Destination Unknown by Katherine Applegate Page A

Jobs on the back. “You have to put your brain into some other place. Stay happy and the Reaper can’t find you.”

    Despite himself Jobs laughed. “You just make this stuff up to fit the occasion, don’t you?”

    “Pretty much.”

    “So you’re scared?”

    “’Migo, I am seriously scared.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“I’LL COUNT TO TEN SO YOU’LL KNOW WHEN IT’S HAPPENING.”
     

    Jobs heard heated words coming from the main camp. Burroway’s loud, grating tone. Wylson Lefkowitz-Blake sounding imperious, but less sure of herself than before. Olga demanding.

    In a moment, though, Olga returned carrying the sword. For the first time Jobs looked closely at it. It was curved, almost a scythe. It was perhaps three feet long, very broad, the inside edge was ornate, decorated with cutouts and filigree. There was what might be writing all over the blade. The hilt was never meant for a human hand; it had a clumsy angle in the middle and was too short overall.

    “Here’s our scalpel,” Olga said dryly. “The edge seems quite sharp. I suggest the cut be made about eight inches above the knee. That won’t leave him much of a leg, but we have to remove all the affectedportion of the limb. There’s no point doing this unless we do it right.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know that I have the strength to handle this thing, or the eye-hand coordination.”

    “I can do it,” Jobs said.

    Olga nodded. “Okay. Romeo? Take Mr. Weir’s shoulders, hold him down, don’t let him jerk free. I’ll try to hold his other leg, I’ll sit on it, I guess. Miss Blake, you stand ready with the ‘thread.’ Jobs, you know what to do.”

    When Mo’Steel and his mother were in place, Violet Blake spoke to Big Bill. “Mr. Weir, we’re going to amputate your leg and try to save you. I’ll count to ten so you’ll know when it’s happening.” She turned away and mouthed the words On three to Jobs.

    He understood. Big Bill would think he had another seven seconds before he needed to panic or try to break free.

    “One . . .” Violet said.

    Jobs felt an urgent need to throw up. Later, he told himself. Throw up later.

    “Two . . .”

    Jobs raised the sword.

    “Three . . .”

    Jobs took careful aim and brought the sword down with all his might.

    Jobs breathed.

    Mo’Steel stood up and kicked the detached limb away.

    Violet Blake moved in to begin suturing the wound. Then she began to scream. She leaped to her feet. She held her right hand out before her, screaming at it.

    Jobs saw the worm as it drilled its way down into her index finger. Mo’Steel bounded across the prostrate man and grabbed Violet’s wrist. He closed his strong hand around her fingers, leaving only the index finger extended.

    “Jobs!” he yelled.

    Jobs swung the sword on pure reflex. The blade stopped less than an inch from Mo’Steel’s face.

    Mo’Steel hauled Violet back and threw her violently into the grass. Jobs yanked Olga to her feet and dragged her away.

    Big Bill cried piteously, quietly, “Oh, god, oh, god, it’s still here. I can feel it. I can feel it,” just before he lost consciousness.

    Olga snatched a branch from the fire and blew out the flame leaving only an ember at the tip. Shetold her son, “Hold her hand. Hold it still,” and quickly pressed the coal-hot tip to the stump of Violet Blake’s finger.

    Violet screamed and fainted, and Jobs missed catching her. She slumped to the ground.

    “Back away, back away,” Jobs yelled.

    They dragged Violet with them, dragged her through the grass and stopped only when they were twenty yards from the hysterical, now-awake Bill Weir.

    And then, from the main camp came a new sound, like nothing Jobs had ever heard, a collective moan, a cry of fear and disbelief.

    Outlined against the fire a dark form seemed to float through the air. Human? No human moved like that.

    And yet with growing dread Jobs realized that he recognized the form, knew what face he