UnBound - Neal Shusterman Page 0,66

It is then that Colton realizes that Kunal doesn’t have feet. He has a second pair of hands grafted in their place.

Pravda gasps, Jenson looks terrified, Kemo almost loses his composure, and Gamon just whimpers.

Kunal returns, hobbling in a perverted right-side-up handstand. None of the kids can look at him.

“Perhaps you should show them Marisol,” says Sonthi.

“I was just about to suggest the same thing.” Rodín leads them to one of the many doors on the edge of the courtyard. Kunal produces a key from an overstuffed key chain and opens a door, and Rodín ushers them in.

There’s a girl in the room. Or something that was once a girl. Now it looks more like an alien one might find in a prewar movie. She has four eyes, each a different color, with cheekbones that are way too low in order to accommodate the extra pair of eyes. And she has four arms.

“Isn’t she a wonder,” Rodín says, gazing at her in bemused admiration.

Colton does his best to keep from hurling what little food is inside him. Pravda loses the same battle, and Kunal hurries off to get towels to clean the mess.

“She can be off-putting, I admit,” Rodín says. “Exotic creations are an acquired sight, much like exotic foods are an acquired taste.”

It stands there in the corner of the small cell, almost, but not quite, cowering.

“Please . . . ,” begs Jenson. “For the love of God, please take us out of here.”

Rodín ignores him. “Marisol, are you happy here?”

“Yes, Dr. Rodín,” she says timidly, not meeting his eyes with any of hers.

“You are pleased with what we’ve done for you, no?”

“Yes, Dr. Rodín.” Her voice is dead. Resigned. Colton looks down to see that there is a heavy shackle on one of her legs. Just in case she’s less happy than she cares to admit.

Rodín reaches into his pocket and puts a piece of candy into each of her four hands. One by one she lifts the candy to her mouth—but the fourth one connects with her cheek instead and falls to the ground.

“We’re still working on eye-hand coordination on Marisol’s lower left arm.” Then he tells them how he hopes, in time, to create a girl with eight arms. “A living, breathing version of Kali, the Hindu goddess,” he says. “What a price that would fetch on the black market, yes, Sonthi?”

Sonthi raises his eyebrows and nods. Colton suspects he might not like this place either, but with the Dah Zey, it’s all about money. It’s then that Colton begins to understand the power structure here. At first he had wondered why Sonthi allows the doctor to do the things he does. But now Colton understands. This palace is Rodín’s; the camp is Rodín’s. Everyone here, including Sonthi, works for the doctor.

“Tell me,” Rodín says. “Which of our guests has been a problem today?” He looks at Colton when he says it, smiling at him, and Colton has to look away. “Is it this one? The one with the eyes?”

“We all have eyes,” Colton says under his breath.

Sonthi grabs Jenson’s shoulder and pushes him forward.

“This one,” Sonthi says. “He beat the crap out of the little one. We warned him before, but he doesn’t listen.”

Rodín looks Jenson over like he might appraise a painting. “Yes, well, I know a way to make him listen.” Then he nods to the guards. It takes three of them to drag Jenson away, kicking and screaming.

• • •

Colton and the others are taken back to their room in silence. The message is clear without Sonthi saying a thing. Cause trouble, and you become Rodín’s next experiment.

“What do you think they’ll do to him?” Pravda asks, sounding much more frightened and innocent than she had before their visit to the mansion.

Colton doesn’t want to think about it, but Kemo speaks. Since returning, he has tried unsuccessfully to pervade the air with peace. Clearly he can’t find any of that peace within himself. His meditations are getting shorter, and he spends a lot of time reciting mantras under his breath while pacing. “Whatever they do,” says Kemo, “I hope Jenson’s transformation has meaning for him.”

That just makes Colton angry. “How can you even say that? What kind of ‘meaning’ could it have?”

Kemo remains calm, or at least fakes it. “Everything has meaning, or nothing has meaning,” he says. “Which world would you rather live in?”

Gamon has stopped crying. It seems the Haunted Mansion has gotten through to him. He still doesn’t talk,