UnWholly (Unwind Dystology #2)(37)

But if this was a trap, why had no one come for five days?

There had been a jug of water and a box of crackers at the bottom of the pit on the day he fell in, along with a ceramic pot to relieve himself in. Whoever set the trap didn’t want him to starve, but he did not do well with the rationing. The food and water was gone in three days, and now there’s nothing left but a lousy carton of cigarettes, which he can’t smoke because there aren’t any matches. At one point he tried to eat the tobacco right out of the wrapper, figuring it might have some nutritional value, but it only made him dry-heave.

Now, with day five coming to an end, he’s convinced no one’s coming for him. No one’s going to find him until it’s too late.

Then, just before dark, he hears footsteps crunching the paint chips on the warehouse floor.

“Hey,” he tries to yell, “over here!” His voice is barely a hiss, but it’s enough. A face appears, looking down at him.

“My God, what are you doing down there? Are you okay?”

“Help . . .”

“Hold tight,” says the man. He goes away and comes back a few moments later with an aluminum ladder, which he lowers into the pit. Although the boy has no strength to even stand, some secret reserve of adrenaline fuels his climb and helps him bear the pain of putting weight on his ruined ankle. In half a minute he’s out of the pit, throwing his arms around the stranger who saved him.

The man sits him down. “Here, have something to drink,” he says and hands the boy a water bottle. The boy guzzles it like it’s the only water in the world. “How long have you been down there?”

“Five days.” He gags as he tries to swallow the water, almost throwing it up, but he manages to keep it down.

The man kneels to him, shaking his head. “AWOL Unwinds are always getting themselves into trouble. You gotta be more careful.”

The boy shakes his head. “I’m not an Unwind.”

The man grins and nods knowingly. “Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all say. Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

Then the boy feels a sudden prick on his arm.

“Ouch!” He sees a drop of blood on his forearm, which the stranger collects with a small electronic device. “What are you doing?”

The man ignores him, looking at the readout of the device. The boy’s aunt is a diabetic, and she checks her blood sugar with something like it, but the boy suspects this device has a different purpose, although he’s not sure what that purpose is.

“Hmm,” says the man, raising an eyebrow, “it looks like you’re telling the truth. Your DNA doesn’t match any of the kids in the AWOL Unwind database.”

“Oh, I get it. You’re a Juvey-cop!” He’s relieved, because a Juvey-cop is safe. A Juvey-cop will take him home to his parents, who must be worried sick.

“Well . . . I was a Juvey-cop,” the man says, “but I’m no longer in that line of work.” Then he holds out his hand to shake. “The name’s Nelson. And you are?”

“Bennett, Bennett Garvin.” Only now that he’s had some water and some time does he focus enough attention to get a good look at Nelson. He’s unshaven, his nails are dirty, and it appears he hasn’t been taking good care of himself. But the most startling thing about him are his eyes. There’s a strange disconnected intensity about them that doesn’t match the rest of him. In fact, the eyes don’t even match each other. Two different shades of blue. It’s unnerving.

“Could you call my parents?” Bennett asks. “Let them know you’ve found me?”

The faint smile never leaves Nelson’s face. “Oh, I don’t think that will be happening today.”

Bennett doesn’t say anything as he struggles to grasp the situation—but having not eaten, and with the water not yet in his system, everything seems a little fuzzy.

“I can’t let you go now that you’ve seen me.” Then Nelson grabs him roughly, squeezing his arm, poking his side, and putting a dirty hand in Bennett’s mouth to check his teeth like a horse. “Aside from that nasty ankle, you’re a top-notch specimen. A little dehydrated, but nothing a few more water bottles won’t take care of. And the black market harvesters don’t care whether you’re an official Unwind or not—they pay just the same.”

“No!” Bennett tries to pull free, but he doesn’t have the strength. “Please don’t hurt me!”

Nelson laughs. “Hurt you? I wouldn’t think of it. The better your condition, the more you’ll be worth to me.”

“My parents have money. They’ll pay you.”

“I don’t do ransoms,” he tells him, “but I’ll tell you what—I like your eyes, they’re very expressive. And because I like your eyes, I’ll give you a fighting chance.” Nelson points to the entrance. “If you can get to the front door before I tranq you, I’ll let you go. Hell, I’ll even give you a ten-second head start.” He hauls Bennett to his feet. “Ready, set, go!”

Bennett does not need a second invitation. He takes off across the expanse of the warehouse, feeling dizzy, feeling like his feet won’t move. But somehow, he makes them go.

“One!”

His ankle throbs, but he ignores it. His lungs ache, but he doesn’t care. He knows this is life and death. The pain is only temporary.