The Treemakers (A YA Dystopian Scifi Romance Adventure) (15 page)

If she were down here, we’d
know it.

“Anybody have a clue where she might be?”
Johnny asks.

“No clue.” Jax holds up a hand, ears perking up in
the dark.

Johnny glances over at Miguel and me, and we both shake our heads. How would we? There’ve always been periods of Arianna Superior’s absence. Sometimes weeks; once, for a few months. Rumors that she was on the Other Side circulated as much as rumors that she was in the Far West Bygonne, or visiting the eastern cannibal tribe, and so on
. . . .

No, Arianna Superior has been an unsettling and unsolvable mystery since the beginning. Seems like ten lifetimes ago when she first came in with a group of fading vagabonds a couple of years before my mother got sick. I was fascinated by her white hair and wrinkled hands, and her eyes, a cloudy blue sky. Occasionally, she’d smile, though it appeared painful; one of those broken ones that pinches your heart and makes you wonder, even as a child, what made her so sad. And always, that inevitable break
. . .
it would happen someday; something would push her too far, and she’d snap in two on the inside. I didn’t have words back then, but I do now. Like nightfall after a toxic daytime storm, one day her eyes turned black and her broken smile
faded forever.

Soon after, Micah Greenleigh—the mayor for which our town was renamed—on his death bed handed her the keys to the Tree Factory. Then, everything changed. People grew ill, died younger. My daddy worked his fingers to the bloody bone for years without a day
of rest.

Only now am I seeing the smoke and mirrors here
. . . .
For how long has Arianna Superior been stashing aces? What secrets does she know, of Bygonne and the Other Side, the keys to our freedom—or
our demise?

“Transfer,” I say. “I wonder what she meant by that
. . . .
”

The warehouse comes into view, and the whispering of children in the dark is music to
my ears.

“I don’t know,” Jax says. “I’d feel a lot better if she were up there, sound asleep in her bed
right now.”

One at a time, we step through the broken doors of the warehouse, ducking through the silent wreckage and stirred-
up dust.

“How much time do we have left?”
Miguel asks.

“Maybe an hour and ten or fifteen minutes,” Jax says. “Hard
to say.”

“We’ll know when it happens,” says Johnny, “if your friend’s message
is right.”

At the storage room door, the older boy with the spear stands at attention, in the exact same spot we left him. I smile, and he salutes me. I salute back. “Any excitement while we
were gone?”

“None. But I have a feeling there might be some soon, now that you four are back.” He hands over the spear
and yawns.

Aby rushes past him and throws herself at Miguel. They hold each other tight, and only then do I relax a little more. Corpse woman might be missing, but at least we’re together and safe. Soon, we’ll have two fewer Superiors to
worry about.

“I’m thinking we should move,” Jax says. “No way to know for sure how powerful that blast
will be—”

“But the box is so small
. . . .
” I peek in at Baby Lou and most of the others asleep on the blankets, curled up
together comfortably.

“Doesn’t mean the blast will be,”
he says.

After another few seconds of thought, I make my decision. “No, we should stay and let them rest.” I tuck my daddy’s gloves down safely into my bag. “We have no idea what we’re doing next. We should use this time to plan. Plus, we need to make sure it goes off. If it doesn’t, we’ll have to go back and take care of them ourselves. If the explosion was dangerous to us, way over here, I think Smudge would’ve
warned us.”

Jax tugs a handful of hair, shaking his head. “Are you sure about this? We don’t even
know her—”

“She gave us food, water, and supplies. And weapons. And toys, for crying out loud! Why would she do that, if we couldn’t
trust her?”

Still, he shakes his head slowly with a sigh. “All right, you got me there
. . . .
”

“Let’s make ourselves comfortable and wait for the boom, then. We’ll sit here in the doorway and keep an eye
on things.”

“Wait for the boom,” Johnny repeats. “Intense.” He slides down the doorframe, resting cross-legged with his head against
the wood.

The rest of us join him to create a circle in
the doorway.

“Well?” Aby asks. “How’d it go? Did you get inside
their bunker?”

“Yeah,” says Miguel, “but Arianna wasn’t there. And we almost got caught by Mona, until Jax faked the most excellent Emmanuel impersonation I’ve ever heard in
my life.”

“Wow
. . . .
” She clasps Miguel’s hand between her own two. “Nice going, Jax.”

“Thanks.”

Jax lies down with his head in my lap, gazing up at me. I brush some hair from his face, trace the outline of his lips. “Soon, we’ll be in paradise,”
I say.

“You really think it’s a portal to the
Other Side?”

“Yes. I mean, I
. . .
I think
I do.”

Jax sighs, heavily this time, and again tugs at his hair. “I can’t even comprehend how that would
be possible.”

“I wish you people would explain this ‘portal to the Other Side’ thing,”
Johnny says.

Miguel’s eyes widen, then cloud over with confusion. “The smell
. . . .
” He stares off into nothingness, like his thoughts scampered away into
the dark.

“Yes?” I say. “The
smell what?”

Johnny grunts an irritated chuckle, and tosses a rock. “Am I here? I think I’m asking a question, but maybe I’m too idiotic to realize I’m not actually saying anything
. . .
?”

Jax puts up a hand to silence Johnny’s rant. “Hold on, let
him finish.”

“The smell,” Miguel begins again. “In the empty room I checked
. . .
it just occurred to me. The room was weird—no furniture or anything. Not like the rest of the bunker crammed with junk. Empty
. . .
and a little smoky
. . . .
”

“Okay, what’s so strange about that?”
Johnny asks.

“The smoke
. . .
smelled
like citrus.”

Jax and I make startled
eye contact.

“Are you sure?”
I ask.

“So what?” says Johnny. “Who cares if it smelled
like citrus?”

“Okay, Johnny, listen. I’ll give you the quick version
. . . .
” And Jax sits up, cross-legged, hands in his lap. “Twenty-two floors below us is a smoky room that smells like citrus. When you go inside, a bright light flashes, and suddenly you’re in a wooden hut overlooking the ocean. Real trees, blue sky, animals
. . .
paradise.”

“Get
outta here.”

“It’s true,” I say. “And the more I think about it, the more I believe it has to be the Other Side. Nothing else
makes sense.”

“And
that
makes sense?”
Jax says.

“None of it makes any damned sense to me.” Johnny tosses another pebble through the
open door.

“Why would it smell like that in Arianna Superior’s room?”
Miguel asks.

“Probably a coincidence,”
I say.

“You sure it was the same smell?”
Jax asks.

“
Pretty sure.”

“Ugh!” Jax yanks on another handful of hair. “None of this makes
any sense!”

“I don’t know
. . .
” Miguel says. “Maybe it was
a coincidence.”

“Maybe.” I search my mind for the words to describe what I’m thinking. “Or
. . .
maybe we can’t understand it. You know, because, well
. . .
imagine if an alien came to Earth from some distant galaxy—would it be able to comprehend
our world?”

“That depends,” Miguel says. “If they were smarter than us, then—”

“Okay, bad example. I mean, if we’ve never experienced something, or never been told or taught about it and don’t even have a clue that it exists, and suddenly we’re thrown into it, how likely is it to make
any sense?”

Jax scratches his head, furrows his brow. “So
. . .
okay, you think we should go back down to twenty-three? What happens if we can’t get there? Smudge said never to come back—what if we can’t even get down there? Or what if we do, and can’t get into the room? Or we go there, but come right back?
Then what?”

“Then, we search the bunkers until we find the trolley tunnels,” I say. “She wouldn’t help us escape and kill the Superiors if that was her intention, though. She’s obviously leading us to safety, otherwise she wouldn’t have manipulated the oxygen levels and turned the lights on, and
everything else.”

“How’d she do that?” Johnny asks. “She some kind of electrical wizard
or something?”

“I don’t know. But when we find her, maybe she’ll
tell us.”

For a while, we sit in silent contemplation, listening to the rhythmic breathing of the sleeping children—and a few snorers—until a roar-and-rumble above startles us. Shock waves roll through the walls and the floor and the ceiling, shaking the whole room and showering dirt and debris onto us. My heart beats a thousand miles an hour, sparked by the adrenaline surging its metallic fire through my veins. We jump up as the children are jolted awake by
the earthquake.

“Woo!”
Johnny yells.

Then, we’re all cheering, jumping around, celebrating. That boom was the snap of two more chains binding us to a life-long
miserable existence.

Baby Lou begins to cry from the noise and excitement. I scoop her up into my arms. “Shh, Baby, it’s okay. One step closer to freedom.” I rock her and Millie while the
celebration continues.

“Goodbye, Tree Factory!” Jax hollers into the air, along with the rest of the cries
of celebration.

But Chloe isn’t celebrating. Instead, she cradles her new doll in the corner, a sadness in her face. I sit down next to her, pulling her into my lap next to Baby Lou. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Did the noise
scare you?”

She shakes
her head.

“Well, then why are you sad? We don’t ever have to build trees for the Superiors again. Doesn’t that make
you happy?”

Still, she peers up at me with the eyes of a wounded angel. “Yes,” she says hesitantly. “But who’s gonna build
trees now?”

“Well
. . .
no one. At least not anywhere
around here.”

At this, she leans into my chest
and cries.

“Sweetie, what’s
the matter?”

“Now we won’t have any air to breathe, and we’re all gonna die, and
. . .
and I want my mommy!” Then, she cries and cries
. . .
more than she ever has before. Like she’s only now learned how to grieve for the parents she barely knew and will never remember. She was a surprise baby, born too late. Her mother was already
approaching thirty.

I hold her tight and let her cry, feeling somewhat foolish. How did I not consider this problem before a five-year-old did? What will become of Bygonne now, with no one left to build trees? Rumors once circulated of another Tree Factory somewhere, but no one knows if it actually exists. What’ll become of this place now? Have we unintentionally sealed the fate of certain death
for Bygonne?

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” I rock her and Baby Lou. “We’ll have air to breathe; we’re going to find paradise, like Billy, remember?”

She nods, rubbing a balled fist into a tired,
teary eye.

“You have to trust me now, okay?” I kiss her forehead, squeeze her and Baby Lou tight. “Momma Joy will take good care of you, and all of your brothers and sisters. I promise, I won’t let anything bad happen
to you.”

She has every right to be scared. All of us do. We’re sailing blindly through the dark, unsure if the light at the end of the tunnel is merely a mirage. And if we are stuck in Bygonne, we’ve destroyed our possibility of survival. If we don’t get out of here, we have less than a year
to live.

We find a few large backpacks in the supply crate, along with a first-aid kit and some peel-back cans of strange, edible goods. Paper labels with funny names like “Brussels Sprouts,” “Artichoke Hearts,” and “Garbanzo Beans” call us to a strange and delicious new world of tastes. There are even a few rolls of toilet tissue. Smudge thought
of everything.

We load up the bags and get seven older boys to carry them. The food and water we have will get us through the next twenty-four hours, at least. I peel a banana for Baby Lou and Chloe to share. They devour it in under a minute. They’ve never eaten anything but nutrient-fortified slop; everything you need to survive, minus the appeal. They’ve never been happier than they are right at this moment, yellowish-white mush and bliss spread across
their faces.

Jax slides an arm around my waist. “
What now?”

Smoke smell drifts down through
the ceiling.

“I need to make an announcement,” I say. “Aby, will you take
Baby Lou?”

“Sure.”

She puts Baby Lou on her hip, and I stand in the doorway. “Everyone listen up. Olders, find a younger buddy. You’ll be responsible for them from now until further notice. We’ll be walking through a lot of corridors and down a few flights of stairs. Help them if they need it. If they get tired, let one of us know, and we’ll stop the caravan to rest. I don’t want to stop too much, though, until we get to our next destination. It isn’
t far.”

Jax moves beside me. “There’s a box full of light sticks right over here.” He points to a crate beside the door. “Everyone take two. We don’t know if there’ll be light or not in
the corridors.”

Murmurs rise up as everyone shuffles around. Chloe tugs on my arm. “Will you be my buddy,
Momma Joy?”

“Of course.” I crack a light stick and hand it to her. “Shake this up real good, and help light the way
with me.”

Her eyes widen with excitement as she shakes the stick with two
tiny hands.

“Baby Lou needs changing before we go,”
Aby says.

“Okay, and if anyone else needs to use the washroom
. . .
well, there isn’t one. But any boys, follow Jax outside to the corridor across from us. Any girls, go with Aby to the storage room across from the warehouse, where we found the supplies. We’ll meet back here when everyone’s relieved, then we’ll
head out.”

I hand a toilet tissue roll to Jax, and a small group of boys follows him out the door. A larger group of girls gathers around Aby. She hands a whining Baby Lou back to me in exchange for a roll of tissue, then she leads the girls away to the secret
storage room.

“Johnny,” I say, “I need water and cloth. Be
my assistant.”

“Um
. . . .
”

“Come on, it’s fine. You don’t have to watch, just dig through that crate and find me a
thick shirt.”

“Gotcha.” He takes a bottle of water from his bag, then digs through the crate of
old clothes.

“Do you have anything to cut the
cloth with?”

“No.” He hands me the water, then holds up a gray shirt. “Will
this work?”

“Yeah, that’s probably thick enough.” I notice Miguel standing right outside the door. “Hey, Miguel?” I call over. “Hand me Aby’
s knife.”

He tosses me the closed knife, which I use to cut Baby Lou a diaper, then I get her cleaned up and swaddled in the fresh cloth. Her dress is filthy. She’s been wearing the same one for a
few days.

“Okay, now find me the smallest shirt you can,” I tell Johnny. “She needs a
new dress.”

Again he digs around for a few seconds, and Jax returns with
his group.

“How about this?” And Johnny holds up the ugliest shirt I’ve ever laid eyes on, a strange man’s face on the front and words printed
beneath it.

“Let
me see.”

He tosses me the shirt, which would fit me big, and I read aloud the words below the man’s face: “Only you can create a better future.” I flip it over to more words on the back. “Make your eternal sacrifice for Lord Daumier—before it’s too late! What does that mean?”
I mumble.

“No clue,” says Jax. “What a strange place this world was once, huh?”

“Yeah, definitely strange.” I replace Baby Lou’s dress with the huge shirt. It swallows her, but it’ll keep her warm and comfortable, and her
skin protected.

Aby and the girls return, giggling and gossiping. This is the most time any of them have ever spent with the boys, outside of working with them in the Tree Factory. Their heads are so in the clouds, they probably don’t even realize where we are, while they’re busy eyeing each other with flirty glances. It makes me happy, because even though we’re underground, we’re freer than we’ve
ever been.

I tie Baby Lou onto Serna’s back so I can spear something—or someone—easily, if necessary. She cries at first, but once I give her Millie and her bottle, she rubs her eyes and yawns. Our walking should put her right
to sleep.

“Everyone get with your buddy,” I say. “Chloe, next to me. Jax and I know the way, so we’ll lead. Johnny—you and Miguel take the rear with the other crossbow and protect us from the back. A few poles are left for any older boys who want to carry them for added protection,
if necessary.”

After everyone is situated in pairs with various weaponry, Jax and I start out of the storage room, Chloe between us. “Where are we going, Momma Joy?” She holds the light stick high, a noticeable fear in
her eyes.

“To find a friend. We have to walk for
a bit.”

“You have a friend
down here?”

“Yes.”

“What’s
her name?”

“Smudge.”

“Smudge? What kinda name is that? I never heard a name like
that before.”

“I’m not sure. We haven’t had much time to talk
to her.”

She stares off into the distance, her little mind contemplating big things. We pass through the busted warehouse doors behind Jax, who’s moved a few feet ahead and whips his crossbow, left, right, left, right, searching for
a target.

“Momma Joy?” Chloe
finally says.

“Yes, Chloe?”

“How come she’s your friend if you haven’t talked to
her much?”

“Chloe, honey, we’re going to have to save this conversation for another time, okay? Right now, I need to pay attention to where we’re going and what’s
around us.”

She lifts her light stick back up. “Okay.”

“Good girl. You’re a fantastic light-shiner,” I whisper, and she grins up
at me.

We follow Jax down the familiar corridors, yellow and green lights shining around every turn. Every oxygauge we pass ticks noisily, as if they hadn’t moved in years, but they tell the truth: miracles are occurring here, tonight. Illusion or not, Smudge somehow makes electricity happen
. . .
and air, and food, and weapons
. . .
and she’s nowhere around to take
the credit.

We forge on through the connecting tunnel between Bunkers A and B, and when we turn down the corridor that holds Old Jonesy’s stairwell, I jog a few quick steps forward and catch Jax’s arm. “We can’t take them over Old Jonesy,” I whisper. “They’ll
freak out.”

He stops, and the procession stops behind us. “What do you propose we do, then?”

“Whatcha talkin’ about, Momma Joy?”
Chloe asks.

I stare Jax down. He already knows what needs to
be done.

“Ugh.” He sighs. “Okay.” Then, he whistles down the corridor behind us. “Miguel, Johnny,
come here.”

“Someone has to stay out here with a crossbow,”
I add.

Johnny and Miguel make it to us. “What’s up?”
Johnny asks.

“You stay out here and guard everyone, Johnny. I have to take care of something in that stairwell with Joy and Miguel. We’ll be
right back.”

“What is it?”
Johnny asks.

“It’s nothing, man,”
Jax replies.

“Come on! You guys have been coming down here forever, and I never got to go one time. Let
me go.”

“How do you use that thing?” Miguel points to the crossbow. “Show me, and I’ll guard so
you can.”

After Johnny gives Miguel a quick lesson and I leave Chloe with Aby, I hand my spear to an older boy, then Jax, Johnny, and I head to the stairwell. Behind the closed door, I’m still surprised by the glow of green and yellow lights along the ceiling and walls, revealing Old Jonesy’s every
rotted detail.

Johnny
jumps back.

“This is Jonesy,” Jax says, chuckling. “Also known as ‘
Old Jonesy.’”

“It’s a
. . .
it’s a
. . .
”

“Corpse,” I finish. “And we need to move him so he doesn’t terrify
the children.”

“Where do we move him to?”
Jax asks.

“All the way down the six flights,” I say, “and put him in a corridor opposite the direction we’ll
be going.”

“Man, check out that hat.” Johnny crouches down next to Old Jonesy and snatches the hat from his skull. Dust flies as he gives it a few good swats. He removes his bandanna, stuffs it into his back pocket, and plops the hat onto his own head. “What do you think? Does it
suit me?”

“Well, Miguel has his boots,” I say, “so
why not?”

“Who’s going down backwards?”
Jax says.

“I will. Johnny, help Jax. That part will probably be heavier.” I stoop down to lift Old Jonesy by the ankles, careful not to touch the crispy, blackened flesh of his feet, and they take him under the arms. “One, two, three
. . . .
” We lift him up, and I’m surprised to find him so heavy, considering there’s so much of
him missing.

Five flights of stairs later, sweat trails down my spine, glistens on Jax’s and Johnny’s foreheads as we struggle with the weight. At the bottom of the fifth staircase, we let his body drop and catch
our breath.

“Dang,” says Johnny. “That’s one heavy dude. Imagine what he was like when he was alive? Must’ve been
a monster.”

Jax laughs, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “Yeah, man. Did you check out Miguel’s new boots? That Old Jonesy had some big feet
. . . .
”

“And you know what that means,” Johnny says, chuckling.

“You boys are incredible,” I say, shaking my head. “You don’t miss a beat, do you?” Taking a deep breath, I bend down again, gripping Old Jonesy’s pant legs. “Come on, we need
to hurry.”

Still amused, Jax and Johnny stoop down and lift him up. “Where to?”
Jax says.

I nod behind them, toward the corridor lit up with only green oxygen lights. The one behind me—the one we’ll head down with the children shortly—is lit with both those and the yellow bulbs-in-fixtures to illuminate our path. We’re definitely being led to the portal. No doubt in my
mind now.

We drop Old Jonesy around the corner of the next green-lit corridor, relieved to be rid of him, then jog back to the stairwell. We start up, out of breath, but keep a steady pace. Nervous excitement and adrenaline, as well as an obviously lighted path, are our motivation to push past
the fatigue.