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

As Ms. Ruby said, about thirty minutes later, not one, but three rolling carts full of food arrive. Suellen, along with another man and woman serve us the most delicious, extravagant meal we’ve ever had. Long skinny green things, slathered in a glistening sauce, drip like golden sunshine when I bring a forkful to my mouth, and we each have our very own fluffy yeast roll as big as Baby Lou’s head. Our drinks have actual ice in them—
real ice
—and flavored with tastes one can only describe
as otherworldly.

But perhaps the thing that excites me most are the slabs of delectable goodness clinging to a
single bone.

“Is this meat?” I ask Suellen, mouth full of
the stuff.

“Yes, that’s chicken,” she says. “We have a farm about a half-mile from here. We raise all of our
own meat.”

“A farm with animals?” Chloe says. “Can we
see them?”

“I’m
. . .
sure Ms. Ruby will be fine with that,” she replies. “But you’ll have to speak with her. She should be
back soon.”

Suellen and the others leave us to our wonderful meal. For a few minutes, the room is silent but for forks clanking against metal plates, chewing, and ice clinking along the insides of glasses. Baby Lou is wearing most of her mushy meal on her face, but she doesn’t seem to mind. “Applesauce,” Suellen called it. Whatever it is, Baby Lou thinks it tastes just as good licking it from her hands. She insists on mashing them into the mess and mixing the
contents around.

I eat until my stomach tells me to stop, though I still want more of the flavor. I definitely don’t want to taste the awesome meal a second time. Something tells me it wouldn’t be nearly as good. Probably better than the Tree Factory slop, though.

I push my half-empty plate aside and gaze out the window at the ocean
. . .
until I’m startled by something on my leg. Mateo’s hand, sneaking a thigh-rub. I side-glance him and grin. He returns it. Across the room, I catch Jax sneaking a peek at us from his table alone with Vila and Tallulah. They haven’t talked to anyone but themselves since we stepped into
this place.

“Looks like they’ve become pretty friendly,”
Mateo whispers.

“Well, they suit each other. They’re
both angry.”

“V’s usually not. I don’t know what her problem is lately. I guess she’s never had competition before. Weren’t many other girls our age at the Subterrane.” He leans in closer. “Plus, I think she’s had a secret thing for me since we
were young.”

“Oh? Well, that explains
a lot.”

“Yeah,
it does.”

Ms. Ruby appears in the doorway, beaming from ear to ear. “Did ya all
enjoy lunch?”

Their cheering could probably be heard back at the
Tree Factory.

“That’s fantastic,” she says. “Now, if you’ll just leave every-ting here and come wit’ me. We’re goin’ to the medical wing to get ya all checked out. Then, we’ll come back here, get your tings, and I’ll take ya to
your rooms.”

I wipe Baby Lou down with a dampened cloth, while the rest of the stuffed children make their way from their chairs, slowly, to the door. Not many of them have ever experienced a full stomach. Scanning the room, I find everyone’s by the door, except for Aby, who’s staring out
the window.

“Smudge, can you take Baby Lou for a second?”
I ask.

“Sure.”

I hand her over, then head toward my sister. “Aby,” I say when I
get close.

She doesn’
t respond.

“Hello
. . .
?” I move to her side, and her blank stare infuriates me. “Are you coming,
or what?”

She still doesn’
t answer.

“Will you snap out of it already!”
I yell.

“No!” She whips around to face me. “No, okay? I won’t! So just
. . .
leave me alone!” She rushes over to the waiting group, and
I follow.

Ms. Ruby gives me a concerned look. “Every-
ting okay?”

“It will be,” I reply. “After we all get some rest, things will be
much better.”

Aby glares, as if my notion were preposterous, that sleep would heal her broken heart. I
glare back.

“All right, then,” Ms. Ruby says. “It shouldn’t take too long at the medical center; an hour tops. We have a few nurses and a couple doctors on duty. Then, we’ll get ya all to your rooms to rest.” She turns and walks out. “
Follow me!”

We trail her down a short hallway, passing a sign that reads: Medical Wing. A couple minutes’ walk later, we arrive at the large, open doorway leading into the medical room. Rows and rows of thin cots and tables line the walls, neatly cluttered with various strange-looking medical supplies. Three women and a man dressed in crisp white clothing, and another man and a woman dressed in light blue, smile at us when we enter. They spread us out on the various cots and make their rounds, checking eyes, noses, ears, mouths, and listening to heartbeats. Baby Lou screams the
entire time.

The woman in light blue approaches me and Baby Lou, smiling warmly. “I’m Doctor Sullivan,” she says loudly, over Baby’s crying. We
shake hands.

“I’m Joy. Nice to
meet you.”

“You, as well. One of the little girls told me you were responsible for everyone
. . .
?”

“Uh, yes. I suppose I am. Baby Lou, shh, it’s okay,” I soothe,
rocking her.

“Well, then I need your permission to run blood tests on everyone. Most of you have never had vaccinations or medical care of any kind, I’m sure. And in order for us to know if we need to treat anything, a blood test
is necessary.”

I look to Smudge in the next
cot over.

“It’s okay,” she says. “It’s a common
medical procedure.”

“Well
. . .
go ahead, then,
I guess.”

The doctor takes something from her pocket. “May I see your finger? It’ll be a tiny prick.” I give it to her, and she places the end of a small, square gadget against its tip. The gadget clicks and I flinch at the sharp stab. Then, she pinches to collect the secreted blood. After a few seconds, she snaps it closed with a smile, and wraps my finger with a sticky bandage. “Joy,
you said?”

“Yes.”

She holds the square gadget by her mouth, pressing a small button. “Joy,” she repeats, and the device beeps. “This will hold everyone’s samples,” she says. “We’ll have the results by this evening, and we’ll let you know what we find. No news is good news. Will you hold the
baby still?”

I nod and hold Baby Lou tight as Doctor Sullivan pricks her tiny finger. Baby screams, then squirms, while she collects the fresh blood into
the device.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she says. “I know it’s uncomfortable.” She snaps the thing closed, wraps a bandage around Baby Lou’s finger. “What’s
her name?”

“Louanne.”

“Louanne,” she repeats into the gadget. Then, she moves on to Smudge. Smudge displays her tattooed neck, and Doctor Sullivan nods, passes her up, moving on to
Mateo instead.

Another thing I’ll have to ask her
about later.

After everyone’s been checked and blood tested, Ms. Ruby returns to take us to a surprise. She brings two rolling carts piled high with towels and folded clothes, and leads us all back toward the children’s wing. She unlocks a brown door, and it opens to a ramp, leading down at a slight angle. “Follow me, children.” She flips on a light, pushing one cart ahead of her, and pulling
one behind.

“Let me get that,” Emerson says, taking over the one
behind her.

“Oh thank ya, dear, that’
s sweet.”

The corridor is short, and I’m grateful it doesn’t seem too far underground. I’ve had enough of underground for a lifetime—for
twelve lifetimes.

The ramp stops at
two archways.

“Boys to the left, girls to the right,” Ms. Ruby says. “In each area, there’s a community bath, and individual showers for those who prefer more privacy. These are for you boys.” She pushes one of the carts toward the left archway. “The other is for
you girls.”

Smudge takes the cart from Emerson and we start toward the archway on
the right.

“I’ll be there shortly, girls,” says Ms. Ruby. “Let me give the boys instructions first.” She leads the
boys inside.

When we step through the doorway and around the corner, I’m reminded of the pool at Gomorrah Grande. Not as extravagant, but larger, welcoming—definitely not creepy—with shallow moving water and a platform all the way around. On one end, a ramp leads down into the water, and along the back wall are narrow stalls with green curtains pulled to the side. For a couple of minutes, we stand in silent awe, until Ms. Ruby comes through the archway behind us. “All right, then. Let’s get the bubbles goin’ in the pool, and I’ll show ya how to operate
the showers.

“Bubbles?”
I say.

She winks and, leaning over to a small box on the wall, punches a few buttons. The pool’s water begins to swirl faster, forming bubbles on the water’s surface and along the edges of the walls. They grow and move inward, toward the center, as the girls giggle, squeal, and jump up
and down.

“Are we going in there, Momma Joy?”
Chloe asks.

“Is it deep?” I ask Ms. Ruby.

“Four feet at this end.” She points in front of us. “Prob’ly best to keep the youngest ones by the ramp. The bubbles are made from soap, so they can just get in and play, and they’ll
get clean.”

Clothes fly through the air, and bare bodies skip to the ramp. The pool’s surface is now a thick layer of bubbles, which becomes a bubbly wave as they splash
into them.

“Those the showers?” Vila motions to the
curtained stalls.

“Yes, dear. Do
ya need—?”

“No, I’ll figure it out.” She rushes off, Tallulah’s head sticking out from her knapsack. Aby follows
close behind.

“I’m sorry they’re so rude,”
I say.

“Oh, nonsense,” Ms. Ruby says. “They’re fine. They been through a lot. Now listen, when ya get to the showers, the knob on the left is hot, and the one on the
right is—”

“Did you say hot?”
I ask.

“Oh,
hell
yeah!” Vila yells. “We’ve died and gone to flippin’ paradise!”

“Guess so,” Smudge says, grinning.

What a glorious day
. . . .
Aside from the warm baths my mother gave me when I was small enough to fit in the washtub—which I don’t remember, for being so young—I’ve never bathed in
warm water.

“You want me to take Baby Lou into the pool while you shower?” Smudge asks. “I’ll go in my clothes; they need
washing anyway.”

“You can
. . .
go in?”

“Yes.” She nods. “I am
. . .
waterproof.”

We share a giggle and I hand Baby over. While Smudge heads toward the ramp with her, I snatch a towel from the cart and dig through the stacks of soft, strange clothing until I find something that might fit—a long peach-and-tan dress with skinny straps at the top, and curls of longer fabric at
the bottom.

“A wonderful choice,” Ms. Ruby says. “I made that one myself,
years ago.”

“
You sew?”

“Someone has to fix tings up around here.”
She winks.

“My mother used to sew,” I tell her. “She taught me when I was young. Good thing, too, because I’ve been able to mend everyone’s clothes for the past
few years.”

“Aw, well
. . .
how fortunate they’ve been to have ya care for them, Joy.”

“Thanks.”

“Now, go enjoy your shower, you’ve earned it. I’ll be back soon, I need to move the baby crib from the nursery, to a room on the girls’ floor. Ya need to be in the same room with your Baby Lou,
I assume.”

“Yes,
thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. I’ll see ya soon, dear.” Grinning, she heads back through
the archway.

A warm shower! My eagerness is barely containable. Once I’m sure Smudge and Baby Lou are all right in the pool with everyone else, I glide to the last stall on the left, three down from where Tallulah waits in her knapsack for Vila to finish. I hang the fresh dress on a hook, and step inside. With a smile, I turn the knobs, and warm water sprays my hands. I close the curtain and undress, tossing my mother’s sleep clothes to the tile floor, then melt beneath my glory. Ms. Ruby was right; I
have
earned this. My entire horrid existence has led me to this one moment, a warm baptismal spray washing everything into the drain below my feet. I’ve done it.
We’ve
done it. In this moment, I could die and be
at peace.

§

Ms. Ruby situates us into our cozy rooms—olders in their own, single rooms on the right; youngers in shared, double rooms on the left. I relax with Baby Lou on my tiny, soft bed in my new dress. She has fresh, new clothes for the first time, and they almost fit her perfectly, with room to grow. She also has her own crib again, except this one has lacy ruffles lining the bottom, and it doesn’t creak and wobble when you touch it. I hand her Millie from her bag. She babbles to it, and I check out the view from my window. The tops of huts and trees that rise up the hill’s slope stop at the base of The Wall and a couple of miles down the beach in a thick, leafy jungle. If I lean to my left, I can see the ocean, and the sun starting to sink low. Brilliant rays of blue and orange, pinks and reds, enchant
the sky.