The Treemakers (A YA Dystopian Scifi Romance Adventure) Read online

  Mateo’s fingers brush my hand as we approach two-nineteen. Soft talking echoes through the door, and he pauses to listen. Then, he sneaks a quick peck to my lips before clicking the handle. I shiver as he pushes the door open. Smudge, Johnny, Jax, Aby, Emerson, and Vila all wait for us inside. Little Pia has curled up, asleep in one of the beds. Tallulah peeks at us from a blanket-bed in the corner.

  “What took you so long?” Jax asks, obviously suspicious.

  “It took a while to get Baby Lou to sleep,” I reply. “What have you discussed so far?”

  “Well,” says Vila, “you mean, other than how I’d take an afternoon stroll in the sunshine before I’d ever step foot back in that flipping salt mine? Or, how going back there’s basically like putting yourself on the menu?”

  “V,” Emerson says.

  “What?”

  “Chill.”

  “I’m not going back there.”

  Mateo and I sit down at the foot of the bed his sister sleeps in. He clears his throat. “Vila, you know we can’t do it without you—”

  “I don’t care! You people are insane! There’s no way you’ll get me to go back there, so don’t even—”

  “If you don’t go,” he says, “we might not make it out.”

  “Oh, don’t you even try to pull that shit, Mateo. Don’t go, then!” Her voice raises to a near-shout, stirring Pia.

  “There’s no need to yell,” Mateo says. “Put yourself in their shoes. What if it was me, or Em there? Wouldn’t you want someone to help get us out? There’s no way they can do it alone; that place is a giant maze. And the Chamber is hidden. Not even the townspeople know how to access it.”

  “Then how did you find out where it was?” I ask.

  “Vila’s father and grandfather were both militia,” he replies. “She knows everything about warlike situations, and how to escape from them. We wouldn’t have made it out without her rat-like ability to creep around unnoticed.”

  “And now you want to go back.” Vila shakes her head in disgust. “Unbelievable.”

  “We can talk more about the rescue later,” I say. “We need to discuss taking the children to safety now. Smudge, how long do you think it’ll take to get there on the trolley?”

  “Depends on how well it travels with everyone’s weight,” she says. “Originally, I believe it was built for twenty-five people. We should be able to fit fine, though a few may have to sit on the floor.”

  “Is that how you got to the Tree Factory with all of the supplies?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  “How long did it take you?”

  “Four hours, at top speed.”

  “You got the electricity to work with your electro . . . electro . . .” Emerson snaps his fingers.

  “Electro-telekinesis?” she says.

  “Yeah, that’s it. Electro-tele . . . whatever. That.”

  “Yes, that is how. And since we are already halfway between Greenleigh and the Subterrane, I expect it’ll take no more than three hours. We should be able to go seventy to eighty miles per hour.”

  “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Jax says. “Why the hell would a person want to go to Greenleigh anyway? It’s a ghost town.”

  Smudge looks away. “My . . . grandmother . . . was an artist. She lived in Bunker B, where you first found me. Those were her paintings on the wall—the dry ones. The beautiful ones.”

  “They were all beautiful,” I say. “Some were just darker than others.”

  “The darker ones were mine. I found her old paints in her quarters, still hidden beneath the tile flooring in a dug-out hole with . . . a few other things. First time I’d ever painted.”

  “Well, it was fantastic,” I tell her. “You’re a true artist.”

  “How did you know where her quarters were?” Jax asks.

  “My . . . mother . . . told me.” She fidgets with a shirt string, avoiding his gaze. I see the bluff a mile away, but everyone else buys it, except for Johnny and Mateo. They already know the truth. Smudge has no mother, or grandmother, for that matter.

  “Did you take the trolley that time, too?” I ask.

  “No. I went through the jungle—”

  Vila laughs out loud, slaps her knee. “Yeah, right. I’ve heard about the creatures that live down there. There’s no damn way you—”

  “Why?” Jax says. “Why would you do that, when you could take the trolley?”

  “When I left, I was . . . angry, and did not know how to deal with it. I went into the jungle . . . to die.”

  Silently, we stare at her, blatant truth in her gaze, which meets each of ours without waver.

  “Then,” she continues, “I remembered my grandmother, and what my mother had told me of her. My curiosity made me follow the river by day, and hide at night. I spent nearly two weeks following that river, until I finally found Greenleigh.”

  We all share another moment of silent awe, though Jax and Vila still remain skeptical.

  “Well,” says Mateo, “I’m sure I don’t just speak for myself when I say this: I’m glad you decided to live. You’re a great girl.”

  “Agreed,” Emerson says.

  Vila crosses her arms. “Electro girl, I’ll go, if you can prove that we’re not gonna die.”

  “I’m not sure how I could . . . prove that to you,” Smudge replies, “but I’m sure we stand a very good chance, if we work together. Besides, you aren’t the only one who knows her way around the Subterrane.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Vila perks up, curious.

  Smudge turns to me. “Those supplies I gave you—?”

  “You got them from there?”

  “I knew you’d need things when you were ready to leave, and transporting enough food and other items, as well as explosives, from Zentao would not have been possible.”

  “What’s Zentao?” I ask.

  “The Revols’ city on the eastern coast.”

  “How did you know we’d be ready to leave when we did?”

  “I didn’t, exactly. But I hoped you would be soon. Bananas only stay good for a short time.”

  “Mmm,” Johnny says. “Bananas. . . .”

  “Hold on,” says Vila. “You got into the supply room and stole food and explosives?”

  “Yes. And water, and clothes. And a few dolls.”

  “Uh-huh. And how exactly did you do that?”

  Smudge shrugs. “Magic?”

  “Show us some magic, then,” Vila insists.

  Smudge’s face flushes red with embarrassment. “I’d rather not.”

  “She doesn’t need to prove anything,” I say. “To you, or to anyone.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Vila steps forward, puffing out her chest.

  “You don’t scare us,” I say.

  “Vila, you seriously need to relax,” says Emerson. “These people aren’t our enemies.”

  “Whatever. I’m not going, unless Electro Girl here shows me something spectacular.”

  At this, Smudge stands tall, looking Vila fiercely in the eye. “If I were to show you something spectacular, then you would regret it. I assure you.”

  “Is that a threat, Sparky? Because I’m feeling very threatened right now.” Vila cracks her knuckles, balls her fists. As if sensing her owner’s vicious vibe, Tallulah hops up onto Vila’s shoulder and hisses.

  “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be a nice girl,” I say, “you’re turning out to be quite the b—”

  “She’s scared,” Smudge says. “And this is how she hides it. She’s afraid of what’s out there, of what she doesn’t understand. The only way she knows to handle her fear is to attack those who compromise her safety. Those who she is not able to fully grasp . . . or control.”

  Vila’s face turns bright red, and she squeezes her fists so tight, her knuckles turn white. She marches to the door, swings it open hard, the handle punching a hole in the wall behind it. Tallulah scrambles back into her knapsack.

  Smudge looks down at her hands.

  “Wow
,” Mateo says. “You showed her who’s boss.”

  “That wasn’t my intention. I only wanted to remove the veil that obstructs reason—the illusion brought on by denial. Once light is shed on it, there’s no going back to hiding. Now that I’ve shined the light on her fears, they have less power over her. Over us. She’ll come around, eventually.”

  “You’re brilliant,” I say.

  “What’s interesting,” Smudge says, “is that figuring others out seems simple. But as far as my own emotions go . . . not so . . . brilliant.”

  Emerson stretches his legs. “That’s the truth for all of us, sister. You know, you hit it on the nose, though. About Vila. She will come around. Give her time, she’s a fighter. She may say she won’t go, but she will. She’ll be right there, out in front, leading the way. She hates not being the leader. Probably one reason she’s having a hard time. Competition. She calls a lot of the shots around here, but now she’s gotta share that, and she has to adjust.”

  “So,” Aby speaks out of her silence. “We leave in the morning?”

  “Yes,” I reply. “We’ll wake up, eat, get packed, and then get out of here.”

  §

  Of course, when I finally get to bed next to Baby Lou, I can’t sleep. My mind keeps switching from visions of the Reaper killing Miguel, to my kissing Mateo, to our finding Jax and Aby together. So much has happened in the last twenty-four hours, it doesn’t even seem possible for one day.

  “How are you?” Smudge asks from the floor between our two beds.

  “Weird,” I say. “Too many thoughts and emotions. Makes it near-impossible to sleep.”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “You don’t sleep?”

  “I rest. But no, I do not sleep. My mind and body are constantly regenerated. OAIs have no need for sleep, but it does us good to rest here and there.”

  “You are so intriguing. I could ask you questions for hours, and not get bored of your answers.”

  “I’d like that. But I do believe your human body might feel otherwise.”

  I yawn, then giggle, which makes her giggle, too. “Yeah, true. Can I ask you one question, though?”

  “Sure.”

  “Have you figured guilt out yet?”

  “That’s a difficult one. I’m still . . . struggling with it. No matter how much I logically know and reasonably explain things to it, it insists on resisting.”

  “I kissed Mateo,” I say.

  “Really? What was it like?”

  “Amazing. But now, I feel guilty. Miguel just died, and then that thing with Jax and Aby. . . . So, maybe I shouldn’t have done that. Like, bad timing or something.”

  “You know, Joy, I’m learning something fascinating about humans: they’re creatures of comfort. When they experience negativity, they seek out comfort. I see nothing wrong with you finding comfort in Mateo. He seems like a nice boy.”

  “But, I just met him.”

  “Humans don’t trust their intuition enough. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying what Jax and Aby did was . . . acceptable. I understand why they did it, though. But, as far as you and Mateo . . . ? The energy between you two is remarkable. You are extremely compatible.”

  “You can tell? I mean, you can feel it?”

  “Yes. I am very receptive to vibes and energy. That’s how I knew what was going on with Vila. So much of the human body is energy—positive, negative. It’s very easy for me to read people.”

  I smile into the dark. “Thank you, Smudge. I feel better, hearing you say all of that.”

  “You’re welcome,” she says. “What are friends for?”

  §

  I wake to Baby Lou crying in a puddle of wetness, diaper soaked through completely. At first, I forget where we are. Then, I see Smudge, smiling at me from where she sits against the wall, and everything floods back. The two other girls sleep soundly in the second bed.

  “What time is it?” I ask, and pick Baby Lou up from her wet spot.

  “Six a.m., and I made more diapers while you were asleep.” She hands me a tall stack of white cloth squares.

  “How did you—?”

  “I used a bed sheet from a few rooms down. Should be enough to make it to Zentao. They’ll have plenty more once we get there. Ms. Ruby is a wonderful caretaker. Baby will be well cared for, along with the rest of the children.”

  “Ms. Ruby?” I repeat. “Can’t wait to meet her.” I pour water from a bottle on the bedside table onto a cloth square, clean Baby Lou up, then tie another cloth around her.

  “Ee, ee,” she says.

  “What, Baby?”

  She cries, frustrated I don’t know what she’s saying.

  “She’s never talked before,” I tell Smudge.

  “Is she saying ‘eat’?”

  “Ee!” she cries again.

  Smiling, Smudge holds up a can and a spoon. “I thought she might be hungry when she woke up.”

  I take them both, and read the label. “Squash? That’s a funny name.”

  “I think she’ll like it.”

  “She’ll like anything, after eating slop her whole life.” I peel back the lid, dip in the spoon, and shiver. For the past few years of my life, I’ve been eating nutrient-fortified recycled human. My stomach lurches from the remembrance of its taste, texture, and smell. Thank God we didn’t know the truth about it, though. Otherwise, we might’ve all died of starvation long ago.

  “What about you? Do you eat?” I ask, scooping a spoonful of orange, lumpy mush into Baby Lou’s already open mouth.

  “Yes, but it’s not necessary on a daily basis. If I eat once a week, my body will sufficiently store enough nutrients.”

  Baby Lou grabs the spoon, stuffs it down into the can. Yes, she definitely likes the squash.

  “She’s precious,” Smudge says.

  Her words resurface a fear I’ve tried desperately to hide. Of all people, though, I think Smudge could call my bluffs.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks, as if on cue. “You’re afraid for her?”

  I nod. “But I shouldn’t be, right? Because you said the tunnels were safe?”

  “Well . . . safe from the Reapers, yes.”

  “And not safe from . . . ?”

  Smudge shakes her head. “It’s possible, but not probable.”

  “What?”

  “That we may run into Arianna Superior.”

  “You think we will?”

  “I don’t think so. With the Tree Factory gone, I believe she’d have no choice but to beg Lord Daumier to let her stay in his Alzanei Monastery. It wouldn’t make much sense for her to be down here, unless . . .”

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless he turned her away. In which case, she may be very angry. She may be looking for you.”

  Heart in my throat, I help Baby Lou finish off half of the squash, until she reaches for her bottle lying next to Millie in the bed. I set the can onto the table and hand her both. She hugs Millie and gulps her water, snuggling against my side.

  “Could you stun her?” I ask.

  “Arianna Superior? Probably. But I’m not sure what she’s capable of. Her mechanical modifications are extensive.”

  Now the thing in the office makes sense—her stretching for the medicine bottle—and her overall strangeness that’s increased over the years.

  “Well,” I say. “Let’s hope he accepts her, then.”

  “Yes. Let’s hope.”

  I wake the other little girls and help them change into fresh clothes, pack all of our belongings, then give them the half-can of squash to finish up.

  “I’ll be back.” I walk to the door. “I need to make sure everyone else is up and okay.”

  Smudge waves at me, sitting next to Baby Lou. “We’ll be here.”

  Out on the balcony, Mateo’s looking over the lobby jungle and turns when he hears my door close. His hair’s slicked back, showing his handsome features that much more. My stomach flutters.

  “Morning,” he says.
r />   “Morning. Your hair’s wet. Did you wash it somewhere?”

  “Yeah, you remember the pool?” He points downstairs.

  “You went in there? Alone?”

  “Yeah. So, I guess I’m immortal now.”

  “Funny.” I step up beside him at the railing. My arm slides against his.

  He glances at it, then stares back out across the lobby. “Do you want to wash? I have soap and a towel. I’ll stand at the door and keep watch—”

  “No, thanks. I’d rather wait. As intriguing as that pool is, it totally creeps me out.”

  “Aw, come on.” He grins, side-glancing. “Don’t you wanna live forever with me?”

  I giggle. “Yeah, but . . .”

  He slips a hand into his pocket and takes out a glass flask containing a thick pale-yellow liquid. “You sure?” he says. “This stuff is straight from the Monastery. Vila snuck right into the Queen’s chambers and stole it out from under her nose.” He twists off the silver lid, waves the bottle under my own nose. The most divine scent ever calls me to the pool.

  “Mmm. That smells great,” I say.

  “It smells even better on skin.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I move closer to breathe in the fragrance radiating from his bare chest, which I inspect for the first time. Not only do I melt from the aroma, but my knees also shake from the desire to run my fingers along Mateo’s sculpted muscles. The ripples that call my name. The arms and shoulders that have seen thousands of hours of hard labor. The rough hands that turn velveteen because of his gentle touch. These things clog my mind as I try to form words. I pivot to grip the railing, too overwhelmed with longing.

  “You okay?” he asks, chuckling.

  I nod. “You’ll have to save some of that for me. I don’t want to leave this floor until it’s time to head out.”

  “I’ll save it for that alone time you promised me,” he whispers with a wink, and tucks the flask back into his pocket.

  My face and body burn with embarrassment and yearning, until a door closes behind me. Jax and his younger boys are packed and ready to go. He nods at Mateo, though his eyes linger on me.

  “Can I talk to you?” he says.

  “For a minute. I want to get everyone out of here as quickly as possible.” Leaving Mateo, I follow Jax to the top of the stairs, where I inspect the rotted red carpet and gold railing laced with vines, waiting for him to speak. Yet he only stands there silently. “You . . . wanted to talk to me?” I ask.