The Treemakers (A YA Dystopian Scifi Romance Adventure) (20 page)

“We escaped,” I say. “There was an
. . .
accident. An explosion. We barely made it out alive with
the children.”

“Children?” the boy says. “Was that the screaming we heard coming from
the kitchen?”

Johnny gives me a look of warning, but the boy’s kindness makes me want to trust him. Not so much the girl. Him, I trust, though.

“Yes. Over thirty of us altogether. Two from our group disappeared. That’s who we’re searching for now. Our youngest is only a year-and-a-
half old.”

They glance at each other, then back to us, and the boy emerges from the leaves, holding out his hand. “Emerson.” I shake it, and he offers me a warm smile. “That’s Vila. There are two more of us. We’ll introduce them to
you shortly.”

“Where are you from?”
Johnny asks.

“Northeast Subterrane. We escaped from there just
last week.”

“Why?”
I ask.

“
Long story.”

“Where are the other two?” Johnny’s eyes dart around. “Hiding in leaf-suits like you
two were?”

“None of your damn business,”
Vila spits.

“Vila, calm down,” says Emerson. “These people aren’t
the enemy.”

“We’ll see about that,” she mumbles, petting
her animal.

I study Tallulah. “For the longest time we thought the only animals left were rats,” I tell them. “Obviously, that’s not the case. How did you get that one to be
your pet?”

“I found her when she was a baby, near
the Subterrane.”

“Hey,” Johnny interrupts, “can we all get to know each other
after
we find Jax
and Aby?”

“Your friends went in there.” Emerson points to the dark doorway. “Well, we think, anyway. We heard crying earlier and came down to check it out. After a while, we heard screaming from the kitchen and figured there were a few more
of you.”

“What’s in there?”
I ask.

“The pool, and a few more rooms. Some sort of entertaining rooms, probably. They’re kind
of strange.”

“Come on,” Smudge says, “We have to find them—now.” She moves on through the darkness, while Johnny and I
follow her.

“We’ll wait for you out here,” Emerson says, “and
keep watch.”

The moment we step into the dark, everything lights up, and Smudge nods when I glance her way. Inside, the walls are mirrored, dotted with splotches of grime over a layer of dust, yet our reflections still ripple in them. The red-and-gold light fixtures with soft-yellow old-fashioned bulbs in them—the two that actually work—are so detailed and perfect, someone obviously put a lot of time into
making them.

When we leave the hallway, the light changes from red and yellow, to blue and deep purple in a room with shimmering walls. At first I’m confused, until I realize the light’s reflected from an enormous pool that fills most of the room, with tiny mirrors dotting the entire edge in a swirling wave. Greenery adorns certain sections, while two lights in the water illuminate flowing things beneath
the surface.

“Wow,”
says Johnny.

“Wow is right,”
I say.

Together, we spin slowly, taking it all in, until Johnny points to the wall beside the door where words had been beautifully painted in purple and blue, now chipping, and edged in thin lines
of gold.

“What does that say?”
he asks.

I clear my throat. “Whosoever immerses themselves in these waters shall have
eternal life.”

Johnny laughs. “All this stuff about living forever, and they’re all dead. Idiots.”

“This way.” Smudge leads us around the corner to another doorway already lit up, and into a sparkling dusty-gold hallway with ten, fancy red-
numbered doors.

“Shall we?”
I say.

Johnny nods and opens the first door to darkness. The light blinks on to shine over a neatly made bed with an ornamental covering. We move on to the next room, and the next, and the next. The first nine are all identical, and all empty. We stand before door number ten, and my chest heaves while a sickness sits in my gut like rotten slop. Johnny goes for
the door.

“No,” I say. “Let me.” I twist the knob, and Smudge turns on
the light.

And there they are, startling awake in each other’
s arms.

I pivot around, fight back rage, and Smudge turns off
the light.

“Um
. . .
you guys might want to get up,” Johnny says to Jax
and Aby.

Cursing and heavy breathing cuts through the darkness as they scramble to put themselves back together again. “What are you doing here?”
Jax mutters.

Something snaps inside me. I spin back around. “What are we doing here?” I yell. “While you two were ‘comforting’ each other, a boy died! And we’ve left the children alone with kitchen utensils to protect themselves so we could hunt you down! So what are you doing here?” Light from the hallway shines onto their
guilty faces.

“Could we
. . .
turn the light on?” Aby says softly. “I can’t find my
other boot.”

I flip on the light switch, shining truth down onto the messy bed. Tears fill my eyes, and I push my way past Johnny and Smudge, back through the pool room, to the fancy corridor. When I emerge through the entrance doorway, Emerson and Vila are still waiting in the same spot—Emerson, concerned; Vila, amused.

“Trouble in Lovetown?” Vila snickers, crossing her arms, and I want to rip her to shreds. Instead, my tears betray my strength, and stream down
my face.

“Ah, honey
. . . .
” Emerson plucks handfuls of leaves from his camouflaged suit, then pulls me to his chest and squeezes tight, like he’s known me all of his life. “Love is heartache, sister. Ain’t nothin’ easy
about it.”

“Thank you.” I wipe my eyes, push away from him to gather my shattered heart from the floor. “I’ll
be fine.”

Footsteps approach from down the hallway, and I take a deep breath, see Vila’s pet twitch in
my peripheral.

“Is that thing safe around children?”
I ask.

“Yeah, once she gets to know you,” Emerson says. “I’m sorry she jumped out at you. She was just protecting—” His eyes focus behind me as Johnny, Smudge, Jax, and Aby come through
the doorway.

Jax grips his spear. “Who
are they?”

“That’s Emerson.” Johnny points. “That’s Vila, and Ta
. . .
Ta—”

“Tallulah,” Vila finishes. “And she’s hungry. Come on Em, we need to
get back.”

“Did I hear you say someone died?” Emerson
asks me.

“A twelve-year-old boy.” I glance at Jax. “Some giant cockroach sucked his brains out through
his skull.”

“Bloodbugs,” Emerson mumbles. “Yep. Hate those damned things. You have to clear the vines out of the room before you go to sleep, because they get up in there
and hide—”

“Why are you talking to them like they’re welcome here?” Vila demands. “This is
our place.”

“No, it isn’t.” Emerson holds a stiff finger in the air. “They found it, just like we did. They’re welcome to stay as long as they damn
well please.”

“Whatever.” She retreats with a sigh. “I’ll
be upstairs.”

“You stay upstairs?”
I ask.

“Yeah, second floor. Well, technically it’s forty-four, but
. . .
second floor’s easier to say.” He winks. “Anyway, there’s less greenery and things for critters to hide in up there. You’re welcome to bring the children up. It’s safer. We’ve cleared the greenery out of a few rooms for ourselves, but we can clear a few more. Doesn’t take long at all. Plenty of room for
your group.”

“Thanks,” I say, “but we won’t be here
for long.”

“Where’re
you headed?”

I look over at Smudge for permission
to tell.

“I’m taking them down the river,” she explains, “to meet a friend of mine from the Other Side. From there, we may head under The Wall
with him.”

“The Other Side?” he says. And when I think he’ll ask if his group can come along, he adds, “Why on Earth would you want to
go there?”

“Why wouldn’t we?”
I ask.

“From what I’ve heard, things aren’t much
different there.”

“Things are very different there,”
says Smudge.

“Why do you say that?” I
ask Emerson.

“Well, we’ve heard some stories
. . .
hard to say what’s rumors though.” He shrugs. “I don’t know, I suppose it might be worth it to check
it out.”

“What kind
of stories?”

“Em, you comin’?” Vila calls down from the
second floor.

He waves a hand in the air. “Yeah, V, gimme a minute.” He plucks a remaining leaf from a buttonhole in his shirt, then looks back at me. “Never mind. You never know at the Subterrane. Sometimes things get passed around to scare people so they don’t revolt. At least, that’s what we think, anyway. I probably shouldn’t put so much weight on them. If your friend says it’s the place to go, then I’d
trust her.”

I scrutinize him for a moment, struggling to quell my curiosity. “Okay, well
. . .
we’re going to get back to the children,” I say. “Mind if we come
up soon?”

“Not
at all.”

“But what about
. . .
her?”

“Vila?” He scoffs. “Oh, she’s a little rough around the edges, sure, but
. . .
kinda like Tallulah, once you get to know her, she’s
a sweetheart.”

“A sweetheart,” Johnny says with a smirk. “Right.”

“We’ll be up there soon,” I say. “Once we get
everyone together.”

Emerson nods and, gripping his knife, jogs up the stairs. I start back toward the kitchen, deciding it best to pretend Aby and Jax don’t exist. At least until I can wrap my mind
around things.

“Joy?” A soft hand grips my arm, a voice now razor-sharp, when once it was a
healing balm.

I yank my arm away, fighting
against tears.

“Please, Joy,” she begs. “I’m so sorry. It’s just
. . .
Miguel—”

I spin around—a world of pain on a tiny, fractured axis—and glare at her. “So you thought you’d have your way with Jax to make things all better? Well, nice going. Because now, not only have we all lost Miguel, but you and I—we’ve also lost a sister.” I turn my back on her, adding over my shoulder, “Oh, but that’s okay. Because now you have yourself a nice replacement for me
and
Miguel.”

“Joy, stop it,” says Jax. “It wasn’t her fault. We were just talking and
. . .
one thing led
to another.”

“It takes two, you know,” I tell them. “It was both of you. Hers, as well as your fault, Jax. And you’ve done a great job of splitting us down the middle. What a fine example for the children to follow. Hey, with any luck, all of them will grow up to be just like you two, tearing apart the hearts of everyone they meet, like paper. Because—who cares, right? We’re all gonna die young, so why not go out with a bang?” My last words sting as I stare into Jax’s eyes, a goodbye. Because I’ll never let him
in again.

“Oh, and Aby”—I dig into my pocket—“you might want this back.” I extract her father’s knife and place it in her hand, knowing it’s the best, and worst, possible revenge. At that moment, there’s not a spec of guilt anywhere in sight. Aby holds the knife in a shaky, outstretched hand, afraid at first to bring it in close. Then, she cracks and begins to weep, hugging it to her chest. And I hope it hurts. Right now, at least,
I do.

“Johnny, Smudge.” I whirl around, my invisible magic cloak sweeps the pain into nothingness. “Let’s get the children ready to meet our
new friends.”

§

I knock three times on the kitchen door, and the boy with the crossbow answers. “Thank goodness,” he says. “Where
were they?”

“They were
. . .
exploring. They’
re fine.”

Best not to bring the troubles of love-gone-wrong into their lives. They’re already faced with defending themselves from monsters and mammoth, brain-eating cockroaches with kitchen utensils. They don’t need anything else to worry about. But the split’s obvious—Johnny, Smudge, and I walk in first, with Aby and Jax trailing guiltily behind us. The older children can see it like a spark in the dark, I’
m sure.

I find Serna, and kiss Baby Lou’s cheek. Then, I kneel down to Chloe and take her hands. “Thank you for
being brave.”

She nods, still clutching her
wire whisk.

I move in front of the group, while Jax stands off to the side, leaning against the wall to stare at the boy whose death he’s partially responsible for. Jax, the one I might have loved just hours ago, seems so much smaller and weaker. Fallen. Aby, too. Maybe they’re meant for each other, because I won’t be that. I refuse to fall. I’m flying from this place, like my daddy always said I would, and I’m taking my brothers and sisters
with me.

“We met some people,”
I announce.

“Out there?”
someone asks.

“Yes. Two people. Our age. And there’re two more. They’ve cleared a few rooms on the second floor, and they’ve invited
us up.”

Even before I get the last word out, everyone’s picking up their bags and blankets and moving toward
the door.

“Wait.” I hold up my hands. “So we’re all clear: as soon as the sun comes up tomorrow, we’re leaving here with Smudge. We’ll be meeting her friend, Raffai, and hopefully get to the
Other Side.”

The room erupts in a mix of cheers and murmurs
of disdain.

“I know,” I say, “but we don’t have a choice. The only way to get anywhere completely safe is to go back out there.” The words sink in for a moment before I continue. “We’ll be sleeping upstairs tonight as guests, so everyone, please, be polite and gracious in their letting us stay
with them.”

Once we’ve gotten everything packed up, the pots and pans and most of the utensils put away, we line up at the door. Chloe won’t let go of her weapon, though, and possibly never
will again.

“Can I keep it, Momma Joy?”
she asks.

“Of course
you can.”

I take Baby Lou from Serna, change her, then wrap her up in a blanket and hold Chloe’s hand. Jax stands off to the side, while Aby drifts down the end of the line, alone.

“Johnny,” I instruct, “you guard the
front half.”

He takes his spot by
the door.

“And you”—I glance at Jax—“guard the back half with
the spear.”

He gives me a slight nod, eyes still swimming
in guilt.

“Okay,” I say to Johnny. “Open
the door.”

He reaches for the handle
. . .
right as someone knocks on the other side. “Hey, it’s me, Emerson. Thought you guys might need
an escort.”

Johnny opens the door to a freshly-dressed Emerson—tall and handsome, with chiseled features, like he was carved from wet wood. He smiles when he sees me, and it’s contagious, actually drawing up a sliver of
my own.

“That’s very kind of you,”
I say.

“Wow.” He surveys everyone, bright eyes bouncing from face to face and offering more of that smiling warmth. “Big group.” He tickles Baby Lou’s chin, and she giggles. First time I’ve heard her giggle in days. “What a cutie,”
he says.

“Bah.” Baby Lou reaches for him, wiggling
her fingers.

“I think she wants you, which is strange,” I say, “because she
. . .
well, she doesn’t
know you.”

“Ah well, come here, sweetie.” He holds out his hands and she goes straight to him, without hesitation, babbling and tugging at his black-collared shirt. “Yeah, Pia calls me Papa,” he says, chuckling.

“Pia?”

“You’ll meet her in a minute.” He glances down at Chloe. “She’s about your age, little missy. She’ll be excited to have a friend. She’s never had one her
age before.”

Chloe’s eyes light up. “Can we meet
her now?”

“Yep, she’s upstairs
on two.”

Chloe jumps up and down, and waves her whisk around, then stops. “Are the bugs
up there?”

“Not like
down here.”

“Everyone ready?” I ask, and everyone answers “yes”
in unison.

“All right, Emerson. Lead
the way.”

“You want the baby, or
the knife?”

“She seems happy with you, so
. . . .
”
I shrug.

Emerson slides the long silver knife out of his back pocket and hands it to me with a nod. “It’s
all yours.”

With Emerson holding Baby Lou, me with the knife and Chloe—whisk and doll in one hand, gripping my fingers tightly in her other—and Johnny with the crossbow at the front of the line, we all move swiftly to the stairs. The carpet, once a delicious, deep red-rose, is now a decrepit brownish-red where mold has feasted and microorganisms have festered for who knows how long. Stony bones of the steps peek out in spots, like flesh
burned away.

But time has been the only flame here; time, and light streaming in from the dome overhead, which now shines brightly with a glowing ball high above, and water that found a way through the path of destruction. What has been destroyed here, has also been brought to life. Same as the Treemakers
of Greenleigh.

Everything dies, yet, nothing’s ever
really dead.

I play with the possibility that Miguel’s spirit went to some Paradise in the Cosmos, as my daddy used to say. And he’ll meet Toby and Samurai there. They’ll swim amongst the galaxies, wade in the glow from an eternal sun, tossing star dust down upon the Earth for us to always remember them. I don’t know. But one thing I do know is: when we get to the Other Side—the real paradise here on Earth—I’m taking him, too—
all of them
—alive in
my mind.