Broken Moon

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Broken Moon Page 19

by Sarah Beth Moore


  Even if it doesn’t make me feel better, it is the right thing to say. I watch her ministrations for a few more minutes, itching to contact Enoch, see if he’s found anything. But he’s only been gone a few minutes.

  Besides, you can’t help him, I tell myself sternly. He’ll either find Achilles in time, or he won’t. As I sit there, helpless, holding Pip’s clammy hand, a slow rage begins to build inside me. The more I try to beat it back, the more it concentrates itself on the slender form kneeling beside me.

  “Why are you here, Tate?” I ask abruptly.

  “You know why,” she says wearily, finishing up and sitting back on her heels. She looks tired.

  “No, I don’t,” I insist. “I know that Enoch trusts you, but that’s not the same thing.”

  “What exactly are you asking?”

  “I’m asking what you did to convince him you’re so great, when all I’ve seen is a well-played game.” The answer surprises even me, and I rock back on my heels as well, still keeping my hold on Pip’s hand.

  She cleans her hands slowly with a damp cloth. “I told him the truth.”

  “The same truth you’ve told me?”

  “If you’re implying I’ve lied to you at any point, I haven’t. I’ve followed every order you or he gave, I’ve fed you, I’ve returned each time I left. I’m here because I believe there’s something wrong with this City, like I told you. And because … ” She bites her lip, looking uncharacteristically conflicted. Almost pained.

  “Because what?”

  “Because I’ve tried everything else, and you’re all I’ve got left.”

  I sit back a little further, puzzled. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I don’t care, Tate! That’s not the first time you’ve said that to me, and frankly it doesn’t inspire trust. How do I know that man wasn’t here because of you? How do I know my little brother isn’t going to die because of you?” Looking down once more, I wipe a shaking hand over my eyes, trying to regain control. Some hidden corner of my mind knows this accusation is unfair, but I can’t bring myself to care.

  “He was here for you,” she counters flatly, “and you know it.”

  “Okay, fine! But if they’re trying to bring you in, your father can’t really be ‘protecting’ you as well as you claim, can he? What happens when we use that pass, and he sees the signal? His own ID at the University? You’ve helped us, sure, but you could still set us up so easily!”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because the Party wants to know what I know. Who I am,” I tell her. “Papa told me they’d come after me. You might just be their best tool.”

  “Well, I know who you are,” she says. “And I still haven’t betrayed you.”

  “You know? What do you know, Tate?”

  “I know your real last name, the truth of your family. I know about the things you can do. I know you killed those guards. Not just him,” she says, tilting her chin toward the man who lies crumpled in the grass a hundred yards away. “The others, before. I saw it all.”

  I resist the urge to ask her if she’s told Enoch this, if he knows. Instead I take a deep breath. “So you know everything,” I say slowly, “and you’re still my friend. That’s your story?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then level with me, Tate. Why are you here? How am I your last hope?”

  She too inhales, her nostrils flaring and her lips pursed so tightly the skin around them turns white. Turning to Pip, she takes the pulse in his wrist, checks the bandage, lays the back of her hand against his cheek. I wait anxiously, but she just shrugs. Finally, she turns to me once more.

  “Remember how I told you I saw my father’s experiments?”

  “I remember.”

  “I went into his lab at home one day to find some files, bring them to the hospital for him. He has several locked doors in there, which I’ve never been allowed into, but that day, one of them was open. You know we live on the City floor.”

  I nod.

  “That entryway went down, into a stone basement. The kind from before the wars, built into the earth. It was huge, a hallway with rooms. Small metal doors, with little windows so you could see in. There were clipboards outside every door, so I knew the … subjects … were recent, ongoing. I couldn’t help it, I looked through the windows. Through all of them.”

  Unable to speak, I grip Pip’s hand tightly.

  “It wasn’t just the Hollow,” she says quietly. “It was much worse. He had children, so many of them, tied up and hungry-looking and only half-human. They had Marks on their hands. Like this,” she says, touching the one on the back of Pip’s, “only different. I don’t know what he was – is – trying to do, but it’s horrible.” She stops talking, looking green.

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothing then,” she says. “He came home unexpectedly and caught me. Beat me. Locked me in my room for a week.”

  I start, surprised to hear Doctor Black is even capable of treating his daughter this way. “He beat you?”

  “Yes,” she says. “People think we’re so close, but he’s always been that way. Careful not to let the bruises show. We do have access to the best medicines,” she adds darkly. I can’t tell whether or not she’s joking.

  “So? What then?”

  “I told my mother,” Tate says. “I thought she would help or protect me, believe my story. Something. But she didn’t. She slapped me and told me the next time I talked to her that way, she’d tell my father. Then she said to get out of her sight. I haven’t seen her since.”

  “Tate, I – ”

  “But in answer to your question,” she interrupts, “he won’t turn us in. He’ll protect me to the last, won’t tell anyone I’ve disobeyed him or run off. When he sees his ID has been used, he’ll keep it quiet, come himself. He won’t call the guards, which buys us time. His pride is our only chance.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because he won’t risk others hearing what I might say if I were caught. He knows I’d rather die than come home with him. I told him so, the last time we saw each other.”

  “So you really can’t go home.” It is a fact, not a question.

  “No.”

  This time there is a long, long silence. I stare at Pip as Tate bathes his forehead with a damp cloth, checks his pulse and changes his bandages. I wonder absently where Enoch is, but my senses seem to be dulling. Terror over Pip’s condition has faded to a kind of disbelief. I’m not sure how much time passes before I look up again.

  “You already told Enoch this, didn’t you?” I say, trying to distract myself.

  She nods miserably.

  “Why not me?”

  “I just didn’t want to, all right?” She won’t look at me. “Your father might not have been related to you by blood, but he loved you. It didn’t seem fair that your adoptive father would love you so much more than my real father loved me. And your mother before that.”

  “That’s why you turned me in,” I breathe. “At the food dispensary, all those years ago.”

  She nods, and I’m shocked to see a tear course down her pale, straight-nosed face. “Yeah,” she whispers. “Even then, I was so jealous. Of everyone. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I – I apologize.”

  In spite of myself, I feel compassion welling up inside me. It must show on my face, because she huffs impatiently.

  “Don’t feel sorry for me,” she says, wiping her eyes. “I don’t want your pity. I just want you to believe me that I’m not here to hurt you. I never have been.”

  I’m silent.

  “There’s one more thing you should know,” she says. “Something I haven’t told Enoch.”

  My throat is dry. “What is it?”

  “I had a dream,” she falters, “a few weeks ago. A dream that I was supposed to find you.”

  I stare at her.

  “It – the dream, the premonition, whatever it was
– told me to monitor the tracking system, wait for your signal to appear. It told me when to look, how to find you. It was right about everything. I know it sounds silly, but in a way, it seems like I’m meant to be here. To be with you.”

  I’m silent for another beat.

  “I believe in you, Naiya. Do you believe me?” she asks. Though her face has regained its normal composure and her voice is once more flat, she looks earnest.

  As I open my mouth, however, I’m interrupted.

  Enoch and a strange man stride into view. Like Achilles, the man is dressed in skins and hides, and carries a hunting bow over his shoulder. The image is delightfully archaic, almost cheerful.

  “This is Hippolytus,” Enoch introduces the man tersely. Enoch looks terrible, his clothes stuck to him and his dark face lined with dried sweat. Black craters circle his eyes.

  Gently the man bends down and scoops up Pip’s unconscious form, wrapping the little boy in his heavy cloak and minding his stomach. He turns immediately to go.

  “Pip,” I whisper, reaching to touch his cheek. “Get well.”

  The man stops to look at me, stooping in the low, narrow hall.

  “We are waiting for you, Naiya Legerdemain,” he says in a clear tenor, clutching the frail-looking boy to his chest. He looks at me piercingly, and waits for my reply.

  “I’m coming,” I say.

  TWENTY

  Breathing shallowly, I concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other as soundlessly as possible. It is late, and the University is mostly deserted, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling invisible eyes on the back of my neck. I keep to the shadows, one eye on the floor to make sure I don’t trip, and one eye on Tate’s gliding black figure in front of me. Enoch ghosts behind, but I can barely hear him.

  Pip.

  I can’t stop thinking about him, about our goodbye, which wasn’t really a goodbye at all; he’d been unconscious for almost an hour by then, and would have no idea how we’d parted. If he even woke up. The thoughts tug at me ceaselessly, and I’ve given up on trying to push them out of my mind. Instead I try to channel the sadness and rage into determination.

  I couldn’t save Papa. But I can still see Pip again. If he’s alive, Achilles will help me fix him, give him a normal life.

  The thought has become my mantra. My only goal, now, is to finish this mission as quickly as I can, go get Amy, and leave the City immediately. I tell myself I’ll never look back.

  Without noticing it, I’ve slowed. Enoch catches up to me, pushing gently on my arm to get me moving. He looks terrible, worn out and scared. I was horrified when, after Hippolytus left with Pip, Enoch recounted his journey: the guards found him almost immediately, and he outran them for nearly five minutes. Only dumb luck brought him within range of Hippolytus in time, after which he blinked off the map once more, bewildering the guards, who eventually wandered off. We’ve tried every explanation for why he should be found so quickly while Tate and I went unmolested, but none made sense and eventually we gave up. It gives me the chills, thinking we could show up again at any moment, especially here.

  “Go on,” he mouths, jarring me from my thoughts. I pick up my pace even more, again training my eyes on Tate. After another minute, however, she stops.

  “Wait,” she murmurs, holding up a hand. Cocking her head, she listens carefully, then backs us down a small corridor and into an alcove, covered by a simple geometric tapestry. The wool scratches our faces, but I resist the urge to touch it as I stand there, tracking the sounds of quiet voices coming closer and then receding once more.

  As Tate moves to go on, I stop her with a hand on her arm. “How far to your father’s office?”

  “Another few minutes. Thankfully we haven’t had to use the pass yet, or he’d already be on his way.”

  Thankfully, indeed. The entrances to the University are unmanned, its arched corridors and gas-lit pavilions open to the streets; only its classrooms and offices are locked.

  “And then how long will we have? Till he gets here?”

  “I told you before, I’m not sure. Maybe fifteen minutes. At this time of night, when no one’s around, it could be less. He won’t take the train like he usually does; he’ll use the aircar.”

  I exhale, suppressing a shudder. It hardly seems like enough time to do anything and still get out, but we have no other choice. We begin walking again, and I’m quickly lost in the maze of corridors, twists and turns. I’m not used to being so disoriented, and it makes me nervous; though Tate clearly knows where she’s going, I’d feel better if I were able to find my own way out. Trust, despite our conversation yesterday, doesn’t come easily to me.

  She slows as we round a final corner, placing her arm lightly across my chest and pushing me back against the wall. Enoch follows suit. Several voices drift down the hallway, and peering around, we see an assortment of professors in their long black robes. A number of Home Guard are present as well. With a catch in my throat, I recognize the last face on Earth I’d hoped to see.

  Doctor Black.

  Hurriedly I pull my head back. We look at each other in horror. Though her expression is muted, even Tate looks appalled, terrified. There’s nowhere to hide. We turn to run, but are stopped by a voice that floats around the corner.

  “ … just aren’t responding properly,” it says. We freeze, listening.

  “In what sense?” Doctor Black’s words echo low through the hall.

  “Same story,” the voice replies, with the easy air of someone who knows exactly what he is talking about. “We just can’t keep them from entering the moment we animate them. It makes the bodies difficult to control, as you know. But I think we’re almost there, believe it or not. We’ve got a couple of subjects who might prove to be successes.”

  “Mmm,” the Doctor grunts. “A hundred years on this damn project and we’re still stuck here.”

  “Well, not a hundred, exactly, sir. The project was abandoned for almost three quarters of a century after the last – ”

  “I know my history, thank you.” His voice has become clipped, as though he has had all he’ll take of this conversation. “Good night to you.”

  The sound of footsteps spurs us to action, and we wheel and dart off in the opposite direction, hugging the wall. It is an effort not to run. Once we’re further, we do, feet padding almost soundlessly against the stone, pausing at every intersection to listen carefully before continuing on. We stop eventually in a small recess, behind a row of freestanding statues.

  Crouching down, we look at each other in the semi-darkness, our hiding spot lit only by a single gas lamp twenty feet above. It illuminates the pipes and flooring of Deck 6 with a sinister light. Looking back down, I see Tate looking remarkably composed once more, and I feel a familiar flash of bitterness. How can she be so calm?

  “The Hollow,” Enoch whispers. “That’s what they were talking about.”

  “Yes,” Tate agrees. “At least they haven’t done it yet, but it sounds like it might be soon. I can’t imagine – ”

  “Do you think he could know about us?” I interrupt breathlessly. “Your father?”

  “No,” she shakes her head. “If he had any idea we were here, we wouldn’t be alone right now. He often takes meetings here, with guards and members of his medical staff. That’s all.”

  “Is it? How can you be certain?”

  “Believe me,” Tate replies firmly. “If it had anything to do with us, we’d know.”

  “But it’s so late.”

  She shrugs. “He never gets much sleep. I’m sure that’s especially true now. Come on, Naiya, we’re wasting time.”

  I look at Enoch, who stares back unblinkingly. I can’t tell if there is a subtle reproach in his eyes, or if I’m making it up. Squaring my shoulders, I look away. “Well, where are we supposed to go now? His office is too dangerous is he’s already here.”

  “We’ll use someone else’s. Let’s go.”

  We fly up a set of stairs, down another co
rridor, and into an older, less well-kept part of the University. Tate pauses at every corner; Enoch has his power pack out, constantly monitoring. We’re still not appearing on the screen. Within ten minutes, we stop in front of a door. Tate looks left and right, then reaches up and swipes a small plastic keycard through a slot to the right of the doorframe. A light blinks green, emits a faint beep, and Tate pushes the door open. Enoch and I pile through, closing it quickly.

  Cracking her fingers, Tate hurriedly takes a seat at the desk in the back of the room, fiddling with the computer to turn it on.

  “Enoch,” she orders, holding out her father’s pass, “take this.”

  He reaches forward. “Why?”

  “My father will see which room we’re in. I want you to run up and down this hall and swipe it through all the doors. That way he’ll have more places to look if he wants to find us. Hopefully he doesn’t start here.”

  “I’ll go with you,” I tell him.

  “No,” Tate says. “Stay here. Enoch will see anyone coming and come back here. You shouldn’t be out in the corridors on your own.”

  “But – ”

  “Just stay, Naiya,” Enoch says. And with that, he’s out the door. Before it even shuts behind him, I hear a faint, familiar beep down the hall.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, moving to Tate’s side. I’m beginning to sweat. “What can I do?”

  “You can keep your knife out,” she answers tersely. “And I’m hacking into the City’s database to figure out where that lab is. Clearly it’s somewhere in the Tech District, almost certainly Level 5. I’ve heard of most departments, but I have no idea what HRP stands for.”

  I pull out my knife.

  “That’s all we need to know, right?” she asks.

  “For now,” I answer, glancing toward the door. I wonder if the light from the computer screen shows through the cracks around it, but there’s nothing to be done but wait.

  Tate types furiously, sighing in frustration every now and again. Finally, after what seems like ages, she lets out a muted sound of triumph. “Got it.”

 

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