The Treemakers (A YA Dystopian Scifi Romance Adventure) (29 page)

There’s a soft tapping behind me. Smudge peeks in, dressed in a black T-shirt and dark pants. She’s shed her hooded jacket, but her hat still protects
her head.

“Hey,”
I say.

“Can I
come in?”

“Yeah, of course. How’s
your room?”

“It’s great. Very
. . .
cozy.”

“Cozy is exactly the word I
was thinking.”

She sits on the bed next to me. “Are we meeting with
everyone later?”

“Yes. Once we get the youngers to sleep, we’re meeting down at
the beach.”

“It’s very interesting,” she says, “the dynamics among you all. I could observe you
for hours.”

I chuckle. “Funny, I feel the same way about you. Do you not have blood or something?” I whisper. “The nurse skipped you earlier
. . . .
”

“No, I do. But I require an alternate form of medical treatment, which also addresses the mechanical side of my make-up.”

Shuffling sounds by the door. I look, but see no one. Then, I place a finger to my lips, and
Smudge nods.

“Baby Lou’s tired,” I say. “I’m going to get her to sleep, then I’ll meet you in your room. Can you let all of the youngers know it’s time for bed? Have Aby help, if you need to. But I’m sure they’ll be tired enough to go to sleep without
much trouble.”

“You’re probably right.” Smudge rises from the bed. “I’ll take care
of it.”

“
Thank you.”

She disappears out into the hallway, then comes back into view. “Would you like me to close
the door?”

“If
you would.”

Softly, she closes the door, leaving us in
the stillness.

I draw the lavender curtains closed and turn off the light. A tiny bulb protrudes from an outlet, illuminating just enough to see what I’m doing as I pull back the covers and lay Baby Lou down. She takes a sip from a fresh bottle of water—one Ms. Ruby brought from the kitchen—then stops to have a good yawn. I tuck Millie into her arms, and crawl in bed beside her. She yawns again, and I kiss
her cheek.

“I love you,
my baby.”

“Ma?” she says, batting at my lips. “
Ma ma?”

I nod, choking back a sob. “Yes, Baby Louanne. I’m your momma. And I love you. And we’re
safe now.”

“Ma ma ma ma,” she jabbers, then yawns again and closes her eyes. I pet her head and hum as silent tears fall. Only a few hours in this place, and already she’s one hundred
percent better.

And this is the first time she’s ever called
me momma.

Another tap on the door, and Ms. Ruby tiptoes in with a strange machine on wheels. She plugs it in and a green light flashes, a motor hums, then she slips quietly to the side of my bed and leans down. “Oxygen,” she whispers. “You and Baby will have the best night of sleep you’ve ever had.” She pats my arm, and
I smile.

“Thank you,” I
whisper back.

She leaves the room without
a sound.

Oxygen.

Spilling into our room and our lungs as if it
were nothing.

I take a deep breath
. . . .

And smell the slightest hint of
. . .
citrus.

Baby Lou drifts off to sleep, but I lay there, frozen. The citrus smell fades, so it must have been my imagination. Still, something gnaws at me. Hard to place, but with that smell, a hidden fear beneath my intoxicated awe of Zentao bubbles to the surface of my mind. Its suffocating vice grips my lungs, making it hard
to breathe.

What
is it
?

I dig through my scattered thoughts, looking for answers. I’ve been through a lot. This could be residual paranoia. I take in a few slow, deep breaths. Maybe it’s because I suspect it isn’t all over yet. In the morning, we’re leaving this perfect place, going back to Bygonne. I might never see my Baby Lou again. That could explain the feeling of something not
quite right.

When I’m sure she’s good and asleep, I lift Baby Lou from my bed and move her to the crib. Then, I tuck the blanket around her and Millie, and tiptoe to the oxygen machine, inspecting it for signs of being something other than what it’s supposed to be. Nothing. Of course, I’ve never seen an oxygen machine before, so how would I know
different anyway?

I settle with my paranoia, leave the room, and knock softly on Smudge’s door. She opens it a second later. “You ready?”
she whispers.

“Yeah, is everyone
in bed?”

“Yes. They were
. . .
exhausted. It didn’t take much convincing, like
you said.”

“I didn’t think it would. I need to let Serna know to listen for Baby Lou if she
wakes up.”

We go next door and knock. The murmurs on the other side stop, and the door creaks open. Vila peeks out. “Hey.”

“We’re going down to the beach,” I say. “
You coming?”

“Yeah. I was just asking Serna here to watch Tallulah while we go. Tallulah likes her, and she
seems reliable.”

“She’s very reliable,” I say, then I call in, “Serna, would you listen for Baby Lou while we’re gone, too? She’s two
doors down.”

“Sure,
no problem.”

“Thanks. We’ll be back in about
an hour.”

Together, we leave her doorway, and I head toward the end of the narrow hallway to Aby’s room, Smudge and Vila at a standstill
behind me.

“Where are you going?”
Smudge asks.

“To
get Aby.”

“Seriously?” Vila says. “That girl’
s unstable.”

“She isn’t the only one unstable around here,”
I mumble.

“Hey, I
heard that.”

We’re all unstable
. . .
in
some way
.

But Aby’s door is already open, her bed neatly made, without her
in it.

“I wonder where she is,” I say once I return to Smudge
and Vila.

“Probably already down on the beach,” Smudge says. “Maybe it was her we heard in the
hallway earlier.”

On our way down to the first floor, we cross paths with Ms. Ruby, who’s reading something from a rectangular board in her hands. She almost bumps
into us.

“Oh, excuse me,” she says. “Ms. Joy, I’m glad you’re down here. May I speak to
ya privately?”

I glance at Smudge and Vila, confused, before following Ms. Ruby into the medical wing corridor. A few feet down the hallway, she stops and, turning to face me, takes my hand. “I received all of your medical information from
Doctor Sullivan.”

“Is everyone okay? How were Baby Lou’
s tests?”

“Everyone’s fine. Other than a couple of slight asthma cases and anemia, and various other vitamin deficiencies in almost the whole group, there’s nothing life threatening. With fresh oxygen, breathing treatments for the asthma, iron and other vitamin supplements, everyone should be fully healthy within a couple
of weeks.”

The news is good, but her eyes show
something more.

“So, then
. . .
what’
s wrong?”

“Well
. . .
nothin’s
wrong
. . . .
”

“Then tell me what else you’
ve got.”

“Joy
. . .
you’
re pregnant.”

A sudden ringing in my ears soon becomes a whole-body numbness. “What?”
I whisper.

“It’s early. About a week, maybe two
. . . .
”

My heart pounds. “I need to go, my friends
are waiting—”

“Joy, perhaps you should tink about stayin’. Let your
friends go.”

“No. There’s no way. I have to go.” And I brush past her, returning to Smudge and Vila, shoving the information as far away from truth and reality
as possible.

“What’d she say?”
Vila asks.

I shrug. “Just that almost everyone needs vitamins, and a few have asthma. Other than that, everyone’s pretty healthy. It’s really
a miracle.”

“Hm. That’s good. Now let’s get outside. I’m claustrophobic in
this place.”

Vila disappears through the front lobby door, and I fidget, feeling Smudge’s gaze
on me.

“What is it?”
Smudge asks.

“Nothing.”

For a few seconds, she reads my face, and I know she calls my bluff, but she won’t pry. “Okay, Joy.” She smiles. “Let’s get outside, then.”

A flickering flame from far below on the beach catches our attention. A few faint figures sit around the fire, and another—Vila—heads
toward it.

“Is that them?”
I ask.

“Yes,”
says Smudge.

“You can see
that far?”

“I can see
. . .
farther. But, yes, I can. They’re
all there.”

We follow a winding trail down the slope, past sleepy, darkened huts and the bunker where we came in. There, Raffai leans against a post, talking to one of his young soldiers. He waves, and we wave back, and a minute later, we’re the last two to join our miniature army sitting around the fire. Aby and Jax sit, hip to hip, on a log facing the ocean, talking quietly. Maybe they’re righting things between themselves. My
stomach spins.

“Wow,” Mateo says, walking over to me. “You look
. . .
absolutely stunning.” He says it loudly, without any care for who
could hear.

Jax and Aby turn
to stare.

My face burns hot. “Thanks,” I manage
to say.

Mateo’s white cotton shirt hugs his sculpted chest and shoulders in all the right spots. His top half looks so good, I’m afraid to see the rest. “You look nice, too. Clean.” I grin, and he
returns it.

“Thanks. Saved you a seat.” He holds out a hand toward one of six giant log benches that surround
the fire.

“Are we allowed to
be here?”

“Yeah, Raffai said it would be fine if we
met here.”

“Hey, Smudge,” says Johnny, dressed all in black, hair slicked back. He’s left Old Jonesy’s hat in his room for the occasion, I guess. Good choice. Every time I see that hat, I envision the lonely corpse of that poor drunk left in the bunker. In fact, I could go the rest of my life without seeing that
hat again.

Smudge and Johnny take a seat on the log bench next to Jax and Aby, who turn around to face us, backs to the crashing waves. Mateo and I sit on the one next to Smudge and Johnny, while on our other side are Vila
and Emerson.

Emerson glances from face to face, briefly locking eyes with each of us. Then, after a few silent moments, he walks to the middle of the circle and throws his arms up in the air. “Paradise!” he yells into
the sky.

At this, we all smile. Even Aby. Her talk with Jax—whatever it was—seems to have
helped her.

“Right here, right now,” Emerson continues, “we’re a family. We’re
a team.”

“We’re a miniature army,”
I add.

He chuckles. “Yes. And in order for us to get back here, we all have to work together. This is possible. If it was possible for us to break into the Chamber, steal Pia, and then escape ourselves, it’s possible for us to get back in, rescue Pedro, and escape again. We have weapons, we have knowledge of the Subterrane’s layout, and the location of the Chamber
. . .
and we have an incentive to live—this.” And he
gestures around.

Then, he borrows Mateo’s walking stick and begins to scribble in the sand, describing to us the details of the Subterrane’s layout and how we’ll get in. Once it’s time to discuss tactics, Vila gives us all a
militia lesson.

Yet all I hear is:
Joy, you’
re pregnant
.

My mind wanders away from Vila’s rant about killing and not being killed, to my mother and the things she told my daddy when she thought I was asleep:
I wish I’d had her when I was younger, Richard. Just think, if I’d had her at seventeen, or even eighteen, I would’ve had twelve years with her! Why did we wait? Why?
Then, she’d cry so hard, it would start another coughing spell, ending in blood all over the place again. My daddy would clean it up and cry, too, telling her how sorry he was, that if only they could go back to do things over again
. . .
they’d have
more time.

But I don’t want that. I have my Baby. Actually, I have more babies than I can handle. And this? This is too much. It means Jax will be a father. He can hardly take care of himself, much less
a baby.

And what about Mateo? What will
he think?

And Aby?

My head spins, and I’m nauseated. Everything grows silent, and I realize Vila has sat down and everyone’s staring
at me.

“Well?” says Emerson. “What do you think? You want to add anything, Joy?”

“No, I’m fine,” I reply. “You two covered everything. We can discuss more in the morning before we leave, if we
need to.”

“Didn’t you hear?”
Mateo says.

“Oh, great.” Vila shakes her head. “Captain Princess over here wasn’t
even listening.”

“
Hear what?”

“We have to leave tonight,” Emerson says. “While everyone in the Subterrane is asleep. It’s the
best time.”

“Tonight?”

“We have to,” Jax says. “The longer we stay here, the more comfortable we’ll get, and the more we’ll forget what it’s like over there. And the easier it’ll be to forget
. . .
about Pedro.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I stand, “We don’t need to get too comfortable,” and glance down at my dress, flapping curls dancing in the night air. Definitely not rescue mission clothing. “I need to change and talk to Serna. And Ms. Ruby.”

“See if she has some dark clothing she can loan you,” Emerson says. “You too, Mat. We’ll need to blend into
the shadows.”

“
Got it.”

“And as soon as we’re all ready,” he adds, “we’ll meet in the lobby. Then, we’ll have Raffai let us back into the bunker
. . .
and out into
Bygonne again.”

§

When I ask Ms. Ruby for dark clothing to change into, her face sinks with sadness. Still, she nods, and disappears into a large closet by the
common area.

“Come and take what ya need, dears,” she
calls out.

Mateo and I leave Smudge in the lobby to join Ms. Ruby, while everyone else returns to their rooms to do last
minute things.

“I need to leave a message for Pia,” Mateo says. “Well, two, actually.”

In the closet, Ms. Ruby steps aside. “I’ll leave you two to find what ya need. I’ll be readin’ and havin’ a cup o’ tea in the
dining room.”

“Thank you,”
we say.

“You’re very welcome.” She strides down the hallway, takes a left into the
dining area.

“Why two messages?” I ask, skimming through a stack of pants. I unfold a pair of huge ones, riddled with holes, shake my head, then re-fold them and set them neatly back onto
the pile.

Mateo laughs. “We must be cute for the rescue mission, huh?”

“Well, or maybe not look like someone dug me up with
dinosaur bones.”

He laughs again. “Funny.”

After a bit more searching, we both find dark garments that
might fit.

“So, the messages?”
I say.

“Yeah. One for if we aren’t back yet when she wakes up in the morning, telling her I’ll be back soon. And one for
. . .
if we don’t
come back.”

“We’re coming back.
Before
she
wakes up.”

“But—”

“We’re coming back. We don’t have a choice. Okay?”

We stare into each other’s eyes before he nods, kisses my cheek. “Okay.”

On our way back to the front, we stop at the dining room doorway, where Ms. Ruby pauses from her reading. Her lips form a smile, but sorrow calls its bluff. “You’re leaving, then?”

“Yes. But we’ll be back in a
few hours.”

She sips at her teacup, nods, then rises slowly, coming over to us, gown waving behind her. “Please be careful. And come back soon. With
your brother.”

“We will,” I say. “But if we’re not back before they wake up
. . .
will you tell them we’ll be
back soon?”

Ms. Ruby hesitates, but nods again, slightly. “All right, dear.”

We leave her, heading toward the stairs, where everyone else waits, pacing, or fidgeting on the couch, or chatting nervously. Only Smudge seems completely calm and confident. I’d feel the same way if I were her,
I suppose.