The Treemakers (A YA Dystopian Scifi Romance Adventure) Page 17

  “But won’t he . . . float?”

  “We’ll dock up at Gomorrah Grande and drop him in while we’re docked. Avert the children’s eyes. The body will be . . . devoured in seconds.”

  “De—devoured?”

  “Yes. The water is filled with Teuridons.”

  “With what?”

  “Smaller cousins of the Liopleurodon. They’ve been here since the prehistoric era.”

  “Awesome,” says Johnny, pumping his crossbow in the air. “Do they taste good?”

  “You would not be able to catch one to eat it. They are half the size of this boat, with jagged teeth a meter long.”

  “Well, damn. I guess we definitely don’t want to fall in, then, do we?”

  “No,” she says. “Definitely not.”

  “So, this river has been here since the prehistoric era?” I ask.

  “Yes. It was untouched by humans for millions of years. Until recently.”

  “How’s that even possible?” I say. “I mean, that before there was light down here, there was life. And what about oxygen?”

  “Some things cannot be easily explained or understood. Certain creatures and other life forms do not need light or perfect air to survive. They . . . adapt over time.”

  “That’s amazing,” Johnny says. “Who would’ve ever thought all this was down here?”

  “Yes,” says Smudge, “it is . . . very amazing.”

  §

  With the sun fully risen, the dark forest has become a lush green jungle, where I expect a man in a loincloth to swing from a tree at any minute, like in the book my daddy read over and over to me when I was younger. “Oh to be free,” he’d mumble, closing the tattered thing and placing it back onto the bedside table.

  I don’t think this would’ve been his idea of freedom, though, had he experienced it firsthand. What kind of freedom is hiding from bloodthirsty prehistoric monsters who want to gnash you to bits?

  I peek through the doorway to check on Aby, who’s now awake, and Jax, sitting in the boat’s back corner. Occasionally, their whispering floats to the front, laced with hostility and mourning. When I meet their eyes, they look away.

  “They ain’t too happy with you, are they?” Johnny says in a low voice.

  I shake my head. It’s true. They’ve obviously drawn a line between us, with me on the opposing side. But I can’t find it in me to care as much as maybe I should. Their out-of-control emotions make them react blindly, and they resent me for not being more distraught over Miguel’s death. I see it in their eyes, unable to hold my gaze for long before breaking away.

  They’re wrong, though. It’s not that his death hasn’t ripped me apart inside. I just have no choice but to accept it, and move on. It’s what strong leaders do. It’s what strong mothers do.

  You take the dark with the light and build on.

  “Your friends,” Smudge says. “They . . . don’t trust me. Why do you?”

  “Your eyes. I can read a bluff a mile away. I get that from my daddy.”

  “I trust you,” Johnny blurts out. “You know . . . in case you were, uh . . . wondering.”

  She steers the boat closer to the high bank, then tugs back on a lever. It clanks against something and falls still in the water. Smudge looks me in the eye. “Your father. . . . Yes. . . .” Her eyes sadden, and she turns away. “We’re here.”

  “Where? And did you know my father?”

  “Gomorrah Grande. And . . . no, I didn’t.” She rises from the chair and climbs the stairs to the roof, and I follow her, trying to ignore the blood everywhere. When I clear the hatch doorway, I’m astonished by the view. In every direction, the underground jungle goes on forever it seems; a complete impossibility, yet here it is—man-made magic, together with Mother Nature, in all of their brilliance. In the distance, huge pink and red flowers cover an archway almost entirely. It lies at the end of a long stone pathway, similar to the one we traveled down to get to the boat. I make out the shape of a stone-and-steel elevator shaft, though I can’t see how high it goes, vines and greenery blending it into the background.

  “What is this place?” Johnny asks.

  Smudge tightens her hood’s string, tying it in a bow beneath her chin. “It used to be a hotel.”

  “What’s a . . . hotel?” he asks.

  “A place where people would come and stay for a while during their travels. Many years ago, it was known by everyone in Bygonne for its elegant balls for the elite. Anyone with one hundred Blue Notes and evening attire could attend.” Without hesitation, she jumps from the railing to the stone platform, then winds a squeaky pulley attached to a huge rusty chain. The boat rises out of the water, the children squeal, and in seconds, we’re level with the platform. Johnny goes next, and I follow, leaping from the top of the boat to the platform. My feet hit the ground, and I’m met by Jax, who now holds the spear in one hand and cradles Baby Lou in his other arm.

  “Where does that elevator go?” he demands, pointing the spear at Smudge.

  “To an old hotel called Gomorrah Grande.”

  “We’re going there. Now. We’re not staying out here.”

  “Jax, what about Miguel?” I ask. “We have to do something—”

  “What? Throw him in the river? You go right ahead.”

  Aby collapses into him, sobbing deeply. He wraps his spear-holding arm around her and Baby Lou whimpers.

  “Grab your bags and strap your breathers to your heads!” Jax yells. “Everyone off the boat!”

  “Jax, wait, we don’t know what’s in there—”

  “But we know what’s out here!” Tears well in his eyes, and he swipes them away. “Open the gate—now!”

  “Open it yourself,” Smudge says. “I’m going to help bury your brother.”

  I’ve never seen Jax look so murderous. This isn’t the Jax I know. Something’s snapped in him; something irreparable. His maniacal eyes are the mouth of a volcano—hot and deep, teetering on the brink of annihilation.

  “Please be careful with Baby Lou,” I say.

  He shrugs me off and heads down the path, guiding Aby and a trail of terrified children.

  “Wait for us inside the gate,” I say. “We’ll be there in a couple minutes.”

  “I’ll help, too,” Johnny says to me, tipping Old Jonesy’s hat.

  While the three of us go back inside to collect Miguel’s body, the tears that I’ve kept down now push their way to the surface. I kiss his cheek, and they sprinkle his matted black hair.

  “Out the window, portside,” Smudge says.

  “Portside?” I repeat.

  “Left. Further from shore. And I suggest you don’t look once we drop him in.”

  We carry him to the window and set him down, and my tears continue to fall as Johnny and I kneel beside him. Smudge slides the window open. A small lump in Miguel’s pocket catches my attention and I reach my hand in. Aby’s father’s knife. I slip it into my pocket, while a vice grips my heart. Even if he’d had it in hand, he wouldn’t have stood a chance.

  “I’m gonna miss you, bro,” Johnny says, voice shaking. “Damn. . . .” He chokes up, wiping his eyes with a sleeve.

  I lean to Miguel’s ear, struggling to breathe. “We did it,” I say. “You’re finally free. And no one ever really dies.” Then, I touch my finger to his lips and place it to my heart, as it splinters into a million pieces. I nod to Smudge and Johnny, and together, we lift him up.

  With one push, he’s out of our lives forever.

  EIGHTEEN

  Johnny and Smudge follow me off the boat and down the path, toward Baby Lou’s cries and the children waiting on the other side of the gate. Jax has it lowered almost all the way down, so we have to toss our bags under first, then crawl through. I take Baby Lou from Serna and rock her as Jax lets the gate hit the ground behind us.

  “It’s okay, Baby,” I say. “Momma Joy’s got you.” Instantly, she settles down in my arms. Jax leans against the wall near Aby, and when I meet his eyes, he turns
away.

  “I can’t even look at you,” he mutters.

  “We can change clothes when we get inside,” Johnny says, and he brushes my arm with red-stained fingers. “Share a bottle of water to get cleaned up.”

  Jax leads Aby gently by the arm, forging ahead in the dark tunnel, spear at the ready. In their older-younger pairs, the children follow. Chloe’s hand finds my arm, and I’m startled. I didn’t realize she was next to me. “Are you all right, Momma Joy?”

  I nod. “I will be.”

  Johnny follows the group, waving us on behind him.

  Smudge leans against the wall, facing the other direction.

  “Aren’t you coming?” I ask.

  “If I don’t, you won’t be getting inside, and your friend may . . . bring harm to us because of his anger. But if I do, I may lead you into danger again. And if I leave you . . .” She shakes her head, retreating inside her thoughts. “So strange, these human emotions,” she mumbles.

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “Never mind.” She pushes from the wall and heads toward the group.

  I walk beside her, sensing it’s now become my job to protect and defend her, too. And hopefully solve the mystery that surrounds her, an impenetrable veil.

  For a split second, she wears a faint smile as if she’d remembered a happy thought from long ago. But it vanishes just as quickly when Jax bangs on the elevator door.

  “So how’d you do it?” he demands, glaring at Smudge. “Are you going to wave your magic wand for us and open this one, too? Or are we stuck out here?”

  Smudge focuses on the elevator door, and a moment later, the light above it flickers on—then pops inside its fixture. We all jump as we’re met with semi-darkness again. Then, the elevator button glows orange. Jax studies Smudge, awe nearly tipping his rage, though he manages to right it before slamming his finger on the glowing, dusty button.

  “You’re going to have to tell me how you do that,” I whisper.

  Smudge says nothing, but at the corner of her mouth, I see the wanting of a grin.

  The elevator door slides open, much to the astonishment of the children. I have my own dumbfounded moment as they file in, two by two, until every single pair has loaded on. I reach the doorway and find an elevator the size of a small room; twice as big as our group.

  “These were made for large numbers of people to travel up together,” Smudge says, “so no one would have to wait down here for too long. Gomorrah Grande was known for its hospitality and comfort.”

  Inside, the elevator is by far the fanciest I’ve ever seen. A thick layer of dust coats the mirrored walls lined with a smooth gold railing. In one spot, the dust was wiped away, the clear spot eerily resembling fingerprints.

  Notice the nuances.

  The tiny hairs on my arms and legs stand up straight. I shiver.

  “Comfort, huh?” says Johnny. “Let’s hope they have a few nice comfortable beds for us to sleep in, then.”

  “The air-quality in there is questionable,” Smudge says. “Until I activate the air-flusher and oxygenation system, it would be best for you all to wear your oxygen masks.”

  “Breathers on, everyone,” I say. “Olders, help your buddies, make sure they’re airlocked.”

  The elevator doors close and we begin to ascend while everyone fumbles with their breathers. I get Baby Lou’s into place, then Chloe’s, and then pull mine on.

  A boy in the corner curses, fighting with his strap. “It won’t tighten!”

  An older boy helps him, and finally, everyone’s secured. At least that’s one thing I can protect them from—bad air. The walls creak and the cables squeal, but not nearly as badly as the bunker elevator. The last numbered button says forty-five; Gomorrah Grande goes twenty floors deeper than Bunker B does.

  “This is a lot of weight,” I say. “Are you sure—”

  “Yes,” says Smudge. “It is built with indestructible material. The cables are somewhat dry, but fine. Sturdy.”

  “Don’t you need a breather?”

  “No.”

  I catch Johnny gazing at her in quiet wonder. So many things I want to ask her, too, starting with how she can breathe bad air. And how she knows so much about things over here, if she’s from the Other Side. And how she does that thing with the electricity. But I’m afraid if I start questioning, Jax will join in and get fired up all over again. He still holds Aby close, though now I sense it’s less about comforting her, and more about getting back at me, for . . . whatever. My tiniest bit of jealousy is doused by the ridiculousness of such a thing in these circumstances.

  The forty-five button illuminates, the elevator slows, and the door rattles open, letting bright light pour in. Smudge jumps in front of us, holds out her arms, as if to protect us. When my eyes adjust to the light, I’m both intrigued and slightly terrified. It appears the jungle decided to take over the hotel. A giant pillar in the middle of the room stands entirely covered in greenery and bright flowers. Something flutters through the air, past giant golden birds hanging from thick chains. Along the edge of the elevator doorframe, a strip of green light shines down, signaling good air.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask Smudge over the curious murmurs of the children.

  “The power is on.”

  “But I thought you—?”

  “No. Not this time. I have to see the exact location of the circuit to send the signal.”

  “Okay . . . ? So, then—?”

  “Someone is here. Whoever it is has activated the generator.”

  “Let’s go,” Jax says, pushing past us.

  “Wait,” says Smudge. “It might not be safe.”

  Jax glares and grips his spear tight. “Safe doesn’t seem to be an option anymore, does it?”

  At that, she’s silent. He’s right. We aren’t safe anywhere.

  He taps something on the wall outside of the elevator. An oxygauge, probably. “It’s good air,” he says, and takes off his breather, inhales deep. “Yeah, it’s good. Everyone strap your breathers to your heads. Have them handy, just in case.”

  “I wish you would come with me,” says Smudge, as everyone follows Jax’s orders. “Please, trust me. I’m positive Raffai would be happy to take you in. All of you. Give you a safe place, a home. . . .”

  “Who’s Raffai?” I ask.

  “He is . . . one of the good guys. He . . .” She messes with her hat, kicks her boot toe at the ground. “He saved my life.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Jax laughs. “So now you’re down here in the dark, leading children to their deaths for fun? Some life he saved.”

  “That’s not fair,” I say, “it wasn’t her fault. She was only trying to help—”

  “Well, I don’t want her help, okay? Everyone, off the elevator.”

  Reluctantly, the children join him, leaving Smudge and me with Baby Lou and Chloe. I step off, and Smudge follows. Jax holds his spear in front of her. “No. You’re going back where you came from. Square?”

  “Jax, what the hell are you doing?” I say. “Stop—”

  “We don’t know her, and we sure as hell don’t need her help. As soon as we make our way up, we’ll take the aboveground tunnels east—”

  “You know that’s suicide,” I tell him. “And she’s staying. She’s part of our group now, so deal. Move the spear.” I lock eyes with him, dare him to argue. If he’s separating us, fine. But he’s going to know who’s leading this split family. “Move the spear,” I say again.

  After a heated standoff, Jax finally huffs and turns his back on us.

  “Everyone stay close,” I say. “We need to be careful. We don’t know what’s in here. Or who. Come on,” I tell Smudge.

  A moment’s hesitation, and she crosses the threshold. She and I, with Baby Lou and Chloe, pass up Jax and Aby and join Johnny at the front of the group, where he stands guard with his three crossbow bolts. I hope he doesn’t have to use them.

  “We good?” Johnny asks.

  “As good as we can be, fo
r now. Let’s check this place out. We need to find a safe room for everyone to rest together. No splitting up.”

  We move farther into the room, past a wall that marks the entrance to a giant common area that towers above us, all the way to an enormous, light-filtering purple dome. The hotel is circular, with forty-five levels enclosing this open section in the middle. Each floor has a gold railing, like in the elevator, and a staircase that travels to the next one above it, where the rooms are. Hundreds of red doors face outward, and everything’s covered in greenery. Lots of places for things to hide.

  A trickling waterfall pours over the side of a partially-collapsed floor a few levels up, feeding a small stream formed in the deteriorated tile floor. The stream disappears into a thick group of trees in a corner, though it isn’t the only water flowing. Everywhere, water drips, giving life to all that flourishes in this forgotten place.

  Jax launches the spear across the stream, and a rat scurries away. Johnny takes aim with his crossbow, but the rat disappears around the corner.

  “Do you know your way around in here?” I ask Smudge.

  “No. I’ve never been here before. I’ve only heard stories.”

  Jax forges ahead to retrieve his spear, hopping carelessly over the tiny river, silently daring something—or someone—to step in the way.

  “Where’s all of the water coming from, then,” I ask, “when we’re so far above the river?”

  “I would assume the water is from pipes that burst long ago when the earth shifted. Could have been an earthquake, perhaps. And with no one here to repair the breakage, the water, along with the light from the dome . . . made life possible.”

  To our left, red double doors stand next to an area filled by a long counter with chipped blue paint and a striped red-and-gold awning. Behind this sits a dark space and the faint outline of a door with a circular window.

  “Quit it!” a boy yells.

  Apparently, he and the new kid have decided now’s a good time for a shoving match.

  “He keeps stepping on my heels!” the boy tattles.

  “You keep stopping in front of me,” the new kid mutters with a smirk.