Free Escape by Gordon Korman

Englishman went on cheerfully. “It’s not the shell that’s valuable; it’s what’s inside. I don’t know how to take that stuff out — but I’ll bet we can find somebody who does.”
    By the time he strolled out of the storeroom, JJ. was almost happy to be left with the country music stylings of Meaner.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
    Day 26, 6:40 a.m.
    Luke stood at the water’s edge watching the sky lighten as dawn broke. No plane, no boat, no helicopter — no JJ. Time had run out on the boy from California.
    He felt a twinge of guilt for all the times he and JJ. had locked horns. True, the kid was a flake. But a lot of Luke’s resentment had been envy. With Jonathan Lane’s money and connections, Luke would have been acquitted with an apology, not shipped off on Charting a New Course.
    He studied the sand at his feet. There was no reason to be jealous of JJ. now. The poor guy was probably dead.
    A light touch on his elbow. Luke jumped.
    Charla stood beside him, her eyes huge, “lan’s getting the stuff together.”
    Luke didn’t move. “I can’t shake the feeling that if I stand here longer, I’ll think of something we missed — something that means we don’t have to do this.”
    Soon the instruments were boiling in a pot, and the bandages were rolled and ready.
    Ian presented himself, paper-white. Lyssa was already crying silently. She sat cross-legged beside her unconscious brother, cradling his limp hand in both of hers. The beach was their operating theater; the sun provided their work light.
    First came a shot of fifty-six-year-old Novocain. Even though Will was unconscious, Ian had heard that the trauma of the operation could jolt him awake. That was unthinkable.
    They waited. Five minutes passed to allow the freezing to take effect.
    “Will that stuff even work after so long?” asked Lyssa in a whisper.
    Ian could not answer. It was just more evidence of how little they knew about what they were doing. In any other situation, they would be arrested and locked up for trying this on a living creature. How had things ever gotten to the point where this butchery was the only choice?
    And then it was time.
    Charla held out the tray of sterilized instruments. Ian reached for the scalpel, but couldn’t make his fingers work. His hand started to shake, and when Luke looked at him, he realized that it was the younger boy’s whole body that was trembling.
    Gently, he moved Ian aside. “I’ll do it.”
    When the sharp blade pierced the skin, Luke was amazed at how easy it was. It reminded him of slicing into an orange with an Exacto knife from art class. He looked anxiously at Will, expecting him to jump up screaming. But the patient slumbered on. He cut a neat slit about one inch long right through the center of the bullet hole. For a second he could see the thin red line. Then the blood oozed and spilled over.
    He fought through a moment of light-headedness and scolded himself inwardly. What did he expect — chocolate milk? Of course there was blood.
    Charla did her best to clean off the incision with a sterilized cloth ripped from fifty-six-year-old toweling.
    Luke put the scalpel back on the tray and picked up a pair of surgical tweezers. Grimacing in deep concentration, he inserted the instrument into the slit and began to probe around for the bullet. More blood. And resistance too. Since the tweezers couldn’t cut, moving it around was difficult.
    Panic bubbled up inside Luke. This was crazy! He couldn’t do this! They were nuts even to consider it! He pulled out the probe and dropped it onto the tray.
    “It’s no good/’ he managed to rasp.y/ l don’t feel anything!”
    “We can’t stop now!” sobbed Lyssa.
    “I’m hurting him!” Luke insisted hoarsely. “I don’t know what I’m doing in there! I might as well be using a pickax!”
    Ian spoke up in a shaky voice. “I saw a show once where the doctors made a second cut across the first one. Like an X.”
    And because lan’s TV knowledge had