The Treemakers (A YA Dystopian Scifi Romance Adventure) Page 31
“But, if they don’t create oxygen, then what do they do?”
“They are now anti-oxyzone devices.”
“Meaning—?”
“In less than five years, Bygonne will be almost entirely oxygen depleted, the ozone hole worsening, tenfold.”
“Wait, so you’re telling me . . . the trees we’ve built our whole lives have actually been making things worse?”
She nods. “That is why the oxygen levels were higher in the factory after the storm cut power to half of the trees surrounding it.”
I lean back onto my elbows, mind blown to smithereens. My lips try to form words as I grapple with its magnitude, but only one thought is clear enough to enunciate. “We’ve been helping them kill people.”
Then, another thought barrels down like a train toward a dead end.
“My parents . . .” I wipe at my tears, hot with rage and confusion. “They could’ve lived longer.”
“That is why I gave you the explosives. With Arianna and the other Superiors gone, and Micah Greenleigh’s tree technology safe, the other, larger tree factory could be implemented in regenerating the ozone over Bygonne. It is . . . unfortunate that Arianna Superior was in Alzanei when the explosion occurred.”
“My head’s spinning.”
“I know this is . . . difficult for you—”
“That doesn’t even begin to describe it.”
“But you have to move on. You cannot hang onto the past. It will only keep the pain alive. This is something . . . Sadie taught me.”
I focus on breathing in and out for a moment while I grasp for under-standing. “Wait,” I say. “You said Micah Greenleigh’s technology is safe?”
“Yes.”
“Safe where?”
She’s silent, running her fingers through the sand beside her, then she looks at me and grins. “Safe. Just like you and your brothers and sisters.”
I study her hazel eyes, warm, full of compassion; the freckles that dot her nose and cheeks like Zentao’s stars. . . . “God, Smudge, you’re so . . . human.”
She laughs. “I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or not.”
“Please, take it that way. I may have a way with words, but you have a way of making everything seem like it’s going to be all right. And I don’t know what I’d do without you right now. This is a lot to process.”
“I know, but you’re strong. You can handle whatever comes your way. You have so much of your father in you.” She gazes off into the sky for a moment, before meeting my eyes again. “Unfortunately, though, I’m not quite through yet. There’s . . . still more to tell you.”
“Oh, God, really? What now?”
She inhales again, deeper this time. “Zentao is a very special place. A safe haven for all who wish to be . . . free and plan for the regrowth of our future. But it’s . . . it’s not what you think.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Please, Joy, promise me you aren’t going to . . . overreact when I tell you. And you have to promise not to tell anyone, at least not yet. It’s better for most to stay . . . oblivious to the truth. Especially the children.”
My panic rises. “What? I promise, just tell me what it is.”
Smudge sweeps her hand out in front of her, toward the hushing waves beneath the gorgeous orange-cream and midnight-blue-streaked sky. “This isn’t real.”
My heart stops. “What?”
“We are a half-mile beneath the earth, in a secret location hidden from Lord Daumier and his Clergy. The ocean only goes a few hundred yards before ending at the wave wall, which mimics the tide. The walls and ceiling are monitors programmed with the same types of images you saw in the . . . transfer program.”
I release her hand, jump up, and spin around in a circle. “No. No no no. . . .”
“Joy, you said you wouldn’t overreact—”
“Overreact? How am I supposed to take this? Am I supposed to be happy about it? Am I supposed to be . . . okay with this?”
A few children stop playing on the beach to stare at us. Smudge stands, comes closer to me.
I shake my head, grab a handful of my hair and tug. “I knew it . . . I knew there was something off about this place.” I glance up the hill toward the green glow above The Wall. “So, that’s not The Wall?”
“No. It isn’t.”
I grab her arm. “Why did you tell me?” I whisper. “You shouldn’t have.”
“You deserve to know the truth, Joy. I know you’ve been through a lot, and this is a crushing blow to add to it, but . . . the longer I waited to tell you, the worse it would have been. And I couldn’t risk you discovering the truth on your own; you’d never trust me again. It’s been very hard to keep all of this from you, because I . . . love you, like a sister, and even in a motherly way because of Sadie. But I had to let the dream fuel you . . . to push you on to get here. If you’d known the truth, you might not have made it, might not have wanted to come badly enough to push forward.”
“What is the truth, Smudge? What’s it like above us, where the Clergy and Lord Daumier are?”
“The Earth is dying,” she says. “The air is better than in Bygonne, but not by much. The seas are near-boiling in areas, and are receding more and more each year. The water you see here is channeled from the jungle river, with salt from the surrounding mines added periodically to keep it salty.”
I collapse into the sand, letting my face fall into my hands, and I cry, because my daddy was wrong. The Earth is dead. There is no paradise. And now I know, we would have been better off dead, too.
“Get up,” says Smudge. “Stop this.” Her voice is strange, as if fueled by someone else’s. Almost like my daddy’s speaking through her. “Look around you, Joy.”
And I do . . . slowly. The artificial sun sinks behind the faux horizon. Children scream blissfully as they splash in what they believe is the ocean. Groups of olders laugh, and play, and talk . . . all free. Magnificent, real-looking stars sparkle from the false sky in a deceptive no end to the space above.
“Redefined dreams,” Smudge says. “It may not be what you’d expected or hoped for, but it is, essentially, freedom. They have a chance for a good life here.” Then, she lays her hand gently on my stomach. “You all do.”
“How did you—?”
“I . . . snooped around in the doctor’s mainframe. I’m getting better at this human stuff.” She winks. “You’ll have adequate medical care; the doctors and nurses here are some of the best. You and your baby will be taken care of.”
“Please don’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t. But you know, sooner or later, you won’t have a choice.”
“I know. But I’m not ready yet.” I relax into the sand, and she sits down next to me. “So, what now? What do we do?”
Smudge laughs. “Well, you see those?” And she points to a few scattered buckets in a pile nearby.
“Yeah?”
“Call the children over here.”
“Why?”
“Just do it. Come on, trust me.”
For a few seconds, I stare at her, and she smiles.
“All right,” I say. “I’ll trust you, I guess. But no more lies from here on out, promise?”
“Promise.”
I stand up, cup my hands around my mouth, and call for the ex-treemakers of Greenleigh and the ex-saltminers of the Subterrane to join Smudge and myself on the shore.
“Bubba! Papa!” Pia squeals. “Come on!” She and Chloe dance around barefoot, holding hands and spinning, before they stop and sway, giggling from the dizziness. They head toward us excitedly, followed by Jax and Johnny, Mateo, Vila, and Emerson.
“Yes, Momma Joy?” Chloe says.
“Smudge wanted everyone over here,” I say. “You going to tell us why now?” I ask her.
She clears her throat. “I hear you all need sandcastle-building experience. Is this true?”
The loudest cheers I’ve ever heard rise into the air.
On
ly I can hear they’re echoed slightly by the hidden ceiling.
“Well, then,” Smudge says, and gestures over to the pails. “Go grab yourselves a bucket. We have some building to do.”
END OF BOOK ONE
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
It has taken an army of wonderful people to make this story happen. Each of you have played your part in my release from a toxic wasteland of my own, into this earthly paradise. I would not be telling the whole story if I didn’t give my most sincere gratitude for those who helped to make it happen. The story behind the story may be more remarkable than the actual story.
First, I’d like to acknowledge the Source that has given me the lighted path through which so many other people and experiences have come into my life and shaped me into a person I can be proud of today. Whether through one sentence or a thousand, the extent of my gratitude could never be fully expressed.
Mom and Dad, Tina and Ricky R. . . . I put you through so much and you did the best you could. Thank you for your forgiveness and your strength, and for showing me what the many faces of love look like. Without your support, both emotionally and financially, this story would not be what it is. Your solid belief that I can do this, follow my dream, has enabled me to do just that. I hope to finally be a brag-worthy daughter, because I know I’ve been quite the opposite most of my life. You are two very special, loving, selfless, amazing people whom I took for granted for too many years. I never will again.
Savanna, my sweet girl . . . I put you through so much in your younger years and still you grew into a young woman I look up to in awe every single day. Your tendency toward tranquility and innocent spontaneity, your natural embracing of forgiveness, and your idealistic views of people and the world are something that bring me great humility. Because maybe you’re a better person, I can learn so much from you—and do—every day. The wanting to make up for time lost with you was the reason I started writing my first novel. I wanted a way to bond with you. You loved to read, and I loved to write. Those loves brought us together to create . . . shadow animal people? Oh, well. :) We moved on to bigger and better things. (Thank goodness!) Thank you for being a sounding board, for helping me with plot details and characters, and for reminding me that the quest and aching for love is underlying in (almost) any story, no matter what the “genre.”
Travis R. . . . Baby brother, we haven’t always had the best relationship, but as the two of us have grown, we’ve gotten closer, and I’ve witnessed some pure genius from you. Thank you for your help in fleshing out some of the sci-fi stuff in this story, and for brainstorming sessions that spawned a lot of cool scenarios and ideas. I’m in such awe of your creativity and imagination, and I’m positive you have a bright future ahead of you.
‘Nanna’ . . . You never gave up on me. You always knew I’d find my way, and never stopped encouraging me to put my faith in a Power greater than myself, to discover that inherent light of life. I finally did that, and just like you knew it would, my life has turned around completely. Though I know you aren’t here to witness it on the physical plane, you are with me always in spirit, whispering your loving encouragement whenever I need it most. I love you and miss you dearly. Thank you for being my warm west wind.
Pat O. . . . Like my Nanna, you, too, believed in me when no one else on Earth was sure if I’d be alive the next day. You took a shriveled mess of a girl and helped her on her path to becoming a woman of strength and integrity. You’d always say, “Just keep doin’ what you’re doin’,” and “I’m so proud of you,” and though you aren’t here to say it anymore, I still hear it. One of my biggest regrets in life is not coming to see you that one last time, like I said I would. And then, you were gone, and I felt lost. But you had given me a gift that will never leave me: an insight into the magic the world holds, if you only look for it. Thank you, also, for being my Zephyr.
Donna S. . . . Thank you for teaching me how to be honest with myself and the world; for showing me what it’s like to “walk a free woman,” and to be grateful for everything I have. Thank you for showing me what “redefined dreams” look like, and for loving me past my weaknesses and through hard times. I only wish that the winds of change hadn’t torn us apart the way they did. But I know that’s a part of life. Nothing remains the same. We are constantly changing, shifting, moving on. . . . “Our love is meant to catapult our loved ones into the world,” you taught me. Thank you for teaching me how to just let go, to go with the flow and ride the current. And to do it with a smile, cup of coffee in hand.
Tracy F. . . . You saw me at my lowest point, where I’d even lost the want to search for a way out. But you took me in your strong, loving arms anyway, and you opened my eyes. I’ll always cherish the sparks you ignited inside of me when my world was at its darkest. You are such a brilliant light, and the world is by far a better place with you in it. You told me I’d write a book one day. You’re one smart lady.
Donna K., Beth H., Petra W., Irie S., Harold D., Brother ChiSing, Bree O. . . . Thank you for your light and your spiritual guidance. You all helped me find a God of my understanding in your own special ways. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for helping me to sort out, identify, tame, and eradicate the inner demons that plagued me for most of my life.
Allen R. . . . You’ve read my work from the beginning, and even though it wasn’t as polished as it is now, you still encouraged me to continue writing and follow my dreams. Your “storyteller” is moving forward, and this time, she’s leaving the tunnel door unlocked.
Eric M. . . . Thank you for the final push I needed to find the gate to my own path. Your loving encouragement, your integrity, those wonder-filled eyes that look at life as a giant feast, and your childlike vision, enabled me to take solace in you, a place where I could safely find who I truly was. You were there with me for the first one, and loved every word I wrote, even though it was kinda terrible. You were my first fan. Thank you so much. I think about you every day and hope you’re still “dancing in the rain.”
Gary B. . . . Thank you for helping me cultivate my love for words, for introducing me to people like Jack Kerouac and Sylvia Plath, and for being such an important catalyst for change of all sorts in my life. Thank you for stepping up and being a man when you were still just a boy. Despite my putting you through the wringer and bringing out your worst, I always knew your heart was gold, just wounded. Thank you for allowing me the kind of regrets that make a person strive to be the best they can be every day, from this day forward. I hope you’re still writing and creating things.
Shannon H. and Megan V. . . . You two stuck with me through the muck of the past, and though we had moments apart, the very special friendships we shared returned and blossomed as we did. Even though we don’t get to talk as much as we’d like to, or see each other as often as we want to because of kids and life stuff, I know I can pick up the phone and call anytime, and you’ll be there for me. Thank you for your forgiveness of my past mistakes, and for being true friends. They are hard to find these days.
Kimberly Grenfell . . . A huge thank you to you, “Her Awesomeness.” Without you, I would not have spent three months rewriting and making “The Treemakers” the best
it can be. There are amazing, encouraging, kind, optimistic editors everywhere, I’m sure, but I’m positive you are the crème de la crème. You so rock.
John Gibson . . . Thank you for your beautiful work on the Second Edition cover. We survived! And we’ve both learned some things along the way. It’s been a pleasure working with someone so talented, and I’m excited to begin collaborating on the next project.
Melissa Johnson, Jonathan Yanez, Amy Bartelloni, Angela Berkley, Veronica Williams, Michelle Kluttz, Jeri Rodriguez, Ileana Scarlett Rivera Soto, Konstanz Silverbow, Tina Blythe-Overhue, Christina Munson, Julie Rainforth, and LaDonna Eddie Pigg . . . With awesome, encouraging, supportive friends, whether reader or writer, how could I ever lose? I’ve won already. Thank you for all that you’ve done, and continue to do, to motivate me to keep moving forward.
And to all of my readers and fans, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for being the receivers of this story. You have brought my journey full circle by reading it, and I assure you, there is much, much more to come.
Table of Contents
PRAISE FOR THE TREEMAKERS
Copyright
Dedication
Contents
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
Links
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS