The Treemakers (A YA Dystopian Scifi Romance Adventure) Page 9

  Someone who’s a superb artist.

  “Will you please come out?” I’m surprised by my own voice making its way through my unusual trepidation to find the Joy I know. The Joy my daddy raised to be a survivor, a fighter; the Joy who gives fear a swift kick to the jaw and pushes onward.

  “Your art is marvelous,” I continue.

  Aby gives me a fearful glance.

  I squeeze her hand. “Jax is right. I don’t think whoever’s down here would hurt us. Whoever painted this . . . is someone good. Someone we want to meet.” I nudge Jax.

  “Um, yeah,” he says. “My favorite is the dancing ladies. Sexxxxxy.” He winks.

  Miguel snickers. “Yeah, how ’bout some nudes next time?”

  Aby kicks him.

  “Ow!”

  “Could you please tell us if this is the way to the Other Side of The Wall?” I call out. “There are almost forty of us. The youngest is a year-and-a-half old. She’s sick, and we’re starved, and . . . and if this is it, please . . . we need to know. . . .”

  We stand silent for a short eternity before it’s apparent we won’t get an answer.

  “Well, then,” I add, “will you at least make sure we get back? If we get stuck there, nobody would take care of the children.” And as these words come out of my mouth, I consider this fact for the first time.

  Jax reaches for the green button.

  “Jax, wait,” I say. “Let’s get them.”

  “Who, the children? That’s crazy! What if we get brought back again? We can’t bring thirty-something children down here in the middle of the night on a whim. No.” He shakes his head. “Bad idea.”

  “But what if we go, and get stuck there?”

  “Then we get stuck there. We’ll have to risk it. I’ve thought about it, and I have some speculations I want to check out.”

  “And they are . . . ?”

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about the whole portal thing. If that were true, then this would be point A, and the hut would be point B. We need to check out the hut for controls. We didn’t inspect it too well when we were there last. This time, we need to find if there’s a way to control it.”

  “Portal?” Miguel says. “Seriously?”

  “There’s no other logical explanation,” I say. “That we know of, anyway.”

  The book my daddy taught me to read from was a science-fiction one about wormholes and transports and traveling at light speed to far-off galaxies. . . . I thought it was the stuff of an overactive imagination, but now . . . I’m considering the possibility that this “stuff” might actually exist. Maybe our world holds things we don’t know about because we haven’t experienced them yet. We’ve lived in the bunkers of Greenleigh, most of us, and in the Tree Factory. What wonders and magic and truths lie beyond the grasp of our fingertips and the understanding of our minds?

  My guess is now many, many things.

  “Are we in agreement?” Jax says. “We go check out the hut and hopefully find out how to control this thing, then we come back and plan our escape.”

  I look to Aby and Miguel, who both appear as frightened as they do exhilarated. They shrug, and Miguel nods.

  I sigh. “Okay. But please bring us back!” I yell. “I have my Baby Lou to take care of.”

  Jax pushes the green button, and as the door slides open, the same fog pours from the room, beckoning us to another world. I take Aby’s hand, she grabs Miguel’s arm, and we follow Jax into the room.

  “Let’s leave our breathers here by the door,” I say. “We won’t need them where we’re going.” And we drop them in a pile. “So you’ll know what to expect,” I add, “it’ll feel like you’re flying through space, alone, before it spits you out into a wooden room.”

  “That sounds terrifying,” Aby says.

  “A little,” I say. “But worth it.”

  Blue-and-green specks of light flicker from the walls and the ceiling, growing brighter as the fog clears. The door behind us closes, and we huddle together in the middle of the room. The long, whitish-blue line of light moves down vertically, again blinding me for a second as it passes my eyes, then back up.

  “Scan complete,” it says.

  Hissing smoke fills the room, cutting him off, and with a flash of bright light, I’m sucked into the vacuum of space, spiraling through a whirling kaleidoscope of silvery-white, dress flapping and hair twirling in the airstream. When it finally stops, I’m sitting in the same spot as last time, with Jax a few feet away, and Aby and Miguel on my other side.

  “Shit!” Miguel jumps up, and helps Aby to her feet. They sway in astonishment.

  “That was amazing!” Aby says. “Where are we?”

  “This is the hut,” I say.

  “Is that . . . a window?” She points.

  “Yes,” I reply, as Jax helps me up. “With the best view you’ll ever lay eyes on.”

  They rush over to it, and I follow them, while Jax searches the room, sliding his hand along the walls, carefully surveying each and every crack and crevice. Once I reach the window, I find both Aby and Miguel crying. Even my eyes fill with tears when I gaze out again. How could you not get emotional, every time, from this vast, incredible world?

  “Maybe we’re on another planet,” Aby whispers. “Because, how could this be in Bygonne?”

  “Yeah,” Miguel adds, “this isn’t the world we know.”

  “But the world we know is tiny,” I tell them. “Think about it: we’ve lived most of our lives trapped behind a wall, underground, or locked in bunkers with foggy purple windows. How do we know? How do we know what’s really out there? This world is huge! So much we haven’t even witnessed! So much potential for life we didn’t even know existed.”

  “Nothing,” Jax says. “Not a damn thing here. I know electrical, and there’s absolutely nothing—no wires, no buttons, no screens, not even lights, which is very unusual—”

  “Yeah,” I say. “The room was lit up at night last time, like there was light inside.”

  “But there is no light. Not even capabilities for it.”

  “Can we . . . go . . . outside?” Aby asks, trembling from the magnitude of her question. Before now, it was a question you’d ask only if you wanted to die. Here, it’s something entirely different.

  “Wow.” Miguel takes her hand. “Yeah, can we?”

  And I nod through my tears. Jax sighs and shrugs, giving up his search and giving in to paradise. Together, we go to the door, and I open it slowly. We shield our eyes from the brightness that seeps through, simultaneously inhaling the salty-sweet air as it swirls in past us. Then, we step outside.

  TEN

  The four of us face the horizon over a patchwork sand-and-grass hill rolling downward to the sapphire sea.

  Aby grips my arm tight and motions to the faraway shimmering blue mass. “That’s the ocean?” she asks.

  “Think so.”

  “How? How is that the ocean?”

  “Like I said . . . I think this is the Other Side, it has to be. All those stories when we were younger . . . they had to have come from here.”

  Miguel shields his eyes from the sun. “But it doesn’t make any sense,” he says after a moment of silence.

  “No, it doesn’t,” says Jax.

  “When we get back, this time we’ll find whoever brought us here,” I offer, “and make them tell us what’s going on. Then, we’ll bring the children with us, and . . . whoever it is, will have to let us stay.”

  We stand motionless for another silent moment, and I’m bursting inside. There’s so much beauty. Too much to process all at once.

  “Whatever you say, Momma Joy.” Jax kisses me. “You ready to take over the world?”

  “What do you—?”

  He grips my waist with both hands, and I squeal as he lifts me high into the air, up over his head. At first I tense, afraid he’ll drop me. But after a few seconds, I relax, taking in the view, eye-level with a blue-gold and orange-cream horizon. The wind caresses my
skin, tousles my hair as it passes by on its way to somewhere else magnificent. I stretch my arms out as wide as they’ll go and smile, breathing in deep the sensations of weightlessness and wonder. My stomach flutters as Jax finally drops me down into his arms, feet back on the ground.

  “That was wonderful,” I say.

  He winks. “Told you you’d take over the world in that thing.”

  “I don’t know about taking over the world . . . but definitely on top of the world.”

  We start down the hill, the grass tickling my bare legs beneath my dress, startling the same deer from the same spot as last time.

  Aby covers her mouth as it scampers away. “Animals? There’re animals here?”

  I nod. “That’s a deer, I think.”

  “Paradise!” She swoops down, plucking a handful of tiny yellow flowers from the grass. She stuffs her face into them, inhales and smiles wide, then throws them into the air, twirling as they shower down around her. A little farther down, and the mighty, swaying group of trees come into view to our right. Aby screams with delight and astonishment. “Are those trees—like, real trees?”

  Miguel kneels in the grass, one hand on his chest and one over his mouth. His eyes water as he struggles to breathe.

  “Yes,” I say. “Real trees.”

  “Well, let’s go see them!” Aby grabs my hand and tugs.

  Jax takes my other hand. “I want to see the ocean first.”

  My heart leaps at the thought. “Me, too,” I say through quivering lips.

  For three generations, grand stories have circulated through Bygonne about this seemingly infinite, enchanted world called the ocean. Strangers would come from miles away with these tales—stowaways in Haulers, prostitutes, and peons—and as a tiny girl, I’d sit and listen to them in awe and disbelief, attempting to imagine things barely conceivable: water so deep, everyone in Bygonne could stand foot-to-shoulder and still not reach the surface; vast underwater forests, teeming with brightly-colored life and a million species of animals—and all able to breathe!

  “Ocean first,” I say, “then trees. Is that okay, Aby?”

  “Whatever you say, Joy.” She claps and hops in place. “Ocean, then trees, and then, oh my God there’s so much to see!”

  “Okay,” I giggle. “Let’s go then!”

  “Anyone want to take bets on if it’s salty, like the stories say it is?” Jax asks.

  “Bet I can beat you all there to find out!” Aby races off, her red curls and mother’s dress flapping in her tailwind.

  We follow her, carefree and howling into the sweet blue place angels are born and nothing’s lain to rest. For once in my stupid life, I’m somewhere where I suspect nothing horrible awaits me each time I blink. Only glorious explorations and discoveries of life. Maybe I’m being naïve, but as we wander through the unknown, a swirling pure wind urging us onward, I’m reminded of my parents’ belief that I would be free one day. . . .

  And it’s hard to imagine anything terrible occurring in this dream-come-true.

  When our feet touch white sand, the rushing crash of the wet opus before us, we shed our clothes and boots. With the ocean at our fingertips, none of us is too worried about being in our skivvies. I pant, catching my breath—It feels so good to run!—and my right hand grips Jax’s tightly. My left hand finds Aby’s, and on her other side, Miguel shivers in his pinned-to-fit boxer shorts.

  Standing here at the mouth of the roaring sea, I feel microscopic before its vast, dazzling beauty. Its intensity washes over me and I cry; I’m witnessing the most spectacular thing that has ever existed.

  Aby clutches my arm, her wet, salty-blue eyes matching the water and sky perfectly. “That’s the ocean!” she says, lips quivering.

  “I know!”

  Jax breathes in deep and squeezes my hand. “On three. . . .”

  “Wait,” Miguel says. “I can’t swim.”

  “None of us can swim, man. It’s fine. We’ll stay where the water meets the sand.”

  “Hold Aby’s hand,” I say with a grin. “She’ll keep you from drowning.”

  “One!” Jax calls into the sky. “Two!” He kisses my fingertips and hops in place, tossing his straight black hair from side to side, psyching himself up.

  “Three!” I yell and take off toward the water, gripping Jax’s and Aby’s hands tightly. The sand is hot, squishing between my toes with each flying step. Then, it’s cold as we reach the watery sand, jumping from it into the waves. The second my face touches the water, I open my mouth for a taste.

  “Salty!” I let go of Aby’s hand to grip Jax’s shoulders.

  “I knew it!” He wraps his arms around me, kissing me eagerly as the waves slosh and swirl and slap against our bodies. My feet sink in the mush beneath us, and something brushes past my leg.

  “I just felt something. . . .” I glance down at the clear blue water and a group of tiny blue and purple creatures pass by us. “Fish!” I tap Jax’s arm. “Those are fish!”

  “I see them, they’re awesome!”

  “Aby, Miguel—!”

  “We saw some, too!” Aby says.

  Jax slides up behind me and wraps his arms around my bare waist. He holds me tight, and I relax against his body, swaying back and forth with the rhythm of the waves. And ask myself for the thousandth time: How is this even possible?

  Soon, I start to shiver. “Gets a little cold after a few minutes, doesn’t it?”

  “I’m not cold,” says Jax, “but we can get out if you want.”

  “Not yet.” I dip my hands into the water, scoop some up with my palm, and the sunlight reflects like little diamonds in the tiny pool of saltwater. In my peripheral, Aby and Miguel have their lips fused together. I give them a good splash.

  “Hey!” Aby screams, and she and Miguel attack in full splash mode.

  “Jax, help me!” I yell.

  He comes to my aid, slapping huge sheets of water at them. We tumble onto the shore and lie there laughing, while waves crawl up to lick our toes then drag tiny sand particles back down.

  “I heard people used to make things with sand,” Aby says.

  “Yeah, me too,” I say. “Castles and things.”

  She scoops a moist pile into her hands and wrinkles her nose at it. “I don’t get how that’s even possible.”

  “Me, neither.” I, too, scoop up a pile of the brown mush, but instead, plop it right down onto Jax’s head. “Now hats, maybe.”

  Everyone—except for Jax—erupts in laughter as the sandy goop drips down around his ears and eyes. Then, he cracks a smile, which soon becomes laughter as he surprises me with his own mush to my head, smearing it around like some earthy hair lather.

  “This is the best day of my whole life,” says Aby. Her laughter shifts to happy tears, and Miguel wraps his arm around her.

  I spy a tiny treasure buried beside my feet, and I dig it up, brush off the sand, then trace its blue-and-white speckled spiral shell. “I think we could all say the same thing.” Again I shiver, flinging wet sand from my head. “Let’s find a spot to dry off before we head to the trees. I’m cold.”

  Once we’re somewhat air-dried, we slip back into our clothes and boots and begin the trek back up the hillside and over—to the left now—where the trees are. This time, we don’t run. We savor every last step that takes us to the extraordinary phenomena. Sure, the ocean is vast, powerful, inconceivable . . . but these . . . I am near speechless. Too much emotion behind how I feel about these, now that the initial shock from seeing them for the first time has worn off. I haven’t quite sorted it all out yet. I’m not even sure there are words to describe how I’m feeling.

  Aby embraces the smallest one, her cheek mushed up against its base, tears trailing over a smile tinged with sadness.

  Miguel loses his ability to stand and collapses in the sandy grass. I haven’t heard him cry like this since Pedro was sent away. What at first seem like happy tears turn to sudden rage and he explodes onto his feet. “Why!” he screams in
to the blue. “If this is here and this is real, why are we in goddamned Bygonne? Why did my brother lose his hand building trees for the Superiors, when they’re growing right here? Why? And where are we? Where the hell are we!” He drops to his knees again in a sobbing heap, and Aby goes to comfort him.

  “Jax, should we—?”

  “No, just let Aby. There’s nothing we can do. Besides, he’s right, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah. He has every right to be upset. We spend our sorry lives building trees when there are some growing right here, and none of this makes any sense. Anyone would have a hard time with this.”

  “But especially him.”

  “We’ve all lost loved ones.”

  “True.”

  “His is still fresh, though,” I add.

  “Yeah, that it is.”

  Now I know what those jumbled feelings are. Miguel is right. There’s anger behind this awe, and it runs deep—so deep. Someone has some serious explaining to do.

  Finally Miguel calms down, and Aby urges him to come over to us. We make ourselves comfortable, backs against the rough brown tree trunks. Aby runs her fingers along the bark’s patterns, while Jax and Miguel discuss some technical possibilities and scientific speculations of how this is all possible.

  I tune them out, spinning the shell I found around and around in my fingers, as if it held the secret to what this all means. I tuck it into Jax’s pocket. He furrows his brow, and I shrug.

  “Maybe it’ll be there when we get back,” I say. “It’s a good experiment.”

  “Gotcha.”

  He and Miguel continue talking, and I lie back to stare into the sun. It hurts my eyes, but I stare anyway. The mere fact that I’m not burning to death right now is an unexplainable magic in itself.

  Magic.

  I sigh.

  How awesome—and tragic—that all magic is man-made.

  Being married to a magician and knowing the science behind it all, when my daddy wasn’t around, my mother burned that into my mind as a teeny girl. No such thing as magic. Everything has an explanation. We didn’t magically appear in some alternate dimension; there’s solid science behind it. Only, I have no clue what it is, and from the sound of Jax and Miguel’s ridiculous conversation, they don’t either.