City of Savages (21 page)

28    SKY

Mom starts cooking Robert’s generous gift of meat over the fire for a midday feast, while Robert stays with her, huddled close over the cauldron. It’s clear Mom wants some time alone with him, so the rest of us eventually slink out of the kitchen.

Maybe I’m being paranoid, but something doesn’t feel right. It’s been bothering me since Phee asked about the Park, and whether Robert’s ever been there. Of course I saw the hope, the relief, the joy in Mom’s eyes as she sat there, listening to Robert convince us he was a walking miracle. And then the peace settle over her, like a door was finally closing, when he told us that Dad had passed away, that he’d had good years at the Standard. And I want Mom to relish these feelings, of course I do. But I need some loopholes closed before I can believe that all our problems will be solved at this oasis of a West Side hotel.

“Your mom seems different, with this guy around,” Sam says to Phee as we traipse down the stairs and into Level B—Tennis & Pool. Sam takes Phee’s torch and lights a few of the candles left over from Trev’s tennis match. “Lighter, or something.”

“Doesn’t she?” Phee shakes her head. “I still don’t know how the heck you managed to find that Robert guy.”

Sam smiles. He’s given her two or three today already, and I’m wondering if they declared some sort of tough-guy truce when I wasn’t looking, or if Robert really is some kind of miracle worker. “Still wowing you, am I?”

Phee rolls her eyes, but I can tell she’s enjoying the teasing.

“You’re so full of it, man.” Ryder laughs. “Robert found
us
.”

Sam just smirks. “Semantics.”

In a rare display of brotherly love, Ryder laughs and pushes Sam against the tennis cage. Sam spins him around and puts him in a fake headlock, then Trevor starts imitating Ryder: “Easy, everybody!
Easy!
”

Everyone’s jovial. Everyone’s clearly basking in this new development, the best news we’ve had since Ryder and Sam landed on this miserable slice of an island.

Everyone, except me.

“You get what this means, right?” Phee whispers to me as the guys continue horsing around against the cage. “We can actually stay in Manhattan, together. We could make a home here. With as much food as we wanted, and medicine and all that other crap Robert was talking about. Can you believe this, Sky?” She looks at me expectantly in the candlelight, like she needs something from me. And I know what it is. She needs me to acknowledge this, for me to believe it before she can accept that it’s real. “Isn’t it amazing?”

“Come here for a second.” I pull Phee onto the bench near the stairs. It’s been so long since it was just the two of us, figuring things out—maybe if we can make sense of Robert’s news together, all of this really is possible.

“Just walk through this with me. Dad’s Rolladin’s brother, right?”

Phee nods. “Yeah, obviously.”

“And Rolladin’s in charge of the Park. So what I don’t understand is . . .” I drop my voice an octave lower. “Robert said that he never surrendered to the Park, that they didn’t
want
to be found. But why wouldn’t Dad and his friend want to be found by Dad’s own sister?”

Phee takes a minute, then shrugs. “Don’t over-Sky-ify. The timing could be off—like maybe the Standard missionaries saved Robert and Dad way before Rolladin took over. They probably had no idea Rolladin was in charge. How would they, actually, if they were living at the hotel?”

I nod, wanting to accept what Phee’s saying. But things still don’t feel right to me. All these puzzle pieces, past and present, still lie in front of me at odd angles. “Sure, but they must have found out at some point—Rolladin was working for the Red Allies. The whole island must have known who she was eventually. And Dad
knew
that Mom and I were with Rolladin in the subways when the city was attacked—Robert basically said so himself.”

“So?”

“So if Dad knew we were in the Park, and he only passed away a few years ago, like Robert said, why didn’t he come to the Park? Why wouldn’t he come if there was a chance we were still alive?”

“And . . . how do we know he didn’t? We know what a fat liar Rolladin is.” Phee sighs, her tone as sharp and flat as glass. “How do we know she didn’t send him away, or lie to him? Just like she lied to the rest of us?”

“I guess,” I say.

“You
guess
? Sky, Mom knows all this. She just doesn’t know that
we
know from the journal. Don’t you think she’s thought all this through? Don’t you think we should trust Robert if she does?”

“Yeah, but . . .” Phee has a point, of course. But I’m desperate for her to understand that this just feels
off
, that all my instincts tell me this doesn’t add up. It feels like we’re forcing the puzzle together. Like we want to believe that there’s a picture so badly, we’ll tear the edges of the pieces to make them fit.

“Sky, honestly,
enough
,” Phee says, no more than a rough whisper. “I know you hate it here, all right? And I know you think you’ve got all the answers. But don’t ruin this for Mom, or for me.”

I feel stung. “I’m not ruining anything. I’m just trying to figure out—”

“You’re so stuck in that journal, in your books, in your . . .
hatred
for this city that you just question things until everything’s wrong.”

“Phee, come on—”

“Seriously, Sky, when are you going to just let things lie? We’re poring over that journal like it contains the keys to everything. But it’s just this old book, okay? Maybe Mom’s right, you ever think of that? Maybe the past
should
stay in the past. She’s not in that journal—she’s in the next room, right here, right now. Talking with this Robert guy, who’s
real
. Who might give us a second chance in Manhattan.”

“Phee,” I try again, as patiently as possible. “You can’t always rationalize everything away. You can’t just turn a blind eye to the past. It’s stupid—”

“I’m not stupid,” she cuts at me.

“I didn’t say that,” I try to correct her, but she tramples over me.

“I’m just not fixated on being miserable here, like you are,” Phee says. “You have a problem with
everything
. You hate the apartment. You hate the Park. The whorelords, the city. You spend all your time in these novels imagining a better world. Well, what about the one we’re really in, huh? What about believing good things can happen here?”

“I do. That’s not true—”

“It
is
true, and you know it. You live in a dreamworld ’cause you think it’s better than the one that’s right under your nose. You just won’t give this place a chance, ’cause it’s never given you one.”

“Phee, you’re totally not being fair!”

I can barely catch my breath. We’ve never talked about this, ever—my deepest, darkest fears. My insecurities. And honestly, I never knew Phee sensed them, or if she did, that she’d ever, ever say them out loud.

I have that same feeling again, that we’re drifting away from each other. That as we’re trying to bridge a gap between us, we’re just floating farther and farther apart.

But before I can answer her, she’s already walking away. “Where are you going?” I blurt out.

“To play with the guys,” she throws behind her. “I’m tired of analyzing things to death, okay? I’ve gotta get outside your head.”

She storms over to the tennis cage and thrusts herself through its gate and onto the tennis court, where Ryder and Trev are playing Sam. Then the game stops. Phee camps out at the net, hands flailing, brow creased with frustration. No doubt telling them what happened, her side of the story, spinning all of this out of control. That I insist on being miserable. That I’m just a sad little storm cloud, raining on her parade.

I feel tears start to prick my eyes, and I curse myself for crying again.

I watch Ryder watching me as Phee talks animatedly to him, Sam, and Trevor. I can’t see his features well, but he isn’t moving. He’s staying right where he is. He knows we’ve gotten into a fight, and he’s staying put. Right next to Phee. Strong, bold, brazen Phee. Versus her black sheep of a sister.

I dash off the bench, throw myself around the dark stairwell, up to the third floor, and burst into the yoga room. It feels like the walls of this cursed gym, the littered highways outside, the tall, ominous skyscrapers, they’re all closing in. Reminding me that I’m chained to this cursed island, to this dead city stuck in a small corner of the world.

I wrap my hands around my knees and curl into a ball to try to calm myself down. But I can’t seem to catch my breath, and Phee’s words keep encircling me, poking me, turning me inside out.

You just won’t give this place a chance, ’cause it’s never given you one
.

The worst part is, I know she’s right.

For my entire life, I’ve dreamed of leaving this city, of exploring a world beyond the cold towers that fence us in. Towers that dwarf me, warlords that bully me, fieldwork that reminds me every day that I’m not strong enough.

Am I just so desperate to escape this prison that I’ll twist everything around until I wring all the goodness out of it? If a miracle presented itself from underneath the city’s remains—a chance for us to start over here—would I even want to listen?

I think about Mom’s journal, about our entire lives, really, hearing the clipped, pained snippets of Mom’s life from before. A life that was full of color and meaning, so beautiful that it pains her to even think about it, so fragile that she insists on keeping it locked away. Now we’ve been told that Mom might have a happy ending with her lifelong friend—that a second chance is possible for all of us, here. And I can’t accept it.

Maybe Phee’s right. Maybe there’s nothing amiss. Except for me.

“Hey,” Ryder says, poking his head into the yoga room. I quickly wipe away the rest of my tears and stand.

“I looked for you in the kitchen,” he adds. “And at our spot at the window.” His face is creased with concern. “Phee told us you guys got into a fight.”

I take another deep breath. “Is that all she said?”

Ryder looks away from me sheepishly. “That, and that you don’t want to be happy here.” He’s about to grab my hand, and then pulls away, as if he’s thinking better of it. It makes me wonder if he’s starting to see what the rest of this city sees. “Maybe you give this guy a chance, Sky. Give this whole thing a chance.”

A small, dark part of me wonders if he’s saying this for my benefit, or for Phee’s. But I just nod and watch his hazel eyes trace the carpet.

“Just think, we wouldn’t have to brave the boat this winter, or worry about supplies. We wouldn’t have to search for an answer,” he continues. “We could start over
here
, have enough to eat, have a place to call home. You don’t know what we’ve seen, across the ocean, Sky. There’s nothing left.”

Ryder looks up at me with those pleading eyes, and I feel myself growing hot under his gaze, wanting him to reach for me and pull me into him, despite who he’s here for. “This really could be a second chance,” he adds. “Robert said we’d be safe at the Standard. They’ve got security and everything—we’d never have to worry about Rolladin and her goons again. There’s plenty of room, and whenever we want to try someplace new, our boat is right in Brooklyn.”

“I want to believe Robert,” I say after a while. “I do.”

Ryder smiles, clearly relieved. So I don’t elaborate. I don’t want to cause that off-center smile to fall from his face. I don’t want to be the sad little storm cloud anymore.

“That’s brilliant, Sky,” he says. “You’ve got to come upstairs and listen to what Robert’s saying about the Standard. It’s what my brother and I have been hoping to find—what I think we’ve all been searching for. Apparently they even have school, Sky. Like,
real
school. And the adults work, not the kids. It’s nothing like the Park. It’d really be a new life, for all of us.”

I can’t contain myself any longer. I grab his hand. “I really hope so, Ryder.”

We round the flight of stairs up to the kitchen together, to a table set for seven. Mom and Robert are still talking near the smoking cauldron. And Phee and Trevor are hovering over Sam at the table, debating all the ways you can prepare venison so you never get sick of it.

“There you are.” Mom pulls me over to the table. “We didn’t want to start without you.”

She sits me down and puts a huge pile of meat in front of me. The steak is so tender that it falls apart, and it’s a bigger helping than I think I’ve ever had at one sitting. Ryder takes a seat next to me, and Phee, without a word, settles down on his other side. She doesn’t look at me, though. Not once.

“This is unreal, Sarah,” Sam says as he gobbles down his portion.

“Incredible,” Ryder agrees.

“Truly, Robert.” Sarah sits down next to him. “How can we ever thank you?”

Robert beams at her. “There’s no need to thank me. And there’s plenty more where this came from. You’re all welcome at the Standard as long as you like. There’s no need to be hiding in terror from the Park. I promise you, Sarah, the nightmare’s over.”

But Mom’s not looking at Robert. She’s studying me with her wide, clear eyes, the clearest they’ve been in a long time. And in that moment I know for sure: Phee’s right. Mom wants this. Phee wants this. Everyone wants this.

So I nod, and smile, and pray with every fiber of my being that it’s true:
The nightmare’s over.

PART THREE

Sometimes the past should stay in the past.

—From October entry,

Property of Sarah Walker Miller

29    PHEE

We walk over to the Standard the next day. Like we did on our hunt a couple of days ago, we take 13th Street all the way across the city to the West Side. Then we climb what Mom and Robert call the High Line—an elevated track that runs north to south above the abandoned highway. The Standard Hotel sits on top of it, two shiny skyscraper tablets hugged around the platform. When I see it, I try to picture it as home.

Mom and Robert catch up more on the walk over. They’re walking arm in arm—even though Mom’s ankle is basically healed—comparing notes and time lines, trying to build the two sides of their story from the ground up. They’re trading whispers, naturally, but I’ve read enough of Mom’s journal to kind of follow what they’re saying. Mom’s talking about the E-train summit in the tunnels way back when, and Robert’s explaining how he and Dad met these missionary “angels” who saved their lives.

I still need to pinch myself that this is all going down, and we’re really getting to stay in Manhattan. But I force myself to believe it’s actually happening. The Standard is real, and my family’s getting our second chance in this city.

Call me crazy, but I think we deserve it.

Speaking of family, Sky and I still aren’t talking. On the walk over, I managed to sandwich myself in between Ryder and Sam, so my sister and I didn’t have to walk next to each other. There’s no room on the sidewalk for four, so Sky’s stuck with Trevor in the back. It’s not just that I’m still mad at her, or that we’ve had a fight. That’s happened before, obviously, way too many times to count. But this one just feels . . . different, like we’ve both crossed some line and don’t know how to uncross it.

I was planning to say sorry after we blew up on Level B at the YMCA, even though I thought it was Sky’s fault in the first place. But when I went upstairs to find her, I saw her holding Ryder’s hand. She’s got to know I like him, it’s obvious. And having her move in just feels like she’s trying to get back at me.

Sometimes I secretly wonder if Ryder wouldn’t be better with my sister, which annoys me. Like right now, Ryder’s gushing on and on to me and Sam about the “opportunity for learning” at the Standard, and how he hasn’t been in a real classroom since the eighth grade.

Sam rolls his eyes at me. “Rye, you’re boring us.”

I have to bite back a laugh. I was thinking the same thing, not that I’d ever tell Ryder.

“Crap, really?”

“No, it’s cool,” I’m quick to say. “I like hearing about United Britain.”

Sam gives this flat little laugh, then nudges me in the ribs. “It’s the United Kingdom, or Great Britain. Pick one, but not both.”

I start blushing. There goes my attempt at playing the smart card.

“It’s challenging, remembering so many names we don’t use,” Ryder saves me. “That’s why I’m excited for school, and history, English . . . all of it. It’s important to remember, you know?” He gives me one of his huge lopsided grins.

And I start nodding. ’Cause I’d pretty much agree with anything Ryder’s perfect face is saying . . . even if what makes him excited puts me to sleep.

We follow Robert down the platform of cracked pavement and hungry weeds and enter the Standard’s lobby.

“I present to you,” Robert says real dramatically as he opens the glass doors and walks past a couple of guards, “the Standard.”

The place is, hands-down, awesome-looking. The lobby’s a huge room with ceilings as high as the sky, slate floors, and floating white wall-divider things made out of plastic or glass. And instead of the old torches that are pinned to the wall at the Carlyle, here they somehow managed to secure cups of fire below the light fixtures, and each one throws off so much light that it pools on the floor. In the far corner sits a smiling woman at a huge stone desk, a check-in girl behind a slice of a mountain.

“Not quite the Carlyle,” Mom whispers as we take in every inch of the lobby.

“Exquisite, am I right?” Robert says to her. “We were lucky. This hotel was nearly untouched by the West Side bombing. Mas—Wren kept all the prewar details.” He looks up and around him, as if he’s impressed by his home all over again. “You might remember how much I love architecture, Sarah.”

Mom smiles at him. “Practical art.”

“That’s right. Practical art.” Robert rests his hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t I give you all a tour, then maybe we can settle you into your rooms for the night . . . or however long you want to stay. Community dinner is at sundown, and I’m sure you don’t want to miss that.”

“Community dinner,” Ryder whispers. “I’m hungry already. Sounds promising.”

“Hopefully more venison,” I say. Then I add just to bug Sam, “But anything beats squirrels.”

Sam just shakes his head and smirks. “You know those squirrels were clutch.”

“We’ll take the internal stairs,” Robert interrupts our bickering. He leads us down a slate hallway off the lobby to a stairwell.

As we climb, he tells us all this stuff about “the roots of his community.” How the head honcho of this place, Wren or whatever, used to be some big “preacher,” and how his missionaries saved “countless souls in the tunnels.” I’m catching about half of it, but it seems like Ryder’s eating all this history stuff up, so I smile and nod like,
Oh, isn’t this fascinating?

We pass a couple of people in the halls every once in a while on our tour, but otherwise it’s fairly empty.

“Is there really a whole . . .
community
here?” I finally ask, testing out the word, once we wind our way around another hallway, past rows of white doors. It’s weird—unlike the rest of the hotel (which feels brand spanking new), the room doors look roughed up. Like there were once symbols or numbers on them that were removed and painted over. Maybe they’re fixing them.

Robert laughs. “I believe there’s at least a hundred of us. Maybe more. I know, you can’t tell, right? Most of our members spend a good deal of time in their rooms. Solitude and reflection are extremely important for the Standard. But I’m getting ahead of myself,” he says. “I want to show you the big reveal.”

He takes us up one more flight of stairs, and then pauses expectantly in front of the door. “I’ve told you about our past,” Robert whispers excitedly. “Now, on to our future.”

He pulls the door open to showcase a huge farm behind glass. It stretches the whole length of the hotel floor.

Sunlight filters in through the ceiling and fills the entire room with blinding light, and green is everywhere. Grass planted somehow in the ground, trees two stories high, bushes. There’s even a shallow moat on one side, teeming with fish. Monkeys and squirrels scramble from tree to tree. And there’s a family of
deer
grazing in the stretches of grass.

It’s a mini Park—a mini Park inside a hotel.

“How did you manage to do this?” Mom asks what all of us are thinking. “This might be the biggest greenhouse I’ve ever seen.”

“Innovation, mostly.” Robert pulls open the sliding glass door and helps Mom inside. “What was once a restaurant is now a controlled ecosystem, though of course it serves the same purpose. To feed the Standard.”

“It’s beautiful,” Sky says.

“Breathtaking, really,” Ryder adds.

“Thank you,” Robert says. “It took years. Missionaries raiding abandoned homes, lifting seeds from Central Park and surroundings. Gathering animals, instead of hunting them, as I was doing yesterday when I had the pleasure of meeting your company.” He nods to Ryder and Sam. “In two words really, patience and sacrifice.”

“Can we back up a second?” Sam asks. “How the hell did you manage deer?”

“My friend, our innovation will astound you.” Robert smiles. “We’ve been truly blessed by the genius and scope of expertise of our community members. We’ve created tranquilizers, weapons, and aqueducts, among a great many other things. Honestly, the only thing we haven’t managed to do is turn the lights on, but we’re not the first community to survive without electricity.” Then his smile breaks wide open. “Like I said, it’s as if the Standard was destined.”

I take a look around the wide green expanse and inhale the scent of the trees. I close my eyes and listen to the echo of the water within the glass. It’s not the Park, but it’s a slice of it.

Mom comes up behind me and grabs my hand. “I’ve always wanted something like this for you girls,” she whispers. “I gave up on it long ago. But now, seeing this place, I think maybe we’ve found something special.”

I tighten my hands around her shoulders, squeeze, and pull her in. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her truly happy.

“Ladies, I hate to interrupt,” Robert says gently behind us. “But it’s almost time for supper. I’d love to get you settled in your rooms so you can fully enjoy tonight.”

“Of course.” Mom squeezes me back before she turns to go.

Robert waves us out of the glass paradise and back towards the stairwell. “Let me show you home.”