#combom

[saraplarvekitaplar]

Galatasaraylı olmanız bu dünyada size bahşedilmiş en büyük nimettir 💛❤

[unwindquotes]

At seven fifteen, the sun clears the mountains, heralding another scorcher, and the ComBom begins to roast. They manage to scrounge up a few water bottles, but not enough for fifteen kids who are already beginning to sweat out more than there is to take in. By eight o’clock, the temperature hits one hundred, and Hayden knows this can’t last. So he comes back to his favorite question, but this time it isn’t rhetorical.

“I want you all to listen to me and think about your answer to this,” he tells them. He waits until he’s sure he has all their attention, then says:

“Would you rather die . . . or would you rather be unwound?”

They all look to one another. Some put their heads in their hands. Some sob dry tears because they’re too dehydrated to cry. Hayden silently counts to twenty, asks the question again, then waits for the answers.

Esme, their best password-cracking hacker, is the first to break through the firewall of silence. “Die,” she says. “No question.”

And Nasim says, “Die.”

And Lizbeth says, “Die.”

And the answers start to come faster.

“Die.”

“Die.”

“Die.”

Everyone answers, and not a single one of them chooses unwinding.

- Neal Shusterman, Unwholly

[unwindquotes]

And so, as the temperature soars past 110 degrees, Hayden leans back against the bulkhead and does something he hasn’t done since he was little. He says the Lord’s Prayer. Funny how some things you never forget.

“Our father, who art in heaven . . .”

Tad and several others are quick to join in. “Hallowed be thy name . . .”

Nasim begins to recite an Islamic prayer, and Lizbeth covers her eyes, chanting the Shema in Hebrew. Death, they say, doesn’t just make all the world kin, it makes all religions one.

- Neal Shusterman, Unwholly

[versinator]

Combom csoroszlya

Csüggedetten lehelletem éjenként buzogány Öntözött közöttünk! megpendül birkozni Mentében népedet hozzájok kislyány Angyalokrul kitépem ujonnan kinozni

Arcul országgyüléshez pályáját akárhány Bátyja szállhatott éliről nyúzni Szemléllek elvirúlt kősziklákat virány Útmutatást szakadatlanúl! templomába béfejezni

Villámlanak hirmondónak vászonánál nyakunkat Csillag? fájdalmaimnak omoljanak tehetetlen! Viszálya bort! jégöledbe ostobáskodásokat

Méznél levevé mégcsak éretlen Bírjam könnyétől hánysz magunkat! Emlékezetét miljom jöttenek csüggedetlen

[unwindquotes]

“Tad’s dead, Hayden.”

Hayden closes his eyes. Once one goes, he knows the rest of them won’t be far behind. He looks at the machine machine gun next to him. It’s heavy. It’s loaded. He doesn’t even know if he can lift it anymore, but he does, and although he’s never used it, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. There’s a safety, easily removed. There’s a trigger.

He looks at the suffering kids around him, wondering where “machine-gun fire” falls on the list of bad ways to die. Certainly a quick death is better than a slow one. He considers his options a moment more, then says, “I’m sorry, guys. I’m sorry I failed you . . . but I can’t do this.”

Then he turns the machine gun toward the cockpit and blasts out the windshield, flooding the ComBom with cool, fresh air.

- Neal Shusterman, Unwholly

[therotanitsarcorp]

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[thetimelordwizard]

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[lovelylovelyruthie]

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