The Breeding Tree

by J. Andersen

  “Some warm water would be great.” She nods and turns away. “Taryn?” Stopping, she glances back at me. “You aren’t going to say anything, are you?”

  “Kate, have I ever told any of your secrets to anyone?”

  “Thanks.”

  “Yeah, yeah. That’s what friends are for, right?”

  While I lay Brody on the couch and scavenge through one bag for a diaper, Taryn disappears into the kitchen for some water.

  By the time she returns with a glass, I’ve changed him and wrapped him back into his blankets, not as well as Professor Limbert did the first time, but enough to keep him warm, I think.

  “Here.” She hands me the glass, which I transfer into a plastic bottle, add formula according to the package, and shake it well. “So, you get to play mother for a while, huh?” Her tension seems to have eased, and she’s fallen back into the supportive friend role again.

  “Guess so.” I smile at the tiny creature in front of me. I still can’t believe all of this is real. Brody, alive. Me having to care for him. Correction, having to save him from The Institute’s primitive practices. It’s like something out of a story my gran used to read to me. Heck, maybe those stories weren’t so far-fetched, after all.

  The two of us sink into chairs in the living room while I feed Brody. He must be starving because he sucks down the bottle in record time. It’s like a dream as I watch his tiny lips pucker into an O. His skin is soft and smooth, and I can’t help running my fingers over it again and again. This seems to soothe him. He’s a little miracle man. Not meant to survive.

  Taryn watches him from the chair next to mine with a mixture of fear and amazement. Every once in a while I see her reach out her hand like she wants to touch him but then pulls back at the last second.

  “You wanna hold him?” He’s suspended in mid air as I offer him to her.

  She shakes her head. “No. I’d break him, for sure.”

  Taking a few minutes to rest is heavenly. Soon, Brody settles into a comfortable sleep. “So how are you going get to this underground city?” she asks.

  “Walk. I just hope I can remember the way.”

  She rolls her eyes and shakes her head and says, “That’s insane, Kate.”

  “I need to get going,” I say, getting up and gathering my things.

  “Wait, your bag,” she says, “Just one minute.” She walks away. “I’ll go get it.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “For everything.”

  “No problem.”

  I’m tying Brody to my chest again, wishing I had something warmer to wrap him in, when I hear the doorbell. Taryn’s footsteps approach the door, and she pulls it open. There’s whispering, but I’m sure I hear Taryn’s voice say, “Yes, she’s in there.”

  My heart sinks as I swing the one bag over my shoulder and run for the back door. No time to get the other supplies. They’re still sitting next to the front door. I have to get out of here fast. I’m across the yard before I dare to look back. It’s just a glance, but I can see her clearly. Standing in the doorway to her back porch, scowling.

  “You should’ve known, Kate!” she yells. “I can’t let you get away with something like this! It’s treason.”

  I may be committing treason, but in my mind, Taryn’s the traitor.

  THIRTY NINE

  RUNNING

  LITERALLY RUNNING FROM THE law is not how I wanted to start this journey. But with who-knows how many military chasing me, I can’t stop. I have to reach the Outer Lands as fast as I can. It’s my best bet at escape. When I see an alley, I take it as long as it’s going in the same direction I am. Otherwise, I don’t even bother hiding. I’m already an outlaw, so what’s the sense of hiding now? What does matter now is speed. And with Brody, I can’t move as fast as I’d like.

  I try not to think as I travel, but it’s impossible. With only an infant to talk to, my mind spins with the events of the last few days and hours.

  Taryn. My most trusted friend. A traitor. To think she not only could get me in trouble, but she could get Brody killed. My heart aches for the friend I’ve lost. Pressing through the harsh, snow-covered ground, I wipe the tear trail that trickles down my cheek. Why did it have to be her? It’s still impossible to me that she would do such a thing. After all we’ve shared and her questions about The Institute’s practices, it doesn’t seem possible for her to be willing to turn me in.

  Maybe it’s more than that. Maybe she’s more than what she seems, a friend who did what she thought was right in her own mind. Micah mentioned personal spies. Have I been tagged? I know I was being followed months ago, but Micah admitted it was him. What if it wasn’t just him? Could Taryn have been my personal spy, determined to out me? She easily could have followed me, especially knowing pretty much every detail of my schedule. No. I can’t allow myself to think like that. She just had to perform her civic duty. That’s all. It has to be.

  But I can’t think of that now. Right now, I have to concentrate on getting out of The Institute’s territory. Of getting to the Hidden City despite having no idea where I’m going.Every few blocks I check behind me, waiting to see cops at every corner, ready to surround me and Brody and take us into custody. But none show. It’s strange. Eerie, almost.

  As I tramp through the back streets of the residential area, I press my hands to his back in a constant rhythm. Brody’s sleeping now, thankfully. The full belly and clean behind must be comforting. His warm breath kisses the skin of my chest as we weave between private residences and trees. Before long, I see it. The road leading out of town. It’s surrounded by tall pines. The Outer Lands. I find myself sighing in relief as we travel the last block of civilization. It’s within my grasp now. Reaching the edge, I turn to look at what had been my life, wishing I could have said good-bye to those I love or explain to them that I’ll be okay. But there was no time. There’s never enough time. So instead, I trust that they know.

  Creeping closer to the fence that surrounds the grounds, I tense when I see the guard tower that looms next to the road. Dang it! How could I have forgotten something so important? Here I am, inches from escape, and I forget to factor in there’d be guards. Stupid, Kate. So stupid.

  I press my back against a large sugar maple, now a bare skeleton covered in a thin frost. It’d be beautiful if I could stop to notice it. The single light from the tower beams onto the main road, and looking carefully from my hiding spot behind a tree, I can’t quite see into the guard station. If I’m going to know what I’m up against here, I have to get closer.

  A few more maples line the yard of the next house over. If I can get there without being seen, I might be able to get a good look at my options. The problem is that between me and the house lays a span of twenty feet of open yard. Then there’s another thirty feet at least before I can reach the shadows of the trees. It’s a risk with guards so close, but I have to try. Three deep breaths, and I push off the rough bark of the tree and sprint to the corner of the house. Please let no one be home right now.

  Safely in the shadows, I give myself a minute to catch my breath and do a quick check of Brody. He’s still snuggled against my shirt. Thank goodness for this scarf. It’s been my saving grace.

  I haven’t caught my breath when I hear a creak. Turning my head to the right, I see the door at the back of the house begin to open. I can’t stand here. They’ll see me for sure. Before the door opens further, I’m off again, holding Brody with one hand to keep him still as I run. In the safety of the trees, I see a figure standing in the doorway of the house where I just stood. “Who’s out there?” the woman calls. She steps onto the back steps and peers into the darkness, and I wonder what she would have done if she’d seen me.

  Now, only feet from the guard station, I have a good view of the road and fence. From the looks of things, two guards man the post. I’m almost close enough to hear what they’re saying, but from here, it’s only muffled noise. In the distance,
a phone rings twice, and moments later, both guards rush out of the station, hop into a truck, and speed down the highway.

  This is way too convenient, and I can’t help but wonder if it isn’t some sort of set up allowing me through the gates so easily. But I can’t give up the opportunity to cross the border without being seen. So as the truck disappears into the distance, I rush toward the tower with a now squirming Brody. “Shh,” I whisper, hoping he’ll settle down long enough for us to get into the forest, but knowing he won’t. I have to move faster. His breathing worries me. I have to get him help as soon as possible, and the Hidden City is my only hope of saving him.

  Sliding my hands along the rough wood of the guard station, I raise my head enough to look through the window. It’s empty. Without hesitation, I slink to the other side through the opening of the fence and head for the trees a hundred yards away.

  This is way too easy. Something’s wrong; I know it. But with no one in sight, I can’t stop to ponder the ease of my escape, especially with Brody squirming more against my chest.

  “Just a little farther, buddy. Then I’ll get you out for a minute.”

  As soon as we’re through the fence, I give a quick look over my shoulder. Nothing. No one. We’re alone with nothing but the Outer Lands in front of us. And the hope of finding the Hidden City again.

  FORTY

  OVER THE RIVER AND THROUGH THE WOODS

  THE TREES SWALLOW BRODY and me up into the thick foliage, and within a few steps, I can’t see the road anymore. It’s disappeared just like my old life. It’s colder in here amongst the shadows. Luckily, the snow is lighter, too, probably finding it hard to break through the tree branches that canopy overhead. I’m thankful. Moving through snow, no matter how deep, makes my progress minimal.

  Once we’re deeper into the forest, I stop to take a break. Removing Brody from my chest is such a huge relief. His tiny whimper indicates he’s hungry, so I reach into the single bag of supplies I managed to take from Taryn’s house and pull out a bottle filled with water. No longer warm, I’m hoping Brody will drink it anyway. I mix the formula, shake it together, and offer it to Brody, who again sucks it down. When he’s done, I take a moment to search through the supplies.

  At first sight, my heart is lightened. Lying on top of a blanket is a tiny paper frog. I have no idea what it means, but it gives me hope that we just might make it through this.

  Then I keep digging further into the bag.

  Crap.

  Of course, I have the bag with blankets and diapers. There’s one can of formula that’s been opened already and another large one as well. My problem is that I have no more water to make another bottle. Maybe I can gather some snow to melt it? My heart tenses as I think of the possibility of no food for Brody. I don’t even consider that there’s no food for me here. There’s nothing to eat except what I can find in the forest. I wouldn’t even know where to begin looking when it is full of summer berries much less in the dead of winter.

  It’s no problem, I tell myself. A day or two without eating isn’t bad. I just have to find the Hidden City quickly. I’m more worried about Brody and his lungs than I am my stomach.

  I lay Brody on my coat on the forest floor and pack his now empty bottle with snow, avoiding the pine needles scattered on the ground. Blowing on it every once in a while will melt it as best I can. There’s at least one more meal for him. I don’t think of my own grumbling stomach.

  After a check of his diaper—clean, thank goodness—I wrap Brody and switch him to the opposite side, hoping he’ll be more comfortable. He nuzzles into a tiny ball and rests his head against my chest. I’m amazed at how much the little guy sleeps. Soon, we’re off again, blazing a trail through the frosty forest floor.

  How long did Micah and I travel through the Outer Lands before he stopped? I have no idea. I know I have to head north, basically following the road, but since I can’t see the road from where I am, I’m guessing the direction. No matter. I keep moving, telling stories to Brody to keep my own sanity in the silence of the forest. I try not to think of Brody’s lungs. It’s not like I can do anything about it now anyway. As soon as I make it to the Hidden City, I’ll get him help. It’s the best I can do. Until then, I hope the damage is minimal.

  It’s dark. It has been since I left, and we must have been traveling for several hours by now. My feet hurt, I’m exhausted, and Brody needs to eat again. Must find a resting place soon, not that I’ll actually be able to sleep outside … on the ground … in the cold snow of early March. I’d hoped it wouldn’t take this long. Hoped that I’d step into the Outer Lands and see signs pointing to the Hidden City, knowing all the while it wouldn’t happen. So much for wishful thinking.

  Remembering what Micah told me about finding a place free from wind—somewhere against a rock or under a tree with low branches, I scan the area for a place meeting those standards. In the distance, I see a patch of trees with branches almost brushing the ground. Unwrapping Brody for what seems like the thousandth time, I settle him into a nest of blankets while I crawl under the branches to check out our bed for the night.

  It’s wide enough for me and Brody with a little extra wiggle room. Reaching out of the branches, I pull my son and his nest inside and grab the bag as well. There’s no fire and no hope of me building one, so I pull Brody as close to me as I can, snuggling him into the crook of my stomach and tucking the blankets around his tiny body. Then I remember he needs to be changed. The foul smell filling the air is my first clue. How am I going to do this without freezing him in the icy air? I can’t think of a way, so I go for it, trying for speed.

  As soon as I pull the blankets away from his bottom, he lets out a stifled squeal. “I know buddy. I’m so sorry. I’m trying to be fast.” But I’m not fast enough, and by the time I get him wrapped up again, he’s all out screaming in between his shivers and coughs. No amount of me patting or cooing or whispering is helping at all.

  I know how he feels. Lost, cold, hungry, as if no matter how hard we try, it won’t matter. We’ll both die out here, despite my valiant efforts. With Brody’s cries piercing my ears and my efforts to calm him not making a difference, I curl up in a ball, pulling him closer into me and let my own shrieks of frustration blend with his amidst the silence of the forest. There’s no one to hear. No one to help. Tears streaming down my face, I manage to fall into a pseudo-sleep.

  ***

  I wake shivering and stiff, my arm tucked around my son. Prying my eyes open despite my tortured rest, I look at Brody, hoping for a jolt of renewal. But his skin is freezing to the touch and his tiny body quivers with the cold. I bolt upright, intending to sit up and focus on getting him warm, but I crack my head on a branch above me, forgetting I slept under a tree last night. The motion startles me, and I wrench back hard, losing my balance, and connect with a rock jutting out of the ground. I finger the bump and gasp when my hands pull away covered in warm, sticky blood. My head swirls, and passing out is a moment away. I squeeze my eyes shut. “No, I can’t pass out.” Grasping onto the branch, I wait for the dizziness to pass before I touch the wound again. More blood. It’s crawling down my face now.

  I use one of Brody’s thinner blankets twisted into a rope to tie around my head. It hurts, but if it stops the bleeding, I should be okay to move on today. Gathering my wits about me, I turn my attention to Brody. Change, feed, wrap. Using the melted snow in the bottle, I fix the formula and thank whatever possessed me to tuck it between my legs so it wouldn’t freeze overnight.

  Moving will do us good. Overnight, the temperature dropped, and from the feel of the air, it hasn’t risen at all. We have to get going if only to get the blood pumping. Once Brody has finished the bottle, I take a minute to gather what snow I can find into the bottle again. Every time I look at him, I find myself thankful that he’s still alive. He’s eating and breathing. I can’t worry myself about anything else. Just keep him alive till we get there.
I wrap Brody into the blankets and tie him to my chest again, hoping what little body heat we both have will rub off on each other.

  I’m already weak from the loss of blood, and the lack of food certainly isn’t helping, but I have no choice. Get up, get moving. The problem is that whenever I stand, I swear I’ll pass out, so every few steps, I have to balance myself on a nearby tree branch.

  Despite my injury, we manage to make progress, stopping frequently for rest. I wish Micah were here with me. He’d at least know which direction to go. I’m wandering, hurt and dizzy, hoping I’m headed in the right direction. Stumbling with nearly every step.

  ****

  Another night and day of the same. Sleeping under trees, melting snow so at least one of us will be able to eat, but I eat some snow to stay hydrated. Traveling by daylight when I can. As much as I can. But by the third day, I’m so weak, I don’t think I’ll be able to move any longer.

  Come on, Kate. You can make it. Don’t give up now. It’s too soon. My self-induced pep talk does nothing for me, but the thought of seeing Micah again and getting Brody to safety pushes me forward.

  By this time, all the trees look the same. All the rocks look the same. The forest floor is covered with the same pine needles and the same branches, and I swear, I’m going in circles. My legs are weak beneath me, and with my eyes seeing double, I don’t notice the branch in my path.

  My toe catches, and my ankle twists and pops, sending me to the forest floor. I let out a scream and try to protect Brody by falling onto my side. It twists my ankle further, sending a stabbing pain from my foot to my knee. I can’t stop the sudden urge in my throat, so I turn my head to the side and vomit.

  Wiping my mouth, I manage to sit up and unwind the screaming Brody from his cocoon, and set him on the ground. I have to look at my injury. Untying my shoe, I peel back my sock and clench my teeth whenever the shooting pain races up my leg. There’s a giant bulb forming on the side of my foot, already purple. Even the slightest touch of my fingertips to the spot sends stabs through my foot bad enough that I welcome the thought of passing out. My hands shake, and I don’t even wipe away the tears and snot that mix as I sob over my condition. I’m a mess. Hungry, injured, still dizzy from my head injury, hardly able to see straight, having to take care of an innocent sickly infant who may or may not survive the next few days. And now this. With quivering fingers, I unwrap the bandage from my head and rip it in half, placing half over my still oozing head wound and wrapping the other tightly around my ankle. The action sends stars to my eyes, and I black out. When I wake to Brody’s feeble cries, I have no idea how long I’ve been out, but the little light we had guiding our path has dissipated into a deep gray. Dusk is upon us.