The Treemakers (A YA Dystopian Scifi Romance Adventure) Page 23

  Her cheeks flush crimson as she tries to hide a grin.

  “That was incredible,” I say. “What about Mateo’s knee? Can you fix that?”

  “How was it injured?” she asks him.

  “Tore some ligaments and dislocated my kneecap—I think. It healed all wrong; it’s a big mess in there. But I’m used to the pain.”

  “Well, I could alleviate some of the pain, but not much. Electro-therapy only heals certain things. Others would take more intensive treatment.”

  “I’m fine,” he says. “Let’s just figure out what we’re going to do next, because honestly, I’m curious as hell now about what’s on the Other Side. If we have a safe place to go over there, we need to go to it, as soon as possible, like you said, Joy. This is no place to spend the rest of your life. Unless you have no other choice, of course. But it appears we do now.”

  “How is it over there, Smudge?” I ask. “Clean air? Real trees? Animals? Food?”

  “Yes to all. It’s much better than here.”

  “Well, hell,” Emerson says. “You’ve got me convinced.”

  “Johnny—” I move closer to talk quietly. “We can’t tell Jax about Smudge yet.”

  “We gotta tell him something.”

  “I know, but something other than the truth. For now.”

  “Okay, well . . . what do you suggest?”

  “Direct any of his questions about her to me. I won’t offer any information until he requests it, though you can fill him in on the Subterrane and Pedro, if you want, and the plan to leave in the morning. And bring them over here afterwards.”

  “Got it.” He skips off along the balcony, past restless children finished with their meals. Jax eyes us suspiciously. I observe as Johnny begins to explain everything to them, and I see the exact moment he tells them about Pedro—both of their faces animate with emotion, and Aby begins to cry tears of joy and desperation. Seconds later, they’re making their way over to us.

  “V,” Emerson calls over to Vila.

  “What?”

  “Come over here.”

  She rolls her eyes, makes a clicking sound with her mouth. Tallulah jumps from her knapsack into Vila’s arms, and the two of them join us. The animal’s yellow eyes bounce from face to face, and she hisses.

  “What is it, Em?”

  He plops Baby Lou up onto his shoulders and she laughs. “You should be a part of this talk,” he says, squinting as Baby bops his face with Millie’s floppy ears.

  Vila mumbles something, and Emerson glares sternly.

  I breathe in deep to calm my wild emotions. So many things are going on inside at one time, it’s maddening. So I focus on Pedro, and the children—Baby Lou happier than she’s ever been—as Johnny, Jax, and Aby join our circle. For a moment, no one speaks, and I don’t know how or where to begin. But then, an inner nudge—my daddy’s spirit—tells me to be strong, to be bigger than any silly games or troubles and imaginings of the last few hours. Time to move on.

  I clear my throat. “In order to move forward,” I say, “we need to think about a few things. First, we have common goals: we all want to be free, fed, and safe. We need to get the children to safety and rescue Pedro, then get back to safety ourselves, and to do this successfully, we can’t let the recent events break us. We have to move past it.”

  I let my words sink in, and Baby Lou babbles some more, trying to be in on the conversation. “We need to come together now,” I continue. “Which also means fully accepting Smudge—”

  “If we’re going to fully accept her,” Jax says, “then she’s got some explaining to do.”

  “Exactly,” Vila agrees.

  “She doesn’t have to explain anything to either of you,” I tell them. “You’ve both been vicious and threatening. Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you, so you can get over your animosity toward her.”

  “Okay, where’s she from?” Jax asks.

  “The Other Side.”

  “Why did she lead us underground to the flesh-eating monsters?”

  “She was trying to help us. She thought it was safe. An honest mistake.”

  Jax snuffs a disgusted laugh, but sucks it back when all eyes train on him, waiting for him to release his judgment. “Fine,” he says. “An honest mistake. But what about everything else? That stuff she does with electricity?”

  “That,” I say, “is electro-telekinesis.”

  “Electro what?”

  “She can manipulate electricity with her mind.”

  “That’s not possible,” he says.

  “It is. You’ve seen it with your own eyes, all of us have.”

  “What a joke!” Vila yells. Tallulah scrambles over her shoulder, back into the knapsack.

  “How is it possible then?” Jax asks. “Tell me.”

  I grin at Smudge, and then at Jax as I flitter my fingers in the air. “Magic.”

  “What? Joy, you don’t even believe in magic!”

  “Actually—” I sneak a glance at Mateo, see a twinkle in his eye. “I just became a believer.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Jax and Vila aren’t fooled. Even Aby seems suspicious. My bluff wasn’t quite convincing enough this time, but it’ll have to work for now. Once everyone’s safely on the other side, I’ll tell them the truth. Or, maybe Smudge will. When they see she’s a good person, they might better accept that she’s “not entirely human.”

  After a few games of charades, a couple of hours playing musical rooms to see whose bed is bounciest, and a back-and-forth relay race across the second floor balcony, we’ve killed enough time to get us to dinner. With the children fed, I’m ready to put them to bed so we can plan and prepare for our rescue mission.

  But a few of the younger ones have other plans for me.

  “Momma Joy?” Chloe says. As usual, they’ve nominated her to be their spokesperson.

  “Yes, Chloe?”

  “Can you tell a story tonight? Please? Pia’s never heard a story before.”

  Pia’s sad blue eyes and pouty lip beg me to end this story-deprived injustice as she tightly grips her new friend’s hand. How could I say no?

  “Okay, I’ll tell one.”

  Cheers erupt behind them, surprising me. Even the olders seem excited. I suppose it’s been a while since I’ve told one. They were used to one every night. Now they’re missing them. Through all of this chaos, that’s their stabilization: Momma Joy will tell a story, and everything will be all right.

  “You’re a storyteller, too?” Mateo asks. “Wow. Is there anything you can’t do?”

  “A few things,” I tease.

  Vila rolls her eyes. “I’ll be in my room,” she says, and walks away. Without her knapsack on, for the first time, I notice her long slender neck and how sharply it contrasts her broad muscular shoulders. As if she’d been doing manual labor her whole life, like we have. Not surprising. A salt mine doesn’t sound any less of a hell than the Tree Factory.

  “Everyone get comfortable,” I say. “I’ll tell a short one tonight. But before I do, I have an announcement.”

  “We already know,” says a boy. “Pedro is with the cannibals, and we’re going to the Other Side so you can rescue him before he gets eaten.”

  “Yeah, we heard you guys talking,” a girl says.

  “Oh. Well. Word travels fast around here, doesn’t it? And that’s why I have to keep it short tonight; the olders will be planning and preparing, then we’ll need plenty of sleep before we leave tomorrow. We don’t know when we’ll be able to sleep again, in beds at least.”

  Baby Lou gulps something called “coconut water” from her bottle, as content as I’ve ever seen her. But her weight’s breaking my arms.

  “Aby, can you take her?” I ask.

  “Sure.” The second Aby’s arms are opened, Baby Lou goes to her.

  With the release of her weight, I feel like I’m floating. Who knows how long I’ve been holding her, afraid to put her down in this place. Can’t wait until we get to somewhere safe
; to see that light at the end of the tunnel. The open sky that awaits us. Seems like the perfect place to pull tonight’s story from.

  Once everyone’s comfortable, I close my eyes and try to forget about the new people. But Mateo’s gaze burns into me, much more than the others’, and my insides flutter. I wash the sensation away into the ocean that fills up my mind, deep and blue and magical, blanketed by cloud-dotted skies with no beginning or end. My story begins with a mermaid who soon discovers she can fly. Her wings are soft and feathery, painted with rainbows. The sky and the sea are both hers to fly in and swim free, in and out, up and around, as far as she can go, forever. In my mind’s eye, there’s a mountain peak hidden in the clouds where she likes to sit when she needs to rest. There, she can perch herself at the top of the world, pet the clouds and tell them stories of her life beneath the sea.

  She is the Butterfly Mermaid. . . . After years of being free, she’s lonely and bored with her infinite playland. She flies straight up for days, until she finally reaches where the blue sky meets the black of space. Once she gets there, she realizes she’s actually at the bottom of the ocean. Infinity has circled back around, brought her to the beginning again. Was there something she missed? A reason she was cursed to be trapped in this illusion forever? Had she been born in the wrong world, the wrong time? Perhaps she was meant to live in another dimension, with others like her. . . .

  She weeps for days, and floats aimlessly, letting the current take her, seeing the clouds who were once her friends, passing by without a care. She wonders how she could’ve given up so easily. Surely, there’s something more. . . .

  She’s startled when her head bumps something. There, before her, lies an island, and in front of her hovers the most handsome butterfly merman. . . . She could never even imagine such a smile. . . . “Welcome home,” he says, offering her his hand.

  And at that moment she realizes, once she surrendered, letting the current take her, she was led home. . . .

  I embellish the story so much, I almost believe it’s real and forget where I am, that horrible things happened today. That my life’s been a mess of sorrow. I become the Butterfly Mermaid who’s found an impossible light in the darkness, a hope she never realized she was without, until it found her.

  I open my eyes, half-expecting faces glazed over by boredom. Instead, bright, excited ones stare back, starting beneath my nose. Chloe and Pia, and a few other youngers, moved closer during my imaginings.

  “Did you enjoy the story?” I ask.

  “Yes!” they cheer.

  To my left, Mateo claps softly. “Well done! That was incredible. Where’d you come up with that?”

  “When I was younger, my mother used to read me fairy tales, and when she died, my daddy taught me to read using his science-fiction books.”

  “They did well,” Emerson says. “I’ve never heard a story like that before. You’ve got a gift, sister.”

  “Yes,” says Smudge, “you do. That was fascinating.”

  “Yep, she’s got an imagination on her, doesn’t she?” says Johnny.

  “Thanks.” My cheeks warm. “Now it’s time for bed, everyone.”

  The children groan and whine, but the collective yawning says their little bodies agree.

  “Hey, no complaining,” says Jax. “This’ll probably be the best night’s sleep you’ve ever had. These beds are—” He stops, realizing too late what he’s about to imply. Instead, he shrugs, and mumbles, “Really comfortable.”

  Any anger that might want to resurface is diffused by Mateo’s staring at me in awe. I find it more invigorating than disturbing. No one’s ever looked at me like that before. Like how you’d look at Heaven if you could inspect it with your naked eye, touch it delicately.

  Serna and another older girl shuffle the younger ones into their correct rooms, while Aby disappears with Baby Lou into ours and Jax helps the boys remember which are theirs.

  “I need to help tuck everyone in,” I say to Mateo. “Where should we meet when we’re done?”

  “In my room—two-nineteen.” He moves closer, lowers his voice. “I’ll be waiting.”

  “I’ll be there soon.”

  He brushes his fingers against my arm and chill bumps crawl across my skin. “See you soon.”

  “Where are we going to discuss things?” Johnny asks, sliding a hand into Smudge’s. She hides a grin by bowing her head.

  “Two-nineteen,” I tell him. “You two can go ahead. I’ll be along with Jax and Aby, once we get everyone situated, though I’ll need to get Baby Lou to sleep first, so they may be in before me.”

  “Gotcha.” He tips his hat, and he and Smudge head over to Mateo’s room.

  In my room, Aby has already tucked away Chloe, and another girl, and is changing Baby Lou into a fresh cloth diaper.

  “I’m going to lie with Baby for a few minutes,” I tell Aby. “It’s a new place, and I don’t want her rolling out of bed. Would you check the rest of the rooms and do a head count while I get her to sleep? We’re meeting in two-nineteen to plan.”

  “Sure.” She turns to walk out, a lingering guilt on her face.

  “Aby?” She glances back, and I almost tell her I forgive her . . . but something won’t let me do it. Not yet. “Never mind. I’ll see you in two-nineteen.”

  “Okay. Joy?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you think he’s still alive?”

  “Pedro? Yes.”

  “Do you really think we’ll be able to rescue him?”

  “Yes. I mean, I think so. Smudge will be with us . . .”

  “Does she really control electricity with her mind, Joy? Is that the truth?”

  “Yes.”

  A partial truth. The slightest bit of guilt creeps in, but Aby can’t know yet, either; she’s too unstable, and I wouldn’t put it past her to tell Jax.

  “Okay,” she says with a sigh. “Whatever you say.”

  After she closes the door quietly behind her, the little girls in my room giggle and whisper softly between yawns and stretches. I kiss their foreheads, then slip into the musty, yet luxuriously comfortable sheets next to Baby Lou. She stinks. Wherever we end up tomorrow, I hope there’s a washtub, decent soap, and an open fire, so she can have a warm bath.

  Baby Lou bats at my face and lips as her eyelids grow heavy. I hum the song my mother used to hum to me every night, trying not to think about the last time I hummed it—to drown out Jax’s sounds in the dungeon. But it’s no use. My thoughts go there, and to the question he asked me, following the abuse by Emmanuel Superior.

  So, you’ll marry me then?

  And in that moment, it was me and Jax, from then, until forever. If only we could be free, we’d get married and live out our fairytale, finding love and freedom beneath the pure blue sky. . . . Yet it was an artificial light, illuminating the darkness just long enough, giving us hope strong enough to motivate us to fight for survival and freedom. Hours later, with freedom came death, lies, lust, betrayal, and a long list of possible catastrophes. Most horrible of all is the sickening in my gut and the quickening of my heart that points to what my mind already suspects: that we’re not even past the half of it.

  I cuddle Baby Lou as she drifts off to sleep. Snoring from the second bed tells me the other two are asleep, as well. Dislodging my arm from beneath Baby Lou’s neck, I rise slowly, tucking pillows to either side to keep her from rolling off. Then, I sneak out without a sound, closing the door behind me.

  Out on the balcony, I’m startled to find Mateo waiting there. He smiles, raises an elbow—a handle for me to grab hold of. “I thought you might want an escort. You know, someone to protect you from the bad things?”

  “Thank you.” I smile nervously and, hooking my arm through his, we head toward his room.

  “I wanted to tell you how much it means to Pia—and me—to have someone around to tell stories, and be kind of, you know, motherly. Ours died in labor with her. She’s never had a mother figure.”

  “I’m so
sorry to hear that.”

  He turns and kisses me, igniting an inferno inside, then pulls back, leaving me breathless, aching for more.

  “You’re a damn amazing girl,” he says. “I . . . in case tomorrow doesn’t go well . . . I needed to do that.”

  “Can you do it again?” I whisper.

  He glances at me, then tugs me gently, swiftly, past two-nineteen, all the way to two-twenty-two. There, he opens the door, flips on the light and inspects it briefly, before whisking me inside. Instantly, our bodies fuse together against the closed door, like crashing waves against a hungry shore. Never in my life have I wanted to be so close to—so a part of—someone. After a few breathless minutes, I push away, as he clutches my body tightly against his. Together, we tremble with desire, and though I want nothing more than to spend a few hours alone with him, logically, that’s not possible.

  “We have to go,” I pant, his lips a breath from mine.

  “I know.” And he kisses me again, with fierce passion, a downpour in paradise; an eternal freedom in his fingertips, which explore my skin like an excavated diamond. His lips are a safe harbor for all the love in the world. And he gives every bit of it to me.

  I push away again, with so much thirst for him, it’s painful. “Really,” I say, “we have to. I don’t want to, but we have to.”

  “Promise me we’ll be alone together. After this is all over. Promise me.”

  “I promise. There’s nothing I want more than that.”

  “Okay,” he says. “Then, we have no choice now. We have to stay alive.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  My heart’s still racing when Mateo and I exit the room. I don’t know if what just happened will be a bigger motivator or a distractor. At the moment, it’s accomplished both, simultaneously. On the one hand, I now have more reason not to get myself killed. On the other hand, I’m finding it hard to think about anything other than when we’re finally free, what we’ll do with our “alone time.”

  It’s crazy I’m even thinking this, feeling this, about someone I just met. But no matter how much I want it to stop . . . I don’t want it to. Makes no sense, but feels right. More right than anything has in a long time.