The Treemakers (A YA Dystopian Scifi Romance Adventure) (16 page)

“How come there’s light and clean air all the way down here, too?” Johnny asks, halfway up the six flights. “How’s
that possible?”

“Smudge,”
I say.

“Yeah,
but how—?”

“We don’t know yet, but we’re going to find out. Apparently, she’s leading us to where she wants us
to go.”

“Such a mystery,” he says. “Can’t wait to meet her.” And he winks, adjusting Old Jonesy’s hat backwards on
his head.

When we make it back, everyone’s exactly where we left them, though most are
sitting now.

“Okay, everybody up,” I announce. “It’s time to move again. We’re
halfway there.”

They hop to their feet, excitement pushing them through their tiredness as well, I’
m sure.

“Hey, where’d you get the new hat?” a boy
asks Johnny.

“Found it,” he replies, “just lying there on
the ground.”

“Liar!” says
another boy.

“All right,” I say, “listen up. Olders, help your younger buddies get safely down these next six flights of stairs. Hold their hand, if you need to. Or guide them. There’s light, but it’s not
real bright.”

Chloe slides her little shaky hand up into mine. I squeeze it tight, and smile down at her. After a headcount and quick check on Baby Lou, Jax and I move the line into the stairwell, past Miguel’s old boots, and down. The echo of feet, pitter-pattering their way to paradise, brings tears to my eyes. My heart swells with joy for the first time since before my daddy died. He’d be so proud of me, I know he
would be.

With everyone safely down the stairs, we wind through the corridors Jax and I have explored countless times. Everyone’s quiet, waiting for the moment when they find out what’s next. We turn the corner to the corridor that leads to our elevator, the tiny yellow light above it already on. Oddly, this still
surprises me.

Jax stops to check the nearby oxygauge, shaking his head in astonishment. “I can’t even
believe it.”

“Wait,” I say. “What about the elevator? We can’t all fit
at once.”

“We’ll have to go
in groups.”

“I hate
that idea.”

“We have no other options,
do we?”

We’re halfway to the elevator now, yet something nags at me, though I can’t place it. Then, it hits me. “Jax,” I say, grabbing his arm, “the smell
. . .
I don’t smell it,
do you?”

“What?”

“Citrus.”

“Oh,”—he sniffs the air—“no, I don’t.”

“What does that mean, do
you think?”

“I don’t know. You’re the one with all
the assumptions.”

“Yeah, but you’re usually the one with
the speculations.”

“Well, I got nothing. Let’s get down there and see what
we find.”

We reach the elevator and wait for it to ding, and for the door to open, but it doesn’t. I push the button, which finally opens the door.
No citrus.

“Johnny,” Jax calls to the end of the line. “
Come here.”

Johnny trots over. “What’
s up?”

“We need to go down in groups. I’ll take the first group of ten with a crossbow. Joy comes down with the next group, then Miguel, then you.
Got it?”

Johnny nods. “Where we going?
Which floor?”

“Twenty-three,” I say. “But it should take you there automatically. It did for us, the last
two times.”

He nods and starts back to the end of the line. “We’ll meet you
down there.”

“You bring the next group down right behind me, okay?” Jax says
to me.

Adrenaline rushes through me. It’s hard to feel my fingertips. “I don’t like us being separated,”
I say.

“Me, neither. But we’ll be back together soon. Just a
few minutes.”

“Who are
you taking?”

“The first five pairs here.” And he points to them, including Aby and her buddy. She’s no happier about being separated from Miguel, than I am from Jax. She kisses Miguel and hugs him tightly, then steps reluctantly onto the elevator, clasping her little girl’s hand. Once everyone’s on, Jax blows me a kiss, then the door slides closed
between us.

After what may be an eternity, the empty elevator returns. The door dings open, and I hold it for Chloe and the next four pairs, including Serna with a sleeping Baby Lou on
her back.

“All of this clean air and traveling put her right to sleep, I see.” I smile at Serna as I enter the elevator, and she grins. “We’ll see you guys on sub-level twenty-three,” I say to
the boys.

Johnny gives me a thumbs-up, and Miguel waves as I let the door close. Only after do I notice one of Jax’s crossbow bolts stuck into the floor, beneath
the buttons.

“Enter destination,” the elevator
voice says.

I yank the bolt up and push the button for sub-level twenty-three.
Why would he do that?
He wouldn’t shoot a bolt into the elevator floor for no reason. I inspect it. Yes, it’s definitely one
of his.

“Why was that there?” an older
girl asks.

“I’m
not sure.”

“Yeah,” a boy chuckles in disgust, trying to mask his fear. “She’s not sure of much—or so she says.” And he elbows the boy next to him who looks one hundred percent terrified already. “You know what I think?” he goes on. “That she’s just gonna take us east and feed us to the cannibals—oh!—or maybe she’ll just gobble us up herself; her and her boyfriend
. . . .
”

This new boy—a lousy blabbermouth—was shipped in last week from Taborton. Twelve years old, with brown, fuzzy eyebrows that connect in the middle and a total of four rotten teeth in his whole fat mouth. He loves to brag about his “vaccinations” that protect him from
our diseases.

Slowly, I walk over to him, peer down into his eyes
. . .
and smirk. “Yes,” I tease. “And we’d start with you, except I wouldn’t want to choke
and die.”

He shows me his
middle finger.

Chloe squeezes my hand, points to the numbers. “Are we
almost there?”

The twenty-two button lights up, then
goes dark.

“Next floor,”
I say.

As the twenty-three button lights up, I move closer to the door. But instead of it staying lit and the elevator slowing to a stop, it, too, goes dark and the number twenty-four lights up. We
keep descending.

“Hey!” I bang a fist on the door, waking Baby Lou on Serna’s back. “What’s
going on?”

Twenty-four goes dark while twenty-five lights up and stays lit
. . .
except we don’t stop. We continue to descend. My ears pop, and Baby Lou screams, probably from the pressure in her ears, too.

“Momma Joy!” Chloe tugs at her ears in
a panic.

“Pinch your nose and blow,”
I say.

She does, and I pinch Baby Lou’s nose, though she fights me. Her screaming should clear her own pressure. Deeper and deeper we plummet into the earth, and panic swallows me. I grip the bolt tightly, my sweat making it slick in my palm. Then, it
hits me.

“Jax shot this into the floor, so we’d know this would happen,” I say to myself. “It was pointing
. . .
down.”

After what might have been another fifteen to twenty floors later, the elevator finally slows. “Please enjoy your travel,” says the voice, as the door opens to Jax and Aby, beaming from ear to ear with wide-
eyed excitement.

Jax rushes in, throws his arms around me. “You are not going to believe this.” He takes the crossbow bolt from my hand, then motions to two older boys, who nod and get on the elevator as we
file out.

“I’m sending them up to tell the others what’s going on. I wanted to make sure it was safe down here before I let them go.” He holds up the bolt. “So, you figured
this out?”

“Yeah, finally, when the elevator kept going after sub-level twenty-five. What’s
down here?”

“Something unbelievable.” Aby tries to smile, but it’s overcome by a tremble
of fear.

We move into the new corridor with the others, except this one isn’t like those above us. The combination of smells is both alluring and alarming, because I don’t know what to call them. To my left stands a stone wall with steel support beams; same, across from the elevator. Only one way to go. Slowly, my gaze drifts right, toward a strange whooshing noise. The corridor stretches out before us in an arched tunnel, with small, scurrying creatures inside that cast long shadows from the orange, square overhead lights. On the far side at its end, a green glow illuminates
the unknown.

“What’s down there?”
I ask.

The elevator door closes with a ding, taking the two boys back up to
the others.

Jax grabs my hand and tugs me down the tunnel, Aby following close behind. But Chloe, gripping my other hand tightly, plants her feet. “I’m scared,
Momma Joy.”

“Don’t worry,” Jax says. “I’ve got this.” He holds up his crossbow, loading the bolt back into place. “And I won’t let anything happen to any of you.” He continues to guide us down the tunnel, the whooshing noise getting louder, the
scents stronger.

I take a deep breath. “What is
that smell?”

A few more feet and a crisscross-barred covering over the exit becomes visible. My heart races, pumping the liquid metal of adrenaline through me; I taste it in my mouth, and my fingertips grow numb. Another few steps, and the source of the whooshing sound
is explained.

“That smell,” Jax says, “
is life.”

We stand inches from the tunnel grate, and on the other side, leafy green plants crawl along a sloped ground, down into a rushing black river a hundred or more feet across. On the opposite side, a thick forest travels upward, disappearing into utter darkness. Above the river, and seeming to float in midair, a line of tiny green lights follows the river in
both directions.

“Guess we know where our water comes from now,” I say. “My daddy always said there were tunnels, deep underground
. . . .
”

“Look over there,” says Jax, leaning into the grate and pointing to
our right.

Trembling, I lean in with him to see what he’s talking about. “Is that
. . .
a boat?”

“Yep,” he says. “And big enough for all of us, too. At least it appears so from
over here.”

The boat rests on a platform above the water, and it’s almost half the width of the river, with a fat bottom and an enclosed space on top with
wraparound windows.

“Anyone know how to operate a boat?”
I ask.

“I’m sure it’s not that difficult,” Jax says. “We need to get the children on safely, and make sure they stay inside. No telling what could be lurking in that water, or in those trees. Giant jumpers, at the
very least.”

“Oh, that’s comforting. How are there trees and stuff so deep underground? Don’t they need sunlight
to grow?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I’m sure we’ll figure that out, though. Probably related to how there’s fresh air way down here,
you know?”

“Yeah”—I nod—“maybe.”

On the wall is a rotating lever attached to a chain pulley, which I suspect raises the grate when turned. If it actually works, I’ll
be amazed.

Chloe’s hand trembles in mine. “I’m cold,”
she says.

“Yeah,” I say, “it’s much cooler down here than what we’re used to. Come on, I’ll give you a ride.” I crouch, and her clammy arms slide into place around my neck as she climbs on. I wrap my hands under her knees. “Let’s go—” I start, but Chloe suddenly shrieks and thrashes around on
my back.

“Get it off,
get it off!
”
she screams.

Jax swings, and something thumps against the wall. I’m horrified by a huge, wriggling creature lying on its back, feet dancing in the air. Chloe wails, strangling me with a
panicked grip.

Jax aims, and plants a crossbow bolt in the creature’s middle, which releases a thick ooze, silencing its dance. “That’s one big-ass cockroach,”
he says.

“I wanna go home!” Chloe cries. “I wanna go home, and I want
my mommy!”

I slide her down to cradle her. “Shh, honey, it’
s okay—”

“No!”
she sobs.

Jax removes the bolt from the bug’s midsection with a crunch, returning it to its holder. Then, he takes my arm and guides us back up the tunnel, excitement replaced with fear. Both his and Aby’s thoughts, plain on their faces, match mine: Sure, it’s a way out
. . .
but what’s
out there?

§

When the other two groups make it down, and we have Johnny with the second crossbow and Miguel with the spear, I feel better, but not much. I hadn’t really planned on a dark, underground forest with a black river and roaches the size of my hand. I had my heart set on a lovely, bright, blue-and-green paradise
. . .
not a ghost ship waiting to take us straight into the slimy, rotted mouth of Hell. Why Smudge would lead us down here, and not to the portal, is a thorn in my side. I wish she’d just show herself already and explain everything. This mystery’s getting old—fast.

Jax, Johnny, and Miguel, along with a couple of older boys, discuss security measures, while I keep an eye on the tunnel and reassure the terrified youngers, rocking Chloe in my arms. Thirty minutes, and she still hasn’t let go of me. My neck and back ache from
her weight.

“Chloe, I need to set you down, honey—”

“No,”
she whines.

“Yes, just stay here by me.” And I set her on the ground. My muscles thank me. I’m at least thirty pounds lighter now. Still, she grips my leg
and sniffles.

“All right,” Jax says. “Let’s
move out.”

“Olders,” I say, “stay with your buddies, and hold their hands if they’re seven or under.” Younger hands dart up into olders’, to the great reluctance of the older boys. But I give them a stern look. “We don’t know what to expect once we get that grate open, so we need to
be safe.”

Stay on guard. Be aware of
your surroundings
.

Together, we travel down the arched tunnel in silence, Jax and Johnny sweeping their crossbows back and forth in front of us. When we reach the end, Miguel gives the pulley’s handle a crank, producing a screeching echo from dry metal, followed by the grate rising a few inches. Miguel waits as Jax checks the area then gives him a signal, before turning the lever again. It rotates easily, though the squeal is enough to pierce through your bones, not to mention alert everything within a mile radius that naïve newcomers, who probably taste pretty good, are down here in time
for dinner.

Once the grate’s raised halfway, Miguel snaps the chain into a latch that holds it in place. Jax and Johnny cautiously duck under to examine the area, before waving us out behind them. We follow onto a platform a few feet wide with a railing, thankfully, to keep people from falling into the river. Who knows how deep it goes, or what lies beneath the surface? Behind and above us, slanting upward, mirroring its opposite side, the dark forest rustles with life and disappears into the black background. No way of telling how far back it goes, or
how high.

“Stay away from the railing,” I say. “To
be safe.”

We walk the downward-sloping platform toward the boat, and when we get to it, I’m surprised by its size. From the tunnel, it was hard to tell, but close up, it’s at least fifty feet long. Plenty of room for all of us, with some
to spare.

“Let’s hope something doesn’t already live here,” Jax says under
his breath.

I want to kick him. He has a bad habit of bringing up the worst possibilities. Instead, I glare at him, finger to
my lips.

Holding the brown-and-white boat up out of the water, a platform disconnects from where we’re standing, attached to a cable stretching to another pulley lever tied to a steel guardrail. On top of the boat is another platform surrounded by a railing, a square groove sunken into the floor, complete with a
silver latch.

“Everyone gets on, except for one person,” I say. “That last person has to release the pulley to drop the boat into the water, then hop on
the deck.”

Jax examines it, nodding. “Smart girl.” He carefully pulls the worn black handle, and the door clicks open. I shine my light stick inside, and we both
lean in.

“What do you see?”
Aby asks.

“Hey,” Johnny calls from the end of the line, “can we hurry it up already? Something just moved over here.
Sounded big.”

A circle of benches line the wall inside the boat, and toward the front, a doorway to a smaller room, where a chair sits behind a giant wheel with handles poking out all
around it.

“Hey!”
Johnny yells.

“Everyone on, now!” I say. “Carefully!
No pushing—”

But pairs of olders and youngers near-trample each other to get onto the rickety boat. The wood floor moans at the
sudden weight.

“I’ll let the lever down,”
says Jax.

“No,” Miguel says. “I’ll do it. You can stand up top and cover me with
your crossbow.”

Jax nods and disappears inside, heading to the front room with the wheel. Seconds later, footsteps echo overhead, and Jax leans over the rail above me. “Nice view up here,” he says, clicking a bolt into
ready position.

I help the last few children on, and Aby pushes Baby Lou into my arms, shoving past me in the doorway. “Aby, what—?”

She begins ranting at Miguel for “endangering”
himself again.

“Get on the boat,” he yells at her. “Now!” I’ve never seen his face so serious
and scolding.