UnBound - Neal Shusterman Page 0,98

beaches are on the compound. They rarely did it in the days of Proactive Citizenry because their guards shot trespassers on sight. But Cam’s guards are all armed with tranqs, which are much less intimidating if you’re not an AWOL unwind. Dirk must have found this hole the other day and concealed it. Now there’s no barrier between them and the outside world. Keaton feels his heart begin to pound so painfully in his chest, he’s afraid it might bounce right out.

“No!” Keaton says. “Not out there. Not yet. Not ready. None of us.” Although he knows that’s not entirely true. Some of them might be ready. He certainly feels he is. But Dirk is not. Keaton suspects that he never will be. Maybe that’s why Dirk feels the need to break out.

Dirk looks at him with cool curiosity. “You, me?” he says. “Frank and Jesse? Police have no leads?”

“No!” Keaton insists. He can’t deny there are plenty of rebellious brain bits that see a hole in a fence as an opportunity, but his will is beginning to exert coherence. Submariners. They must work together for the good of all, and right now, sailing back to port is the best strategy. “Go back now. Sleep. Forget this.”

Dirk shrugs. “You lose,” he says, then slams a rock he’s been concealing into Keaton’s head, knocking him out cold.

8 • Cam

Cam’s ringtone is unique. He designed it himself. The first strains of Mozart’s Eine kleine Nachtmusik, layered over “Hey Jude,” layered over a Coltrane sax riff. It all blends together perfectly. Far better than he does, but it’s a constant reminder at his lowest moments that a mash-up can either shine or clash—it all depends on the care one takes with it. At 2:19 a.m., however, he despises his ringtone. There are few who know his personal number, and none of those who do would call him at this hour unless there was an emergency.

He wants to let it go for a second ring, but Una stirs, and he doesn’t want this—whatever it is—to wake her up, so he answers it, hurrying to the bathroom and closing the door.

As he suspected, the news is not good. There’s been a breakout in the boys’ ward.

“Two male rewinds are AWOL,” Dr. Pettigrew says—his voice, as always, like an accusation. The idea of there being such a thing as AWOL rewinds, like AWOL Unwinds, sticks in Cam’s mind like some bad stew meat.

“Two of them? Do we know which ones?”

“Thirty-nine and Forty-seven.”

“Names, please.”

“I don’t know off the top of my head.”

“And where was the guard?”

“He’s got a million excuses. Didn’t I tell you we needed more guards at night?”

Cam resists the urge to lash back. Told-ya-sos don’t help the situation, but as much as Cam hates to admit it, Pettigrew was right. But before he allows this to rattle his confidence, he lays out a course of action. Scour and secure the perimeter of the complex. Then work inward. The most important thing is that they don’t get off the grounds. If they do, the situation could mushroom far beyond any hope of damage control.

When he steps out of the bathroom, Una is already up and dressed. “Have they checked if any vehicles are missing?” Clearly she heard his side of the conversation.

“I’ll take care of this; go back to sleep.”

“Spare me the chivalry—you can use all the help you can get.” She tosses him his pants, then ties her hair back with a ribbon. For once he resists the playful urge to pull it out.

9 • Keliana

The party goes late. They always do. She probably should have stayed at her friend’s house and slept on the couch—but her friend’s furniture always smells like wet dog. Or maybe it smells of her friend’s brother, who smells like wet dog. She should have stayed, but her house is only three blocks away. A five-minute walk. And the town of Kaunakakai is notoriously safe. Usually.

There are no silent nights in Molokai. The dark hours are alive with crickets and katydids. Sometimes the chorus can be deafening. As she walks home from the party, she has the sense of being watched. But of course that’s typical. Whenever she walks alone in the dark, she feels that way. It’s human nature. A primal survival instinct crying wolf. The feeling is no stronger today than any other time, so she dismisses it as she always does.

It isn’t until she turns the key in the lock that a shape emerges from the