The Treemakers (A YA Dystopian Scifi Romance Adventure) (33 page)

Like cracking open a memory unvisited for so long it’s grown a shell, what I see opens up a channel of emotional outpouring. My daddy’s magic. Sadie must’ve taken these out of his magic bag so they’d be easier to hide; everyone knew what his magic bag looked like, and her separately hiding these items saved them from the Superiors. As I dig through the ancient memories, I smile through my tears of disbelief. Rings and feathers, scarves and balls, flowers, and a jar of fluid—all things I remember so well, and thought I’d never
see again.

I come across a chain strung with two gold rings—one big and one small—and something presses the walls of my heart. “My parent’s wedding rings,” I say, “passed down through three generations.” I slip the chain on my neck and pluck another treasure from inside. I chuckle softly, examining the bracelet I made my mother my second year in the scrap room; merely a twisted piece of metal which I curved into a U shape to fit her frail wrist. It’s snug on my own, strong wrist, but its grip brings
me comfort.

“Wow,” I say. “I can’t believe you found all of this. I always wondered who stole everything from our quarters before I got there. Now
I know.”

I unfold a sheet of hand-made cardboard, the sign that hung on the door the night I snuck in to watch my daddy perform. “Zephyr the Magnificent: Performance tonight! Ten Blue Notes. It was her,” I say. “She painted his signs. That’s why the lettering on the notes you left on the crates looked familiar. I remember now. I remember her.”
How she’d observe him from the floor between brushstrokes, eyes full of love and sadness and longing
. . . .

“Yes. She
. . .
loved your father
. . .
deeply. And when he died, it
. . .
devastated her. That’s when she decided to give herself to the Clergy, the only way she could think of to
. . .
handle the pain of losing
your father.”

“She left me,” I say. “If she loved my daddy so much, then why’d she leave me to rot in
that hellhole?”

“She thought she was doing the right thing. Not only for you, but for the world. And you know what?” Smudge interlaces her fingers in mine. “Look.” She nods toward our
clasped hands.

It takes me a second to realize, then I laugh softly through my tears. “She was right,” I whisper. “If she hadn’t have done that
. . .
”

“I wouldn’t be who I am,” Smudge finishes. “I wouldn’t have come to Greenleigh, and I wouldn’t have aided in your escape. She may not have known exactly how everything would work out in the end, but she knew it eventually would. Like your butterfly mermaid, she gave up the fight and let her intuition guide her. Not that I agree with the transfer of donors or ending lives for the purpose of producing more OAIs
. . .
but in this instance, something dark was flipped inside out and upside down
. . .
and with the flick of a wrist, your father’s spirit turned this tragedy into a miracle—into
magic
. Without Sadie’s love for your father, I wouldn’t be here. And neither would you
. . .
would any
of you.”

At this, I kiss her hand, then wrap my arms around her shoulders and hold her tight. I may have lost one sister, but I’ve gained another in the most remarkable way. A way no one would
ever believe.

Together, we stare off into the ocean, at the sun sinking deep behind the horizon. I still can’t believe this was here the whole time, waiting for us on the other side of
The Wall.

Paradise. We finally
made it.

“This is simply amazing,”
I whisper.

We sit in silence, listening to the children play while I dig through my thoughts. Now that the inner fog has cleared, my daddy’s voice nags:
Question everything, my daughter
. And with it, a question does arise, now that I know the truth about Arianna Superior. “If Arianna Superior wanted to kill everyone,” I ask, “then why make trees? Why not just stop
making trees?”

“Joy, there are some
. . .
other things I need to
tell you.”

“Okay
. . . .
There’
s more?”

“Like I said on the boat, there are many things you do not know, things you’d find out when the time was right. That time
is now.”

Her serious tone makes my stomach clench. “Well
. . .
what
is it?”

She takes in a quick breath, then tosses a rock out in front of us. “The trees
. . .
” She pauses to toss another rock, and
looks away.

“Yes? The
trees what?”

She meets my eyes. “They don’t
create oxygen.”

“Huh? What do you—of course
they create—”

“They did, before Arianna Superior. Greenleigh was well on its way to manufacturing a tree that could not only produce oxygen, but also replenish the ozone layer over Bygonne. Micah Greenleigh developed the technology before he died. His grave mistake was entrusting it, and both of Bygonne’s Tree Factories, to
Arianna Superior.”

“But, if they don’t create oxygen, then what do
they do?”

“They are now anti-
oxyzone devices.”

“Meaning—?”

“In less than five years, Bygonne will be almost entirely oxygen depleted, the ozone hole worsening, tenfold.”

“Wait, so you’re telling me
. . .
the trees we’ve built our whole lives have actually been making
things worse?”

She nods. “That is why the oxygen levels were higher in the factory after the storm cut power to half of the trees
surrounding it.”

I lean back onto my elbows, mind blown to smithereens. My lips try to form words as I grapple with its magnitude, but only one thought is clear enough to enunciate. “We’ve been helping them
kill people.”

Then, another thought barrels down like a train toward a
dead end.

“My parents
. . .
” I wipe at my tears, hot with rage and confusion. “They could’ve
lived longer.”

“That is why I gave you the explosives. With Arianna and the other Superiors gone, and Micah Greenleigh’s tree technology safe, the other, larger tree factory could be implemented in regenerating the ozone over Bygonne. It is
. . .
unfortunate that Arianna Superior was in Alzanei when the
explosion occurred.”

“My head’
s spinning.”

“I know this is
. . .
difficult
for you—”

“That doesn’t even begin to
describe it.”

“But you have to move on. You cannot hang onto the past. It will only keep the pain alive. This is something
. . .
Sadie
taught me.”

I focus on breathing in and out for a moment while I grasp for under-standing. “Wait,” I say. “You said Micah Greenleigh’s technology
is safe?”

“Yes.”

“
Safe where?”

She’s silent, running her fingers through the sand beside her, then she looks at me and grins. “Safe. Just like you and your brothers
and sisters.”

I study her hazel eyes, warm, full of compassion; the freckles that dot her nose and cheeks like Zentao’s stars
. . . .
“God, Smudge, you’re so
. . .
human.”

She laughs. “I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment
or not.”

“Please, take it that way. I may have a way with words, but you have a way of making everything seem like it’s going to be all right. And I don’t know what I’d do without you right now. This is a lot
to process.”

“I know, but you’re strong. You can handle whatever comes your way. You have so much of your father in you.” She gazes off into the sky for a moment, before meeting my eyes again. “Unfortunately, though, I’m not quite through yet. There’s
. . .
still more to
tell you.”

“Oh, God, really?
What now?”

She inhales again, deeper this time. “Zentao is a very special place. A safe haven for all who wish to be
. . .
free and plan for the regrowth of our future. But it’s
. . .
it’s not what
you think.”

“What do you mean
by that?”

“Please, Joy, promise me you aren’t going to
. . .
overreact when I tell you. And you have to promise not to tell anyone, at least not yet. It’s better for most to stay
. . .
oblivious to the truth. Especially
the children.”

My panic rises. “What? I promise, just tell me what
it is.”

Smudge sweeps her hand out in front of her, toward the hushing waves beneath the gorgeous orange-cream and midnight-blue-streaked sky. “This isn’
t real.”

My heart stops. “What?”

“We are a half-mile beneath the earth, in a secret location hidden from Lord Daumier and his Clergy. The ocean only goes a few hundred yards before ending at the wave wall, which mimics the tide. The walls and ceiling are monitors programmed with the same types of images you saw in the
. . .
transfer program.”

I release her hand, jump up, and spin around in a circle. “No. No no no
. . . .
”

“Joy, you said you wouldn’
t overreact—”

“Overreact? How am I supposed to take this? Am I supposed to be happy about it? Am I supposed to be
. . .
okay
with this?”

A few children stop playing on the beach to stare at us. Smudge stands, comes closer
to me.

I shake my head, grab a handful of my hair and tug. “I knew it
. . .
I knew there was something off about this place.” I glance up the hill toward the green glow above The Wall. “So, that’s not
The Wall?”

“No. It isn’t.”

I grab her arm. “Why did you tell me?” I whisper. “You shouldn’
t have.”

“You deserve to know the truth, Joy. I know you’ve been through a lot, and this is a crushing blow to add to it, but
. . .
the longer I waited to tell you, the worse it would have been. And I couldn’t risk you discovering the truth on your own; you’d never trust me again. It’s been very hard to keep all of this from you, because I
. . .
love you, like a sister, and even in a motherly way because of Sadie. But I had to let the dream fuel you
. . .
to push you on to get here. If you’d known the truth, you might not have made it, might not have wanted to come badly enough to
push forward.”

“What is the truth, Smudge? What’s it like above us, where the Clergy and Lord
Daumier are?”

“The Earth is dying,” she says. “The air is better than in Bygonne, but not by much. The seas are near-boiling in areas, and are receding more and more each year. The water you see here is channeled from the jungle river, with salt from the surrounding mines added periodically to keep
it salty.”

I collapse into the sand, letting my face fall into my hands, and I cry, because my daddy was wrong. The Earth is dead. There is no paradise. And now I know, we would have been better off dead, too.

“Get up,” says Smudge. “Stop this.” Her voice is strange, as if fueled by someone else’s. Almost like my daddy’s speaking through her. “Look around you, Joy.”

And I do
. . .
slowly. The artificial sun sinks behind the faux horizon. Children scream blissfully as they splash in what they believe is the ocean. Groups of olders laugh, and play, and talk
. . .
all free. Magnificent, real-looking stars sparkle from the false sky in a deceptive no end to the
space above.

“Redefined dreams,” Smudge says. “It may not be what you’d expected or hoped for, but it is, essentially, freedom. They have a chance for a good life here.” Then, she lays her hand gently on my stomach. “You
all do.”

“How
did you—?”

“I
. . .
snooped around in the doctor’s mainframe. I’m getting better at this human stuff.” She winks. “You’ll have adequate medical care; the doctors and nurses here are some of the best. You and your baby will be taken
care of.”

“Please don’t
tell anyone.”

“I won’t. But you know, sooner or later, you won’t have
a choice.”

“I know. But I’m not ready yet.” I relax into the sand, and she sits down next to me. “So, what now? What do
we do?”

Smudge laughs. “Well, you see those?” And she points to a few scattered buckets in a
pile nearby.

“Yeah?”

“Call the children
over here.”

“Why?”

“Just do it. Come on,
trust me.”

For a few seconds, I stare at her, and
she smiles.

“All right,” I say. “I’ll trust you, I guess. But no more lies from here on out, promise?”

“Promise.”

I stand up, cup my hands around my mouth, and call for the ex-treemakers of Greenleigh and the ex-saltminers of the Subterrane to join Smudge and myself on
the shore.

“Bubba! Papa!” Pia squeals. “Come on!” She and Chloe dance around barefoot, holding hands and spinning, before they stop and sway, giggling from the dizziness. They head toward us excitedly, followed by Jax and Johnny, Mateo, Vila,
and Emerson.

“Yes, Momma Joy?”
Chloe says.

“Smudge wanted everyone over here,” I say. “You going to tell us why now?” I
ask her.

She clears her throat. “I hear you all need sandcastle-building experience. Is
this true?”

The loudest cheers I’ve ever heard rise into
the air.