The Trial (The Tree House)

by Shay Lynam

  “Sy wanted us to meet him and your brother at the Tree House so that’s where we’re headed.”

  I let out a chuckle. “So I did hear him right.” David glanced my way. “Really?” I asked him. “A tree house in Seattle?”

  “It’s not quite what you think,” he replied looking back at Thomas in the backseat. The kid was still out cold. We turned a corner and David had to slam on his brakes. There was a long line of cars waiting in front of us and some construction worker was standing in the road with a stop sign. “Perfect,” David muttered letting his hands drop onto the steering wheel. “Just what we need.”

  “So then, what is it?” I asked to take his mind back off the traffic jam.

  For a second, he just sat there glaring ahead at the construction worker and the long line of cars. I thought maybe I had lost him when he opened his mouth with a sigh. “It’s this old, condemned building Sy found a little while back,” he explained and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “He knows some of the right people and managed to keep them from knocking it down.”

  “He must be loaded,” I said crossing my arms and laying my head against the window suddenly feeling exhausted and sleepy in this warm car.

  David let out a small laugh. “You could say that.”

  I smiled as I watched the raindrops race each other down the window. My eyelids were feeling heavy. It had been a long day. To be honest, it had been the longest day of my life and it wasn’t even close to over yet. We were probably going to be sitting in traffic for a while and after all the running and stressing I had done, I felt I deserved a little nap.

  It seemed like I had just closed my eyes when I was being shaken hard. My eyelids flew open as I sat up straight with a start and David was trying to open my door and push me out. He was yelling and cursing and I was still groggy and disoriented. “He’s running!” David finally yelled at me and I twisted around to find the door wide open and the backseat empty. “Go after him!” he shouted as he tried to push me out of my seat. Still a bit unsteady, I sprawled out onto the pavement and took off running across the street after Thomas. He wasn’t too far ahead of me so I wasn’t worried about losing him. Though with his hands tied together he sure was attracting a lot of unwanted attention.

  I was only a block behind him when a police car pulled up next to him on the street. Crap. I ducked quickly into the closest alley as an officer got out of the car and approached Thomas. I couldn’t hear very well what they were saying but at one point he pointed back toward the street where the car had been. He was going to completely ruin everything. The policeman undid the cord around the kid’s wrists while he continued running his mouth and pointing frantically to the street. After a couple minutes of this, the cop put his hands up to quiet Thomas and began saying something back. Thomas nodded and the man turned around and went to sit in his car, probably to call someone. We were done for. While he waited, Thomas pulled a cellphone out of his pocket. Immediately, an idea came to me and I pulled the folder back out of my back pocket. His number had to be in there somewhere. I quickly found it and pulled out the black flip phone from my front pocket. It only rang a couple times before Thomas answered it.

  “Hello?” His voice sounded confused and hesitant.

  “Thomas, you can’t go with the officer,” I said frantically seeing his eyes grow wide as they darted back and forth.

  “Leave me alone,” he snapped.

  Crap, he was going to hang up. “Thomas, listen to me. My name is Jack,” I said hoping it would keep him on the line. “I’m in the same sort of trouble as you. Someone is after us. They want to kill you. You have to trust me.”

  I watched as the kid bit his lip and clenched his free hand into a fist. “So you expect me to trust the people that knocked me out, bound my wrists and threw me into the back of a car?”

  “Look,” I continued. “I don’t blame you for freaking out. I probably would have done the same thing if I was you but you have to believe me. David and I are just trying to keep you safe.”

  “Safe from what?” Thomas asked irritated.

  The phone was yanked from my hand and I whirled around as David brought it to his own ear. “Listen, Thomas,” he said into the receiver. “That cop in that car is not there to help you. Any minute now a black car is going to come around the corner. The men in that car have every intention of killing you so if you don’t run now; you’re as good as dead. Got it?”

  As David talked to him, I watched his face contort into something I could only describe as sheer terror. He was saying something back to David but I couldn’t tell what. As the two of them continued to argue, the black car from the school turned around the corner. Thomas’s eyes settled on the car and he stumbled back, the hand holding the phone dropping from his ear. David growled frustrated and shut the phone. Before the car could pull over, Thomas turned and pushed open the door to whatever random shop he was in front of. The suits got out of the car quickly and followed the cop in after him.

  “What do we do?” I asked feeling my heart hammering in my chest. “Do we go in after him?”

  David didn’t reply. Instead he dialed another number, cursing under his breath the whole time. I heard it ring a couple times then someone answered. “Sy, it’s David,” he said. “The kid has a couple suits on his tail…no, Jack and I are safe for now…Well, we can’t just leave him. We need the kid to help us find the rest…alright…no, you’re right…hang on.” He took the phone from his ear and looked at the screen. A familiar number appeared.

  “That’s Thomas,” I hissed. What if the suits had gotten him and were now calling us to get our location?

  David pushed the talk button and brought the phone back up to his ear. “Thomas?” he asked nervously. I could hear his voice shaking. Then his shoulders relaxed. “You lost them?” I felt my own body relax too. “Well, where are you?” After a long pause, David looked up toward the sky. I followed his eyes to find a shadowy face surrounded by curly dark hair peering down at us from the roof of the building we were standing next to.

  I shielded my eyes from the gray sky. “Do you believe us now?”

  Thomas’s voice shook. “Can you guys help me down?”

  It didn’t take long to find a ladder leading down off the roof and into the alley. We hadn’t seen the suits or the police officer come back out of the building through the front so we didn’t know if they were still in there or if they had found another way out. Either way, we weren’t wasting any more time, so as soon as Thomas hit the ground, we took off running to where David had parked the car. There was no need to bind the kid’s hands this time or knock him out, which I’m sure he appreciated. Instead, he climbed into the backseat willingly.

  “You need to get rid of your cellphone,” David said to him as he pulled back out onto the street.

  I saw Thomas frown in the rear view mirror. “He has a cellphone,” he said motioning to me with his head.

  “It’s a safe line. Yours, however, isn’t so you need to get rid of it.”

  Thomas rolled his window down, muttering to himself the whole time and tossed his phone out the window. I couldn’t help but smile a bit as I watched him sulk back against the seat. His eyes met mine. “What happened to your eye?” he asked.

  I had almost forgotten about my black eye and now I brought a hand up to touch it. It was still tender and I winced as soon as my fingers hit it. “Nothing,” I muttered and turned my attention to the passing buildings outside my window.

  “Thomas, we’re going to go meet up with a couple more people and then we’ll be able to explain a bit what’s going on,” David said.

  “It’s Root,” the kid replied quietly. David and I both glanced at him in the mirror waiting for him to explain. When he met our eyes, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I was named after my adopted dad and he wasn’t a very good man, so I go by Root.”

  The three of us spent the rest of the car ride in silence. David decided to go a different way to avoid the traffi
c jam and I decided I would attempt to get comfortable enough to get some shut eye. After sleeping on a hard floor for the past few days, this cushioned seat felt like I was resting on a marshmallow and it didn’t take long for me to doze off to the sound of the warm air coming out of the vent and the rain hitting the window.

  Chapter seven

  Root was the only win in our first couple weeks of trying to find the other patients. Ben and I walked into several houses and apartments to find the walls splattered with blood and bodies on the floor. Other times the homes were empty but I could sense the fear and panic that had filled the place only hours earlier. Every time we were just barely too late. The constant feeling of failure was becoming agonizing. I could see it in Ben’s eyes; the longing to save even just one life after ending so many. The disappointment in Sy’s and David’s and Root’s eyes every time we came back alone made me feel sick to my stomach and it took everything in me not to collapse in on myself like a dying star right there in the doorway.

  Instead, I found my sanctuary up on the roof of this place that Sy and David called the Tree House. Ben would always go into the tree room. It was a room on the first floor where a tree grew up through the foundation, covering one corner with its wide trunk and sprawling branches. He liked to sit in the limbs and pretend he was somewhere far away. I liked it up on the roof. I would rather be on top of the tree than enclosed in its branches. Perhaps it was my claustrophobia that made the constricting, tangling limbs seem so unappealing. I hated the feeling that my lungs were folding up and crumpling in my chest and I couldn’t quite take a full breath no matter how much I tried. But out on the roof, the air was cold and sharp and it burned and made me feel alive.

  It was weird to think that here I was, here my brother and I were, with so many peoples’ lives slipping through our fingers, so many deaths on our minds and yet the world was going on as if nothing was happening. One of the most infuriating things about the world is that it goes on, blind and unaware, even as your own little world is crumbling, breaking into pieces in your hands. One day you have parents; the next day you’re an orphan. One day you have a place and a path. The next day you’re drowning.

  It doesn’t matter though. No one cares. The rain falls, the sun rises, people go to work and to school and on dates. They get stuck in traffic and yell and honk their horns. Toilets flush and ceiling fans spin. That’s when you realize that most of it isn’t about you. None of it is. Life doesn’t include you at all. The world will keep turning, never once missing a beat. Even after you’re gone. Even long after you’re dead.

  One day, Ben and I stumbled upon a particularly gruesome scene. We made our way back to the Tree House and I was just about to go throw my guts up when Root came down the stairs to greet us with another file. Ben took one look at my colorless face and stepped in front of me. “I don’t think we can handle any more today, Root,” he said with a shake of his head.

  “There’s no time,” Root replied pushing his glasses up his nose. “If you hurry, maybe you’ll get there before the suits do.”

  I shook my head. “What makes you think this one will be any different?” I muttered swallowing the bile rising in my throat as I recalled the brain matter splattered across the living room wall.

  The shrimpy kid peered at the two of us, furrowing his thick eyebrows. “You aren’t allowed to give up,” he said sternly. “Maybe if this wasn’t that big of a deal, but these are lives we’re talking about. You’re not allowed to give up on people that need us.” Then he shoved the file into Ben’s stomach and trudged back up the stairs.

  My gut churned wildly as Ben drove toward our destination. I don’t know if it was his crazy driving or the dread of knowing what we were going to find when we got there. It was probably a mix of both.

  “Ben, why are we doing this?” I asked quietly. “Why are we putting ourselves through this torture?” My brother spun the wheel hard throwing me against the window and then slammed on the brakes. “What’s your problem?” I yelled rubbing the side of my face where it hit the glass.

  Ben leaned over me and opened the door. “You don’t want to do this? Then get out,” he barked, his eyes drilling into mine. I just stared for a moment with my mouth gaping open, words stuck in the back of my throat. I hadn’t expected him to pull over in the middle of traffic. Cars honked behind us. “Go on,” he said nodding toward the sidewalk. I shut my mouth again and clenched my teeth hard causing my head to throb more. “Either you’re coming with me, Jack, or you’re walking back to the Tree House.”

  At last, I pulled my door shut and sat back in my seat. Without another word, Ben put the car back in gear and pulled away from the curb. We drove in silence until we reached the neighborhood Root had told us to go to. Then Ben parked the car a block from our target house.

  “I remember their eyes,” he said finally. I turned to look at my brother. “Their faces. All of them so hopeless.” He glanced at me. “You don’t know what it’s like to see the fear in a person’s eyes and know you’re the one that put it there. I’m sick of it.”

  I looked away as his eyes became glassy. “Alright, Ben,” I said quietly. “I get it.”

  “I don’t think you do.” Again, I met his look. The sadness was gone and replaced with anger. “I need a win, Jack. And these people; they’re just like us and they need us right now.”

  “Alright,” I repeated putting my hands up in defense. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry. You’re right.” Then I got out of the car and shut the door. Ben shut his too and the two of us started for the house.

  Once we made it up the steps, Ben pressed his ear to the door and wrapped his hand tighter around his gun. We were silent for a moment as he listened. “Anything?” I whispered. Ben shook his head then went to try the knob. The door opened and I felt my stomach twist. This was all too familiar. What kind of massacre were we going to find once we got inside?

  The living room wasn’t splattered with blood like most other times, but it did look like there had been a scuffle. I looked around shaking my head. Pillows and cushions were thrown around the room; picture frames were crooked on the walls or smashed on the floor. Worst of all, I could feel it. The panic, the terror. We were too late. Again.

  “Eli nine, us one,” I muttered and sank down on the bottom stair leading up to the second story.

  Ben picked up a pillow from on the couch and let it fall on the ground. “I just thought–” A clunk like something falling above us cut my brother’s words short. Immediately, I sprang up and pulled the gun from my pocket. The two of us shared a glance. Someone was up there.

  Ben went ahead of me up the stairs and we made our way silently, our backs to the wall, our fingers on the triggers of our guns. I hoped I wouldn’t have to use mine. Over the past couple of weeks, I hadn’t shot off even one bullet. I wanted to keep it that way. I didn’t want to know what it was like to take a life the way my brother did.

  When we made it to the top floor, Ben paused in the hallway to listen. There was a senior photo on the wall in front of me and I recognized the girl from the file Root had given to us. Emma Ellis. She had dark red hair, freckles and green eyes. She looked smart and quiet and nice. But judging by the mess downstairs, I’d never get to find out what she really was like. There was another picture down the hall further but I didn’t get a chance to look at it before Ben kicked the door in front of us and rushed in. When I hurried in behind him, my gun clattered to the floor.

  “No, no, no, no. Jack, help me!” Ben yelled as he ran toward the middle of the room.

  A stool lay over-turned on the floor. That must have been the sound we heard from downstairs. One end of some sort of power cable was twisted around a light fixture in the ceiling and the other was wrapped around a boy’s neck. He hung there motionless as Ben grabbed a hold of his legs and lifted. I quickly snapped out of my stupor and went to help my brother. I had to stand on the stool to reach the end of the cord and my fingers were shaking and kept slipping on the hard plastic.<
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  “Come on, Jack!” Ben gasped from below me as he struggled to keep the cord slack.

  Finally, I was able to undo the knot and Ben and the unconscious boy crashed to the floor. My brother quickly got out from underneath him and put his ear to the kid’s chest. He didn’t have to tell me. As soon as I saw him begin pushing on his chest I knew it was over. I gritted my teeth and pushed the heels of my hands hard against my eyes, squeezing them as tightly shut as I could. I just wanted to be out of there. I just wanted to be back home with my parents, with Ben, all sitting around the dinner table, my brother talking about London and how great everything was going. I wanted to sit there and laugh or argue or just listen. Anything was better than this. Anything was better than listening to my brother try to force this dead kid’s heart to start beating again.

  My thoughts were interrupted by a loud croaking gasp and I whirled around to find Ben drenched in sweat bent over the boy. This boy who looked around the room with wide, crazy eyes and gulped in air like there was no tomorrow. Well, just a few seconds ago there was no tomorrow for him. A wave of relief washed over me and I felt like I could cry. Instead, I swallowed hard and picked my gun up off the floor and put it away before taking one of the kid’s sweaty, clammy hands and helping him to his feet.

  “Are you alright?” I asked him, clapping him hard on the back, mostly in hopes it would help him breathe a little better.

  He continued to take deep, ragged breaths and I don’t know if he couldn’t answer me or just didn’t want to. I didn’t care either way. He was alive. Finally, there was a break in the clouds.

  “Who are you?” Ben asked him. “What are you doing here and where’s Emma?”