“I don’t know. I guess if anyone seemed capable of building a city for a bunch of orphaned boys, it would be the engineers, or maybe you.”
“The Tinkers helped with the logistics. But me? No way. If it doesn’t bleed, I don’t know what to do with it,” Doc says, his brows lifting. “What would make you think that I could build the Lost City?”
“You seem smart, and more, how should I say it? Mature, at least more than them,” I say, glancing at the entire group of boys now dog-piling on Pickpocket. Mole sits on the top of the pyramid with a triumphant grin. Pete howls with laughter, begging Mole to get off him.
Doc laughs. “Trust me, I know Pete. He might appear to be immature and carefree right now, but it’s all a ruse for the sake of the Lost Boys. He’s worried about Bella, but he knows he has to keep it together. The boys look up to him. If he shows a hint of anxiety, then they’ll worry, too.”
Pete glances at me, an insincere smile spreading across his face.
“Besides,” Doc continues, “intelligence and maturity cannot build a city. It’s true, I might be smart, but I could never have done the things Pete has done. It takes heart and strength, overcoming tragedy, to have the will to build something as fantastic as the Lost City.”
“Tragedy?” I ask, watching the boys wrestle. Pete has pinned Jack to the floor. He tilts his head toward me and winks before proclaiming his victory, crowing like a rooster.
“Didn’t he tell you?” Doc asks. I shake my head. Doc sighs and continues, “Pete has been an orphan since he was seven. His parents were killed in a car accident.”
“That’s terrible,” I say as a familiar heartache grips me, the same one that so often creeps up when memories of my own parents come to my mind.
“I met him before the war,” Doc continues. “I finished secondary school by the time I was twelve and went on to study medicine. I was interning at North West London Hospital. Pete came in with a large gash on his cheek, an apparent ‘bicycle accident.’ When his visits became a weekly occurrence, I confronted him, worried he was suffering some sort of abuse. Turned out he was earning money by competing in underground boxing matches.” Doc laughs heartily. “Pete would come in at midnight every Wednesday night with something needing to be stitched up. We became fast friends.”
“So what happened to you two?” I ask. “That fight I witnessed earlier was hardly evidence of a good friendship.”
Doc sighs. “Pete wasn’t the only survivor in the accident. He had a sister, Gabrielle. The accident left her in a wheelchair. The other children at the orphanage teased her, but Pete wouldn’t tolerate it. After years of defending his sister, he decided to use his skill to make money so he could get his sister out of the orphanage and into a place of their own.” He drops his gaze, kicks at a stone lying in front of him, and hesitates. “She was beautiful. One of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever met.”
“What happened to her?” I ask.
“The same thing that happened to all the girls after the outbreak. Pete brought her to me. She was in bad shape. I did everything I could to save her, but it wasn’t enough.” Tears brim at the corners of his eyes. “I cared for her, and when she took her last breath, a part of me died with her.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say, resting a hand on his arm.
Doc nods, acknowledging my gesture of sympathy, and turns his eyes toward Pete. “He’s never been the same and hasn’t forgiven me.”
“But it wasn’t your fault she died. You said you did everything you could for her.”
“I know it and you know it, but him?” Doc says, waving toward Pete. “It’s neither here nor there. Two weeks went by and I hadn’t seen him. By then the Marauders had gained control of the city. Then one day he comes storming into the hospital. He tells me there’s a bunch of orphaned kids holed up in the tunnels, many who are badly hurt, and if I am worth a sack of beans, I will come with him to save the children.” Doc shrugs. “I went with him. We worked around the clock. I treated patients and he rescued kids. Many died, especially the girls, but the survivors are what make up the Lost City now.”
“Why only the kids?” I ask. “If he had saved the adults, too, you might have extra help.”
“Two reasons. First, the virus killed the adults so quick they couldn’t be saved. Second, only an orphan knows what it is like to be an orphan. After the bombing of London and the viral outbreak, the city was swarming with orphaned kids. Pete couldn’t save his sister, but he could save the other parentless children.”
“Along with your help,” I remind him.
“Yes, along with my help.”
“But if you’ve helped so many, why is he still angry with you?”