Everland (6 page)

H
aving ventured out only at night in the last year, my eyes sting in the daylight. Mikey fares better as he peeks through the holes of a colander neatly tied to his head with twine. An old, rusty pot lid serves as a chest plate. Bronze cogs, bolts, and wheels attach kettle lids to his makeshift shoulder pads and spin as he swings his arms. His brown teddy bear peers out of the top of the small rucksack on his back. Seeing his petite frame in the crude armor reminds me of the hours Joanna spent constructing it. I miss her terribly and wish I could take back all the things I said the last time I was with her.

Mikey struggles to keep up, and finally stumbles, his worn shoes tripping on the buckled concrete street.

“Mikey!” I sprint to him and kneel. Blood seeps through a scrape on his knee, staining his tattered pajamas. “Are you okay?”

“It hurts and I’m tired,” he says, sniffling back tears.

We’ve been traveling toward the city for an hour. I’m worn out from walking, crawling under fences, and hiding under what is left of expressway overpasses. Mikey must be exhausted.

Bella pulls the teddy bear from Mikey’s rucksack, kneels by my brother, and hands the stuffed animal to him. “Here, this will help you feel better,” she says. Mikey takes the ragged toy with some reluctance, worry creasing his forehead. He snuggles the bear to his chest, and I notice the corners of Bella’s lips turn up in a slight smile. In that moment, her fierceness disappears, and I see a trace of the girl she must have been before the war changed us all. I can’t help but smile at her attempt to comfort him in spite of her pride.

When she catches me staring at her, she grimaces and stands. “You really ought to be more careful. It’s no wonder you fell with all that shuffling you’ve been doing,” she says, flipping the lever on her rocket pack. The contraption gives a loud hiss as steam rises from the pack. Her wings deploy with an audible click. They glitter brightly beneath the faintest ray of sunlight peeking through broken storm clouds. Bella’s feet lift from the ground and she floats to Pete’s side.

“Can’t we rest awhile?” I ask, wrapping an arm around my brother.

Pete stops, shakes his head, and walks toward us. “If we rest, we die. You just don’t get it, do you, Immune?” he says. His tone is sharp and jarring, sending a fresh wave of anxiety through me. My cheeks grow warm. When I say nothing, Pete walks away with Bella flying just above his right shoulder.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” I ask, gathering myself as I help Mikey to his feet. We sprint to catch up with Pete and Bella.

“Keep calling you what?” he replies, obviously toying with me.

“Immune. Aren’t you and Bella Immunes, too?”

Bella wrinkles her nose, as if the suggestion has left a bitter taste in her mouth. “No way. We’re Lost Kids.”

“Lost whats?” Mikey asks, letting go of my hand and staggering alongside Pete.

Pete whirls around. “A Lost Kid. A member of the Lost City. Can we move on now?”

“But you’re still an Immune, aren’t you? What, precisely, is the difference?” I ask.

“The difference is precisely this: Lost Kids never get caught,” Pete says, standing a little taller. He spins, walking backward, and points a finger at me. “Immunes, on the other hand, eventually end up as one of Hook’s lab rats.” Pete turns and continues marching up the street. “Without Bella and me, you’d be in Hook’s lab as we speak.”

I roll my eyes. “This is ridiculous,” I mutter.

“I don’t want to get caught,” Mikey says, scurrying in front of Pete. “I want to be a Lost Kid like you and Bella.”

Pete stops and crouches. “Well, there you go,” he says, giving Mikey a gentle tap on the nose. “You’re well on your way to being a Lost Boy. Stick with me, kid, and you will be a Lost Boy in no time. In fact …” Pete unsheathes his dagger and taps each of Mikey’s shoulders with the flat surface of the blade. “I dub you, Mikey, Lost Boy in training.” He turns the knife and offers the ornate hilt to my little brother.

Mikey’s mouth gapes as he reaches for the chrome dagger. I snatch it from his hand and give it back to Pete. Mikey scowls, but it quickly fades. He throws his bear into the air, catches it, and dances around in circles. “I’m going to be a Lost Boy!” he sings.

Bella blows a breath through puffed cheeks and flicks the lever on her rocket pack. Her wings flutter slower and she glides to the ground. “Did you have to go and make him a trainee?”

“You are completely mad.” I throw my rucksack over my shoulder and stomp off, irritated with his nonsensical talk.

“Hey, wait,” Pete says. He runs next to me.

I trudge forward, unwilling to stop. “What? Now that you’ve knighted my brother, are you going to tell me you can fly, too?” I gesture to Bella, who folds her arms and narrows her eyes.

He drapes an arm over my shoulders. “Maybe I can.”

I shrug off his arm and march away from him.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he says.

Whirling around, I stare at the boy. “What now?” I ask, annoyed.

“You,” he says, stepping closer to me and poking a finger into my shoulder, “are still an Immune.”

Before I can retort, deep, metallic voices resound from the buildings nearby. Pete shoves me behind a smelly shrub, and Bella and Mikey race after us. I glance around the edge of the bush, careful not to touch the leaves. A group of Marauders hurries up the street. They shout orders through their gas masks, their words indecipherable from this far away. My stomach rolls as I watch one soldier drag a dead body from a building by a laced boot. Empathy settles over me as the soldiers joke about her pink knickers peeking out from her ripped skirt. I am glad she is no longer alive to face the embarrassment of their crude comments.

The soldier lifts a manhole cover, and she is rolled into the sewer by the heel of his boot.

“Lunchtime,” the soldier shouts into the hole.

I swallow back the urge to vomit. My throat is dry and my hands tremble. I have no idea what the soldier meant, but I’m terrified to entertain the thought. I pull Mikey close. “What are we going to do?”

“We need to split up,” Pete says, peeking through the bush. “Bella, take Mikey. Meet us at Beckton Station.”

Bella nods, pulls her slingshot from her belt, and grips Mikey’s hand. He doesn’t resist, but his bottom lip quivers.

I brush Mikey behind me. “No! I’m not leaving him.”

“We are going to distract those soldiers. Mikey is too little to outrun them,” Pete explains with quick, quiet words. “You and I have the best chance of evading them, and Bella knows every hiding spot from here to the first tunnel entrance. It’s our best option.”

“I want to come with you,” Mikey whines into the fur of his bear.

Placing a finger against his pink lips, I shush him. The twigs of the bush scratch my cheek as I peer through the maze of branches. Hook’s men search the empty, run-down buildings with their weapons drawn, sunlight reflecting in the metal gleam of their guns. One soldier breaks a window with the butt of his gun and kicks at the remaining shards, sending glass tinkling onto the concrete. He raises the weapon, looking through the brass scope mounted on top before stepping through the gaping hole.

“It’s either now or never. If we don’t go, we’ll all be caught,” Pete says, flicking his gaze at me and back at the soldiers.

The soldiers are two buildings away and approaching quickly. “Mikey, you stay with Bella. Don’t leave her side for even a minute,” I insist. I take a deep breath, trying to loosen the growing tightness in my chest. “Do whatever she tells you to. No arguing.”

Mikey frowns and tears pool in his eyes. “But, Gwen, I’m scared. Let me come with you.” I’m tempted to change my mind when Pete stoops in front of Mikey.

“I need you to look after her,” he says, tilting his head toward Bella. “She needs a brave soldier, a Lost Boy, to protect her. I know you can do it. Can I count on you?”

His kindness surprises me, and I feel the ire brewing in me shift.

“I don’t need looking after,” Bella argues. Her voice teeters on revealing our hiding spot.

Pete takes her petite hand into his. “We all could use an extra pair of eyes watching our backs. Where would I be without you? How many times have you gotten me out of a jam? Once? Twice?”

“More like a thousand,” she mutters. Bella kicks at a pile of stones from the crumbled structure behind us and curses under her breath. “Okay, fine. I am a damsel in distress and need your help. Without you, I’m bound to become Hook’s next victim, and I’ll never ever get away,” she says in a quiet singsong tone, waving a gloved hand in the air. “So, what’ll it be? You with me or not?” She playfully punches Mikey’s shoulder.

Mikey tilts his head and looks at me, seeking my approval. Even though I know he’s frightened, he rolls his shoulders back and stands up a little straighter. There’s a change in his expression, and suddenly he’s not a little boy but something stronger, braver.

I nod my consent, even though my stomach aches at the thought of leaving him behind.

Squeezing his bear to his chest with one arm, Mikey pulls the umbrella from the pack on his back with his other hand. He holds it in front of him as if it were a sword. “I will guard her with my life,” he says, his small voice unwavering.

I wrap my arms around him, hugging him tight as the nagging feeling that this might be the last time I will ever see him whispers in my head. “Mum and Dad would be so proud of you,” I say quietly. “If they could only see how grown up …” My words catch in my throat. I swallow them back. He’s too little to be a grown-up. I am supposed to be the brave one. Mikey’s sad face reflects the ache within me. Dropping my arms, I step back to take one last look at him, but I don’t get the opportunity.

“We need to go now!” Pete says, shoving me out of the bushes. I stumble from our hiding place before regaining my balance. The sting of sheer terror adds to the dull pang of hunger. A half-dozen soldiers stare at us through their goggled helmets, a few of them stopping midstride, as if unsure what to do next.

I step back, panic imploring me to run. “What have you done? They’ve spotted us!”

“That’s the whole point.” Pete crosses his arms and gives a bellowing laugh that echoes through the narrow street. “It’s about time you yobs arrived. What took you so long? Hide-and-seek gets awfully boring waiting for you to show up.” Pete taps the leather cuff watch on his wrist, his fingernail audibly clicking against the intricate gears. “Tick tick.”

The soldiers lift their weapons, their chrome barrels taking aim at us. I struggle to catch a breath as two other soldiers emerge from the crowd: a tall, muscular boy a bit older than me and a short, maskless boy. Both have bronze-and-chrome Gatling guns wrapping around a single arm. While the shorter one is dressed in a similar dark and metallic uniform as the other Marauders, the other wears a long, leather military coat adorned with brass buckles and buttons. Although the soldiers’ armor is intimidating, the sight of the leather-clad boy makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I know immediately who he is.

Up until today he has been the faceless boogeyman from my nightmares, a distorted illusion formed by rumors on the streets the days after the bombs fell. Seeing him up close for the first time, he is more terrifying than I imagined. I can make out every detail, including his tan skin, square jaw, and black hair. Three long scars rake across the right side of his face, disappearing beneath an eye patch. Despite his ominous demeanor, it is his dark, single eye that frightens me most.

I have no doubt that the boy who stands before me is the leader of the Marauders. Hook. My heart sinks and my limbs feel heavy, unable to move. The Marauder’s good eye grows wide before he bursts into a fit of laughter. The shorter soldier steps next to him.

“Blimey, it’s him, Captain!” the soldier says. His English dialect betrays him. He is one of our own. My stomach lurches at his treachery. “It’s Pete!”

“Indeed, it is, Mr. Smeeth, and a girl,” the Captain says in a mocking tone, his dark eye narrowing on me.

“A girl?” Pete says, staring at me with a quizzical expression. “Who? Her? Or are you referring to that pathetic sidekick of yours?”

Smeeth lunges toward us but is stopped by Hook’s outstretched arm. The Captain rubs his chin. “You keep foul company for a girl.” He tilts his face toward the sky, as if sniffing the air. “I thought I smelled chicken.”

The other soldiers snicker in unison. A few howl a rooster call, mockingly.

Pete cackles, unintimidated by the Marauders. “Let me introduce you to Captain Hook himself and his little trollop. Nice to run into you again, Bartholomew.”

I try to distance myself from the soldiers, walking backward slowly, but Pete grips my elbow tightly. A tremble rips through my body as terror floods my veins. I had hoped I’d never have to meet the Captain beyond my nightmares.

Smeeth flinches. “That would be Mr. Smeeth to you,” he says, lifting his arm and aiming the menacing Gatling gun at us.

“Aww, I thought we were over the formalities and on a first-name basis,” Pete mocks.

I bite my lip, tasting the coppery hint of blood, and realize I’m being pathetic. If I’m going to be Hook’s next abduction, I’ll at least go out fighting. I grip my knives and steel myself.

“Capturing you has become much easier than I had anticipated. We’ll be back to the palace by high tea,” Smeeth says.

“Let’s not make this difficult. Why don’t you and your little girlfriend just come with us,” Hook says, taking a careful step toward us and holding up his gloved hands.

Pete elbows me in the ribs. “Girlfriend? Did you hear that? I had no idea you had feelings for me, although it is hardly surprising. I
am
irresistible.”

My cheeks flush, the heat spreading to my ears and neck. I blink at him, incredulous and unsure what to say. I’ve never been anyone’s girlfriend.

“What do you say?” Pete continues. “Hide-and-seek was not much fun. We’re much too good at hiding. Are you up for a game of follow-the-leader? Although I ought to warn you, Captain Hook and Bartholomew are lousy leaders, and I would avoid standing downwind from them. They smell like codfish.”