Elites of Eden (Children of Eden #2)(43)

“You mean, someone made that stuff? I thought it was natural.”

“It’s almost exactly like real quicksand, except it travels. It searches out signs of life, tracks them, hunts them . . . and eats them.”

“Eats?”

“Bones and everything,” he says. “After a while the nanosand secretes acids to digest whatever organic material it swallows.”

I start frantically brushing the crumbling mud and sand from my limbs. “Easy, easy!” he says, lunging forward to catch my wrist. I freeze, and he seems to suddenly become acutely conscious of his fingers on my skin. I know I am. He lets go, but I feel the lingering warmth where his fingers pressed. “It takes a long time, and it becomes inactive in the presence of air. You’re perfectly safe now.”

And the funny thing is, when I look at him, I feel like I am.

He’s the first stranger I’ve ever met, really. Lark wasn’t a stranger, because I’d heard about her for so many years it was like finally being introduced to my best friend. I had casual contact with a few other people, like the other laser tag players. But this is in a way the first time I’ve sat down and looked for a long time into a complete stranger’s eyes.

My brain tells me not to trust him—not to trust anyone at this point, no matter what the evidence says—but some other part of me, my heart, my skin, my blood, tells me that I can rely on Lachlan. Is it an accident of his face? That broad brow that inspires confidence, the straight strength of his nose, the earnest wide set of his eyes—he simply looks honest. Everything about him screams Trust me. That in itself makes me suspicious.

But I’m so tired, so sore, so sad. It would be easiest to lean on him. To trust him.

“And not only did I save you from nanosand,” he continues, and I think I see a hint of a smirk returning. I start to hope for the rest of the smile. “I also carried you back through the desert and more than a mile through the beanstalks. And you’re no featherweight.” He winks. No one has ever actually winked at me before. “And that’s after I chased you through most of the outermost circle. So I really went to great lengths to save you.”

It’s true. I immediately feel ashamed of my suspicions. He’s Rook’s brother, and Rook saved me twice. Lachlan’s a second child himself. There’s no reason to mistrust him. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be slowly digested in a pit of nanosand right now.

And so, haltingly, I tell him about Mom’s arrangement to send me to a foster family after getting the lens implants. I tell him how just a few hours ago I was shaken awake, taken to find the cybersurgeon who would perform the operation. How we were trapped at the roadbock. How Mom gave her life so I could get away.

I hug my backpack to my chest and start to weep silently, my body shaking.

I feel his arm around me. I stiffen, then relax, then lean into him, wetting his shoulder with my tears.

“I’m so sorry about your mother,” he says.

“And now I’m all alone,” I say miserably. “I can never go back home. My father wouldn’t want me, and even if he did . . . the Greenshirts will find out who my mother is, and find my dad and brother through her. What will happen to them?”

“I don’t know,” he says gently. “Right now, we have to focus on keeping you safe. After that, maybe we can help them.”

I have no idea how that can be possible. The two of us against all the might of the Center? Still, there’s something about him that gives me hope. He sounds too confident, too competent to be wrong.

Or is he just telling me what I need to hear right now, so I can get through the moment?

Either way, I’m grateful.

“Thank you for saving me,” I say shyly from under the crook of his arm. He loosens his comforting hold, and I sit up . . . and scoot a little away. “I’m . . . I’m glad I have you with me. Another second child. Do you think we’re the only ones?”

He’s silent for a long moment, staring at me so intently that I want to look away. But I hold his gaze until at last he whispers, “I have an entire family of second children, Rowan.”





FOR A MOMENT I can’t breathe. More second children? A family of them?

“Are you strong enough to move?”

I nod vigorously. If it means meeting more second children, I’m strong enough to do anything! Sleep has relieved many of my aches, given my cuts time to scab, and even my ankle is a little less swollen. I won’t be winning any races, but I can walk.

“Where are they?” I ask, and my eagerness must be apparent on my face because he laughs and says, “Easy now. You’ve waited sixteen years to meet more second children. You can wait another hour or two.”

“Are they out here in the beanstalks? Are they in the outermost circle?” I’m rewarded with another one of his sly, mysterious smiles.

“Second children are everywhere,” he says. “All over Eden, right under your feet, and you’d never know.” He springs to his own feet and offers me his hand. Even though I feel a lot better than I did twelve hours ago, I’m grateful for his help getting up.

“We have to travel fast, and be inconspicuous,” he says. “What do you have in that pack? Can you leave it behind?”

I scoop it up and sling it onto my shoulders. I haven’t even looked inside it, but it is the only thing I have from home, from Mom, and no force on Earth will make me part with it.