The Kidnapped Army

by Shiloh White

  I should've told him. It was my fault she was gone. I couldn't stop Stark. Couldn't shut down the Zone. Woodstock stopped speaking to Lionel and looked over at me.

  “You okay, Lucy? What are you muttering about?” he asked. Muttering? My mouth wasn't even moving, was it? I moved my hand to my lips. It stayed at my side. It took me a second to realize it, but I didn't feel any pain anymore. All I felt was cold.

  “Her lips are blue,” Lionel said, standing and blinking the tears from his eyes. “And your other friend's even worse. First things first, they need tea."

  28. We Get a Participation Award

  When I opened my eyes, Lionel was running a bandage around Chug's stomach.

  Chug! Not Lara, but the little dirty-blond-haired kid with the black leather jacket and mischievous grin.

  “You're okay!” I croaked. Dry throat, genius, my mind said.

  Chug smiled and tried to sit up all the way, but winced from the pain.

  “You need to take it slow,” Lionel told him, tying off the end of the bandage. He handed my friend a small white cup of the magic green liquid, then the old man's eyes turned to me.

  “As for you,” he said, “how you're even moving is beyond me. Sit still and wait for Woodstock—he's getting more tea.” I looked around the room slowly, and saw we were down in what must have been Lionel's living room.

  “I-I-I...” I stammered. Talking was not working right now. But I still owed Lionel an apology about Lara. Not to mention...they had to know. I had to tell them what I saw. About the Headmistress and...that Agent.

  Then Lionel did something that surprised me. He just smiled; a mouth-wide-shut grin that showed off his brown wrinkles.

  “It's alright,” he said. “Woodstock gave me all the details, and—ooh, speaking of.” Lionel pointed up at the doorway to a white room that I assumed was his kitchen, and in walked the tall, stocky young boy with three more white cups with steam rising off of them.

  “Lucy, you're awake!” Woodstock exclaimed. He carefully rushed over and handed me a cup of tea. “Are you feeling okay? You didn't look so hot earlier—literally."

  I bent down to take a sip of the tea, and my world spun on its head. “I feel dizzy.” I said slowly. “And I saw something.

  Woodstock chuckled. “That's my bad, mija. Looks like the Zone-Hopper should be touching everyone. We won't do it that way again."

  “Good,” I said. My throat was slowly loosening up thanks to the tea, but it still hurt a little to talk. Nonetheless, I sat up in my chair and forced myself to continue. “You aren't listening. I saw something. Takao. The Headmistress."

  Woodstock's face paled. He set the tea down on a table in the middle of the room, but kept his eyes on me.

  “You saw...” he shook his head. “What happened?"

  “Yeah,” Chug chimed in, “What did you see, Lucy?”

  Lionel also took a seat, his eyes fixed on me. Everyone staring at me filled me with nerves. Nerves that shouldn't have gotten to me, considering the pain I'd just been through, but it still made it hard to talk. I forced myself through every word of the story until my friends and Lionel were caught up on my experience. Woodstock's face got paler and paler as I talked—which I didn't think was possible for someone with skin as brown as his.

  I looked at each of them after I finished, waiting for someone else to say something. Woodstock studied the floor. Chug just scowled, too angry to speak. Lionel looked away as my eyes met his. It was only fair. This wasn't his fight. I didn't deserve to find an answer from him.

  Finally, Woodstock looked up at me, his eyebrows knit. “This is bad, mija."

  “This is way worse than bad, you guys.” Chug growled. “Since they don't have who they need, Depression Agents are dying. Our friends are dying."

  “And who do they need?” Lionel offered. “If you know, maybe you can do something about it. Did you hear that part, Lucy?” I bit my lip.

  “No, I—no.”

  “We know it's someone close to Dart,” Woodstock said. “Who could that be? Mr. Reggie?"

  I shook my head. Apparently, the two of them had known each other for a long time. I wasn't sure how great they got along now that they were working together again, but I knew the last time didn't go so well. “I wouldn't call them the best of friends.” I said. Then I gasped. But I know who I would call his best friend.

  “What?” Woodstock asked. “Did you get something?"

  “Yeah,” Chug added, “let's hear it."

  I opened my mouth to tell them what I thought, but I winced and thought better of it. I didn't want to tell them that the person in danger was the person they fought on the bridge. I defended him then, and it was enough to piss Chug off. As bandaged as his was, Chug looked ready to get back into the fight. I didn't want to deal with his anger on me the whole time about needing to protect Scott.

  “It's...nothing,” I lied. “I'm just still shaken up from the Zone-Hop."—which wasn't a lie. “Besides, if time's running out, our best bet has still got to be getting to the Academy as quickly as possible to rescue our friends."

  “Speaking of which,” Lionel said, rising to his feet. “Come with me, boy, and these two can finish their tea.”

  Then the old man walked into the kitchen.

  I raised an questioning eyebrow at Woodstock. He shrugged at me and looked down at Chug, who gave him a look that said, “get goin', dude!” Woodstock then quickly followed Lionel into the kitchen, leaving Chug and I alone in the living room.

  For a moment, neither of us said anything. I wasn't sure who was more embarrassed: he'd been turned into a girl, and betrayed both Woodstock and me. But then he'd gotten himself almost killed for my sake. Which wouldn't have happened if I was stronger.

  Twice now, my powers were shut down by Stark. The man seemed to have the ability to drive fear into me. Every time I faced him, I devolved into this fearful child with no backbone and no reason to keep fighting. Both times, Chug was there to see it. On top of that, I just lied to him, so I didn't really feel like talking. Still, I managed to force some words out.

  “How's your injury?” I asked.

  “How're you feeling?” he asked at the same time.

  “Go ahead,” I told him.

  “The tea is working miracles,” Chug said, taking another sip. “I'm on my third cup. I feel like I should be able to stand soon."

  I nodded. “Great! Did it...you know—"

  “Turn me back into me? No. Lionel and Woodstock think the process reversed after the Depression Zone fell apart. Right after Lara..."

  “I remember.” I said.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “the Zone's only supposed to fall apart after the Zone Holder bites the bullet."

  “Except Lionel's the Zone Holder, right?” I asked. Chug shook his head.

  “Lionel said he underestimated just how much Disorder had his freaky hand in Lara's situation. He thinks Disorder could've transferred ownership of the Zone to Lara."

  “Wow...” I said. Poor kid's story just kept getting worse, even after she was gone.

  “What about you?” Chug asked. “Are you okay?”

  “Besides a blow to my pride, a bit of numbness, and my sanity? I'll live."

  “At least that Stark guy is gone now,” Chug said. “Can you move?”

  I shrugged. “Let's find out.” I finished the last sips of the warm green liquid, and with it, energy rushed into my body. I rose to my feet, feeling just a tiny bit dizzy.

  “Great!” Chug exclaimed. “Now come help me; I said I could stand soon, but we don't have soon. We need to get going—cloak or no cloak."

  I walked over and slid Chug's arm over my neck. He winced as I pulled him to his feet. Then we walked into the kitchen, where Lionel was...handing Woodstock his cloak.

  “You're giving it to us?” I asked. “But Lara—”

  “Was the only reason I needed it,” Lionel explained. “That job is over now,” he said with a smile on his face. A pit of regret grew wider in my
stomach.

  “Woodstock knows how it works,” Lionel continued, “all the little quirks and how to activate it."

  “This is my favorite part,” Woodstock said. He took the cloak and shook it out, then grabbed it by the sleeves and it inside out. All the gray disappeared along with the fanciful Dark Age-style, and the cloth Woodstock held morphed into a dark blue jacket.

  “No. Way.” Chug said.

  “Yes, way, ese,” Woodstock says. “It's got camouflage.”

  “That's so cool,” he marveled. “You did this?”

  Lionel looked pleased someone appreciated his craft.

  “I figured it would come in handy,” he smiled. “Someday."

  “Oh, you have no idea,” Chug told him.

  I smiled. “Thank you,” I said. “For the tea, and saving us, and everything else.” I told him. The more I realized we owed him, the worse I felt for taking his cloak. “After we chased you down, you turned around and saved our lives. Why?"

  Lionel smiled. “You said you needed the cloak for a noble cause. I didn't believe I'd see another one of those again."

  “How can we repay you for this?"

  “You allowed me to put this chapter of my life to rest, Lucy. If you still feel like returning the favor, go save your friend."

  29. The Good Guys Ruin Everything

  As we walked out the door, Chug insisted on walking. Which quickly turned into leaning on me for support on the way out.

  Five steps later, it turned into collapsing, so Woodstock loaded him on his back and we trudged on in the vast grayness.

  Before we left, Lionel reminded us that his tea wasn't a cure-all kind of medicine, and that Chug would need to see someone who could really treat him. Then he told Woodstock where the closest exit from the Outskirts was. Apparently, it came out at the Square.

  Occasionally, we passed by a pile of rubble, which I figured used to be a Depression Zone. The thought popped into my head that my own Zones might be down here. I shivered. If I saw the broken down school, or my house with the school bus in it, it would be too soon for me. Same with Lucas' orange car. Not memories I wanted to pull out of the dump. They'd fallen down here for a reason—not a bad place to stay put.

  “So, what's our next step?” I asked Woodstock.

  “At some point in our missions for Mr. Reggie, we're required to inform him of our progress,” Woodstock explained. “He'll be able to heal Chug up, so that's where we're going."

  “Oh, I'm fine,” Chug muffled, his face sideways on Woodstock's back. Then he sucked in air through his teeth. “Aaagh...” he moaned. “I mean, uh, see? Fine."

  “Shut up.” Woodstock said, shoving Chug with his shoulder.

  “Ow!” Chug complained. “Walk still down there."

  “Don't take this the wrong way,” Woodstock lowered his voice, “but he wouldn't have had to do anything if you were able to fight on your own."

  “What? “ I asked. I instinctively shoved my right hand into my art bag, feeling around for a brush.

  “I mean your Handle,” he said. “In the tent, you hesitated. And against Stark, he just cut your powers down to size. Why?”

  I felt like I knew the answer. I just really didn't want to tell him—or anyone for that matter. I wanted to argue. But he was able to see right through me, so what was the point? I almost cost us our lives, and if it was really the truth, should I keep it from him?

  “I think it has something to do with the trouble I've had painting on Topside,” I said reluctantly. “Ever since my mom came back."

  “What kind of lady is she?” he asked.

  “The crazy kind that drives you nuts at every turn,” I said.

  Woodstock scoffed. “I can relate to that."

  “Oh, really?” I asked. “How so?”

  Woodstock shook his head.

  “Nah, you know what? It's nothing, mija.”

  “Come on,” I insisted. “You can't take info from someone and not return the favor."

  “Sure I can,” Woodstock said, “like right now, for instance."

  “But—"

  “Yeah, make Woodstock shut up,” Chug said. “Every time he talks, it's hurting me.”

  I scoffed at him. “You're not seriously gonna listen, are you?” I asked. “He said he was fine a second ago."

  Woodstock just looked at me and sighed.

  “Let's just drop it. We'll be at the entrance to the Square soon.” he said.

  Reluctantly, I kept my mouth shut. I pulled my yellow paintbrush out of my bag and stared at it.

  It was my fault the thing didn't work. Nothing to do with the tool itself—the amazing power I'd been given.

  “It's a shame to have that much power with no idea how to use it."

  That's what Stark said, that I had no idea how to use my Handle. But why? And it seemed like it was only against him. Even against Lara, I managed to wield the whip a little.

  Stark was gone now, though. So if that was the case, I shouldn't have any problems. But that hunch kept coming back to me—my mom was involved somehow. Ever since she'd been back, I'd had issues with painting. At first it was just a guess. I didn't even really mean to blurt it out to Woodstock. But what if I was right?

  It wouldn't make a difference now, genius, my thoughts said. She's on Topside and you're stuck here.

  What a great reminder from myself. I loved being alone with my thoughts.

  “We made it,” Woodstock said, reaching back to tap my arm. He pointed up ahead at a bunch of rubble stacked into a giant pile, leading up to a rust-colored curtain that seemed to just hang there. Not my idea of an exit, but I supposed it would have to do. As we neared the pile, I noticed how intricately stacked it was. Like they were placed there for an escape route.

  “Rising from the ashes,” Woodstock chuckled. He looked back at me and shrugged. “Sorta. But you gotta admit it's cool."

  “I guess so,” I said. But I was too distracted for his attempt at poetry.

  Woodstock started up the steps and I followed. All I could think about was how people—well, Depression Agents—used to live in these things.

  I stopped and turned around, looking out at the expanse of trash, and broken buildings and supplies and rubbing. Nothing here looked preserved, or buried or nothing. After it all fell, it just became of garbage. Ashes, Woodstock said, and we were stepping all over them. The remnants of homes.

  “Lucy, are you coming?” Woodstock called down to me, a few steps up.

  “Lionel's Zone is somewhere out here, isn't it?” I asked. Woodstock frowned, and walked back down the steps to me.

  “Lucy, he wanted it that way, remember? Everything down here, it's proof that Disorder can lose. Remember that, mija.” he said, and pulled my hand to keep climbing the steps. “It's what I focused on last time,” he added.

  “Last time what?” I asked. “Have you been down here before?” Woodstock froze, halfway up a step.

  “Once upon forever ago, I fell down here, yeah.” He said, his voice quiet and vulnerable. Then he kept climbing, and I followed, step after step until we reached the curtain.

  I heard the hustle and bustle of crowds coming from the other side, and the various smells that came from all of the vendors. “That's it over there, isn't it?” I asked. “The Square?"

  “Yeah, but don't make a scene,” Woodstock said. He pulled back the curtain just a little so he could peek through. “I don't know which part of town we'll hop out of, so don't attract attention.” Then he crawled through and disappeared behind the curtain.

  “Got it,” I said to nobody.

  I crawled through the curtain, and was greeted by a multitude of Depression Force Officers armed with police batons. At the very front, staring down at me with quite the disapproving expression was Scott.

  ✽✽✽

  Overwhelmed by the sheer number of Officers, I didn't see the point in fighting, or waiting for them to sentence us to anything. I wanted to have my questions answered before they took us in, at least.


  “How did you—"

  “Stark.” Scott said.

  All at once, my brain felt like it was exploding and folding in on itself with new information. I was a massive idiot.

  Back in the falling Zone, Stark reached for his comm. He was calling for backup.

  He must have known we'd have to escape the Outskirts, assuming we escaped the falling rubble. How he knew where the exit was? That was beyond me. But at this point, that guy was just surprise after surprise. I felt just a smidge less horrible he was dead now.

  “Scott, you've gotta trust me! We've got—"

  “Blindfold and restrain them!” he shouted, drowning me out. I grit my teeth. I knew he wasn't going to help us. I just didn't want to believe it.

  The other Officers came to me and Woodstock. One of them grabbed my arms and put them behind my back. I resisted the urge to cry out. I was too mad. I watched as two of the other Officers grabbed Chug off of Woodstock's back.

  “Hey, stop that!” Woodstock shouted. “He's injured!” Woodstock pulled against the Officers restraining him, and then everything went dark.

  They blindfolded me. I heard the Officers give him warnings to 'stop resisting,' and 'settle down, among other things.

  “Woodstock, we'll be okay,” I said. “Just don't—"

  He grunted in anger. “I get it, mija.” I knew he wanted to fight—get his friend back. With his strength, he could probably get away. But with Chug out of it and my faulty Handle, cooperating was the smartest move.

  “Carry the small one,” one of the Officers ordered,” and then everyone started walking. There was a hand on each of my arms and I was ushered forward.

  After a few minutes of walking and the chatter of the crowds around me, I found myself being shoved past tighter clumps of bodies and into a small, cold area. Then the hands pushed me down into a seat.