The Treemakers (A YA Dystopian Scifi Romance Adventure) Page 28

  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.

  “We’re going to go change,” I tell them, “and I need to let Serna know we’re leaving. Then, we’ll go.”

  To nods of assent, Mateo and I quickly climb the stairs. “I’ll meet you downstairs,” he says, and we part ways at the second floor as he continues on to the third.

  I tiptoe to my room, open the door quietly, and sneak inside. I gaze at my sleeping Baby Lou, bathed in the nightlight’s soft glow. Such a peaceful little angel. At once, a wave of swirling emotions threatens to sink me into the floor. I rush to shed my dress and tug on my new dark pants and long-sleeved shirt—which are too big, but fit well enough—then, I hurry out before I change my mind or weaken under the weight of my fear. Two doors down, I wake Serna to tell her we’re leaving.

  “Now?” she mumbles.

  “Yes. I need you to sleep in my room with Baby Lou.”

  In a few groggy seconds, she sits up, peels the covers back, and swings her legs over the bedside. She follows me to my room, and I leave her at the door, turning toward the stairs.

  “Joy, wait,” she says, and I pause. “What do I do if . . . if you don’t come back?”

  �
��I’ll be back. I promise.” And I swiftly descend the stairs before Serna’s worry can sway my stubborn optimism.

  I’m the last one downstairs. Already, everyone else is grouped by the door, waiting, but as soon as Emerson sees me, he whips it open, letting the cool night rush in. We blend into it like black paint in a dark river. Mateo limps along without his walking stick, and panic hits me. I hadn’t even thought of that. How will he be able to move quickly? I take his arm and fall behind the others with him. “What about your knee?” I ask quietly.

  “I’ll be fine. The adrenaline will help.”

  “Mateo, maybe you shouldn’t—”

  “I’m not a cripple. Please, don’t worry. I won’t let you do this alone.” He takes my hand, pulls me down the winding sloped path to Raffai and the others at the bottom. Raffai has four crossbows waiting, like the ones Smudge had gotten for us.

  “I don’t condone killing,” he says. “In fact, killing any of the Subterrane people could mean serious trouble for Zentao. But I know what it’s like to lose a loved one. . . .” Grief paints his eyes a bright, sad blue, and he places a hand over his heart, on the shirt pocket that contains the blonde braid. “And it’s imperative that you children make it back here alive,” he adds. “But please, use these weapons only in case of emergency.” He hands me, Vila, and Jax each a crossbow, then trades Johnny his near-empty one for one fully-loaded.

  Inspecting the weapon, I’m suddenly overwhelmed. Johnny will have to give me a lesson in the trolley.

  “I’m sorry I can’t afford you more weapons,” Raffai says. “We’re very short ourselves.”

  “We’ll be fine.” Emerson taps the bundle strapped to his back. “We have spears for the rest of us.”

  “And these.” Vila pats the knives tucked into her makeshift knife-holding belt. “In fact, here, Mat. You take this.” She hands him her crossbow. “I’m better with knives.”

  Raffai punches in a code on the bunker wall, and the doors part. Lights flicker on, and we step inside. Across the room, black doors reflect our dark, rippling forms as we approach them. There, Raffai punches in another code, and those doors open, as well, to our blue trolley on the other side. He takes a handful of breathers from a row of hooks by the door.

  “The air down there is dubious,” he says. “Best to wear these, at least in the tunnels.” And he goes to pass them out.

  But Smudge holds up her hand to stop him. “I’ll make sure the air’s good in the tunnels,” she says, “trust me. I’ll have to dim the oxygen lights, though, so we don’t give ourselves away.”

  “No breathers?” Emerson asks.

  “No,” says Smudge. “I promise you they aren’t necessary.”

  “You are very brave children,” Raffai says, with that same sad expression Ms. Ruby had when she told us goodbye. “Be safe, and come back soon.”

  “We will,” I say, but for the first time, as we pile into the trolley and close the door behind us, I let loose my own secret fear with one screaming thought:

  Or maybe we won’t.

  THIRTY

  Raffai disappears behind the closing black door, and we’re left in utter darkness. I break into a cold sweat, wipe my face with my sleeve, steady my breaths.

  “Can you turn the lights on in here?” I ask Smudge.

  “Yes, but when we get to the tracks, I’ll have to turn them off again. The light could give us away.” They blink on overhead.

  “I brought this.” Jax holds up a light stick. “I’ll keep it in my pocket if we need it.”

  “That will help, yes,” Smudge says.

  For a few moments, we sit in silent stillness before Vila takes off her knapsack and places it into her lap. Tallulah’s head pops out of the drawstring hole.

  “You’re bringing her?” I ask.

  “Have to. She’s our key to the key.”

  “What do you—?”

  “I trained her to sneak into the Queen’s quarters and steal the Chamber key.”

  “How in the world did you do that?”

  “Long story.” She pets Tallulah’s head, then gives her whiskery nose a peck. “Ugh!” Vila yells. “I hate this thing! It feels like we’re just sitting here. It’s infuriating.”

  “I assure you,” Smudge says, “we are moving.”

  “Let’s go over the tactics again, real quick, V,” says Emerson.

  She shrugs. “Follow my lead, stay in the shadows, don’t make a sound, shoot first, and don’t die. I think that about covers it.”

  “Where are we going to stop the trolley?” Aby asks. “We can’t park it at the station.”

  “Once we get to the railway,” Smudge says, “we should get out and walk. It’ll be very close. We should not risk the sound of the trolley on the tracks at all.”

  After an exasperating eternity, the trolley rattles, and we’re spat up through the ground. The lights blink off immediately, followed by a cracking noise and a glow from Jax’s hand as he shakes the light stick.

  “If we were aboveground,” I say, confused, “then why does the trolley car come up through the ground?”

  “It was the best way to build it.” Smudge stares out the window. “It’s only eleven p.m. We’d be better off waiting—”

  “No,” Vila says. “We go now, and we kill every cannibal bastard in that place, if it comes down to it. Revenge or no revenge. If more of them come to Zentao, we’ll kill them, too.” She’s the first one to the door.

  I laugh, and Vila scowls.

  “What’s so funny?” she asks.

  “Emerson said you’d be the first in line for war,” I tell her. “And here you are. He really knows you well.”

  “I do,” says Emerson, who takes the spear bundle from his back and hands one to Aby. “You know how to use one of these, sister?”

  She nods.

  Smudge moves up front, near Emerson. “I need to explain something,” she says to us. “It would be highly probable for more guards to be standing watch now, since there’s been a recent escape. I should go first, to stun them, if that’s the case. Then, we’ll have one hour to get Pedro out, before they regain muscle control. We should avoid killing, if possible, to minimize repercussions to Zentao. They’ll know that’s where we’re going, and seek revenge.”

  “Very true,” Mateo says. “Queen Nataniah would certainly get her revenge if we kill any of her people.”

  “Smudge goes first,” I say. “Then Vila, and then the rest of us. We only kill if necessary.”

  “I’ll hold up the rear,” Johnny says, “to make sure no one comes up from behind.”

  “Before we go, though, I’ll need to know how to operate this thing,” I say.

  At this, Johnny gives me a quick lesson. I aim at the back of the trolley, and plant a bolt into the wall. Easy enough. I retrieve my bolt, fumble with it for a second before clicking it back into its slot.

  Vila unlatches the trolley door and slides it open gradually so it doesn’t make a sound. Then, we follow her out onto the tracks, and my heart begins to pump fire through me.

  “There it is,” Mateo whispers.

  “What?” I whisper back.

  “That adrenaline I was talking about.”

  “Yeah, me, too.”

  Smudge starts down the tunnel, followed by Vila, then Jax, who holds the light stick high to illuminate our path. Emerson and Aby trail him with their spears, then me and Mateo, and Johnny at the rear. We move quietly through the darkness for what could be half an eternity in Hell before the sound of enclosed space changes. To our right is a wide-open area, which Smudge and Vila move swiftly through.

  I grip the crossbow and try to stay focused, while Vila jiggles her knife in the crevice of a narrow door, which clicks open easily to a steep, rocky staircase. She holds ten fingers in the air, points up, and starts climbing. I think that means ten flights up.

  Nine flights later, our momentum has slowed to a near-crawl. I worry, of course, about Mateo’s climbing, but worrying isn’t going to help.
Soon, we stop at a dead end, another door. Vila places a finger to her lips and jabs the knife into the crevice of this door, which pops right open, too. Obviously, not many people are stupid enough to break into this place. Until now. Thank goodness for that; it makes this rescue mission that much easier.

  Vila eases open the door, peeks through the crack. Then, she holds two fingers up to Smudge. Smudge nods, pushes up her sleeves, and steps up to the door. She, too, peeks through, and my heart thumps wildly in my chest as I hold my breath. This is it. Moment of truth.

  Through the crack, Smudge holds up one hand, and a second later, two thuds echo beyond the door. Vila stares at Smudge in amazement, then smiles the widest I’ve ever seen from her, gives Smudge a thumbs-up, and waves us behind her into the Subterrane.

  The second we enter the space, something eerily familiar catches my eye. Past two huge lumps of half-naked guards lying next to giant spears, near a see-through safety railing lined with tiny yellow lights, are two trees. But they aren’t our trees. They’re smaller, made from a shiny silver metal, as opposed to thick gray titanzium. Beyond those, is a circular space, like at Gomorrah, but more massive. Above, levels upon levels go up, and judging by the place’s considerable size, I’d say quite high.

  Smudge moves along the wall through the shadows, and we all follow her lead, ducking down a left-hand passageway as four guards turn down the corridor we were just in. Vila breaks into a jog, and so do we. Another right turn, then another narrow door, which she opens, and we trail her in. More stairs. At the top, we close the door quietly behind us, holding our breath as a low murmur of another pair of guards approaches, then relax as they get softer again, heading away from us.

  We climb two more flights, and before we get to the final door, Vila stops. “This floor is where the Queen’s quarters are,” she whispers. “And this is where we trust Tallulah.” She takes off her knapsack, loosens the drawstring. Tallulah hops into Vila’s arms, twitches her whiskers on her nose. “I’ll get her around the corner from the door; she’ll know what to do from there.”

  “Can’t you just pick the Chamber lock?” Johnny asks.

  “No, it’s a complicated locking mechanism. There’s a special key, and the Queen keeps it hidden in a jar.”