Leon woke up groggy and sprawled out on a green army cot. His mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton and his head was throbbing. At first he thought he was back at Marina's underground lair in Woodsburgh, NY.  As his eyes adjusted to the dim light. Marina was nowhere to be found. In her place were two rows of grimy boys who were also sleeping on cots. He thought he must be dreaming. He swung his legs around and hit the cot next to him disturbing his husky bunkmate.

The boy did not turn around. He grumbled, "Watch it Woods. You wake me up again and I'll kill you."

"Hey," Leon whispered. Taking a chance with his life he shook the cranky boy's shoulder. "Hey, where am I? How'd I get in here?"

"Just like the rest of us," was all the scar-covered boy would say.

Leon panicked. "Come on man. I don't remember coming here. I didn't enlist for this place."

The boy turned over and faced Leon. "Man, none of us enlisted. It's just how it is. Now would you shut the f— up? If the sergeant hears you we'll both be tortured."

Tortured? This joker had better be lying. "Are you kidding me man? Tortured? You mean like cleaning the latrines with a toothbrush right?"

"What latrines? We piss into buckets around here fool." The stocky boy rolled away from Leon and shut his eyes.

Okay now he's just being mean. Leon jostled the boy, "Hey, HEY, what's your name?"

Finally, his bunk-mate turned over. It would be his only act of compassion that month. "Look Woods I know you're scared outta your mind right now. You were probably asking directions, or wandering around on your own in the middle of the night..."

Mumbling to himself Leon remembered, "I was out looking for Izzy. And yes, I did stop and ask a military officer if he knew where the Towering Hills apartment building was. That's all I remember."

"This is how it usually goes down..." The solid boy with too many keloid scars continued, "A legit looking officer asks to see your ID. Whether you have any or not makes no difference. Before you know it, he sticks you in the neck with something sharp and BOOM you go down like a dead horse. Then they drag your stupid fool behind in here. Welcome to hell my brother."

Leon felt his neck. It still stung from the needle. Knowing the strict laws prohibiting swearing he asked, "Are we allowed to say," he whispered, "hell?

"No idiot." Spite sat up asked asked threateningly, "You gonna RAD me?"

Sensing RAD being a bad thing Leon stammered, What? Me... RAD you? No... no way!"

Spite sat up, "You don't even know what RAD means do you?"

Leon looked lost.

Spite chuckled, "Are you from earth—or having been living underground your whole life?"

Leon sighed, "The second one."

"Wow..."  Out of a small sense of pity, Spite explained, "RAD stands for, 'report all defectors. And the actual name for this dump is, Unity Camp. Sounds kinda nice don't it?" Without waiting for a reply the cranky boy added, "Well it ain't. Your lesson has concluded so shut the f—up."

"You didn't tell me your name." Leon needed a friend in this place even if it was in heck.

"It's Spite. "

Leon didn't like the sound of his new "friend's" nickname so he pressed further, "What's your real name?"

"Spite is my real name, Spite Jones." In a hoarse voice, he rattled on, as if he'd told this story dozens of times. He had. "My mama said she named me Spite 'cause that's how she ended up preggers with me--outta spite. After my daddy had an affair with some cocktail waitress, my mama went out and got herself knocked up by the first man that'd have her. I was a conception of spite."

And I thought my childhood was rough. "Look Spite, I'm Leon Woods and I've gotta get outta here. I don't belong in this place."

"But we all belong my brother. That's the point of Unity Camp. 'One mind for the common good' or some s— like that."

Leon sized up the room. There were forty cots filled with boys from about twelve to seventeen years old. He listened carefully and heard snoring, coughing, scratching and crying. "Who's crying?"

"Oh that's Murphy. He cries all night. You'll get used to it."

Leon didn't want to get used to any of it. He planned on escaping before sunup.

Desperately he tried remembering what had happened right before he ended up in Camp Hell. The drugs were strong and his mind was still fuzzy. The only thing coming into focus was a recollection that he'd sent Nana back to their secret hatch under the ashes that once were "The Wood's Shoppe." Building your mind through books. They had decided it wasn't safe to keep all nineteen copies of The Book in one place. They divided them up and went there separate ways. Marina took ten copies and put nine in his duffle bag. He panicked, "Oh no my bag! Where are the books?"

"Hey Spite!" Leon crouched down by his bunkmate's cot. "Where's my stuff?"

"Under your cot. And don't you ask me another d—question. I've become used to living up to my name. If you wake me up again—I'll kill you for spite."

Leon believed his cellmate and began digging around under his cot. My duffle bag! It's empty! Like a crazed lunatic, he clawed at his bag. There was nothing inside except for a can of peaches. "Man, I hate peaches!" All nine copies of The Book were gone. Spite had mentioned torture as punishment for merely whispering after lights out. Leon wondered what his penalty would be for harboring forbidden books. Slowly a mischievous grin spread across his cheeky face. Nana and her secret compartments! He began rummaging through the bag and there it was. She had sewn a single copy inside the lining. I love that sneaky woman! Leon remembered something else Nana had taught him. 'The best place to hide something is out in the open.'

Leon's head felt cold. Slowly he reached up and touched his freshly shaven head. "No! NO! Not my 'fro!" Revelry sounded. He shoved his duffle bag under his cot and stood at attention.

----

Alfred meandered through the dark tunnels. His compact flashlight led the way. "Come on kids we have to keep moving." He had eight misfit Tunnel children with him.

"We're tired Grandpa," said an adorable little girl with missing hands and curly red hair. Her name was Nissa and she had never known her real grandpa. She found Alfred to be the perfect substitute.

"How old are you Nissa?" Alfred asked trying to distract her.

"I don't know. My mommy never told me. I asked her once but all she did was cry." She pushed her deep red curls out of her eyes with her stub.

"Well I have two granddaughters..." Alfred silently prayed the Author was keeping them safe. "They were about your size when they were five. So how about we say you're five?"

Nissa picked up the pace. She liked the idea of being five very much. "So when was I born Grandpa?"

Alfred stopped walking and looked into the little girl's sparkling green eyes. He asked, "You don't know your birthday either?"

"No like I said, mommy just cried a lot..."

Alfred lifted up the small child and placed her upon his shoulders. "How about today? Today is your birthday." 

"Yippee!" In a sing-song voice she sang, "Today is my birthday, today is my birthday! I'm five years old!"

Nissa continued the chant until all the children joined her in singing the new Happy Birthday song. They skipped along while repeating, "Today is Nissa's birthday... She's five years old..." It reminded Alfred of being on a school bus when he was a boy. No more buses, no more birthdays? Things have got to change.

"May we have some magic cake for my birthday?Pweese?" Nissa asked. She'd never had anything that tasted like juicy strawberries and fresh cream. She licked her naturally pink lips.

"I'm sure we'll have a special treat when we find the girls." Alfred hated to get Nissa's hopes up but he was at a loss for words. He hoped Izzy and Bell were all right. I must have trust. It must not waver. A seven-year-old little boy with bad burn scars on half his face ran up and grabbed Alfred's hand. He could only see out of one gorgeous green eye. His hair was pin straight copper orange and stuck up all over the place. Alfred wondered if Nissa and the Coppertop were brother and sister. He didn't ask. What did it matter? They were all family now.

---
-end of chapter 2-

Author's note: are you enjoying the sequel? I hope you've read part one titled: "The Wasting." If not please go back and read it. It's a fast/fun read. Please remember to add these books to your library and vote and comment. Whoever votes on my stuff or comments I try to do likewise.