Umberland

by Wendy Spinale

  Placing a hand on Alyssa’s shoulder, I feel her shake beneath my touch.

  The lies are bitter even before I say them. “Everything will be okay, Your Grace. Doc will fix this. If anyone can find a new cure, it’s him. It’s only a matter of time,” I assure her, attempting to sound confident, but I have my own doubts. Because the clock is ticking and we’re running out of time.

  Although Doc is one of the smartest Lost Boys I know, odds are, even he can’t perform this miracle. He was a prodigy child interning at the local hospital at the age of sixteen, and I always seem to expect more from him. Solutions. Answers. A cure. But he’s disappointed me in the past—my sister’s death, Bella’s condition—so I don’t know why I assure anyone that he’ll be of help. And with the Professor getting worse, she’s unable to help either.

  “We can’t just stand by and do nothing,” Alyssa says sternly. “They’re becoming sicker every day. These symptoms are entirely different since we’ve administered the antidote.”

  “Yeah, like they’re becoming wild beasties or something with those crazy hands and feet, and all that growling they do. Well, not they, just that Katt girl, but then again she’s always been kind of on the grumpy side since I’ve known her, so maybe that’s not a new thing,” Gabs’s muffled voice says from inside the wardrobe. “Hard to believe she’s a princess of any sort. But this sure is way different from the other sickness they had.”

  “Not entirely different,” Doc says, storming into the room. The sight of him makes my blood crash in my ears. Each lifeless body is a reminder that our days are numbered and there is nothing I can do about it. But Doc can. However, time and time again, he’s let me down, and seeing him makes the frustration almost too much.

  Lily, on the other hand, gives him a weak smile. The virus has taken its toll on her as well. Before, her flirtatious demeanor and vibrant energy were infectious. Enough so that even Doc, whose nose was always in a medical textbook, took notice. Since then, they’ve grown close over the last few months. How close, I’m not sure. Doc, having once courted my sister, is careful not to show any public displays of affection in front of me.

  Doc opens a spiral notebook on the table and thumbs through the worn pages. He stops on one filled with crude annotations, drawings, and graphs. “I was going over the Professor’s notes again and found some things I missed in my initial studies.

  “We’re not getting anywhere with the antidote I created. And I can’t figure out how it changed. So I decided to go back to the original disease, thinking that maybe there’s something I missed. The Professor identified all the same components of the illness that I did, most of which are easily attainable. However, there is one component she’s notated only as pwazon pòm. It’s taken me nearly a week, but I think I figured out what that is,” Doc says, breathless. He looks up from the notebook.

  “What is it?” I ask, the tone of my voice hard. Bella would be by my side, not lying sick in the infirmary, had Doc figured this out long ago. Her absence feels as if I’m missing something important.

  Doc shakes his head, and despair etches his expression. “The base property is, believe or not, an apple.”

  “An apple?” It sounds so stupid, so trivial. An apple is what’s ending the world? “You’re telling me all this time … all this time the missing component to the cure was a simple apple?”

  Alyssa touches my arm, her stare warning me to control my anger. I swallow my frustration and combat my short fuse the only way I know how—by throwing barbs at Doc.

  “The missing ingredient isn’t some cosmic mineral or the saliva of a rare insect or something else obscure? An apple is what eluded the smartest Lost Boy we have?” I ask sarcastically.

  “I’m afraid so,” Doc says, dropping his gaze.

  Lily’s eyes meet mine, and she frowns disapprovingly.

  The wardrobe door bursts open, and Gabs leaps out, bouncing on his tiny toes. “Oh! I like apples! Red ones and yellow ones and green ones and purple ones and blue ones …”

  “Gabs, you hate apples,” I say, eager to stop the lengthy discussion before it starts.

  His nose wrinkles. “Oh, that’s right! Apples are icky! Blah! Thanks for the reminder.”

  I turn my attention back to Doc. “Tell me about this apple.”

  “The pwazon pòm loosely translated means ‘poison apple.’ It was a tree indigenous to the tropics, but because of how toxic the fruit was to humans, it was destroyed. Completely eradicated,” Doc says.

  “Toxic?” the duchess asks.

  “The juice alone can leave scalding burns,” Doc says.

  “That explains the blisters,” Lily says, rubbing two gloved fingers together.

  “One bite of the apple and you’ll be unconscious within minutes. Turning it into an inhalant, like what was done with the Horologia virus when it went airborne, is more lethal than eating it because it paralyzes the lungs, killing the victims almost instantly. It’s especially deadly in high doses. That’s why so many died quickly when the virus was released. Without the apple, I don’t think I can create the antidote.”

  Gabs’s face pales, and he scoots back inside the wardrobe. “Now I know I wouldn’t like those kind of apples, not one bit. I might even be deathly ’llergic to them. In fact, I’m sure of it.”

  “How can a poisonous apple help create a cure?” I ask.

  “Think of it like a vaccine. Usually the solution contains a weakened or killed form of the microbe. The body recognizes the organism as a threat and destroys it, but creates antibodies in the event that it encounters the same disease. Vaccines are given to prevent illness. Antidotes work the same way only after the patient has been infected, particularly when dealing with poisons. When I created the cure for the Horologia outbreak, I treated it as just that: a disease. But what I missed was that it wasn’t a disease at all. We were poisoned,” Doc says.

  “Poisoned?” Lily says, peering at her gloved hands.

  Duchess Alyssa’s face pales beneath the fading sunlight. “So the cure was not a cure at all? Just something to help relieve the symptoms?” she asks.

  “More like a paper bandage on a lopped-off limb,” I say bitterly.

  Doc’s expression darkens as he narrows his eyes at me. Ignoring my remark, he continues, “I believe the lizard protein helped stanch the effects for a short time, but ultimately, we’re not dealing with a virus or bacteria at all. What we have here is mass poisoning. Imagine an airborne arsenic created to target the adults, but that inadvertently leaves the children with a slower die-off.”

  “So you think this apple is the key to the cure?” Lily asks.

  Thoughts spin wildly in my mind. Poisoned?

  Doc grimaces and nods. “Yes. We need the original ingredient to create the antidote. But, unfortunately, the tree no longer exists. I’m afraid there isn’t much more I can do.” He slams a fist on the table. “What I wouldn’t give to get my hands on the doses that the Professor made!”

  “Please don’t do that,” Gabs whimpers from behind the rattling wardrobe doors. “I’m scared enough as it is. Everyone is always so angry. Those kids outside are angry, Pete’s angry, Doc’s angry. If growing up means yelling and pounding on stuff and throwing stuff, I think I’ll just stay a Little forever and ever and ever.”

  Doc opens the wardrobe door enough to peer inside. “Sorry, Gabs.”

  “It’s all right,” Gabs whispers. “Although you might want to practice some deep breathing or counting backward from ten or something. My mum used to say that I was going to give myself a cornenary when I threw a temper tantrum when I was littler than a Little. And I don’t know what a cornenary is, but it sounds pretty bad and I don’t like corn all that much. It might have even been worse than those apples you were talking about.”

  “Wait, I thought you said the injections Gwen’s mother gave were vaccines?” I ask.

  “When she described them as injections given over a period of time, I had assumed they were vaccines. The reality is that t
he Professor was giving Gwen and her siblings small doses of the poison in order to make them immune in the event that Germany ever attacked. Smart woman,” Doc says. A look of admiration crosses his face for a second before it slips away. “The bad news is that Gwen and her siblings have developed some resistance to the poison, but total immunity comes with continuous exposure over years. And Gwen’s antibodies were helpful to those who were given the cure in the short term, but the only real solution is the antidote itself. I still need the apple”—he presses his lips together—“to fix what I did.”

  Poisons. Antidotes. The cure. Thoughts scramble in my head.

  Another stone sails through the window, knocking more glass from the frame. Gabs pulls the wardrobe door shut again. “Son of a pollywog, what’s wrong with those crazies?!” he says.

  Fed up with the violence and betrayal of the refugees, fury courses through me. I pick up the rock, ready to hurl it back out the window, when Lily lightly touches my arm. “Let it go, Pete.”

  “What’s wrong, Lost Boy? You letting a girl tell you how to be a man?” a boy shouts up at me.

  Lily’s face flushes. She pushes me aside and leans out the window. “This girl is just about done with you bloody nitwits. If the bunch of you keep it up, I’ll have no other choice but to come down there and show you how much of a girl I really am when I kick you in your trousers.”

  The boys erupt in a cacophony of cackles and insults, fueling my growing anger. Sometimes you just want to fight back, even if these boys aren’t actually the enemy. Driven to rage, Lily snatches the rock from my hand, takes aim at my ridiculers, but I grip her wrist tightly.

  “Don’t bother,” I say quietly.

  Her breath is quick as shock brings her back to reality.

  Neither of us has ever intentionally hurt anyone, not unless we were fighting for our lives or the life of another. But simple mockery from a few inebriated kids has reduced us both to the uncontrollable need to retaliate.

  “Thank you,” she whispers, dropping the stone. “Are you okay?” she asks, giving my hand a squeeze.

  Pain shoots up my fingers, and I wrench my hand back. Through my leather gloves I feel two small blisters on my finger burst and blood gush from the wounds. Lily frowns. Although my symptoms are not new, I’ve done my best to hide them from everyone else, but not well enough.

  I ball my hand into a fist, despite the pain. “Gwen doesn’t know. She can’t know. Do you all understand me?”

  Alyssa, Lily, and Doc exchange apprehensive glances but nod.

  Furious, I kick the stone, sending it sliding across the floor, and scream, angry at the world we live in.

  “I don’t know about you all, but I’m scardier than a big ol’ fraidycat. You all can come join me in here if you want,” Gabs says, peeking from the cracked door. The bottom of an ivory lace petticoat cloaks his head of dark hair. “I’ll make room if you want, but you ought to leave those outside. You’re liable to poke an eye out or something,” he says, gesturing toward Lily’s and Alyssa’s swords.

  “I think we’ll be okay, but thank you,” Lily says, smiling sadly. I’m sure she’s thinking what I’m thinking: Gabs reminds us all of the innocent kids we’ve lost. Her gold chain belt jingles as she shifts, turning her attention back toward the crowd outside the window. Her mood has grown darker since we arrived in Northumberland. She’s always given off an air of fierceness, but this is different. Hostile. Some days, more often than not, I can relate, especially when I visit Bella.

  I bite the inside of my cheek, to keep from showing any hint of the anger bubbling within me. Bella. My Bella, who was alone and frightened when I found her after the bombs. I took care of her as if she were my own sister. She was cured when we arrived here. Better than she had been in over a year, and now … My jaw clenches, the muscles in my neck tightening like thick ropes.

  “What about the lizard protein?” Duchess Alyssa asks to break the tension. “How does that come into play?”

  Doc shuts the notebook and sighs. “What these people are suffering from is no longer the Horologia. By adding the lizard protein it’s become an entirely different beast and is even more contagious. Their only hope is that apple and an antidote.”

  “This is your fault!” I shout as I lunge toward Doc, but Lily stands between us, her hand gripping tightly on the hilt of her sword as if warning me to stand down. I don’t let it stop me. “Now not only are they poisoned, but they’re also suffering from what you said was the cure.”

  “Pete!” Alyssa says with warning.

  Reluctantly, I stand down.

  Again the wardrobe rattles. “Okay, now you guys are really, really, really scaring me. Stop with the shouting and slamming and banging or I’m never gonna come out,” Gabs says.

  “So what is the solution?” Lily asks impatiently.

  Doc sighs. “I’ve created a binding agent that will attach to the lizard protein. If I could re-create the original toxin with this nonexistent apple and the binding agent, I could develop a true antidote. As of now, no one is safe from this new illness, and judging by how rapidly it’s accelerating, we’ll all be infected soon.”

  My pulse races. His news isn’t good.

  “Are you saying everyone is going to die?” Duchess Alyssa asks, panic evident in her voice. Her face pales.

  Doc drops his head but doesn’t answer.

  “What about Gwen?” I ask. “She was immune to the Horologia virus or disease or whatever it was … is. She must be immune to this one, too.”

  Not meeting my gaze, Doc shakes his head.

  Fury pulses inside, thrumming in my veins. Close behind it, I feel desperation. I grab Doc by the shirt and shake him. “How could you let this happen? What have you done? And now Gwen, too?”

  Gabs whimpers within the wardrobe.

  “Pete, stop it!” Lily says, trying to pry my hands from Doc. Finally, he shoves me hard. I nearly stumble over a chair.

  Doc’s blue eyes are daggers, ready to skewer me, but I don’t care.

  “Do you think I did this on purpose? Everyone, every single person, has been exposed, myself included, and I’m spending each blasted waking moment trying to find a way to fix it,” he shouts defensively. “What more do you want from me?”

  “Nothing! Nothing at all! You’ve made it worse!” I shout.

  “Enough!” Alyssa says with an air of authority.

  Doc and I exchange murderous glares.

  Outside the music ratchets up a notch. Alyssa turns to the window, gazing far into the distance, seeming lost in thought. “If you had the apple, could you create the cure?” Alyssa asks.

  “I could try,” Doc says, running his hand through his hair. “At this point, it would be our only hope. But, like I said, the tree doesn’t exist anymore.”

  The rhythmic sound of drums calls from the distance, and the duchess catches my gaze with a glint in her eye like none I’ve seen before. With each percussive beat my thoughts sift, until finally something, one single answer makes sense. I make the same connection that I believe the duchess has made. If by chance that apple does exist, there is only one person who would know where it can be found. I rush out the door, heading toward my quarters.

  “Wait! Pete, where are you going?” Lily asks, chasing after me.

  Inside my room, I start sorting through my weapons. Turning, I notice that everyone has followed me, including Gabs. They stare at me with curious expressions. Everyone except Alyssa.

  “The Poison Garden,” I say. “If anyone knows where to get this toxic apple, it’s Maddox.”

  Duchess Alyssa’s eyes narrow. “You do realize that those who enter the garden never return. Caretaker Maddox is not only the proprietor of the garden, but also a mercenary of death. You have no business going in there. None!” she says fiercely.

  “That boy is bonkers,” Gabs agrees, twirling a finger at the temple of his head. “He’s totally lost his marbles, or at least what few he had to begin with. This one time I was peeking
through the garden fence even though I knew I wasn’t supposed to be over there because you told me to stay away from there, but I just told you the truth, so you can’t give me latrine duty. Anyway, he was tossing tea saucers like they were flying disks and that’s no joke. Cross my heart, pinkie swear that I’m telling the truth, the whole truth, so help me. And besides, I wouldn’t lie about anything anyway because Yosef, the woodworker on my block, told me my nose would grow if I lied and that birds would use it as a perch and we all know what happens when birds perch.” Gabs pokes his tongue and gives a raspberry.

  “Duchess Alyssa is right,” Lily says. “I’ll go with you.”

  “Me too,” Gabs says, rolling up his sleeves and making fists. “I’ll give him a big old smack in his snot locker if he tries anything.”

  “Can you even reach his snot locker?” I say.

  “You bet! I’ve been practicing my ninja moves.” Gabs leaps in the air, swings a fist, and kicks wildly, knocking over an iron fire poker.

  “No, I will go alone,” Alyssa says sternly. “As I’m the duchess, Maddox might listen to me, but he won’t take orders from a newly arrived stranger.”

  I’m about to retort with a snarky remark when a shrill scream slices through the dull rumble of the refugees outside the castle. I know that scream. Panicked, I race down the grand staircase. Two Lost Boys guard the castle doors. Pushing past them, I spin the wheeled lock, forcing the chain to grind against the gears. I shove the doors open and sprint out into the courtyard. From the makeshift infirmary in the stables, another scream pierces the chilly evening air. My face flushes, my heart skipping several beats. I bolt toward the rising wails of sorrow, pushing people out of my way, their faces blurring as I race past them.

  Bursting through the stable doors, I find Gwen, the girl who stole my heart, sitting on the Professor’s bed, her body laid across her mother’s. The Professor’s lips have a blue hue, and blood spills from the corner of her mouth. There is no rise or fall of the woman’s chest. “Mum, don’t leave me,” Gwen cries. “Please come back. I need you.”