When I finally leave him, his body has stilled. I rush next door to Jax’s cell, Aby’s hair folded up under my arm, and my heart races as I push the button.
“Joy?”
I run to him and throw my arms around his neck, squeezing tight.
“Did you kill him?”
I nod, my shaky fingers fumbling with the keys.
“That was brilliant, how you lured him to you.”
“Thanks. I wasn’t sure if it was going to work.”
After trying two different keys, the third one unlocks his shackles and he’s free in seconds, too. He enfolds me in his embrace, as if he’d never loved anything or anyone so much.
“I told you I’d get us out,” I whisper.
“I believed you.”
“Come on, we have to hurry.”
We slip quietly from his cell. My head swims with too much adrenaline, and not enough sleep or food and water; everything’s surreal. In Miguel’s cell, he doesn’t believe his eyes, either. “How did you—?”
“He’s dead,” says Jax. “She killed him.”
“Was that why you were screaming those things, to make him come to you?”
“Joy?” Aby calls over from the next cell. “Is that you?”
Miguel points to the wig of red hair still tucked beneath my arm. “Is that . . . what I think it is?”
“Yes,” I reply.
His eyes fill with rage and hatred.
“But he’s gone now”—I click the key in the shackles around his feet—“and he’ll never hurt anyone again.”
Together, we rush out of Miguel’s cell and on to Aby’s. The sight of her filthy, sunken face topped with hacked-off hair snaps my heart in two again.
“Joy?”
“Yes, we have to hurry. Emmanuel Superior’s dead.”
“Dead?”
I nod, and in less than ten seconds, I’ve freed my sister, clutching her trembling frail frame tightly. “And I got you this back.” I hold up her hair.
At first she smiles, then cries as she cradles it. “How’d you get out of your chains? Is that blood on your face?”
“I’ll explain later.”
Aby and Miguel fall into each other’s arms.
Jax tugs at me. “I think I hear someone coming.”
We race out of Aby’s cell and, closing the door, duck behind a protruding wall on the other side. We hardly breathe for what has to be at least three minutes, listening for another Superior coming down the stairwell. But there’s only silence.
Jax finally breaks it. “We need a plan.”
“We need weapons,” Miguel adds.
Out of habit, Aby goes to tug a strand of her hair, but finding it missing, clasps her hands together instead. Anguish and rage distort her face into one I hardly recognize. “It’d help if we knew what time it was,” she says. “Then we’d know if they were in their bunker or not.”
“It’s night,” I say.
“How do you know?” Miguel asks.
“He was wearing his satin house robe. He only wears that at night.”
“Good call,” Jax says. “They’re probably in their bunker, then. Maybe asleep.”
“They may have Humphrey guarding,” I say, and hand him the key ring, which he inspects before stuffing into his pocket.
“If he’s alive,” he replies. “I don’t know how the Superiors found out we were gone, but I have a feeling Humphrey didn’t get off lightly for not ‘performing adequately.’”
“We need to get to the spear.”
Jax shakes his head. “I’ll bet it’s gone. They’d make sure to get rid of it, or take it to their bunker. Besides, we can’t risk going back through that door yet. We’ll have to use what we have around the factory and the dorms—”
“What exactly are we going to do?” Aby asks.
“We’re going to put an end to this,” I say. “Kill the other Superiors, get the children, and go find Smudge.”
“Smudge?” Miguel repeats, tucking his stringy black hair behind his ears and crossing his arms. “Why?”
“I have a feeling she knows the way out of Bygonne, whether it’s through the portal or another way.”
“She told us we’d never see her again,” says Aby.
“She was bluffing. Maybe she wanted to believe it, but her eyes and body language said otherwise. I think she wants to help us, though she’s conflicted for some reason.”
“Why do you think she wants to help us?” Jax says.
“Not sure; I sensed it. And we don’t have much of a choice, so it’s worth a shot.”
“How did you get out of your shackles?” Aby asks again.
“Uh . . .” My gaze falls to the ground. “I used a jumper’s rib bone. . . .”
“How’d you get a jumper’s rib bone?” Aby cries, disbelieving.
As I explain, I feel their stares on the dried jumper blood smeared across my face.
Miguel whistles softly, impressed.
Aby gapes.
“A little Zephyr,” Jax says with a weak smile.
“Any of you would’ve done the same thing,” I say.
“Um, no.” Aby shakes her head slowly. “I’d be dead right now, because those things would’ve eaten me alive.” She reaches a shaky hand up to her ragged hair, and we share a silent moment before she speaks again. “I suppose I should be grateful, then, that’s all he did . . . to me.” Her tears swim. “After all, it grows back, right?” Then, she cries into her hands, guilty shroud visible to the world, until her head darts up, hand over her mouth and eyes wide. “Oh my God. . . .” Her gaze flits between Jax and Miguel. “Was he wearing my hair when he . . . when he . . . ?”
They both look away, unable to mask the truth and the pain.
“Oh my God!” Aby begins to sob uncontrollably. “Now I can never grow it back!” Her fists clench and her face turns red, like she’s holding back a scream. “Because you’ll think of him!” she cries. “And . . . and what he . . . what he did to you!”
“No. . . .” Miguel pulls her into his arms, holds her tight, shushing, rocking her. “No, Aby. I won’t let him take that from you. Ever.”
“Me, neither,” says Jax. “Don’t ever think that.”
I give Aby’s arm a squeeze. “We have to be strong now, sister.”
She peeks up at me from Miguel’s chest and stares absently for a few seconds, before she nods and wipes her eyes as if she’d come back from somewhere far away. Holding the wig of her hair at arm’s length, she inhales deep and, with a grimace of hatred and disgust, tosses it through the bars of her cell door window. “Let’s give them what they deserve,” she says through gritted teeth.
“Yes. . . .” I crack my knuckles, rub my sore wrists. “It’s time for revenge.”
THIRTEEN
This time, I lead. Jax rests his hand on my hip, following close as we creep up the stairs, past the playroom and the memory of love, which, even though happened only a couple of days ago, feels like another life. We weren’t entirely innocent, of course, but now I realize, even in the darkness, a certain amount of innocence was there. The events over the last two days have changed us all; we’ll never be the same four people we were.
At the top of the stairs, we pause to breathe in a silent prayer.
“New plan,” I whisper. “Get the children underground first, then devise some means for annihilating the Superiors.”
“You sure about this?” Jax says.
“Yes. We can’t risk anything before we have them safely underground.”
“It’s not exactly safe underground, Joy,” says Miguel.
“Please, you have to trust me.”
I don’t wait for a response. Instead, I put a finger to my lips and push down on the handle. The door creaks open, and I cringe as the sound echoes through the factory’s main room. Then, I peek out, straining to make out the shadows. After a minute, and still no sign of the Superiors, we slide out, moving swiftly along the wall toward the dorm room corridor.
When we get to the right turn before the dorms, I stop and hold up my hand. They all stop behind me, and I glance around the corner, then whip my head back with a start when I find Humphrey standing at attention against the wall, right where his cot once sat. Humphrey’s never actually stood guard before . . . and the way his body is awkwardly erect, like stone, sends a chill through me.
“What?” Aby whispers. “Is Humphrey there?”
I nod, whisper back, “But something isn’t right with him.”
Jax nudges Miguel and points to the far wall, where a rack of hollow poles for tree branches are stored. “Weapons,” he mouths, and motions for me and Aby to stay down while he and Miguel move swiftly, zig-zagging past various machines. Once there, they each take a pole and head back to us. Not the best weapons, of course, but they’ll work for now.
Jax motions that he and Miguel will go first. They grip their poles and tense up, then take a breath and round the corner. Aby and I follow close behind. Humphrey doesn’t even glance in our direction. After a few feet, Jax stops and plugs his nose. Then, we smell it, too—the stench of fresh rot. Jax points at Humphrey’s feet, and the hairs on my arms stand up. Below him lies a strange black shadow. We inch toward him, the overpowering smell getting stronger and stronger.
At a few feet away, the source of the smell becomes apparent: Humphrey’s dingy white shirt now matches the rest of him—riddled with red gashes, festering with rot. His hands are nailed to the wall, metal spikes stake his feet to the floor, and his eyelids are stapled to his eyebrows in a state of perpetual terror. After the initial shock comes the sadness. He may not have been family, but he was the closest thing to a grown-up friend we’ve had in years. But then I’m relieved for him, once I realize that he, too, has been freed.
Whatever. Just don’t get caught, was the last thing he said to us.
I told him to quit saying that.
“Damn,” says Jax. “Looks like Diaz had his fun.”
“Oh my God,” Aby whispers, pinching her nose. “Poor guy.”
“At least he’s not suffering anymore,” I say. “Come on, we have to hurry. You guys get the boys up and ready, and we’ll get the girls. Two minutes, up and out. They’ll be wondering where Emmanuel is soon.”
Jax unlocks the girls’ dorm room door and I hold my breath. I’m envisioning everyone pinned to the wall like Humphrey, but when I flip on the light, I’m relieved to discover wiggling bodies, startled awake. Baby Lou stirs in her crib.
“Hurry,” I tell Jax.
He nods, and they disappear inside the boys’ dorm. Aby and I step into ours, and I close the door quietly. Already, wide eyes and smiles greet us from a handful of beds. I put a finger to my lips. “Everyone get up now. Quietly. We have exactly two minutes to get our belongings and get out of here.”
“Momma Joy!” Chloe hops down from her bed and runs to me, knotted blonde locks bouncing on her head. “Where were you? What happened to Aby’s hair?”
I lift her up, squeeze her tight. “Shh, we have to be quiet. We’ll explain everything later.” And I set her back down. “Get your bag and put your stuff in it. We have to really, really hurry.”
She runs off to her bed while the other girls scurry to pack their things.
“Where are we going, Joy?” Serna asks.
“Underground. We’ve found a way out. No more questions now, we have to get out of here in one minute. If we don’t, we’re all as good as dead.” I scoop up Baby Lou, surprised her skin’s a normal temperature. She opens her brown eyes and smiles at me, then bats at my face.
“We thought you were dead,” says Serna, snapping her knapsack and tossing it over her shoulder.
“We thought we were, too. Thanks for taking care of Baby.”
“You know, a few hours after you left, the oxygauge in here started acting strange. In both dorms. A couple hours later, she started getting better. I only gave her the medicine twice. I hid the bottle in the washroom.”
“The oxygauge was acting strange?”
“Yeah, go look. And I’ll take Baby if you need me to, so you can get your stuff.”
“Okay, thanks. Will you carry her out, too?”
“Sure.”
I go to the oxygauge and read the dial. If it’s right, it’s the freshest air we’ve ever breathed. But there’s no time to ponder why. I fetch the medicine bottle from the washroom, gulp water from the hose for a few seconds, then rush back to my bed for a quick change of Baby Lou’s cloth diaper and out of my disgusting dress, which I toss into the corner. Never felt this good to change. I shed my boots to change my socks and put on my daddy’s old T-shirt, my mother’s jeans, then slip my boots back on and tie them up tight.
Aby tucks her mother’s dress into her bag and ties a scarf around her ragged hair. Her black cotton shirt and black work slacks match her face’s mixture of seriousness with a touch of sadness. “Feel better?” she asks.
“Yes, much better. You all right?”
She nods. “Ready to be rid of this place for good.”
“Aren’t we all. . . .”
Once I have Baby Lou tied snugly on Serna’s back, I dump the contents of my box into my daddy’s old magic bag and sling it over my shoulder. “Time to go, girls. Everyone line up. Take a breather from the wall as you get to the doorway, and put it on.”
Jax and Miguel have already begun to line up the boys, each with a breather secured in place. I try to put one on Baby Lou, but she wiggles and makes a face, as though to start screaming. She hates wearing them. I’ll wait to put hers on when we get underground, we can’t risk the tantrum right now.
The sight of Humphrey again makes me hurt for all the little eyes; the stuff lifelong night-terrors are made of.
“Don’t look at him,” I say. “Keep your eyes on the person in front of you.” I do a quick headcount, and when I’m sure we have everyone, I signal for Jax to start the procession. He returns a thumbs-up and, quickly, quietly, the long line begins to move down the corridor, past the window and the chopper, and around the corner.
Miguel falls back to take up the rear, next to Aby and a couple of younger girls, gripping his pole and surveying the area behind and above us. Johnny ties his bandanna around his head, his shirt around his waist, then punches a fist into his palm. He puffs out his muscular chest, crosses the room to snatch two more poles off the shelf, spinning them around with the vengeance of a boy who’s ready for war. I halfway expect him to yell obscenities as we escape through the forbidden door.
Miguel rushes up to help Jax move the shelf, then Jax clicks the key in the lock and swings the door open. He whispers something to the boys in front, and they move into the corridor’s shadows. Twenty-something bodies later, my girls disappear into the shadows of safety, too. Aby and the younger girls go ahead of me, and I wait until all of them are down first. When it’s finally my turn, Jax greets me at the door, placing something heavy, cold, and surprisingly familiar into my hand, along with a light stick.
“The spear?” I tuck it under my arm and crack the light stick, illuminating the cramped passage full of uneasy faces.
“Yep, looks like they didn’t come down here after all.”
Miguel and Johnny move the shelf back as close to the door as possible without completely blocking it, then they join us in the dark.
“What now?” Johnny says. “Oooh, nice piece of artillery. . . .” He flicks the spear tip. “That could do some serious damage.”
“It has,” Jax says, cracking another light stick. “And it’s gonna do some more, too.”
“You believe they had that new kid running the chopper?” Johnny laughs, giving the boy a playful smack on the back of the head.
“Quit that,” he says.
“I’m surprised he has any hands left.”
“What happened?” I ask. “How did they find out we were gone?”
“The storm,” Johnny replies. “The power went out, and Arianna came looking for Jax to fix it. Woke us all up, screaming something aw
ful. Searched the girls’ dorm, too, and found out you four were gone. That’s when they took Humphrey away and questioned him.”
“And then they killed him?”
“After they threw you four down into the dungeon. They made us all watch—”
“Oh my God, no . . . they didn’t. . . .”
“Yep. Said if we didn’t ‘perform adequately’ now that you four were gone, the same would happen to us.”
“How could they be so horribly evil?” Aby whispers.
“But these guys did awesome.” Johnny spins around, searching the blue-lit shadows. “Come here, little man.”
Jax’s apprentice slumps over to us.
Johnny throws an arm around his shoulder. “He stepped up and did some fantastic work. I was extra proud of him.” And he gives the weary boy’s head a quick rub.
I shake my own head, and lean the spear up against the wall to fasten Baby Lou’s breather onto her. At first she fights me, but she soon gives in, and I secure it to her face. “Everyone make sure your breathers are air-locked,” I announce quietly. “Did Baby Lou witness what they did to Humphrey?” I ask Johnny.
“She was there, but—”
“I covered her eyes,” Serna says. “And her ears.”
“Thank you.”
She nods.
“So, everything ran smoothly while we were gone? With the machines, I mean?” Jax asks Johnny.
“Ha! Hardly. It was crazy, man. They had to pull children from the scrap rooms to cover for Aby and Miguel—it was nuts. You people must’ve really given ’em a rash.”
“We need to get moving,” I say. “We can chat about things later. Right now, we have to get the children somewhere safe and hidden, then plan our next move.”
Jax plants a quick kiss on my cheek, and hands me the light stick. “Wanna lead?”
“Yes.” And I place the spear into his hand, securing my breather and activating the airlock. “With you,” I add. “You’re faster with that thing than I am.” Then, I start walking, light stick held out before us. “I’ll be the light.”
“Yes you will,” he says. “And a mighty bright one at that.”
The Treemakers (A YA Dystopian Scifi Romance Adventure) Page 12