The Terminals by Royce Scott Buckingham Read Free Book Online Page B

threw it in your face?” Ari chuckled.
    Donnie shot the smaller boy a menacing look. “No honor, Steiny,” Donnie said. “I gave him a break. But it won’t happen again.”
    â€œThere is no honor in the individual struggle here,” Ward interrupted. “Only in serving the collective good.”
    â€œSo I failed?” Cam asked, though it seemed obvious.
    â€œClean up and meet the rest of us up at the bunker. You’ll find what you need in your condo.” Ward turned and walked off down the beach without answering the question.
    The others followed, with the exception of the girl with exaggerated features, who walked to Ari’s side.
    â€œWhy did that Donnie guy call you Steiny?” Cam asked.
    â€œBecause he’s stuck in the a-hole stage of grief?”
    The girl blushed and giggled. Cam raised an eyebrow. Little Ari had a mouth on him.
    â€œHe’s a true believer,” big eyes added.
    â€œHe wants to be a Ward clone. Takes honor, duty, and the mission a little too seriously,” Ari said, seeing that Cam needed further explanation. “But you definitely want him on your side in a fight.”
    â€œIs your last name Stein then?”
    â€œNo. We aren’t allowed to tell each other our last names here. ‘Steiny’ seems to be the numbskullian term for someone who is both Jewish and smart as a physicist.”
    â€œAri has an extremely high IQ,” the girl said with a hint of admiration.
    â€œAnd you have multiple abrasions and contusions, my friend,” Ari added, shrugging off the compliment. “C’mon, let’s get you some first aid.” As he spoke, Ari traced Cam’s parachuting injuries with his finger to where the bruising and swelling from the padded pole were already starting. He tilted Cam’s head to look at the red welts on his neck. “And some second aid. This is Jules, by the way.”
    The girl leaped forward and grabbed Cam’s arm, shaking it for a moment before realizing it was limp. She awkwardly dropped it. “Sorry!”
    â€œIt’s okay. Nice to meet you, Jules, assuming you weren’t one of the people trying to whack me.”
    â€œOh no,” she said quickly. “Calliope and I sat this one out. I did take out Owen once, though. Not really. Tagged him, I mean. It was a melee—all of us in a ring carrying sticks with red paint on the ends. We never did anything like this back in Pine Bluff.”
    â€œI thought we weren’t supposed to tell each other where we’re from.”
    â€œJules, you talk too much,” Ari said.
    Jules rolled her bulbous eyes. “Like my accent doesn’t give it away already.” It was true. The twang in her voice obviously had been cultivated in Arkansas or thereabouts, though there would have been no way to guess Pine Bluff.
    â€œInside, Cam.” Ari pulled Cam toward the condo. “You really do look like hell.”
    The hut was small and amazing. Its furnishings were nautical-sized, designed for tight spaces, but of high quality. Two narrow mattresses on planks were suspended from the ceiling. Ladders of nylon rope and dowels dangled from them for access. A small wooden desk sat beneath each. Atop the desks were pencils and hand-sized notebooks with waterproof plastic covers that would fit in a pocket. No computers, Cam noted. Two footlockers contained clothes—Tec-light water-repellent shirts and a jacket. Expensive. All camouflage or black. Heavy pants and light leggings. Boots and slip-on tennis shoes. No Velcro—it made too much noise if you needed to slide your sneaks off in a stealth situation, Ari explained.
    Ari and Jules tended to Cam with a small, portable first-aid kit. They were quick and efficient, obviously trained and drilled. Ari even knew what to look for to determine if Cam had a concussion—he didn’t, it turned out. In addition to the cut on his face from his parachuting mishap,