The Treemakers (A YA Dystopian Scifi Romance Adventure) Read Online Free PDF

it.”
    “ You sure?”
    She nods. “Please be careful.”
    “I will.” I peek at Baby Lou sleeping soundly in her crib.
    “We’ll be fine,” Aby assures me. “Tell Jax I said hi.”
    “Okay. And maybe next time you and Miguel can go with us.”
    “Really? That would be great! It’s been like a month—”
    “I know, it’s time.” I hug her, breathing in the nasty scent of Tree Factory soap on her skin. Someone taps on the door.
    “Be safe.” Aby blows me a kiss. “And have fun.”

FOUR
    I tiptoe to the iron door, yank down on the partially corroded handle, and it opens to Jax leaning against the wall, arms crossed and tattered backpack slung over one shoulder. Humphrey lies in his too-small cot, his round, hairy gut protruding from under his too-small dingy shirt.
    “Better not get caught.” He flops a fat arm across his forehead, stares up at the ceiling. “Or it’ll be all our asses. Fried in the sun, like your friend.”
    “Brother,” I correct. “He was our brother.”
    “Whatever. Don’t get caught.” With a sick slurping sound, he sucks grime from his teeth, then scratches a disgusting armpit. “And I better get something good this time. I don’t know what that hogwash was last time, but it nearly killed me.”
    “Yeah, yeah. Quit your whining,” says Jax. “You said it was good when you were dozed.”
    “Just hurry up, and don’t get caught.” He dangles a ring of keys from one finger, and glances up at us for the first time. “And watch out for monsters,” he says, winking and pursing his pudgy lips.
    “Right. The monsters,” I say. “Thanks for the reminder.” I snatch away the keys and affix them to the belt loop of my jeans. But their weight makes the fragile strings rip apart, and they clunk to the floor.
    “Stupid ancient clothes,” I mumble.
    “I got ’em.” Jax scoops them up and drops them into his huge back pocket.
    I laugh. “God, you could fit another body in there.”
    “I know, aren’t they ridiculous?” He eyes me and grins. “Good to see you smile.”
    As soon as he says it, though, my smile fades. “Let’ s go.”
    We leave Humphrey behind to fight his cot for a more comfortable position and head to our exit. How the Superiors would entrust such a worthless oaf to be our night watch, I’ll never understand. Either they trust him more than they should, or they’re complete idiots. Or maybe they know we have nowhere to “escape” to anyway.
    Past Greenleigh, which is now a ghost city with the exception of us orphans-turned-treemakers, it’s miles to the next town. Trolley tunnels are somewhere, though we still haven’t found them. Once we get into the bunkers, our amateur lock-picking skills govern how far we get. The keys will get us through the main thoroughfare connecting the corridors from Bunkers A through E, but we’ve only broken into A and B so far, and only made it down six levels. The bunkers go much deeper than that. How much deeper, we don’t know. Not even our parents knew that, although everyone had speculations.
    The only sure way out of Greenleigh is the aboveground tunnels, where temperature-controlled Haulers come twice a week to pick up our trees for distribution throughout Bygonne. But the last kid who tried to escape through one of those, ended up a very effective threatening device for the Superiors—when a bag of bones and ashes is dumped in front of you, you do what you’re told. And you definitely don’t plan to follow in his footsteps.
     The cuffs of Jax’s baggy jeans drag the floor as we shuffle softly through the building, stirring dust cyclones beneath our feet. His shaggy black hair shines blue beneath the few flickering bulbs left on to illuminate the place. I smooth down my own hair and tuck it behind my ears. Jax swings his bag around to his front and peeks back at me.
    “Ah,” he whispers, “you’re beautiful as always, Momma Joy.” He digs into the bag, takes out two breathers, and hands me