Wonderland (Deadly Lush Book 2)

by Harper Alexander

This was how it started.

  “We’ll go immediately,” Jayx suggested. “Get Heidi, Darshan, Tace and Oscar.”

  “If that’s a list of our star tree-shimmy-uppers like it sounds, I’d better be on that list,” Ophelia warned dryly, sounding left-out.

  “Aww, did someone not hear the sound of her own name?” Alex teased.

  “Shut up, Alex. You know I’m one of the best climbers.”

  “Of course you’re in.”

  Jayx didn’t object, and Alex went to gather the others. An hour later the group was ready to disperse. Heidi – the curly blond-haired girl with blue eyes that almost rivaled Jayx’s; her strangely bright peach lips painted black as her minimalist warpaint strategy. Darshan – the wiry, chocolate-skinned young man with amber eyes who rarely made a peep, but whom everyone suspected of harboring a dormant, deadly affinity behind his sleeveless, muscle-shirt armor. Oscar – the ‘strange one’; small, pale, bald, and sporting a nasty scar across his face and over the top of his skull. And Tace – the shaven-headed tough-girl Shiloh had long since betted on surviving longer than the rest.

  Of course, for the nature of this trip, they all packed suits and masks that would turn them into identical clones. Head-to-toe clothing and gas masks they had looted from the graveyard of ships. At one point they had discussed the advantage of suiting up around the clock, seeing as Paradise was as ‘polluted’ as their homelands, just in its own way. But Jayx had pointed out they had no choice but to eat from the gardens of Paradise regardless, they had already largely been exposed, and if they ever hoped to make the island their home there was something to be said about acclimating to the common contaminants.

  Plus, if he was any indication as someone who’d survived on the island since he was a boy, the general atmosphere didn’t make a habit of being overly invasive. The plants and animals may be ever-evolving, but they’d been programmed from the beginning to be coercible, their very nature and purpose to be influenced into different things. Jayx had put it: “As hybrid creations of man, the plants and animals were programmed in a moldable fashion from the beginning. The Founders intended to maintain a controlled environment in Paradise, keeping everything in check. But of course…that is no longer an option. You, fortunately, are made of more resilient stuff. Only the strongest survive as long as you all have, where you’re from. Stay away from the few areas marked as hazardous, since they’re the points of origin where things got out of hand, avoid eating the fruit nearest those places if possible, make sure you consume a variety of nourishment – not letting any one genetic strain take precedence in your bodies – and you’ll likely avoid the worst of the poisons. There may be exceptions, but I would hazard that controlled exposure will be more valuable to you, in the long run, than stunting your acclimation.”

  But they had agreed that including a suit and mask in any survival pack when venturing into the island was the smart choice, in case they needed to visit any of the more hazardous hot-spots or encountered anything unusual. And today, they were headed right for one of those hot-spots.

  Equipped with their survival packs, they took the dinghy to the shore, following Jayx’s path through the booby-traps pitched in the sand. He had kept the path through the maze a secret, having set most of the traps himself – aiming to keep anyone from sneaking out, no doubt – but Shiloh and Farah had strung together their own, crude raft, which they used to spirit themselves around the curve of the island beyond the confines of Jayx’s wall. He’d done well secluding their strip of beach into a makeshift cove, but there was little he could do to section off the water.

  Of course, if Shiloh and Farah could sneak past via the water, the Tribal could too, but the two refugee comrades had the advantage of knowing the routine on deck, and recognizing when they had a window to slip away unnoticed.

  At the gate of strung-together saplings and bamboo, Jayx set to work untying the bell clusters that fastened the entrance shut. If anyone tried to gain passage without permission, the bells would sound the alarm.

  Shiloh’s gaze traveled up the height of the fence. It was over seven feet high. Impressive craftsmanship, by all accounts. Of course, Jayx hadn’t done it all himself. He’d made the rest of them help. But he had been the one feverishly dedicated to the project, working day and night until it was finished.

  Through the tangle of alarms, Jayx pulled open the gate, revealing the thick chirp of the jungle beyond. A breeze stirred the willow tresses, and it was as if they beckoned, daring the refugees to reenter their region.

  So you wish to tangle with the island’s trickery once again, they whispered. Teased. Taunted. Come, then. Don't be shy. Step into our sweet groves...

  And into the sweet groves they went.

  Well into the throes of the jungle, they came upon a grand assembly of ruins. Shiloh looked up, up, up at its fortress-like bulk. Overgrown stone walls and vine-draped balconies, birds coming and going from paneless windows. She and Zack and encountered another similar fortress, once, deeper inland. Smaller, though. Evidently just an additional lodge of sorts.

  Worm-like unease twisted in her stomach as she recalled their flight from the rabid butterflies that had taken up residence in that structure. The delicate little beasties and chased them right into the arms of the Tribal.

  Shiloh rubbed her temple unconsciously, feeling the echoes of the Tribal woman's club connecting with her skull. The blow had knocked her clean out.

  The group skirted the looming, abandoned fortress, Shiloh eyeing the windows like they might spew butterfly demons at any instant. Anything could be lurking inside. Should they even be walking past it?

  Where's your nerve? came a challenge from the dark stirrings within her. We must become fearless. We must walk in the face of danger unflinching. We must welcome the chance to bear our fangs at that which might aspire to threaten us.

  After that it was as though something inside her watched the windows daring something to emerge. Wanting it to, just so she could put it in its place.

  She had to practice her ruthlessness sometime. Couldn't exactly incorporate it in any normal drill. What was she supposed to do, stab one of her spar-mates to declare herself properly brutal?

  She needed some butterflies to shred. Something.

  Running parallel to the fortress, a flight of chipped stone steps led up to a small, antechamber-like entrance to the fortress. Ferns guarded the base of the steps, and ivy crept up the balustrade, tangling with the bases of peacock statues. On the other side of the jutting chamber, an identical set of stairs led down the other way. But on this side, two of the statues had been toppled from their pedestal, and lay in scattered chunks in the underbrush.

  More visions from a wasted masterpiece. Such a shame, Shiloh thought, that it all went to ruin just shy of its unveiling. All of the artistry, labor, blood, sweat, and tears that went into the grand landscape and architecture, and not a single soul had gotten to appreciate the results. What a waste. What a glorious waste.

  Beyond the fortress the vegetation folded back into itself. The group trail-blazed through hours of wild terrain. Tace killed a strange tusked creature that charged unexpectedly out of the surrounding bushes. She was almost too handy with that throwing star.

  “Fetid corpse fruit, Tace,” Heidi swore, playing the ‘Paradise Curses’ game. “Remind me not to come barreling out of the bushes for one of a million good reasons when you’re around.”

  Alex snickered. “’Fetid corpse fruit’. Nice one.”

  Wordlessly, Tace retrieved her star and assumed her place back in line with the others. She was not much into the game.

  “You won’t be complaining about her lightning-fast reflexes when it’s one of the Tribal that comes barreling out of the jungle,” Ophelia pointed out.

  “Indecorous hornworms,” Shiloh muttered, and this time Alex snorted outright.

  *

  It always gave Shiloh a minor case of the creeps, passing through the dormant groves that preceded the lab encampment. Al
l around stood the gray, leafless trees that had never been ‘finished’, which simply stood ever-dormant, barren and wintry and still in the middle of the rest of the greenery.

  Then, of course, came the Fog – the pall of hypnotic essence that loitered beyond the grove. What mischief had leaked out of the lab to cause this, Shiloh wondered, but no one had ever come away noticeably altered, so as long as you could fight the intoxication that threatened to put you into eternal hibernation in its folds, you were good to go.

  It got easier with practice, maybe due to building up some level of immunity, and as Jayx was a seasoned old-timer, they linked arms and he led them train-like through the dreamy territory and soon they were through to the other side.

  There was the bridge. The bridge that had once led to a certain level of safety within the boundary formed by the Pulsers. But that was before the Seraphspan – a great, bodiless wingspan – had broken through the skylight of the lab, setting free any number of unstable enigmas to creep out into the encampment.

  The group eyed the encampment’s treeline now, and there was no doubt they were all united in the same train of thought: what had changed in this place since they fled? How tainted had the grounds become?

  Well, for one thing… Shiloh took in the altered sight of the bridge. What had once been a simple arch of old stone was now covered in strange barnacles. It was anyone’s guess if they were actual barnacles, a hybrid creature, or could even be something along the lines of a mere case of fungus. Or of course, hybrid fungus. There was probably nothing ‘mere’ about it.

  Due to the way the lab had changed Farah into her current form, it was a no-brainer for everyone to agree that this was a place to breach with caution. Though there was still some debate about whether Farah’s transformation had helped or harmed her, no one was eager to cast the dice and jump in line for the next metamorphosis.

  They paused at the edge of the fog to don their protective gear. Baggy clothing over their current garb, gloves, and bulbous-eyed, wasp-like masks.

  Shiloh fought the restless feeling that prickled all through her limbs as she pulled the mask down over her face. As usual, she was accosted by how loud her breathing was, echoing like a rasping beast in her ears, and looked around convinced her mask had to be defective because clearly no one else was suffering the same obnoxious discomfort. It took a conscious effort of will to still her restless limbs, to take a calming breath, to tell herself it was only a temporary state of being and she’d be free again in no time.

  Curse her claustrophobia. It had been better lately, descending below-deck on the Dauntless no longer so harrowing – too many other nightmares hogging the paranoid department of her brain – but the masks were something she had hoped to never go back to.

  Fearless. She was fearless. Jayx’s lessons jading them all to pain and blood just did nothing to cover this.

  With a tight swallow, Shiloh approached the treeline with the rest of them. Focus on the task at hand.

  Having brought all of their champion climbers, they shimmied up the trees like monkeys and set to work locating the Pulsers.

  Shiloh had little idea what she was looking for. Would they be obvious? Mechanical devices in sharp contrast to the surrounding nature? Or had they been contrived with camouflage in mind?

  The answer didn’t take long in coming. She knew it the instant she saw it – an ugly glint of metal amongst the leafage. Gotcha. Its exact shape and dimensions were still a little ambiguous, all tangled in the greenery, but there was no doubt this was it.

  The Pulser proved more difficult to extract than she’d anticipated. Rather than being secured to a single branch, it had a number of tentacle-like wires snaking out from the central device, which wound up the trunk of the tree and various nearby branches. What in tarnation…are these completely necessary?

  She traced a wire up into the fragile treetop branches, tugging from a cautious elevation so she wouldn’t have to climb any higher.

  It didn’t come loose.

  With an exasperated huff, Shiloh hugged the slender tree trunk with her legs and worked her pack around to rummage through its contents. What she really needed was a hatchet, but a knife would have to do. There were a couple strapped to her person, but they were out of reach beneath her protective suit.

  Knife in hand, she set to work dulling the blade on the small branches. It wasn’t long until her hand was sore and raw from the relentless task. She had no intention of sawing all the way through each branch, of course – with a decent cut biting into the base, she braced herself against the tree and gave it a hearty kick.

  The branch snapped.

  One down. About seven more to go.

  Eventually, she was triumphant. Now that the anchorage was cut loose, she pulled an end close for inspection. Ah, of course. What looked like a small receptor capped the end of the wire. If the Pulsers were solar-powered, securing them in the treetops would require receptors that reached out of the shade of the leafage toward the sunlight. Ideally, they would probably still need to be adjusted as the trees grew, but apparently, between the eight extensions twining outward from all different angles, they still found ample pockets of sun to keep the devices running.

  The device itself had a metal-canister-type central piece set against a tarnished disc backdrop, with rusty strips of metal criss-crossing over the front to hold the capsule in place.

  Unwinding the cords from the severed branches, Shiloh wrapped the wires neatly around the device and stuffed it into her pack, descending from her station to see how the others had fared.

  *

  Returning to the Dauntless, they spread their mechanical loot on deck. Alex grinned at the harvest, unable to hide his excitement at putting his idea into play.

  Arms crossed in consideration, Shiloh tapped a finger against her tricep. “Are we sure they work?”

  “Look overboard,” Alex directed.

  Giving him a quizzical look, Shiloh peered obediently over the rail.

  “See any sirens?”

  She quirked an eyebrow, impressed. The waters appeared clear, the mermaids chased away by the alleged, bothersome tones. It was eerie, seeing them just gone. Dangerously enamored, Shiloh pivoted to mirror Alex’s grin. A spark of empowerment passed between them.

  Our silent weapon.

  She picked a Pulser up off the deck, fingering the wire clusters. “These will come in handy to strap them to us.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  Shiloh ran her tongue thoughtfully over her teeth, nodding. “All right, Alex. It’s your time to shine.”

  Alex’s chest swelled with cautious optimism. “Let's just hope it proves an effective tactic, and doesn't get us all killed anyway.”

  “Hey. This may not be the answer to everything, but there’s no way it’s not going to help. Anything that increases our odds is a worthwhile investment. And this” – She tapped the tarnished metal of the device – “Pretty smart.”

  His project gleaming with validation, Alex knelt next to his metal babies, ready to get to work.

  *

  Jayx began organizing their very first plan for a raid, while Alex did a thorough inspection of the Pulsers. When Shiloh went to check on him next, he had one completely taken apart, its parts strewn across the deck.

  “Learn anything?”

  “By my estimate, they should last about six hours on a full charge, without receiving additional power.”

  Six hours. “We can work with that. Right?” It sounded like a decent chunk of time.

  “Let's hope. My guess is they were originally programmed for more, to last all night after the sun went down, but their capacity has drained a bit over time.”

  “Doesn't that mean there are hours the lab encampment has actually been vulnerable, in the middle of the night?”

  “Looks like it. Maybe why the few little wildlife residents who do make their home there got through. I guess the Tribal haven't ever caught wind of the gaps.”

  Lucky.


  “Want to help me fit it to a person?” Alex asked.

  “Let's do it.”

  “Bring me a guinea pig.”

  A few minutes later Darshan stood between them, holding the reassembled Pulser to his chest while Shiloh and Alex worked on binding the wire clusters about his person. Cinching them tight, Shiloh gave them a tug. “Feel secure?”

  Squirming around experimentally, Darshan nodded, maintaining his reputation as a man of few words.

  “If these work,” Shiloh reasoned to Alex, “we can just wear them all the time, right? To keep all the predators at bay?”

  “Well, yes,” he said. “There just aren't enough to go around. And, of course, there's the six-hour timeframe we always have to keep in mind. But, sure, they should make breaching the island a much safer errand.”

  “The children should have their own. All the time,” Shiloh decreed, in a tone that brooked no argument. She simply spoke it as if it were already understood. Children should receive whatever protection there was, around the clock.

  “Agreed.”

  Shiloh did not suppose it was something anyone would protest to, but there was the possibility an option of foolproof protection would be too attractive for some to resist. If anyone did challenge the children in the interest of their own safety, they deserved to be fed to the jungle.

  She had come a long way from the girl who threatened to feed Zack to the sharks just to ensure he didn't undermine her honorary ticket to Paradise. Had she really been that person, once?

  Doubly ironic, since she was now trying to become all the more ruthless. And yet, this soft spot for Zack grew. Or perhaps having someone else to protect and fight for would give her that much more determination and ferocity against the Tribal.

  Maybe having someone to love actually made her stronger.

  And she had always considered it a weakness. Had always deemed growing close to someone a risk.

  Perhaps you were wrong.

  It was a shock, considering that. A quiet, stirring epiphany that left her withdrawn, retreated inside herself as she stared the mysterious abyss of her soul in the face, trying to understand it. It was a nebulous mystery, like the ocean you only ever half-saw – teeming, deep, vast, stirring... Always erasing what you thought you saw and painting a new pattern. All eddying currents and lacy, intricate surface, constantly repaving its essence as new things floated to the top.