He looks away and then right back at me. “She always read to me when I was little. Taught me how to read, to write. Made me smart. She’s still taking care of me, even now.”
I’m not sure I understand. I assumed he was an orphan, but maybe I was wrong. “What do you mean?”
Waving a hand, he says, “Oh, not like you think. She’s not around anymore. But the kids around here feed me, cloth me, practically worship me—all because I can read them stories.” He motions to the corner and my eyes drift to the spot. There’s a stack of old books that I hadn’t noticed earlier, with worn covers and broken spines.
It all suddenly makes sense. Mep gives the children in this place a chance to escape from the horrors of the real world, to places where there are happy endings, where heroes really do exist, where parents are alive and take care of their kids. My vision blurs and I blink furiously before I return my gaze to Mep.
I change the subject. “How’d you know I was a moon dweller?” I ask, choosing a safer question.
He laughs. “It was obvious the moment you chased after my gang of misfits,” he says. When I raise an eyebrow, he explains. “The people here are broken, their bodies, their spirits. They don’t even think we’re worth the energy. One of my kids grabs a loaf of bread off a passing cart and they barely react. You, on the other hand, it was like I’d stolen your baby.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. Remembering the items in my pack, I realize I probably did look a little crazy chasing after a bunch of kids for our meager possessions, particularly when the star dweller army evidently has significant resources at their disposal.
Mep’s face is still lit up, as if it makes him happy to have put a smile on my face. “I’ve got to get back,” I remember, letting my thoughts flow freely. “My friend…”
“You haven’t even heard my proposal.”
Oh, yes, this great offer he has for me. “Make it quick.”
“Be my bodyguard,” he says, his eyes twinkling under the candlelight.
I sigh, pretend to consider. “And what’ll I get in return?”
“Food, shelter, information.”
“What kind of information?” The food and the shelter are covered by the army, but information is something I haven’t been getting a lot of lately.
He grins, like he knows he’s got me now. “I know most everything that happens in this town. Anything in particular you’re after?”
“How’s the army getting so many supplies?” I blurt out.
“Nothing’s free,” he says.
“I’m not going to work for you,” I say.
“I didn’t think so, but a couple of Nailins might do the trick.” He’s rubbing his hands together, like he can’t wait to feel the smooth weight of the gold against his skin.
I reach in one of the packs and flip him two Nailins. I see the face of the president flashing in and out of view. Tristan’s father. But not like Tristan, I remind myself.
Mep snaps them out of the air with unexpectedly competent hand/eye coordination. He bites down on the gold coins like he doesn’t believe they’re real. “I haven’t seen one of these in a long time,” he muses, his eyes greedy.
“The information,” I say.
“Right. I’m not sure if this helps, but there’s a supply truck that comes in every week, on Mondays. They back it up right against the loading dock so no one can see what it’s carrying. If you find out where the truck comes from, you might be able to solve your mystery.”
“Thanks,” I say, moving for the door. “And Mep…”
“Yeah.”
“Hang in there. Change might be coming faster than you think.” Before leaving, I grab the bag containing the last of our wafers and toss it to Mep. These kids need it more than I do.
Mep grins as he catches it, like he knew I’d see things his way in the end. “Farewell, my fair maiden,” he calls to me as I exit.
I’m no fair maiden. And this is not one of the hero- and adventure-filled worlds from the pages of the books that Mep reads to the kids. No, it’s nothing like that at all.
As I navigate my way to find the stairs, kids duck into doorways, hide in the shadows, watch me the whole way. My heart is sick. It shouldn’t be this way. Kids running wild, forced into a life of crime. We have to do something for them. And it all starts now.
The only problem: when I exit the crumbling building, Tawni is gone.
Chapter Sixteen
Tristan
Ram finds Roc before we do so I’m glad to see he hasn’t been pulverized. Maybe Ram’s decided to take it easy on us because it’s obvious something really bad has happened.
Or maybe not. “If you get lost again, sun boy, I’ll destroy you,” he says to Roc before handing him over to us.
Roc just stares at him, and I can tell he’s thinking getting destroyed by Ram might be a good thing. It might take his mind off of what he’s just found out.
“What the hell do you think you’re looking at?” Ram says, and I think for a second Roc might lash out at him, but to my relief he breaks the stare, and moves past me with his head down.
As I move to follow him, I hear Ben ask, “Where’d you find him?”
Ram laughs condescendingly. “He was near the edge of the eastern border. If he’d managed to get out into the broader Moon Realm, he’d have been a sitting duck for some star dweller soldier with a chip on his shoulder.”
I’m too far away to hear Ben’s response, as I jog to catch up with Roc. “Roc,” I say, “wait up!”
He ignores me and keeps walking. “Roc!” I try again.
“Leave me alone,” he says, bringing me up short. I watch as he disappears around a bend in the tunnel. I want to chase him, to force him to talk about things—I desperately need to talk to him about all this—but I let him go. He’s never asked me to leave him alone before, and it scares me. But I have to respect his wishes—have to give him time to come to terms with what my father told us.
Ben catches up with me and I’m glad to see Ram’s not with him. “Why’s that guy hate us so much?” I ask.
Ben shrugs. “He doesn’t trust people easily, especially sun dwellers. But believe me, he’s a guy you want on your side.” I believe him. Ram’s the last guy I’d want to face in combat.
Nodding, I say, “Roc won’t talk to me.”
“Give him time.”
“How much time?”
“A few hours.”
“He’s already had a few hours.”
“A few more.”
“Okay.” I don’t want to wait a few hours, but I’m glad he didn’t say a few days. I don’t think I could go that long without talking to my best friend, my half-brother. Especially with all this crap on my mind. “What do we do next?”
“Vice President Morgan has arranged a meeting with the other Vice Presidents who she believes will support us in a motion to join the star dweller rebellion. I need you there to help us convince them.”
“What if I can’t?”
“Then we’re screwed,” Ben says honestly, and I raise my eyebrows.
“Great.”
We both continue in silence, the only sound coming from our boots as they scuff and scrape along the rough tunnel floor, broken up only by the tap of Ben’s walking stick. He says his wounded leg is okay, but he’s limping heavily and seems to be relying on the staff. We come to a crossroads, and where we’d normally veer right past our sleeping quarters or toward the common area, we slip left down a broad corridor.
“Shortcut,” Ben says when I glance at him.
The gray rock walls continue to widen as the pathway heads uphill. Moisture trickles down the walls from the ceiling. As we move further along, the tunnel levels out, and the walls are fully slick from the rivers of water sheeting down them, pooling along the sides. Thirty feet later the puddles cross the breadth of the tunnel floor and meet in the middle. Our boots slap and slosh through them but still we don’t turn back.