Everland(47)

Pete brushes dust from his green coat. “What do you smell?” he asks urgently.

“It smells like a graveyard. Death,” Mole squeaks. “It’s Marauders, and a lot of them. I’d say at least a few dozen, maybe more.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Pickpocket says.

Pete sprints into a nearby building. We follow, climbing through the empty windows of the ground-floor shop of the now five-and-a-half-story building. The other half lies in pieces on the street, along with most of the face of the structure. We push aside the toppled café tables and chairs while broken panes of glass crunch beneath our boots. Pete helps me climb over the counter. The other Lost Boys follow behind, knocking a stack of Café Rouge menus to the floor.

Hiding, we listen as the high shrill of rusty gears pierces through the hammering of something heavy on the street. As the noise draws nearer, the building shudders violently, showering us with ceiling tiles as the ground quakes. Pete peeks over the counter. His mouth drops open. “I’ve never seen so many soldiers in one place.”

I glance through the vacant windows. A dozen machines held together with bronze-colored bolts, cogs, and wheels crawl down the street like an army of spiders. Spirals of steam rise from pipes on the back of the vehicles like wisps of phantom energy. Marauders flank either side of the tanks, searching the buildings through goggled face masks and scoped weapons, their guns engaged in ready position. Some soldiers enter the other buildings, breaking windows and tossing pieces of furniture as if they were made of children’s blocks.

“This isn’t good,” Pickpocket says. “What are we going to do?”

“We better think of something before they decide to search in here,” Doc says.

“We should split up,” Jack suggests, fussing with the gadgets on his belt. “We have a better chance of reaching the palace if we aren’t traveling in a large group.”

Pickpocket glances around the counter at the open window. “I don’t know if that’s such a great idea.”

“Look,” Jack says, “there are dozens of Marauders out there. If Doc, Pickpocket, Mole, and I distract them, you two can slip by them unnoticed. Pete, you have to get Gwen to the palace.”

“No!” I protest. “It’s too dangerous. We should stay together.”

“I don’t think I like your idea either,” Mole says. “I’m not very good at distracting.”

Doc’s brows furrow. “Do you understand the implications of what you’re saying? If we run out there, we’ll be caught for sure, and then what?”

“Now I’m really, really not happy with this plan,” Mole says.

“We won’t be caught,” Jack insists. “I know this city like the back of my hand.”

“I don’t know, Jack,” Pickpocket says. “It sounds risky.”

“No, Jack’s right. We should split up,” Pete interrupts. “It’s the only way. They’ll find us if we stay here, but if we run, we can split them up and maybe get away.”

“Have you gone mad?” Doc says indignantly. “What you’re suggesting is suicide.”

“I don’t like the idea either, but I don’t see any other way, do you?” Pete retorts.

“We had better make a decision,” I say, listening to the machine draw nearer. “They’re getting close.”

“I’ll take Pickpocket, Mole, and Doc. Pete and Gwen, you run for the other door,” Jack says. There’s a glint in his eye, a spark that I don’t trust, but no one else questions him.

“Mole stays with us,” I say. “I promised Dozer I’d look after him.”

Mole’s shoulders relax and he sighs. Jack starts to say something but stops himself.

“Doc goes with Gwen and Mole,” Pete says, sounding somewhat reluctant. “The other boys and I are experienced runners. We will distract them while you get away. We’ll meet up at the National Gallery. Keep your eyes open for Bella.”

Doc opens his bag, pulls out a needle filled with a milky liquid, and hands it to Pete.

“What is this for?” he asks, inspecting the contents within the glass.

“Bella’s treatment is overdue. If you find her, she’ll be in a lot of pain. Give her this. I know you don’t like needles, but you know how to administer it, right?” Doc asks with urgency, glancing toward the advancing soldiers.

Pete glares and snatches the needle, placing it in the side pocket of his rucksack. “Of course I know how to administer it.”

“Don’t lose it,” Doc warns. “I added Gwen’s white blood cells to the serum. I didn’t have time to make a big batch, just enough to find Bella and get her back to the Lost City.”

“What if you find Bella first?” Pete asks, buttoning the pocket of his pack closed.

Doc pulls out a second needle from his medical bag. “I brought two doses, enough medicine to give us just a day or two. Since it’s a tweaked version of what she usually gets, I have no idea how effective this will be. She may need more, so if you do find her, it’s important I see her as soon as possible.”

The clanking of metal draws closer. Mole fidgets with the hem of his black coat. “We really ought to go,” he mumbles.

“Which direction did Bella go, Mole?” Pete asks.