Broken Moon

Home > Young Adult > Broken Moon > Page 25
Broken Moon Page 25

by Sarah Beth Moore


  “I don’t know,” she whispers. And again: “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s … all right,” I whisper. “It isn’t your fault.”

  “They wiped my memory,” she continues, as though she hasn’t heard. “Took away everything that happened at the lab, left me with only the memories of before. When I first came back, I really thought I was part of your family. I was so happy to see you all again, even if I was – was watching you more closely than usual. It was only later that I realized who I was.”

  “And … that’s unusual?” I think of 3145, his uncertainty whether or not he had a life of his own. “That your memory wipe didn’t take?”

  “Yes.”

  “So are – are you the reason Papa died?” I ask, almost suffocating on the words.

  “No,” she shakes her head, voice cracking. “No, I promise. They came back for you, and when you were gone, well. That was that. I miss him too, you know. So much.”

  Closing my eyes momentarily, I focus on my breathing. Then slowly, I reach forward and take her hand once more.

  She smiles gratefully. “I just wish the memory wipe had worked. I was happier when I didn’t know who – what I was.”

  We sit silent for another beat.

  “No,” Amy amends fiercely, startling the child. “I’m glad it didn’t work. If this can help you in any way, I’m happy to live with it.”

  Again, there is nothing I can say. Instead I pull her head onto my shoulder, the sleeping baby cuddled between us. We sit that way for a long moment.

  “Amy,” I say with an effort, pulling away once more. I lower my voice, thinking of the small metal fly Papa had shown me so long ago. Of how it could take my words and spit them back to the wrong ears. “Come with us.”

  She sighs, looking heartbroken. “I can’t. If I come with you, they’ll come after me.”

  It’s true, of course. For a moment I wonder if I’m crazy to even offer, if I shouldn’t just leave her behind and forget about her. The real Amy died weeks ago, just before Papa did. But that, if anything, only makes me more determined.

  “We have protection,” I say. “They can’t find our signals, haven’t been able to for weeks. If you came with us, you’d be safe. You and the baby and John.”

  She shakes her head. “No, honey. You don’t understand. If I go missing, they’ll put everything they have into finding me. The Home Guard are waiting for you to come to me. They knew you would come here before you left, and my orders are very clear: hand you over, or lose my baby. I can’t come with you.”

  My stomach drops. Slowly, however, puzzlement overcomes other emotions. If they are waiting for me to come here, why did the Doctor call off the search?

  “What are you going to do?” I whisper.

  “Don’t worry,” she amends. “I’m not going to turn you in.”

  “But if you stay here … ” I let the thought linger, my gaze resting on the silent infant. If she lets me go, they’ll take her baby. But when I raise my eyes to her face, understanding dawns.

  “Amy, no.”

  “You’re taking her with you,” she says. “She doesn’t have her tracker yet. As long as I stay here, they won’t look for her. She’ll be safe.”

  “I can’t. I won’t.”

  “Naiya, look at me.” She gestures around hopelessly, to her shapeless body and the filthy room, her matted braids and dirty dress and cold, black stove. “I can’t move much. The birth was hard. I’ll only hold you up.”

  “They’ll kill you,” I protest.

  “They will either way.” She doesn’t sound sad, or even resigned. She sounds factual, like Tate. As though this is just something that is known. “Eventually, they will kill John too. We’re not going to be allowed to live. I want her to have a chance, at least. Please, Naiya.”

  “But John … ”

  “John can’t know,” she hisses, leaning in, suddenly sounding much less robotic. Now she’s panicked. “If he knows, he’ll stop this and she will die.”

  I’m silent.

  “Please, Naiya. Please don’t let them take my baby,” she whispers, staring down at the dusky little face.

  “But I can’t be responsible for her,” I whisper back. “I don’t even know what could happen. She’d never be safe with me. Pip – Pip wasn’t safe,” I falter. “Don’t ask me to.”

  She doesn’t. She merely looks, waiting for me to make the choice she knows I will, eventually. It is what Papa Bear would have done, in my case what he has done. How can I do differently? Reaching out, I tremulously receive the small bundle into my arms, and the infant looks up at me with bright green eyes, seeming almost interested for the first time. Enoch’s eyes. Papa’s eyes.

  “She likes you,” Amy chokes, standing quickly and going to the kitchen. She returns with a few plastic bottles, full of white liquid. These she throws into Tate’s small knapsack, slumped next to me on the couch, along with several cloths and diapers. Then she stands, taking the child while she helps me into the pack. Afterward she stands a moment with her forehead pressed to the blankets.

  Gently, with silent tears bathing her cheeks, she returns the baby.

  “Okay,” she says tremulously, giving both of us what is clearly a last look. “Now go.”

  I don’t.

  “Go, Naiya,” she says. “I will always love you. Always.”

  I nod, numb, blind with tears.

  “And her,” Amy adds, reaching out to touch her child. “Make sure she knows how much I love her. Her name is Eliah, after Papa. Remember, all right?”

  She pulls her arm back with what looks like tremendous effort, gazing heartbrokenly at her infant daughter. But she does not hesitate, propelling me toward the door with a firm hand. At the threshold she kisses me, then the baby. “I love you both,” she whispers again. “I love you all.”

  The door closes. She is gone. I must move.

  Numbly, I stumble down the street. Enoch joins me silently, looking past me for Amy. He doesn’t find her, and glancing down, sees the infant held close to my chest.

  His eyes fill with tears, and they quickly spill over onto his cheek. But he says nothing, simply reaches over and lifts her onto his arm. The other he places around my shoulder, guiding me through the darkness as though through the brightest light, surefooted and calm.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Faltering through the dark, I clutch Enoch’s arm and try to stay calm. Intermittently, this changes to trying to stay awake, as I vacillate between exhaustion and a nervous, humming energy.

  Several times Enoch asks me about what happened, but each time I cannot spare more than a few words on the subject before I begin crying again. I’m too spent even to find this humiliating. Eventually he gives up, and we race down through the City in silence.

  My grief for Amy mixes with the sorrow I feel at leaving her replacement behind to face questioning and probably death. I feel betrayed by both versions of her, and by the fact that anyone could pose as a member of my family and earn my love on that basis alone. Because, if I’m honest, I do love the woman whose house I just left; she is more real to me than the sad, used-up body the guards carried off so many weeks ago. But it means I never said goodbye to the real Amy.

  You did say good-bye, you just didn’t know it.

  Even so, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m forsaking her memory.

  Neither can I dismiss the cold sense of dread I get every time I think of how near the Home Guard got to us before simply walking away. I can’t stop thinking about how he was supposed to be watching her house … and didn’t. Which means the Doctor has other plans for us.

  “What’s worse than being caught?” Enoch murmurs, when I share this in a rare moment of clarity.

  Rubbing my red-rimmed eyes, I try to ward off despair. “I don’t know. At this point he must know we can fight off a couple guards. Which means … ”

  “Something worse than guards,” he concludes grimly, and quickens his pace.

  We stick to the corner
s and alleys, shadows and tunnels, terrified at any moment that we will be found. The baby hinders our movements somewhat, but is at least silent all through the long hours that transition from night to morning to afternoon, as though similarly afraid. She barely complains as we switch her back and forth, lying quiet while we struggle to refresh her diapers using only the faint memories of helping to change Pip. I force myself to stop every few hours and feed her, even though sitting still feels like a death sentence.

  It is with enormous relief that I see the crumbled and empty Lower City grocery store in which we left Tate and the others. Bending through the fallen front entrance, we weave between aisles filled with food long since turned to dust. In the light of the power pack, I can barely make out a few colorful plastic labels that have withstood the test of time.

  I’m relieved to see the others huddled around, but the smile abruptly fades as I notice the odd positions in which they’re sitting. As if …

  “They’re tied up,” Enoch whispers. “What – ”

  “Naiya, run!” Tate shrieks.

  I raise my head like a startled deer and Enoch puts his arm protectively in front of Eliah and me, but it’s too late. Doctor Black, looking eminently pleased with himself, appears with a taser pointed at Enoch’s chest. I blanch, clutching the baby tighter. Dozens of pairs of red eyes appear suddenly in the gloom, more and more until I lose count. There must be twenty, thirty guards here. No way out. Not without getting everyone, likely myself included, killed.

  How did they find our camp? I wonder, bewildered and terrified. I’m beginning to lose faith in our protectors; if they can’t actually keep us hidden, what’s the point? What are they even doing?

  A collective growl suffuses the air, emanating from the throats of dozens of Home Guard. Doctor Black’s chuckle rises incrementally to drown it out.

  “So, Naiya,” he says finally.

  Remembering the night he came to our apartment, I feel a rush of hatred break through my fear-soaked brain.

  “What do you want?”

  He says nothing, merely cocks his head and looks at me.

  “That’s a newborn,” he says finally, thrusting his chin toward the softly kicking bundle in my arms. “I’ll wager somebody wants that.”

  “Somebody does,” Enoch says roughly. “Us.”

  “Have it, then,” the Doctor says dangerously, as though the baby is a contraband cut of meat. “It’s yours, on one condition.”

  Enoch and I exchange a brief, fearful glance.

  “What are you talking about?” Enoch asks, breathing shallowly to avoid the taser held close to his sternum.

  But I already know, fighting down dread even as I say the word. “Me.”

  “Very good,” the Doctor nods jovially. “Yes, indeed. You.”

  “Naiya, don’t be an idiot!” Tate screams, even in her panic managing to sound flat and dry. “You know you can’t trust hi – ah!” She falls silent as a guard raps her sharply with his baton.

  “Quiet, darling,” Doctor Black says, unruffled. “Daddy’s talking.”

  “Stop it,” I say sharply. “Stop hurting her. All of them.”

  “Or what, Naiya?”

  “If I stay,” I ask, practically panting with fear and exhaustion and confusion, “if I stay, will you let them go?”

  “Every one.”

  “And how do I know you won’t come back for them later?”

  “Well, now, you don’t, do you? But you’re a smart girl, Naiya, you can do the math. They will die if you don’t take my offer.”

  I stare at him for a long moment, then glance at Tate, who shakes her head vehemently. Then I look at Enoch. His expression breaks my heart.

  “Naiya, no,” he says softly. “What are you doing?”

  “The right thing,” I murmur, thrusting the baby toward him. He reaches his arms out hesitantly, glancing nervously at the weapon still pointed at him. “Move that,” I snap at the doctor, gesturing to it.

  He does, slowly, looking like a cat that’s caught a fat mouse.

  I settle Eliah into Enoch’s arms, pushing Tate’s pack onto his back. “What about them?” I ask, nodding at the rest of the group.

  Doctor Black makes a quick hand motion, and several of the guards step forward, knives drawn. I resist the urge to scream as they reach down in unison, quickly severing the bonds of the kneeling prisoners. Then they step back, and melt into the gloom. Finally, their footsteps fade entirely.

  “There you have it, Naiya,” he says quietly, bouncing on his shabby toes.

  “Go,” I say to Enoch.

  He shakes his head. “I can’t.”

  “If you don’t, they’ll die,” I say fiercely. “The baby, Tate, all of them. Don’t do that to me. Please, Enoch.”

  “But if you die … ”

  “That will happen either way.” As the words leave my mouth, I realize they’re true. I swallow hard.

  “I’ll come back,” he promises faintly, taking the small knapsack I proffer. “I’ll come back for you.”

  I nod, filling with longing and wanting to believe it. I’m all too aware of the taser in Doctor Black’s hand, now pointing at me. The implication is clear: They can go, or they can watch him kill me.

  Looking miserable, Enoch begins to back away. He joins the group, pulls Tate to her feet and gestures to the rest. They file away. He looks over his shoulder once, but I can’t make out his face. Fervently, I pray that whoever is on our side finds and blocks their signals quickly, keeps the guards from finding them once more. It’s the only hope I have left.

  “So what do you want?” I say finally, wearily, feeling only a faint curiosity about my fate.

  “To talk to you, Naiya.”

  “Stop saying my name.”

  “Have it your way,” he shrugs. “So how’s this, you answer a few of my questions, and we’ll go from there.”

  I stare at him levelly, feeling even the fear fade in the wake of a slowly building rage.

  “Why the hell should I tell you anything?”

  “Because I know who you are. We don’t have to be enemies.”

  “You killed my father,” I say furiously.

  “Well, now, that was politics,” he says. “I deal with a lot of politics, you know. Believe it or not, I don’t always get what I want either.”

  I stare at him, wondering if he’s insane. “I don’t understand.”

  “I know, but you will.” He grins. “The world is changing, N – sorry. The world’s changing, and you can either be for it or against it. A Legerdemain is a powerful ally, and one I wouldn’t mind having.”

  My breath seems stuck in my chest. “How … ”

  Doctor Black’s eyes glint savagely; though they remain their familiar bright blue, they might as well be red. “Yes, I know who you are, child. Probably better than you do. I’m not stupid: I know I can’t kill you, contain you. Even five dozen guards might not be able to keep you down. You’re only beginning to find out what you can do.”

  Sweat springs up on the back of my neck, in my armpits, my palms. I’d welcome some evidence of those abilities now.

  “But that doesn’t mean we can’t be on the same side,” he continues.

  “Same side? But then, why tell A – ” I choke on the name.

  “Amy?” he supplies, looking amused.

  “Yes, her. Why tell her she either had to give up the baby or me? If you don’t think you can kill me, why mess with her? Why not just let us … ” I can’t finish. Live. Be happy. Be together. It takes everything I have not to cry again.

  He shrugs nonchalantly. “Well, that’s the Mayor’s game, not mine. I told you, politics. To him you are merely an escaped criminal, a thorn in his side.”

  “Then why did he kill Papa? If he doesn’t know who I am?”

  “Oh, he’s wanted to kill your father for a long time. The explosion was a convenient excuse. Didn’t help his case that he lied about Amy, either. But like I say: To the mayor, you’re just traitors. To me,
though, you are much, much more.”

  “You knew I was in the Upper City last night,” I say slowly, trying to piece it together. My brain buzzes with confusion. “You called the guards off on purpose and – and told the Mayor they’d simply lost my trail? So that he wouldn’t get to me first, so you could get me down here alone? Is that it?”

  “I always knew you were bright,” he says, with genuine admiration.

  “So what do you want?”

  “That depends on what you’re willing to give.” He studies his fingernails, buffing them against the shabby sleeve of his pinstripe suit jacket. “The Home Guard believe they’re letting the Mayor and I masquerade as rulers of this City while they operate behind the scenes. They think I don’t know it, but I do.”

  My mouth falls open, remembering the overheard conversation up above:

  I’m getting tired of pretending that guy owns me.

  The Doctor is performing us a valuable service. That’s what this is all about.

  “You know?”

  He nods. “There’s a war coming, kid, and you can pick the right side or the wrong. Do you really want to be on their side, answer to whomever they answer to? I don’t.”

  My head feels like it is full of buzzing wasps. I close my eyes in hopes of shutting out the confusion his words create. “I don’t want to be on your side either,” I say, opening them once more. “Your experiments, your games … none of that is right.”

  “My games,” he chuckles. “You have no idea.”

  I wait, wishing I had a weapon.

  “All the world’s a stage, Miss Legerdemain, and all the men and women merely players. Recognize that?”

  I nod slowly. “William Shakespeare.”

  “A man I’m sorry we’ve forgotten. I’m doing the best I can, you see, to right the wrongs of our past. You may not like the way I’m doing it, but I recognize the need for a new world order just as surely as you do. The oppression, the confinement of our people in these giant metal pens we call Cities, the prejudice against book and belief, it’s all misguided. You know it, and I know it. The question is, what will we do about it?”

  “Those are just words. You’re still evil.”

 

‹ Prev