Everland (7 page)

I shake my head more in disbelief than as an actual response.

“Yeah, me neither.” He shrugs, leans near me, and holds a hand up to his mouth. “They don’t play fair anyway,” he says in an exaggerated whisper.

Before I have a chance to respond, Pete snatches something from inside his coat and launches it toward the soldiers. A tin can bounces several times before stopping in front of Hook and exploding into a red, smoky haze. Pete clutches my hand and we are running. My feet trip as I attempt to keep up with him. Adrenaline pulses through me like fuel, pumping blood to my wobbly legs. I glance back at the bewildered soldiers as the buildings blur past.

“Get her!” Hook screams, covering his good eye from the smoke.

A hurricane of sounds bombards me: military boots running, shouting voices muffled by masks, and the panting of my own breath as we sprint around a corner.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my hand gripped so tight in his that my fingers tingle.

“Saving your hide, again,” he says through quick breaths. “The first time was free. This one will cost you. I’m sure you’ll think of some way to thank me later. Back massage, foot rub, I might even let you kiss me.”

I ignore his insinuation and pick up my pace as boots pound the street behind us. “They’ll shoot us, won’t they?” I ask, expecting hot pain to flood through my body at any moment.

“No, they won’t hurt us. They need us in decent health. We’re no good to them bleeding and at death’s door.”

Bullets ricochet off the brick storefront next to us, sending up plumes of dust and rocks. I duck and shield my face as pebbles pelt me. Pete pulls me around the corner of the building as the sound of shots follows our path.

“I thought you said they wouldn’t shoot at us,” I yell over the cacophony of gunfire.

A brick wall blocks our way. Pete scrambles up it effortlessly. “I’ve been known to be wrong before,” Pete grunts as he pulls himself to the top and reaches his hand down to help me up.

“But what about rule number two?” I say, swinging my legs over the top of the wall.

“It appears with you here, rule number two is null and void,” he says. He leaps down and helps me from the wall. “Enough with the talking and more with the running. That canister of ground chili peppers will stall them, but not for long,” he says, dragging me onto an abandoned street. Rats scatter past puddles left over from last night’s rain. The stench of death and rot rises from the manholes in the humid summer heat. Our boots tread over unidentifiable rubbish, splashing pungent brown liquid onto my trouser legs.

We zigzag through the alleyways as the Marauders pursue us. Finally, Pete pulls me onto a narrow side street between two run-down brick structures. He grunts as he lifts a manhole cover from the street.

“Quick, climb in,” he says.

I hesitate, covering my mouth and nose as a vile smell wafts from the opening.

“Now!” Pete growls, giving me a hard shove.

As the soldiers draw near, I sit on the edge of the manhole and drop into the sewage system, my boots kicking up a splash of murky water. I lean against the wall, panting. Pete climbs down the ladder, replaces the cover, and joins me, peering through the holes in the cover. Footsteps stop just above. I slump against the brick wall. A foul odor prickles the inside of my nose. My stomach gurgles in protest and my eyes sting. I blink back burning tears. Something sticky and squishy seeps between my fingers. With the sleeve of my coat, I wipe away tears and blink down at the object. A guttural scream erupts from me, but Pete clamps his hand over my mouth. His fingers press so tightly into my flesh, the bones in my cheeks ache. I recoil from the decomposing skeleton and into Pete. Looking away, I bury my face into his chest. His arms squeeze me tight.

“Shh!” Pete warns in a hushed voice. “You’re going to get us caught!”

Nodding, I shift my gaze back to the body. Empty eye sockets stare lifelessly up as beetles writhe on the remaining bits of flesh. The buzz of flies rings in my ears. Blood stains the almond-colored dress, the lace of the woman’s corset having frayed. Two skeletal legs stick out from beneath her voluminous skirts. I turn my gaze away and wipe my hand on the brick wall, resisting the urge to gag. The stench is overwhelming.

Something crashes just above our hiding spot. Hook growls. “How does that boy keep getting away?” There is another bang.

“Captain, orders?” a soldier says.

“Search the buildings. Don’t forget to check closets, basements, crawl spaces, anywhere a couple of street rats would hide. Find that girl!” Hook declares.

“Yes, sir!” The soldier orders the men in various directions.

Hook roars and I flinch, but Pete rubs my shoulder, his arms still wrapped around me.

“Pete, I know you can hear me.” The Captain pauses, as if waiting for a response. “Pete! All I want is the girl.”

Pete gives me a puzzled look. “He wants just you?”

“Why not you, too?” I ask.

Pete quickly drops his gaze from mine, shrugs, and holds a finger to his lips, reminding me to keep quiet. He’s hiding something.

“Bring her to me, or so help me, when you are found, I will personally strap you to the cold steel table. I’ll enjoy watching every agonizing moment as you writhe in pain, the tubes and needles sucking every ounce of life from your pathetic body. You will curse the day you ever crossed my path.”

“That bloke has some serious anger issues,” Pete whispers in my ear. His face is close to mine. His breath tickles my neck and is warm against my skin. It smells peculiar, like bubble gum. My cheeks grow hot.

“Do you hear me?” Hook screams.

Other than the scurrying of a few rodents in the tunnel, everything remains quiet. The sound of boots walking above us makes the tension in my body grow. My eyes and jaw clench shut as if I could disappear. The footsteps stop at the manhole cover. Pete quietly leaps up and tugs me to a shadowed corner as Hook peers through the holes. Another familiar and menacing voice draws his attention away.

“Captain, my men are in pursuit of a couple of children,” Smeeth says. “We may have them cornered in an alley a few blocks from here. A boy and that pixie-lookin’ girl we always see with Pete.”

Mikey! My heart stops and I try to bolt, but Pete pulls me back. I struggle against his hold as he clasps a hand over my mouth. With bulging eyes, he shakes his head. “Shh! Stay quiet!”

“It’s Bella,” Hook says, his words clipped. “Do what you have to do to get the girl, even if it means incapacitating the boy. Just don’t kill her.”

“We’ll do what we can, Captain,” Smeeth says. “That girl’s half bird with those wings of hers. She’s struggling to hold on to the boy.”

“Who’s the other kid?” Hook says.

“I don’t know,” Smeeth says. “Boy’s maybe six, seven at the most. It doesn’t look like Bella is going to be able to carry him much longer, and he is having a hard time keeping up on his own.”

My body tenses and I jerk, trying to escape from Pete’s grasp again. I hear Hook respond, but his words are lost as I thrash violently against Pete’s hold. Seething, I elbow the Lost Boy in the ribs. He grunts, his arms release me, and I dart from his grasp. Doubled over and wincing, he manages to hold a finger to his lips, reminding me to be silent.

“When the men capture them, do whatever you want with the boy. But take Bella straight to the Professor’s lab for testing,” Hook says, his voice fading as he walks away.

“I’m going to kill them,” I declare. Enraged, I grab my dagger as I start up the ladder.

Pete jumps to his feet and wraps his arms around my waist, restraining me as I step onto the first rung. “Seriously, you need to control your slice ’em, dice ’em attitude when someone pisses you off.” I pull from his grip, but he snatches my wrist, forcing me to drop my knife. It lands in the disgusting water with a plunk.

“Let me go. I’m going to cut them into teeny-tiny bits and feed them to the rats,” I growl.

“I know, I know, rat food. I get it, but we need to get to the Lost City. We can’t take them on by ourselves. We’ll need help. Besides, Bella would never let them near Mikey,” Pete grunts against my flailing arms.

“They will regret it if they lay one single finger on my brother.” Bella’s small face comes to my mind as I imagine her struggling to hold my brother up, her wings straining against the extra load. “On either of those kids,” I say through gritted teeth.

Pete sighs, spins me around, and holds me at arm’s length. “Enough! No need to get your knickers in a twist. Listen, Immune, I’d really like to help you, but you need to get one thing straight. I know their weaknesses better than you do. How are you going to take on an army of Marauders with a pocketknife?”

I shove him hard, sending him stumbling backward, nearly falling into the nasty sewer water. “You’re the one who got us into this mess. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you. If I had stuck with my gut, if I had gone after Joanna myself, Mikey wouldn’t be running in the streets unprotected and alone. I’m done following you.” I fish my knife out of the water, sheathe it, and start toward the ladder again, determined to get my siblings back myself.

Pete chases after me. “Unprotected and alone? Have you met Bella?” He grabs my arm, whirling me to face him. “She’s the best bet he’s got right now. Besides, you were on the brink of starvation. Your stomach hasn’t stopped growling since we left your hideout, which tells me you weren’t eating much. And my guess is that you weren’t eating your share just so you could keep those kids alive. Do you really believe you can take Hook and the soldiers on your own, especially with a Little in tow? You’re mad if you do.”

I raise a hand to slap him. He grabs my wrist before my palm makes contact. Pulling from his grip, I glare at him, wanting to blow him out like the flame of a candle. Wishing he’d just disappear. “I don’t see how this situation has gotten any better since you’ve come along. In fact, it’s gotten much worse. At least if I had gone alone, if it was just Mikey and me, we would still be together. Now both of my siblings are out there, no thanks to you.”

“Joanna wasn’t my fault, was it?” he yells back. “And as far as Mikey is concerned, you’re lucky he isn’t in Hook’s lab as we speak. It was you who led the Marauders to your hideout, not me!”

I purse my lips, biting back the barrage of expletives running through my head.

Pete rubs his forehead wearily. “Look, Bella would rather die than let anything happen to Mikey. She is a little rough around the edges, but she’s smart. If they outrun the Marauders, they’ll be at our meeting point. As for Joanna, we’ll get her back. I intend to help, but you have to do what I say, when I say to do it,” he says. “No questions asked.”

“And why would I do that?” I cross my arms in front of me indignantly. “Listening to you has caused me nothing but grief.”

“Frankly, I’m fed up with your princess attitude. Maybe I ought to let you go on your way. I’m certainly not benefiting at all from this,” Pete barks.

His words sting, but I press my lips together, unwilling to let him see the hurt boiling within me. “The feeling is mutual,” I mutter as I climb the ladder.

“Wait!” Pete says, grabbing my ankle.

Clutching my knife, I jump down, grip his shirt collar, and throw him against the brick wall. I hold the tip of my dagger to his neck. “Don’t. You. Touch. Me!”

“Whoa! Hold on!” Pete says, holding up his hands, his eyes wide with actual fright. “The truth is … the truth is I need you.”

Surprised, I loosen my grasp on his shirt. “What? Why?”

He hesitates. His reluctance to share his thoughts stirs a sick feeling within me. I grip his shirt again, shaking him. “Talk!” I shout, gritting my teeth.

He grimaces and lets out a breath. “You see, there aren’t really Immunes, or at least not any I have found until I came across you.”

“What do you mean by ‘aren’t really Immunes’? That’s what you’ve been calling me this whole time,” I accuse.

“It’s complicated, but what you need to know is this: Not all children are resistant to the Horologia virus. Especially not girls, it seems,” Pete explains. Running a hand through his hair, he paces, stops, and steps toward me. “Look, I won’t lie to you. The few girls we have found, they don’t last long. In fact, they rarely last a month. When we find them, they are already showing symptoms and …”

My hammering heart skips a beat. “And then what?” I demand.

Pete stares at me, his gaze intense. “They die.”

Time stands still and my vision blurs. I back up, placing my hand on the hilt of my second dagger. “So if girls aren’t immune, what use am I to you?”

Pete looks away. “Because … Bella is dying.”

His words strike me like a stray bullet piercing my heart. I meet his glassy gaze. He swallows. The muscles in his face grow taut. He’s not lying.

“What do you mean? She looks perfectly healthy,” I say.

“Bella is alive only because of Doc.” He winces and shakes his head, as if saying those words is painful. “The virus is like some bizarre, cancerous, flesh-eating disease. Her fingers and toes are black, blistered, and the flesh is peeling away. The only reason she appears well is because her gloves and stockings are lined with medication to dull the pain. Doc also came up with some sort of a booster shot from the antibodies of us Lost Boys, but it only slows the progress; it doesn’t cure it.” Pete pulls up the sleeve of his jacket. A macramé of dark tattoos gives his skin the illusion of machine parts. The intricate details permanently etched in ink are stunning. I reach for his arm, hoping to get a better look, but something catches my eye and my breath hitches. A colorful display of blue, purple, and yellow bruises in varying stages of healing tint the inked gears, springs, and other mechanical gadgets. Before I have a chance to really inspect the tattoos and injuries, Pete pulls his sleeve back down and continues, “But you … you show no signs of infection. You may really be immune, and if you are … well, maybe … just maybe …”

A thousand thoughts flood my mind, but only one renders me speechless. I can’t utter the words that are about to make me crumble like the rubble along the street.

Pete lets out an audible breath. “I believe you are an Immune, a
real
Immune. That’s why Hook wants you, I’m certain of it. You’re the only girl I’ve seen who actually seems unaffected by the virus. How you lived out there without showing symptoms is a miracle. Judging by the fact you have a sister who has also survived, there has to be something about you two. Something genetic, I suppose. Maybe the cure lies in you and your sister.”