal,” says Rodín, and Kunal obediently goes to a huge tree with gnarled, twisted limbs in the middle of the courtyard and begins to climb—but not quite the way another person might climb it. His movements are disturbingly graceful. Like a chimpanzee.