Broken Moon Read online

  I nod numbly as she hugs me, then watch her trip up the front walk to her big house, wondering what lies she will tell, what simple outing her parents will think she’s been on.

  The conversations we used to have suddenly flood my mind. Trivialities, all: teachers, boys, the half-full bottle of perfume so-and-so got for her birthday. With an acute sense of longing, I wish that was all we’d been talking about.

  NINE

  “There,” I say, scooting back against the cold stone of an old brick wall, “is that enough room for you?”

  Pip nods tiredly and climbs in between the blankets to snuggle up against my side. Despite the hard packed dirt, we are almost comfortable. I smile as he puts one arm over my waist and buries his head against my shoulder. I wonder if this is the worst day of his life, or if he had worse ones when he was gone that whole month, alone and probably frightened. Before that he’d stopped holding our hands at the age of six; since then he’s picked up the habit again. In the last three days, he’s had hold of some part of me pretty much nonstop. Not that I can blame him.

  His arm tightens on me now, then slowly loosens. His eyes close, and within minutes his breathing is deep and regular.

  “I’m jealous,” I murmur, looking down at him next to me.

  Enoch forces a small laugh, his face blue in the light from his power pack. “He always did sleep well. It’s a gift, I guess.”

  “I guess.”

  We’re both silent for a long time after that. I can’t stop my whirling thoughts. Odd how completely my mind shut out my mother when she died eight long years ago, my memory of her only slowly returning in bits and pieces, yet all I can see is Papa’s face. His kind green eyes, his hair just beginning to gray around the temples, his deft hands at his workbench. Late at night, when I often couldn’t sleep, those hands stroked my forehead until I drifted off. The memory of them has a soothing effect now, and eventually my lids start to close. But then the blue light goes off, plunging us in darkness, and sudden anxiety pinches my chest.

  “Enoch?”

  “Sorry, I thought it was keeping you awake.”

  “Oh,” I say, surprised by his thoughtfulness. Just as I was surprised that, after barely a word all day, he insisted on taking first watch. “That’s all right.”

  There is a pause. “Naiya.”

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m sorry.” His voice breaks slightly, but he wrestles it back under control. “For everything. You were amazing today.”

  For a second the praise makes me glow red-hot. Then it occurs to me to be angry once more, but anger is the last thing Papa would want me to feel. Emotions wash through me pell-mell, and I settle finally on gratitude.

  “It’s nothing,” I say. “At least we still have each other.”

  And like a trapdoor shutting, my eyes fall closed and I’m asleep, plunged into the torrid realm of dream.

  Around my feet grass grows, not pallid and brittle like the grass of autumn, but lush and full and summery. Some of it is tall and golden, like soft, ripening wheat. Twining across the bright ground and up the crumbled brick are thick, green vines growing strange fruits the size of my face.

  The beauty is stunning, overwhelming, healing, and I wander through it with bated breath, one hand out and trailing through the yellow stalks and the silky leaves. My palms burn with their own heat. I look down at them but my eye is drawn past, startled to see that the ground beneath my feet is now moving slowly, like a thick mist, and revealing beneath it nothing but air, a vast drop of miles. Far, far below, though it is hard to see through the shifting grass, lies what can only be the City. The nighttime lights are reflected back against the river, its two tails extending from the walls west and east and winding away into the distance.

  It is my home as birds might see it.

  Looking around, I’m startled to see that the brick walls have disappeared, leaving in their wake an open meadow, surrounded by tall trees, free of confining walls or cramping decks. The sun is hot, but pleasantly so, and on a far horizon hangs the moon, whole and perfect.

  What is this place? I want to ask, but it is pointless, for there is no one there to answer me. But, wait: there is something else. A tall figure that moves through the trees with a strange almost-humanity, a ghostly beauty, a presence I recognize and cannot name all at once.

  I glance again at my hands, their fire fading. I will the sensation to stay even as it slips through my fingers like sand, leaving me perplexed and wondering what I had just been thinking. The ground grows firm once more, grass moving in the sultry breeze as the walls go up around me, filling in and solidifying like smoke turned hard. Then all fades to black, and I am alone and thoughtless on a vast ocean, as cold and empty as the surface of the Broken Moon.

  “Naiya.”

  A cold gust of air blows across my face.

  “Naiya.”

  Waking, I see Enoch crouching at the edge of the bedroll, reaching over Pip to shake my arm gently. I shiver; though we’re several hundred feet in, underneath the protective overhang of Deck 2, the wind’s chill still penetrates. I struggle to remember the dream I was just having, but it dances at the edge of memory.

  “Hey, Nai – ”

  “I’m awake.” I stand up carefully, rubbing my eyes and trying not to jostle Pip. I feel disoriented, confused as to why I’m not in my bed at home. Then it all hits me: the flight, the guards, the viewscreen, the bullets. I double over like I’ve been punched in the gut.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I … have to go to the bathroom,” I lie, stumbling off a few yards. I pull out my knife, walking as far as I can while keeping him in sight, then crumple to my knees. The tears that have been threatening for days feel like they might finally overwhelm me, and I’m almost relieved at the thought. It would be so easy to let them fall, but where would I be then? The scream was enough; if I lose control again I might never get it back.

  Besides, even though Enoch probably can’t see or hear me this far away, I hate the thought of walking into camp red and puffy-eyed, of him knowing I gave in. I have so little left, but so far at least, I still have this. Taking deep, steadying breaths, I stare skyward until my head clears and my chest eases up. Slowly my eyes dry, and I lower them, staring at the bright blade of the knife until I trust myself once more. Then, tugging my jacket down and straightening my hair, I trudge slowly back.

  Enoch silently offers me a canteen, giving me a look that says he knows more than I want him to. But he doesn’t ask, and I don’t volunteer.

  “Get some sleep,” I say shortly, reaching to take the power pack from him and sitting down against a pillar that’s still warm from his body heat. He obeys wordlessly, tossing and turning for a few minutes before settling down. The hours pass numbly after that, a gradual fading of dark gray to light gray my only clue that day has come. Despite the exhaustion, I feel wide awake, eager to get up and get going. Unlike yesterday, when motivation of any kind was hard to come by, today each second spent sitting still feels like a betrayal to Papa. And to Amy, who is above me somewhere, probably wondering what’s become of us.

  I wait as long as I can stand, then rouse the boys. After six hours of sleep, Enoch looks marginally less terrible than he did the day before. Pip wakes up dry-eyed but spiritless, and I have to coax him to eat once more. It is a depressed group that sets out into the cold morning.

  “You want to hear a joke?” I ask Pip once we’re walking, determined to raise his spirits.

  “Okay,” he says uncertainly, looking up at me.

  “What did the buffalo say to his son when he went off to play?”

  Pip looks at me blankly, then shrugs.

  “’Bye, son!’”

  He cracks a weak smile.

  “Get it? Like bison? Really big cows?”

  “We get it,” Enoch puts in. “It just isn’t very good.”

  “Let’s see you do better,” I challenge. The competition carries us to the Library, less than an hour away. A warm gl
ow settles in the part of my chest that has felt only cold for days, and I feel an unreasonable satisfaction at having stolen these few minutes for laughter.

  The feeling is short-lived. As our destination comes into view, its soaring marble façade sullied by years of neglect, we slow and the hairs on my neck rise. Creeping silently up to a freestanding wall, we peer out. Immediately I notice a bright spot amongst the squalor.

  Home Guard.

  Enoch exhales a low curse. Turning, we tiptoe soundlessly back the way we came. I’m not surprised to have turned up a guard outside the Library; really it was fairly obvious we would go there. I would have been more nervous if we hadn’t seen anyone, but it still isn’t welcome news.

  A good five minutes away, we hunker down behind a pillar.

  “Well,” I say, “it’s not like we didn’t know they would be here. At least there’s only one.”

  “One more than I want to deal with.” Enoch seems to have abandoned yesterday’s despairing stupor in favor of a constant, low-grade rage.

  “What are we going to do about it?”

  He grits his teeth. “Hold on a sec.”

  I wait, knowing better than to rush him. He checks the small blue screen, nodding as he confirms the guard is alone.

  “Okay,” he says finally. “I’m going to have to go around behind to take her out. It shouldn’t be hard if we have the element of surprise, but I probably can’t fight her hand to hand; she’s too strong.” It clearly pains him to admit this. He’s lightning fast in a fight, but not that fast. “We need some kind of a plan.”

  “A plan?”

  “He means a distraction,” Pip puts in.

  “Yes,” Enoch says, looking a little surprised. We both study the boy, who looks oddly excited by the proceedings, almost … bloodthirsty. My stomach squirms.

  “I can be the – ”

  “No,” I interrupt. “You cannot. I’ll be the distraction. You’ll go with Enoch, okay?”

  Pip looks mutinous. I stare him down, widening my eyes in what I hope is a threatening expression. It seems to work.

  “Fine,” he says grudgingly.

  “You’ll do exactly what he tells you to do, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “‘Yeah’?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you. Now,” I say, turning to Enoch, “how much time should I give you?”

  “No more than ten minutes.”

  “All right, then. Ten minutes. You’ll see me before I see you, I hope.” I grin, trying to be lighthearted, but my pulse quickens. It increases substantially as I watch them walk away and find myself alone for the first time in three days. Carefully drawing my dagger out once more, I set my pack on the ground and rummage through it until I find the spare power pack. It isn’t as sophisticated as Enoch’s, but it has a few of the simpler amenities, including a clock. As the seconds tick by I concentrate on breathing in and out, the way I’ve been taught. Standing still feels like a slow death. Nevertheless I wait the full ten minutes before moving again.

  A short time later the Library’s vast bulk comes into sight once more. Its windows stare blankly, the glass long ago shattered by wind whistling through its corridors before the all-encompassing City rose above it. Some of the books have been destroyed, but most, protected by inner walls and stacks, haven’t. Most are still there, left alone even by Collectors, who usually prefer to ransack bookstores or old schools before contending with the Library’s advanced security system. Of course, they don’t have Enoch. Luckily, I do … if I can get to him.

  Whether from fear or excitement, or both, I start walking faster. With all of the junk piled up around it, the Library looks like it’s sitting in the middle of a war zone – which is exactly what it was, at one point. This provides plenty of cover as I creep nearer, and keeping the guard in my sights, I’m able to stay hidden almost to the foot of the entrance. I allow myself a brief moment to gloat and then, at the last possible moment, stride out into the open.

  “Hi,” I say brightly.

  The guard looks stupefied, an expression I am stunned she’s capable of. It makes her look almost … human.

  “You – ”

  “Yes.” I resist the almost overpowering urge to run. I’m sure this guard is under strict orders to bring me in alive, but that doesn’t mean she won’t do her best to hurt or incapacitate me. “Me.”

  Just as her hand goes to her earpiece, Enoch explodes out of nowhere. He’s at least a hundred feet away, but the distraction is enough to make the guard hesitate for one crucial second. Seeming to realize what’s about to happen, she abandons the attempt to use her communicator and looks at me with a face full of fury. I have a split second to register the sharpening of her fingernails, the blunting of her nose, the reddening of her eyes, and then she launches herself at me.

  I vault out of the way, hitting the ground hard and rolling. The guard hurtles past, raking her claws up my neck and cheek. I pivot on my back and hike myself up onto my elbows, just as she throws herself on me once more. Using the ground as a lever, I plant my feet in her chest and push her away, but this time she barely slows as she turns around. Desperately I try to reach my knife from where it’s fallen on the ground, but to no avail. A vicious, electric fire races through my palms, but is gone before I can register the feeling. Too quickly, she is above me once more. Real fear courses through me as I watch her raise her deadly baton.

  “Enoch!”

  All I see is a blur, and then the guard drops like so many pounds of meat, a bruise already darkening on her lower jaw. For one dazed moment, we simply stare at her.

  “Nice one,” I pant. The long, ragged scratch down the side of my face pulses with heat, but I hardly care.

  Enoch shrugs modestly. “Pressure point. Works every time.”

  I laugh as he pulls me to my feet, feeling more alive than I have in days. “How would you know?”

  “Well, it has so far.” The thrill of the fight seems to have brought a flush to his cheeks as well. “I didn’t say it was more than once.”

  I laugh again.

  “Your neck,” he says, smile fading as he reaches a hand up to touch it lightly. That’s when I notice he’s favoring his bad finger again.

  “It’s fine,” I reassure him. “We can clean it later. Your finger?”

  He shrugs and turns away.

  “Naiya!” Pip runs from what seems like very far away, throwing himself at me. “I did it!” he says. “I stayed hidden. I didn’t come out even though I wanted to!”

  I congratulate him, stepping warily around the fallen guard.

  “Is she dead?” he asks, an odd expression on his face.

  “No,” I say quickly. “Just sleeping. Against her will.”

  Pip smiles at this, and I’m not sure which makes me happier: that, or the fact that we’ve managed to avoid killing anyone. Right now, that’s the last thing he needs to see. Unfortunately, though, it means that at best we’ll only have a few hours to research. If we’re lucky, then the guard should wake up this afternoon, once we’re already gone, with a headache but no memory of seeing us. If we’re unlucky, someone will try to contact her on her earpiece and, failing to get in touch, they’ll send replacements. Probably a lot of them.

  I shudder, following Enoch to the entrance and pulling Pip into the shadows of a soaring marble column. Even through my jitters, I feel the Library’s magnetic pull. Though entering is illegal, I’ve always been so drawn to it that I sometimes wonder how others can stay away. But then I remind myself that most people don’t know anything beyond the deadly dull school textbooks, and that many never even learn to read, not really, just coast until it’s time to take up work in the fields or factories. With the Library both creepy and off-limits, it’s little wonder no one visits it.

  Besides, it is not as though these old buildings are left completely unguarded.

  “Careful,” Enoch murmurs, as he does every time we approach. But I am always careful, always mindful of the sen
sors that hem the periphery and the lasers that will cut a person in half before they know what’s happening. Their grisly history is written on the bodies of other, stupider Collectors – or rather what is left of them – those who were less skilled or less careful than us.

  I wait as Enoch creeps to a corner and flips up a small, hidden white panel. Sticking a fingernail into the side of the power pack, he pries open a flap, revealing a mess of wire and gear beneath. He unravels one of the lengths of plastic-coated wire and pokes it into a socket in the wall, then keys in a command. As far as the eye is concerned, nothing changes, but a barely audible crackle cuts the air.

  “We’re in,” he says.

  It is only a matter of seconds, though, before the lasers come back online.

  “You first,” I motion Pip through hurriedly. He goes, and I follow. Enoch is right behind, ducking into the gloom as the snap and sizzle signals the return of the killing perimeter, sealing the outside world away from us.

  For now.

  TEN

  We move quickly through the Library’s vaulted entryway. On the building’s eastern side, free of the City’s overhanging shadow, sunlight streams through the windows, illuminating dust motes and cobwebs. A massive clock, symbol of age and beauty and power, stands sentinel here as it does at so many other important places in this City.

  In the main room, up a small flight of stairs from the entryway, several parts of the wall have fallen inward, cluttering the edges with dingy marble piles. Large wooden desks are rotting sullenly into the flooring around the edges. They and their brass lamps have been preserved for centuries, a nod to a past that will not return. The newer metal desks are still ancient but untarnished, stainless steel lit to a silvery glow by the sun that shines here at the periphery. I like the wood and brass better.

  “How do you want to do this?”

  Enoch delivers his trademark shrug. He seems to have withdrawn back into himself, leaving levity and partnership behind. I feel another sting of anger. If he wants orders, then he’ll get them.