Everland Page 4

  “What more is left here for you but faith?” Pete says, extending a hand to me from the open window. The sunlight halos him an amber glow.

  “And a little bit of pixie dust,” Bella adds, pouring the rest of the gold into my hand.

  The shouts from the street grow louder. I swallow the lump of fear in my throat, torn between taking my brother and running for safety on our own or joining Pete and Bella. Mikey tugs at my hand and waves a finger at me, gesturing for me to come closer. I bend toward him.

  “Can’t we go with them, Gwen?” he whispers. “They have all of our food anyway.”

  He has a point. If I reject their offer, they’ll leave with our supplies and we will have nothing but what is in my pack. If we go with them and the Lost City is real, Mikey will have a safe place to stay while I rescue our sister.

  I turn back to Pete and Bella, who both stand in the window, silhouetted in the sun’s early glow. Bella’s glittering wings flutter. “Pete, they’re getting close!”

  “So, are you coming?” Pete says, leaning toward me.

  I peek through the window. Shadows creep between the warehouses. The metal clang of military vehicles crawling along the broken streets echoes through the maze of buildings. Steam rises between the buildings and the vehicles let out an ominous hiss.

  Bella’s eyes flash with worry. “Pete? We have to go!” she urges, waving my brother toward the window. I lift Mikey, and Bella helps him through the opening. As I reach for Pete’s outstretched hand, I hesitate.

  “Wait. What was the second rule to surviving?” I ask.

  Pete smiles, his perfect white teeth flashing with confidence. He places his goggles back over his brilliant green eyes, and I see my worried reflection stare back at me in the lenses. He pulls me into the window frame with both hands, drawing me close enough that I can feel his breath against my cheeks.

  “Rule number two: I am always right.”

  Smeeth’s breath crackles in a wet wheeze as he struggles to keep up. As if the fires, ash, and dust in Everland weren’t bad enough, the cigars he insists on inhaling have only made his asthma worse. But I say nothing. Maybe he’ll kill himself before I have to do the dirty deed myself.

  “But, Captain, you were scheduled to return to the Bloodred Queen six months ago with a progress report. Why are we still chasing orphans? We’ve gained nothing from them.”

  “Those orphans, or rather one orphan in particular, are vital to my plan,” I say, marching through the ornate palace hallway to the front entrance, stopping at a window.

  Smeeth wrings his hands. “They were never part of the objective. Your mother will have all of our heads if we don’t return to Lohr Castle soon.”

  Outside, the shadowed rubble renews my resolve. There is only one thing left to do in Everland before we leave. Just one.

  “Mother will have my head anyway, along with my lungs, liver, and anything else she desires. We were supposed to claim England as ours, to establish our own governorship over the country. What good is our report now? We have single-handedly destroyed the heart of England and in turn released a deadly virus. If we leave now, what news do we have to bring her? That we took over London, renamed it Everland, and that the city is only a fraction of the metropolis it once was? She already knows what I’ve done. If the report from Germany is true, if the Bloodred Queen has contracted the virus, too, then this disease has spread well beyond England’s borders. Not only that, but I’ve failed her … twice.”

  My fingers bite into the windowsill, the pain calming the humiliation brewing within me. “I have to find the cure. I will not return to Lohr Castle without it.”

  “You’ve done what the Bloodred Queen has asked,” Smeeth says. “You’ve conquered England. Let us give her the report she’s asked for and leave with the money, travel the world away from this dump. Queen Katherina can deal with coming back and cleaning up the mess herself.”

  “It won’t be enough,” I say.

  “What do you mean it won’t be enough? England is defeated and two billion as payment is hardly something to scoff at.”

  Spinning, I lunge toward Smeeth, towering over him until I am close enough that I can smell the wretched stink from his last cigar. “And what if the rest of the world looks like this? Aside from the single report on the Queen’s condition, no one outside of England has made contact since the attack. Not even by telegraph or carrier pigeon. England’s allies would never let this go unpunished unless … unless the virus spread. That’s the only reasonable explanation for the silence from them, from the world, really. We know that the Horologia virus has drifted beyond England’s borders, but how far?”

  “I don’t know, Captain,” Smeeth says, taking a few steps back. “But I still think you ought to take the money and run.”

  I reach inside the pocket of my black leather military coat. I pull out a fiver along with a book of matches, then set the bill on fire. It bursts into a vibrant flame and then extinguishes, leaving a dusting of ashes on the floor. “If the virus has spread and left the world’s leading countries immobilized, this note is nothing more than a measly piece of paper. What is the money worth now? Nothing!”

  “Then we’ll ask for payment in precious metals and gems,” Smeeth says.

  As I gaze at what remains of the once-magnificent palace, my eyes fall upon the torn tapestries hanging from the faded walls, remnants from the day when I claimed it as my headquarters. “No, we are on the brink of having something worth more than rocks and crystals. Something the world leaders will sacrifice anything for to save the citizens they have left. A service—a gift, really—that even my mother can’t provide her people. A prize that will award me the respect I’m long overdue.”

  “What’s that?” Smeeth says, furrowing his brow.

  “The cure.”

  I spin on my heels and head toward the palace doors. “Sound the signal. I want those Crawlers and zeppelins ready to go in five.”

  “Yes, Captain.” Smeeth salutes and hurries from the palace.

  Within minutes the alarm’s shrill cry breaks the silence of the misty early morning. Armed men scatter like ants retreating from a stomped-on anthill. They form perfect lines, each a mirror image of the other. Their only form of identification is their names clumsily scratched into the metal of their full helmets. Fools. They think etching their name on their helmet so no other soldier accidentally wears it will keep them from contracting the virus. They’ll all be as good as dead if I don’t succeed.

  Dozens of Steam Crawlers fill the palace courtyard, an army of spiderlike machines. Brigades of masked soldiers file in formation as they flank the armored vehicles. I stand at the entrance of Buckingham Palace. Towering over the army of men, I scan the mass, my heart beating wildly beneath my coat. The sight of the soldiers, their dark uniforms adorned with bits of metal that reflect an orange glow from the dawn sunlight, stirs a flicker within me, like a candle chasing away the darkness of despair.

  “Marauders, this is our time, the moment we have waited for. We came to London to seize it, to establish Everland for the Bloodred Queen. And today is a new step toward real power, absolute supremacy. Our treasure is not gold, but the crowns from each of the world’s leaders.”

  My voice is swept away by the soldiers’ cheer. Their shouts feed the flame in my gut, fueling my confidence. I clutch an empty glass vial and hold it high for the soldiers to see.

  “This is all we need. The blood of the Immune will send the strongest leaders of the world to their knees, even the Bloodred Queen herself. The Immune lies here within Everland. Find the girls. Find them all! Find the female whose veins pulse with the antidote to the Horologia virus.”

  Again the Marauders roar with solidarity, their deep voices almost mechanical beneath their helmets. Gunshots ring through the chilly morning air.

  “Find Pete! He knows where they’re hiding. Search every street, building, rubbish bin, crack, hole, crevice, rooftop, and basement. She’s out there. Bring me the cure!”


  The army thunders in approval. With clenched fists pumping, they burst into chants. “Hook! Hook! Hook!”

  I ball my fists, cringing at the nickname they have given me. “It’s Captain Kretschmer,” I mutter through gritted teeth.

  “I’d go with it, Captain,” Smeeth says. “It has a nice ring to it. Don’t you think?”

  My eyes skim the Marauders, taking in the rows of men cheering for me. For me! Not my mother, the Queen of Germany. They’re not shouting out the surname that I was unfortunate to have been born with. No. Not Captain Kretschmer.

  Hook!

  Tucking the vial into the pocket of my coat, I feel the tug of a smile pull at my lips. “Perhaps you’re right, Smeeth. It’s a new beginning, not just for me, but for all of us.” I spin the gold ring adorned with the seal of the Bloodred Queen on my finger. “A new era.”

  Slipping the ring from my finger, I hold it for the soldiers to see. “Long live the Bloodred Queen!” I shout. I toss the ring into the air, and with my pistol, I shoot the band of gold. It fragments into two pieces before clinking on the brick ground. The last link of choking resentment slips from the heavy chain wrapped tightly around my neck.

  The soldiers chant my name, feeding the embers of determination deep inside of me. I reach inside my pocket, pull out another ring, and slip it on my gloved finger. With a balled fist, I hold it up for my army to see. The gold skull and crossbones shimmer in the sunlight.

  “We will rule the world!” I shout.

  The Marauders roar as they climb into their vehicles. I rush down the steps and slide into my Steam Crawler. With a hiss of the boiler, the military vehicle rumbles to life. The tank howls as its mechanical legs creep forward into the broken city.

  Having ventured out only at night in the last year, my eyes sting in the daylight. Mikey fares better as he peeks through the holes of a colander neatly tied to his head with twine. An old, rusty pot lid serves as a chest plate. Bronze cogs, bolts, and wheels attach kettle lids to his makeshift shoulder pads and spin as he swings his arms. His brown teddy bear peers out of the top of the small rucksack on his back. Seeing his petite frame in the crude armor reminds me of the hours Joanna spent constructing it. I miss her terribly and wish I could take back all the things I said the last time I was with her.

  Mikey struggles to keep up, and finally stumbles, his worn shoes tripping on the buckled concrete street.

  “Mikey!” I sprint to him and kneel. Blood seeps through a scrape on his knee, staining his tattered pajamas. “Are you okay?”

  “It hurts and I’m tired,” he says, sniffling back tears.

  We’ve been traveling toward the city for an hour. I’m worn out from walking, crawling under fences, and hiding under what is left of expressway overpasses. Mikey must be exhausted.

  Bella pulls the teddy bear from Mikey’s rucksack, kneels by my brother, and hands the stuffed animal to him. “Here, this will help you feel better,” she says. Mikey takes the ragged toy with some reluctance, worry creasing his forehead. He snuggles the bear to his chest, and I notice the corners of Bella’s lips turn up in a slight smile. In that moment, her fierceness disappears, and I see a trace of the girl she must have been before the war changed us all. I can’t help but smile at her attempt to comfort him in spite of her pride.

  When she catches me staring at her, she grimaces and stands. “You really ought to be more careful. It’s no wonder you fell with all that shuffling you’ve been doing,” she says, flipping the lever on her rocket pack. The contraption gives a loud hiss as steam rises from the pack. Her wings deploy with an audible click. They glitter brightly beneath the faintest ray of sunlight peeking through broken storm clouds. Bella’s feet lift from the ground and she floats to Pete’s side.

  “Can’t we rest awhile?” I ask, wrapping an arm around my brother.

  Pete stops, shakes his head, and walks toward us. “If we rest, we die. You just don’t get it, do you, Immune?” he says. His tone is sharp and jarring, sending a fresh wave of anxiety through me. My cheeks grow warm. When I say nothing, Pete walks away with Bella flying just above his right shoulder.

  “Why do you keep calling me that?” I ask, gathering myself as I help Mikey to his feet. We sprint to catch up with Pete and Bella.

  “Keep calling you what?” he replies, obviously toying with me.

  “Immune. Aren’t you and Bella Immunes, too?”

  Bella wrinkles her nose, as if the suggestion has left a bitter taste in her mouth. “No way. We’re Lost Kids.”

  “Lost whats?” Mikey asks, letting go of my hand and staggering alongside Pete.

  Pete whirls around. “A Lost Kid. A member of the Lost City. Can we move on now?”

  “But you’re still an Immune, aren’t you? What, precisely, is the difference?” I ask.

  “The difference is precisely this: Lost Kids never get caught,” Pete says, standing a little taller. He spins, walking backward, and points a finger at me. “Immunes, on the other hand, eventually end up as one of Hook’s lab rats.” Pete turns and continues marching up the street. “Without Bella and me, you’d be in Hook’s lab as we speak.”

  I roll my eyes. “This is ridiculous,” I mutter.

  “I don’t want to get caught,” Mikey says, scurrying in front of Pete. “I want to be a Lost Kid like you and Bella.”

  Pete stops and crouches. “Well, there you go,” he says, giving Mikey a gentle tap on the nose. “You’re well on your way to being a Lost Boy. Stick with me, kid, and you will be a Lost Boy in no time. In fact …” Pete unsheathes his dagger and taps each of Mikey’s shoulders with the flat surface of the blade. “I dub you, Mikey, Lost Boy in training.” He turns the knife and offers the ornate hilt to my little brother.

  Mikey’s mouth gapes as he reaches for the chrome dagger. I snatch it from his hand and give it back to Pete. Mikey scowls, but it quickly fades. He throws his bear into the air, catches it, and dances around in circles. “I’m going to be a Lost Boy!” he sings.

  Bella blows a breath through puffed cheeks and flicks the lever on her rocket pack. Her wings flutter slower and she glides to the ground. “Did you have to go and make him a trainee?”

  “You are completely mad.” I throw my rucksack over my shoulder and stomp off, irritated with his nonsensical talk.

  “Hey, wait,” Pete says. He runs next to me.

  I trudge forward, unwilling to stop. “What? Now that you’ve knighted my brother, are you going to tell me you can fly, too?” I gesture to Bella, who folds her arms and narrows her eyes.

  He drapes an arm over my shoulders. “Maybe I can.”

  I shrug off his arm and march away from him.

  “Oh, and one more thing,” he says.

  Whirling around, I stare at the boy. “What now?” I ask, annoyed.

  “You,” he says, stepping closer to me and poking a finger into my shoulder, “are still an Immune.”

  Before I can retort, deep, metallic voices resound from the buildings nearby. Pete shoves me behind a smelly shrub, and Bella and Mikey race after us. I glance around the edge of the bush, careful not to touch the leaves. A group of Marauders hurries up the street. They shout orders through their gas masks, their words indecipherable from this far away. My stomach rolls as I watch one soldier drag a dead body from a building by a laced boot. Empathy settles over me as the soldiers joke about her pink knickers peeking out from her ripped skirt. I am glad she is no longer alive to face the embarrassment of their crude comments.

  The soldier lifts a manhole cover, and she is rolled into the sewer by the heel of his boot.

  “Lunchtime,” the soldier shouts into the hole.

  I swallow back the urge to vomit. My throat is dry and my hands tremble. I have no idea what the soldier meant, but I’m terrified to entertain the thought. I pull Mikey close. “What are we going to do?”

  “We need to split up,” Pete says, peeking through the bush. “Bella, take Mikey. Meet us at Beckton Station.”

  Bel
la nods, pulls her slingshot from her belt, and grips Mikey’s hand. He doesn’t resist, but his bottom lip quivers.

  I brush Mikey behind me. “No! I’m not leaving him.”

  “We are going to distract those soldiers. Mikey is too little to outrun them,” Pete explains with quick, quiet words. “You and I have the best chance of evading them, and Bella knows every hiding spot from here to the first tunnel entrance. It’s our best option.”

  “I want to come with you,” Mikey whines into the fur of his bear.

  Placing a finger against his pink lips, I shush him. The twigs of the bush scratch my cheek as I peer through the maze of branches. Hook’s men search the empty, run-down buildings with their weapons drawn, sunlight reflecting in the metal gleam of their guns. One soldier breaks a window with the butt of his gun and kicks at the remaining shards, sending glass tinkling onto the concrete. He raises the weapon, looking through the brass scope mounted on top before stepping through the gaping hole.

  “It’s either now or never. If we don’t go, we’ll all be caught,” Pete says, flicking his gaze at me and back at the soldiers.

  The soldiers are two buildings away and approaching quickly. “Mikey, you stay with Bella. Don’t leave her side for even a minute,” I insist. I take a deep breath, trying to loosen the growing tightness in my chest. “Do whatever she tells you to. No arguing.”

  Mikey frowns and tears pool in his eyes. “But, Gwen, I’m scared. Let me come with you.” I’m tempted to change my mind when Pete stoops in front of Mikey.

  “I need you to look after her,” he says, tilting his head toward Bella. “She needs a brave soldier, a Lost Boy, to protect her. I know you can do it. Can I count on you?”

  His kindness surprises me, and I feel the ire brewing in me shift.

  “I don’t need looking after,” Bella argues. Her voice teeters on revealing our hiding spot.

  Pete takes her petite hand into his. “We all could use an extra pair of eyes watching our backs. Where would I be without you? How many times have you gotten me out of a jam? Once? Twice?”