The Treemakers (A YA Dystopian Scifi Romance Adventure) (25 page)

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.

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.

“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.

He whips toward me, fury in his face. “I was stupid, Joy. I screwed up. I couldn’t sleep last night because I kept thinking about how you
. . .
you never said
it back.”

“Said
what back?”

“I told you I loved you, in the dungeon. Did you never love me, Joy? Because I thought you did
. . . .
”

I turn away. In my silence, the children’s stirring in their rooms is deafening. Golden birds sway above us on their chains, while high above the purple dome, a cloud snuffs out the sun, casting a gloomy shadow at the
perfect time.

“Say something,”
he says.

“I made a mistake, too.” And I look him dead in the eye. “Because you were my best friend, and it should’ve stayed
that way.”

“But, Joy, I—”

“Jax, no. I wish things hadn’t turned out the way they did, but they did, and there’s no going back. I’m sure I’ll eventually forgive you and Aby—probably soon because you both mean a lot to me. But you and I weren’t meant to be more than friends. I see
that now.”

“Joy—”

“I’d rather not talk about this anymore. It’s time to focus on what we have to
accomplish today.”

“It’s him, isn’t it? Your new ‘friend’?”

“No, he has nothing to do
with this.”

“Oh come on, you’re not fooling anyone. I’ve seen the way you look at each other. Tell me the truth. If you’re my friend, then be honest with me. Do you have feelings
for him?”

“I barely
know him—”

“
Do you
?”

“Okay, yes. I do. Is that what you want to hear? I know it’s crazy, but I can’t help it. Kind of how you and Aby couldn’t help it,
I guess.”

Those last words cut him deep. With a wounded heart displayed on his face, he
walks away.

“Jax, wait.”

He stops, but doesn’t turn. Mateo watches on from where I left him. The words forming now in my mouth taste sour. Still, I force them out as I reach
his side.

“I think you and Aby are better for each other anyway,”
I say.

He grinds his teeth behind his cheek, looks me in the eye. “I don’t want her.” Then, he storms away, slams the door to
his room.

A sniffle off to my right catches my attention. Teary blue eyes peek out from a nearby door opened a couple of inches. Then, that door slams, too.