Unwind: Part 2

Funny, but the Bill of Life was supposed to protect the sanctity of life. Instead it just made life cheap.

She chooses the home shrewdly. The house she decides on isn’t the largest, but it’s not the smallest, either. It has a very short walkway to the street, so she can get away quickly, and it’s overgrown with trees, so no one either inside or out will be able to see her as she storks the newborn.

She gingerly climbs the porch steps, careful not to make a sound, then kneels down, placing the sleeping baby on the welcome mat.

This excursion into a populated area is dangerous but necessary. Perhaps as the morning goes on they can find a library where they can download maps and find themselves a wilderness large enough to get lost in for good.

The woman spares a quick dismissive look at Connor. “First rule of motherhood, dearie: Men are screwups. Learn it now and you’ll be a whole lot happier.”

“Are you the father?”
“Me?” Connor looks flustered and cornered for a moment before he comes to his senses and says, “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

Risa wonders whether or not there’s a discreet way to check without Alexis seeing, but realizes there isn’t.

She tries to hear what they’re talking about but can’t hear anything beyond Alexis’s blathering.

His family was influential.

They were not to be trifled with.

“So, what happened to the baby?” Risa asks.
“By the time it landed on our doorstep again, it was sick. It was coughing like a seal and its skin and eyes were yellow.”
"Jaundice,” says Risa, gently.

He wonders if Lev will have some pronouncement on the topic—after all, when it comes to God, Lev claimed to have all the answers.

Most of the kids here are bigger than Lev. Imposing. Intimidating. This is how he always imagined high school—a dangerous place full of mystery and violent kids.

If he does it right, all three of them will be safely on their way to their unwinding, as it ought to be. As it was ordained to be.

Being torn from his purpose was the most unnerving thing that had ever happened to Lev, but now he understands why God let it happen.

It’s to show Lev what happens to children who shirk their destiny: They become lost in every possible way.

A minute later, Lev sits in the nurse’s office, with the nurse doting on him like he’s got a fever.

She looks at him, incredulous. “You mean, no one’s done that for you?”

This is so far from Lev’s image of Pastor Dan, he can’t believe it’s the same person he’s known all these years. It’s like an impostor has stolen the Pastor’s voice, but none of his convictions.

After all of his sermons and lectures, after all that talk year after year about Lev’s holy duty, it’s all been a sham. Lev was born to be tithed—and the man who convinced him this was a glorious and honorable fate doesn’t believe it.

The nurse is no longer standing at the door—she’s chiding the principal for how he’s handling this situation.

Teachers try their best to keep them organized, but this is a high school; the organized lines of elementary school fire drills are long gone, having been replaced by the brazen hormonal zigzags of kids whose bodies are too big for their own good.

Just to be thorough, she peeks in to make sure there are no stragglers, or kids trying to avoid the mass exodus.

She knows—she sees—how often compassion takes a back seat to expediency.

He’s a bit disheveled, having fought the raging rapids of kids still funneling out of the school.

Well, they don’t need to trust her now, they just need to go with her. In this case, necessity is the mother of compliance, and that’s just fine.

She blames herself for not seeing through Lev’s sham. How could she have been so naive to think he was truly on their side?

Most of the mob is off campus, in the street and beyond, disappearing down side streets. Only stragglers are left.

The baby is inconsolable, and Connor wants to complain to Risa about it, but knows that he can’t.

Mostly it’s kids from the high school just knocking around, probably spreading more rumors about clappers trying to detonate themselves.
“I hear they’re anarchists.”
“I hear it’s some weird religion.’’

He looks up at them, disinterested and maybe disgusted by the baby, because he wanders deeper into the recesses of the cluttered store to get away.

His frustration begins to ferment into anger. It’s the same kind of anger that always got him into trouble back home. It would cloud his judgment, making him lash out, getting into fights, cursing out teachers, or riding his skateboard wildly through busy intersections.

“It’s not the end of the world,” she grumbles. “Just the end of us.”
“You’re beautiful when you’re nihilistic,” says the smirker.

He figures the truth is the best way to begin even a tentative friendship.

When he listens closely, he can hear the tinny beat of music coming from the antique MP3 player Roland must have stolen from upstairs when he first arrived.

“Why do any parents sign the order? They just did, and the Juvey-cops came for him bright and early one morning. They snatch him, ship him off, and it’s over for him.—He’s unwound without a hitch.”

“You think this makes me a saint? Let me tell you, I’ve had a considerably long life, and I’ve done some pretty awful things, too.”

All her attention was given to her job, which was a formidable one, since there was only one nurse for every fifty babies.

“In a place like this you have to practice triage,” she told Risa, referring to how, in an emergency, a nurse had to choose which patients would get medical attention.

Her tone is intentionally indignant, as if the question itself offended her.