Shymers (26 page)

An old woman sits alone on the floor, leaning against the wall that is covered in severed roots. She is surrounded by piles of blankets and pillows. Overall, she looks to be either exhausted or extremely ill. Her body is slumped off to the side, and her tongue lays crooked in her mouth. Her skin is papery thin and hangs loose on her round face. Her overall coloring seems a bit off, like perhaps her circulation isn’t working well anymore. Her long white hair is gathered behind her head. When her eyes flicker on to mine, I see something flash behind the sea of green. Confusion? Knowledge? Sadness? I can’t be sure.

“Who are you?” one of the younger boys asks, pulling my attention away from the woman. He is short with broad shoulders and round spectacles that perch on his nose. His dark hair is grown out past his ears like the Shymers in Society. “Are you a Future?”

“She’s one of us,” Kendall says, appearing by my side. “This is Olive.”

The boys and girls make different contorted faces, all seeming to be in either some level of shock or awe.

One of the smaller girls with bright red hair and a nose dusted with bright freckles steps forward. Her green eyes are wide, as if she can’t believe what she is seeing. She may be small, but she looks to be my age. “Are you here to join the Rebels?”

“No,” Kendall answers suddenly on my behalf. “She’s leaving.”

“Where will you take her?” the small girl asks.

“To the other side,” Kendall answers.

My eyes wander around the room until they settle on a bright pink blanket sticking out from the stack of linens near the old woman. I hold a hand to my mouth. It’s the blanket my mother made me when I was a just baby—I have used it my whole life.

“My blanket!” I cry happily, racing over to it.

“I wish I could have saved more,” Kendall says. “I knew your mother made a lot of things with her hands. That blanket looked like something special.”

The old woman watches me from only feet away with hollow eyes. Up close she is even older than I thought. Her head hangs close to her shoulder, as if the muscles in her neck have given out.

Some of the other blankets look to have sentimental value to them as well. They are worn and colorful, like everything else in the Free Lands. I carefully move them aside until reaching mine. I bring the soft blanket made of cotton to my face and inhale the scent, expecting it to smell like home. Instead it smells off and musty, like the trail ends of a campfire.

“The fire had already started when I grabbed it,” Kendall explains. “I tried airing it out a little, but we can’t leave things in the open for very long.”

I look sideways at him, confused. Didn’t he tell me he got my things ou
t
befor
e
the soldiers arrived? Maybe I am remembering wrong. I brush any other thoughts aside. I am just grateful he was able to save my mother’s blanket. If I never see her again, at least I will have this memory of her and remember all the love she poured into making it.

“Thank you,” I finally say. “Where’s the box?” There don’t seem to be any hiding spots in the open room, yet I don’t see it.

“Somewhere safe. I’ll retrieve it in the morning. First you need to eat and drink something. Then you need to rest. W
e
al
l
need to sleep. You and I will head out at dawn, before the sun is fully up.”

The boys and girls all grumble, reminding me of how I would protest when my mother told me it was time to go to bed. I want to tell them at least they’re free and not stuck in some orphanage in Society. They shuffle around and throw blankets at each other in preparation for sleep.

I shake my head. “I told you, I won’t leave without my friends.”

Kendall crosses the small room to the kitchen area without saying anything more. He opens a sealed can before scooping up a container of liquid and handing them to me. I take the container from him and tip it back, drinking the liquid down. The goat’s milk is warm, but still soothes my dry throat. I try not to drink too much, knowing they probably don’t have an ample supply. I pick up the stew and look to Kendall.

“We don’t have any forks. You’ll have to eat it with your fingers,” he says.

Although it still isn’t quite as wonderful as my mother’s cooking, the stew has a pleasant flavor to it, unlike the horrible “meat” I ate every day at the orphanage. The old woman stares at me with that same misplaced look on her face while I eat. Kendall tends to her, giving her a glass of milk before helping her lay down with a blanket.

When I am finished, Kendall takes the can away and places it in a box near the pans.

“Did you hear what I said? I’m not leaving without my friends,” I repeat.

He removes the last blanket and pillow to remain in the pile. “You can have my pillow,” he says, holding it out to me.

I shake my head. “I’m okay. I used my arm last night.”

“All the more reason for you to have one tonight,” he insists, shoving it closer.

I take it. “Why won’t you answer me?”

“We’ll discuss it in the morning.” He refuses to speak of it anymore.
 

Everyone finds their place in the room. I position my blanket next to Kiki and she snuggles close, pushing her butt into my stomach the way I used to cuddle with my mother when I was little.

With snores and whispers of the others surrounding me, I lay in the darkness thinking of my friends. Are they waiting for me somewhere? Did they make it beyond the Free Lands? Worse yet, have they been caught by the soldiers? They don’t know their way around the forest like I do. What if they are wandering around, not knowing where is considered safe?

Then I wonder about Kendall and Kiki. What are they doing here without their family? Why is Kendall being so kind and protective of me? Why is he determined to get me away from the Free Lands before the Rebels make their move?

“Kendall?” I whisper to the darkness. He hums in response. “How long have you lived in the Free Lands?”

“Not long,” he says.

I pause. “Are you a Future?”

“Yes,” he whispers quietly. “But I’m not like the others. My parents were Rebels. I don’t think like the rest of Society.”

“What about the others? Did they live in Society with you, too?”

“They’re all orphaned Shymers.”

Momentarily, I am speechless. Bringing all of them over the border must have been difficult. Only someone with a big heart would do something that dangerous. Although I haven’t known Kendall very long, I think I may already be growing fond of him.

“So you have this mission in life to save rejected children?”

He grunts. “Something like that.” I feel his body shifting around near me. “You need to rest now. Good night, Olive. Sweet dreams.”

My breathing stops.

Every night for as long as I can remember, my mother would tell me “sweet dreams” just before I would drift off to sleep. It could just be something other mothers tell their children. Yet it seems too big of a coincidence to go unnoticed. Just how well does this guy know my mother, anyway?

“Good night,” I manage to answer, my voice tight.

With the close of my eyes, visions of Harrison come rushing at me: his stunning smile, his rugged face, the way his blue eyes lit up when he told me he was running away with me. I want nothing more than to spend his last days at his side and help him check everything off of his playlist. I will do whatever it takes to see him again.

* * *

A high-pitched beeping noise jars me awake. I take in the dirt smell and dark room, momentarily forgetting where I am.

“Someone kick Kendall already,” a boy grumbles from somewhere in the darkness.

Then I remember—I’m in an underground hole with a group of Shymers. Kiki stirs in my arms. I pull one of my hands away to reach out to where Kendall was sleeping. All I find is an empty blanket. “He’s not here,” I report to the boy.

Moments pass before a light appears from the other side of the tunnel. Kendall crawls in with a bright light on the end of a metal stick in his hand. There are multiple groans when those awake protect their eyes from the sudden intrusion.

“We need to go,” Kendall tells me. The high pitched beeping starts up again.

“Turn that alarm off!” the same boy yells, sitting up and rubbing both eyes with his fists. Kendall steps past me and grabs an electronic device from the ground to push a button. The beeping stops. “I really hate that thing!” the boy complains.

“Time to go,” Kendall repeats, ignoring the boy. “We don’t have long before soldiers will be out again.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Are we going to find my friends?”

“I told you it isn’t safe for you to stay.”

“What about the rest of you?” I ask Kendall. “Where will everyone go? Why don’t we all cross over? Won’t you be just as vulnerable to harm if you stay?”

“We’re joining the Rebels,” Kendall answers in a voice that asks,
“
Where else would we g
o
?”

I gulp.
“
Al
l
of you?”

“They’re all capable of fighting.”

I look down at Kiki. “What about her?” I gently stroke her hair just as my mother always did to me. Kiki stirs a little and snuggles in closer.

“She will stay here with Grandma M.” From the pained look in his eyes and falter in his voice, I know he is worried about her safety. He must see no other choice.

My heart feels as if it has climbed into my throat. Is this Kendall and Kiki’s grandmother? In her frail condition, there is no way she could take care of Kiki. When Kendall had helped her to lie down, she looked too feeble to even do that on her own.

I glance over to where the woman is lying with one eye open, looking as if she is dead. She doesn’t even appear to be capable of walking on her own. How do they even get her in and out of the tunnel?

“I can stay here with them while you fight,” I say. I try to make my voice sound strong, like this is something I could actually do. However, my stomach is heavy with just the mere mention of the word “fight.” Will they us
e
weapon
s
? Will Kendall and the other children have to kill soldiers? So many people were killed back in the time of the riots, when Society first changed their laws. The thought of everyone down here doing it makes me ill.

Kendall’s eyes flicker onto mine, looking ablaze with irritation. “Yo
u
can’t sta
y
. Not with all the soldiers that are out there now. It isn’t safe.”

I hold my chin high. Society tried to tell me what I could and couldn’t do. I’m certainly not going to let some boy tell me now. “Yeah, well, that’s not for you to decide.”

“You’re wrong!” he barks. Kiki, now awake, shrinks back into me with her brother’s outburst. His face falls when he realizes how loudly he had yelled. “I’m sorry, but that’s just not an option.”

Why is he willing to take these other young children to fight, but not me? Why won’t he let me stay? Surely he knows Kiki and this old woman won’t survive long on their own. “What if I take Kiki with me?”

Kiki’s bright eyes sweep up to mine with the proposal. I didn’t offer to take the old woman because I know I won’t be able to take care of them both while on the run. For all I know, the elderly woman is already close to death, anyway.

Kendall pauses, regarding me and Kiki as he considers the idea. He finally sighs loudly. “It may be some time before the Rebels on the other side can get to you. Do you really think you could take care of yoursel
f
an
d
another person?”

I think of my friend Taylor and all the time we used to spend together. When she left, a piece of my soul was carved away. My mother told me it was because she was more like a sister than a friend to me. I miss that feeling. Even as a little girl, I always wished my parents had other children. Looking at Kiki now, I realize I reall
y
ca
n
do this. I can take care of her like the little sister I never had, but always wanted.

“I would protect her with my life,” I tell Kendall quite seriously. “Just please, give me more time to search for my friends. If we can’t find them after a few days, I’ll let you take me and Kiki away from here.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay. I will find some other way to protect Grandma M. Now get your stuff and let’s get out of here.”

I almost laugh in response. Did he think Kiki was going t
o
protec
t
her grandmother? While I am folding my blanket, Kendall leans in to kiss the old woman’s cheek. I overhear him whispering in her ear, “I promise to keep her safe.”

* * *

We move through the forest as quiet as the afternoon breeze. The sun has just begun to cast a golden glow on the forest around us. Kiki clutches my hand tightly, scurrying to keep up. The backpack I carry holds my blanket, a doll my mother made out of a sock that Kendall had also saved, Kiki’s blanket and a few of her personal belongings, as well as a small supply of canned food and Kendall’s tin container filled with fresh creek water.