UnWholly (Unwind Dystology #2)(23)

As the session to correct the law approached, a 5-year-old boy was dropped off at an Omaha hospital on Thursday night. Earlier in the day, a woman dropped off two teenagers at another Omaha hospital, but one of them, a 17-year-old girl, fled. Authorities have not found her yet.

As of Friday afternoon, 34 children had been abandoned under the Nebraska law, five of them from other states.

Nebraska was the last state to enact a safe-haven law, intended to take in unwanted newborns. But unlike laws in other states, Nebraska’s doesn’t include an age limit.

Some observers have interpreted the current law as applying to children as old as 18.

The full article can be found at: http://articles.nydailynews.com/2008-11-14/news/17910664_1_safe-haven-law-omaha-hospital-unique-safe-haven-law





4 ? Parents

They’re together as they open the door. A father and mother, dressed for bed. Worry lines fill their foreheads as they see the nature of their visitors. This is an anticipated yet unexpected moment.

A Juvey-cop stands at the door with three plainclothes officers to back him up. The lead Juvey-cop is young. They all seem young. They recruit them earlier and earlier these days.

“We’re here to process Unwind subject 53-990-24. Noah Falkowski.” The parents glance at each other in alarm.

“You’re a day early,” the mother says.

“The schedule has been pushed up,” the lead cop tells her. “We have the contractual right to change the pickup date. Can we please have access to the subject?”

The father takes a step forward to look at the name on the officer’s uniform.

“Look here, Officer Mullard,” he says in a loud whisper, “we’re not prepared to surrender our son just yet. As my wife has told you, we were expecting you tomorrow. You’ll have to come back then.”

But E. Robert Mullard waits for no one. He barges into the house, with his team following behind him.

“Good God!” the father says. “Have some decency.”

Mullard lets out a guffaw. “Decency? What do you know about decency?” Then he looks down the bedroom hallway. “Noah Falkowski!” he calls loudly. “If you’re back there, come out now.”

A fifteen-year-old boy peeks out of a bedroom doorway, takes one look at the guests, and slams his door. Mullard signals to the brawniest of his cohorts. “He’s all yours.”

“I’m on it.”

“Stop him, Walter!” the woman begs her husband. Walter, put on the spot, turns to Mullard with a vengeance. “I want to talk to your superior.”

And then Mullard pulls out a gun. “You’re in no position to make demands.”

It’s clearly just a tranq pistol, but considering that nasty business about the Juvey-cop killed with his own gun, Walter and his wife aren’t about to take any chances.

“Sit down,” Mullard says, nodding toward the dining room. The couple hesitates. “I said sit down!” And then two of Mullard’s team force them to sit in two dining room chairs. The father, a reasonable man, assumes he’s dealing with another reasonable young professional like himself.

“Is this all really necessary, Officer Mullard?” he asks, in a calmer, more accommodating tone.

“My name isn’t Mullard, and I’m not a Juvey-cop.” Suddenly it hits the man how obvious this is. He knew this kid was too young to have that kind of authority. The scars on his face made him seem a little . . . well . . . seasoned, but still he was too young. How could Walter have been so easily fooled? And isn’t there something familiar about this young man’s face? Has he seen him before, possibly in the news? The man is rendered speechless by this unexpected turn of nonprofessional events.





5 ? Connor

The best part of these missions is the look on the parents’ faces when they realize that the tables have been turned. How their eyes dart down toward the tranq gun aimed at them, suddenly realizing that their unwind order is now nothing but a piece of paper.

“Who are you?” asks the father. “What is it you want?”

“We want what you no longer want,” Connor tells him. “We want your son.” Then Trace, the muscular team member he sent after Noah, comes out of the bedroom holding the struggling kid.

“They don’t make bedroom locks like they used to,” Trace says.

“Lemme go,” shouts the kid. “Lemme go!” Connor goes to him while Hayden, also on the rescue team, pulls a tranq gun to make sure the couple doesn’t get any ideas.

“Noah, your parents were about to unwind you,” Connor tells him. “In fact, the Juvies are coming tomorrow—but luckily for you, we came first.”

There’s a horrified look on the kid’s face. He shakes his head, denying the possibility. “You’re lying!” Then he looks to his parents, not so sure anymore. “He’s lying, right?”

Connor doesn’t let the parents answer. “The truth—you owe him that much.”

“You have no right to do this!” the mother yells.

“The truth!” demands Connor.

Then the father sighs, and says, “Yes, what he says is true. I’m sorry, Noah.”

Now Noah casts a furious gaze at his parents, and then turns to Connor. Connor can see tears building behind his fury.