Everland (9 page)

“Dessert! I want to be a Bigger,” Mikey replies in wonder. I can’t blame him. It’s been so long since we’ve had anything sweet, even a single bite of dessert would be heavenly.

As we continue descending, hand-drawn caricatures adorn the cracked concrete surfaces, reminding me of hieroglyphics. Stick figures with dark masks and military gear crowd together as smaller characters throw stones at them.

“What is this?” I ask, running my hand along the drawings.

Pete stops suddenly. “Shh,” he says, holding a hand up.

I listen but hear nothing. A bullet rockets from the pitch-black tunnel in front of us, ricochets off the wall to our right, and barely misses Bella as she hops out of the way. A small rock whizzes past my head and I duck.

“Hey!” Bella shouts. “Watch where you’re aiming those things!”

“Who’s there?” a boy’s deep voice says from the darkness. “Identify yourselves!”

“Whoa! Who gave you clearance to guard this tunnel?” Pete hollers. “Bobbies are to guard the northern and western tunnels. The eastern and southern tunnels are for the Scavengers only!”

“Pete!” someone says, enthusiasm lacing the tone of his small voice. “It’s Pete!”

“Pete’s back!” yells another young boy’s voice farther down the tunnel.

Murmurings erupt from the passageway as lights rip through the darkness. I shield my face, wincing against the blinding light. A redheaded boy no older than Bella approaches Pete. His freckled face crinkles with uncertainty.

“Hey, Pete,” he says. “Sorry ’bout that. I didn’t know it was you.”

Pete slaps the boy on the back. “No problem, kid. But we gotta work on your aim. You’re lucky we weren’t the Marauders.”

“We’re lucky he has bad aim,” Bella retorts.

Another boy, a teenager with dark eyes, hair, and skin emerges from the shadows wearing a brown jacket adorned with brass buttons. His brow creases in a scowl and he slips his revolver into the holster on his hip. He inhales the butt of a hand-rolled cigarette, tosses it to the ground, and puts the embers out with the toe of his boot. He tilts his head, blowing the smoke toward the ceiling of the cavern.

“Scout, who gave you permission to patrol these tunnels? You could’ve killed someone,” Pete says.

“We received orders to guard all of the tunnels. Marauders have been spotted near every entrance. They’re on the move. I’ve never seen anything like it before,” he says.

“Who gave the order?” Pete asks sternly.

Scout rolls his eyes and snorts. “Who do you think?”

Pete balls both fists and places them on his hips, dropping his chin to his chest and shaking his head. “Jack.”

“Sorry, Pete,” Scout says. “You know how he gets when you’re out scavenging. You might be the leader, but when you aren’t around he makes sure we all know who’s in charge.”

“Leader?” I say, staring at Bella.

“Yep, Pete’s the leader of the Lost Kids,” she says matter-of-factly. “Jack’s been vying for the spot since he arrived. If you ask me, Pete should’ve kicked his bum out to Everland a long time ago.” She scrambles onto a boulder, giving her a bird’s-eye view.

Pete straightens, adjusting his green coat, and spins. “Lost Boys, gather around. We have guests!”

Four more pairs of eyes emerge from the shadows, belonging to boys anywhere from ten to sixteen. Mikey hides behind me as I back up against the rock Bella has climbed.

“It’s a girl!” one boy says in disbelief, seeming to have just noticed me.

“Of course it’s a girl, knucklehead,” Bella says from her perch. “It’s not like you haven’t seen one before.”

“Where’d you find her?” Scout asks, stepping closer to me and reaching for a loose curl.

I brush his hands away. “What’s he talking about?”

“I told you, we don’t get girls here much. You’re the first girl other than Bella that we’ve seen in months,” Pete says, leaning against the wall with his arms folded.

Surrounded by hushed chatter, I pick Mikey up to keep him from being squished by the crowd. “But they’ve had Bella. What’s so interesting about me?”

“Oh, Bella’s just our sister, she doesn’t count,” one of the younger boys says, tying off the opening to his rock pouch.

A light-eyed boy peers up at me. “You’re much too big to be a sister.”

“Oh boy,” Bella says, slapping her forehead with a hand. She leaps off the boulder, landing in front of me. “I haven’t seen this much drama since Girl Guides. She’s just a dumb girl. Can we move on?” She marches over to Pete and takes his hand. “Let’s go, Pete.”

Pete pulls his hand from Bella’s and steps toward me. “Go on ahead, Bella. Take Mikey and the boys with you. We’ll be along soon. Scout, make sure Mikey gets settled in.”

Bella’s cheeks flush and she balls up her fists. Whirling, she stomps off.

“Sure thing, Pete!” Scout puts a hand on Mikey’s shoulder. “Follow me, kid. You’re going to like the Lost City. It beats topside hands down.”

Mikey peers up at me. I glance at Pete.

“It’s okay. You’re safe with Scout,” Pete says, ruffling Mikey’s hair.

When Mikey looks back at me, I nod. I put him down and he follows the chattering Lost Boys, who trail behind Scout. Mikey takes one last look at me before disappearing behind a corner.

I am alone in the tunnel with Pete. My stomach flutters as he places a lamp on the ground and leans against the rock next to me.

“Sorry about Bella,” Pete says. “She’s been rather attached to me since I first found her. I think she might fancy me.” His cheeks grow pink as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “I probably should have warned you that you’d be sort of a celebrity.”

“I’m not a celebrity,” I say. “I’m just like the rest of you.”

“But you’re not like the rest of us,” Pete says, turning to face me, his shoulder leaning against the rock. “This whole time these boys, especially the Littles, have only had the influence of one another. In some ways they are all brothers. In other ways we’re a tribe. The stronger, faster, and bigger determine the pecking order. There is no semblance of the old life they once knew, of having the strong father figure
and
the nurturing mother figure. You’re the closest thing to a mother any of these kids has seen in a year.”

My cheeks flush and a sense of déjà vu comes over me as I recall my conversation with Joanna before she was taken.
You were a much better sister than you are a mother
.

“But I’m not a mother of any sort.”

“For months I have been surrounded by orphaned boys, children who have no family to go home to. No fathers, no mothers, and other than Bella, not even sisters.” Pete runs a hand through his messy hair and drops his gaze to the ground. “Becoming an orphan changes a person, especially the way these kids have become parentless. They’re not typical kids. Something was stolen from them when they watched their parents die, like a piece of what makes them children perished with their folks. Survival becomes instinct and they lose what makes them, I don’t know”—he pauses—“kids. The Biggers and I do our best to provide the Littles with some likeness of family, but it just isn’t the same. With you here, maybe, just maybe, they can have some of that back. Joanna and Mikey have you. These kids have no one.”

A pang of sympathy grips me as I contemplate his words. I never considered how fortunate my siblings and I were; not only were we spared witnessing our parents’ final breaths, but we’ve had each other. “I’m just their sister, and not a very good one at that,” I say, reflecting on my last conversation with Joanna. “I’m practically a child myself.”

“You are their family, and whether you accept it or not, you are the closest thing they’ve got to family,” he says.

The weight of his words hangs in the air, and I struggle to find a response.

Pete rubs the back of his neck. “Look, there’s something else I need to tell you and you’re not going to like it.”

“I don’t know,” I say, my voice a little snarkier than I intend. “None of today has been much fun. I highly doubt any news you have could make it worse.”

Pete scratches his stubbled chin and studies me. “I’m not sure how to put this delicately, so I’ll just come out with it.” He takes in a big breath and blows it out. “Our dwindling supplies and the Marauders are the least of my worries.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, bewildered.

“If Bella and your sister die … if you are truly what Hook believes you are, the only Immune girl, you are the only chance for survival that humankind has. Your gender is endangered, and if Bella and Joanna die, you
will
be the last woman, the last chance for our species’ survival.”

My stomach twists in a million knots. The ache of hunger is replaced with sickening revulsion as the implication sinks in. I place my hand on the wall to steady myself. “You don’t know that. We have no idea if the virus made it beyond England.”

“All communication has been lost. England is silent. It has been a year. Don’t you think our allies would’ve come by now? No one would let England fall like this without retaliation, without sending support. And yet we’ve seen no sea ships, no zeppelins. The steam railways were significantly damaged, but you’d think the rest of the United Kingdom would find a way to connect with England. The only reasonable answer is that the virus has not just killed England, but possibly everyone beyond her borders. The entire world, for all we know.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. That can’t be possible.

“We have to find a cure and get Joanna back immediately,” I say, my words spilling out quickly. “We need to find out how far this virus has spread.”

“One thing at a time,” Pete says, rubbing my shoulder. “The good news is that Hook will give her the best treatment to ensure she survives. However, I’m sure she’s in a high-security facility where she will very likely stay for the rest of her life, until she’s old enough to …”

I cover his mouth with my hand. “No! Don’t say it!” I cannot bear to hear him finish the sentence. She may only be twelve, but if what he says is true, by the time she is able to conceive children of her own, of course they would use her to save humanity. I choke back the growing nausea and wipe an angry tear from my cheek.

Pete sighs. “I wish I had better news. I promise you this: You and your siblings will be safe if I have anything to do with it. I swear I won’t let them do that to her. I will do everything to get your sister back, even if it means sacrificing my own life.”

“You’d do that for us?” I ask, not entirely surprised. After all, he needs my help just as much as I need his.

“Well, yeah,” he says matter-of-factly. “I’d do it for any Lost Kid.”

I drop my gaze to the ground. “I’m not a Lost Kid,” I say. My voice echoes through the cavern.
Not a Lost Kid. Not a Lost Kid. Not a Lost Kid.

Pete tilts my chin up. The lantern lights his handsome face and green eyes that remind me of the color of lucky clovers. “You are a Lost Girl.”

Something crumbles inside of me and like Everland’s cityscape, the raw supports that barely hold me up feel exposed. Relieved to have someone other than myself to count on, I wrap my arms around his neck. He hesitates, but eventually returns the hug. It’s the first time since my parents disappeared that someone else comforts me instead of the other way around.

“Thank you,” I whisper, feeling his soft hair beneath my fingers.

“Anytime, Gwen,” he murmurs into the curve of my ear.

I pull back and suddenly feel my cheeks flush. “You called me by my name.”

Pete blushes. “Immune doesn’t suit you.” He takes my hand, a burst of energy gracing his expression. His hand doesn’t let go of mine. A crooked grin grows on his face as our eyes meet. Beneath his stare, I shift uncomfortably and gently pull my hand from his. Having attended a girls’ private school, my interactions with boys were limited. I’m unsure how to react. Pete’s grin fades as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

“We should go. It’s time for you to meet Doc. He’ll know what to do,” Pete says, nudging me forward, and we descend into the dark, stale tunnel.

T
wo steel cannons protrude over my shoulders as I lean against the front of the insectile military vehicle. The tank hisses as steam rises from the boiler. Carefully, I polish the metal barrel of my modified Gatling arm gun, taking special care to clean the grease from in between the teeth of every cog, wheel, and spring. Smeeth runs toward me, stops, and salutes.

“Captain,” the soldier says.

“At ease, Mr. Smeeth,” I answer, not bothering to look up at him. I tuck the polishing cloth into the front pocket of my coat. Squinting, I scrutinize the weapon, inspecting every bit of the surface for smudges.

Smeeth’s shoulders relax as he tilts his chin, his neck giving an audible crack. It’s an annoying habit of his. I imagine the same sound emitting from his thick throat as I wrap my hands around it.
Snap!

“No luck. The girl and Pete are nowhere to be found.” Lifting his mirrored goggles from his eyes, he places them on the brim of his military cap. He fusses nervously with his gloved hands. He’s a fidget, not a good trait for someone who bears a weapon, but I’ve equipped his Gatling gun with blanks. As dumb as the boy is, he doesn’t know any better. How he managed to become a soldier in the Royal Guard, I’ll never know.