Unremembered (20 page)

Perhaps some things simply
can’t
be erased.

He bends down and whispers softly in my ear, ‘Are you asleep?’

‘No,’ I murmur.

‘I want to try something.’

He gently places two fingertips against my forehead, directly above the bridge of my nose.

Instantly the skin between my eyes flares with a soothing white heat. Exactly like it did when I saw him outside the hospital. And in the parking lot of the supermarket. Except this time
it’s even hotter. It runs deeper. More intense than it’s ever been before.

And then, in a flash, I know why.

A memory comes pouring in.

I open my eyes just long enough to see the tiny silver cube sitting on the table above us. No longer lit up. No longer transmitting a signal.
Off.

Which means this memory isn’t coming from a stolen hard drive. It’s coming from me. From somewhere within. Where it’s been hiding this whole time. Waiting.

The midday sun is bright in the sky. Shining down on us. Illuminating my tiny world.

A world that has gotten infinitely bigger since he entered it.

Zen and I lie together on the small patch of grass that makes up my front lawn. I’m on my back and he’s pressed up against my side, his arm draped over my stomach. The sunlight
warming our faces.

The air is quiet. We’re alone.

It’s my favourite place to be.

Alone. With him.

But I know it won’t last for long. It never does.

‘What if they erase you again?’ I ask. My voice trembles with fear.

I know the truth. About how they’ve been the ones choosing what I remember. And what I forget.

It terrifies me.

And I don’t know what to do next.

Zen shifts beside me and props himself up on his elbow. I can see my own eyes reflected in his. Like two mirrors bouncing light off each other for eternity.

‘They haven’t been able to completely erase me yet.’

‘But they’ve tried,’ I point out. ‘What if they try again? What if the next time they succeed?’

‘We’ll just have to come up with a sign,’ he suggests, flashing me that playful, lopsided grin I’ve come to love so much.

‘What kind of sign?’

‘Something that they can’t take away.’

I feel the tears stinging my eyes. The truth kills me a little more every minute. ‘But they can take anything away,’ I cry. ‘Anything they want. Whenever they
want.’

But Zen simply smiles, shakes his head, and reaches out to touch my cheek with the back of his hand. ‘They can’t take everything.’ One tear manages to break free from my
eye and he catches it on the tip of his finger. ‘They can’t take away a feeling. They can’t take
this
.’

Then he presses two fingers to my forehead. I close my eyes and absorb the heat from his skin, letting it sink in. Deep in. Past my mind. Past my overactive, calculating brain. Past my
subconscious. Into the place where moments like this live.

Forever.

He leans forward and replaces his fingertips with his lips. The switch is so fluid I never feel the break. The heat never cools.

Then his lips move to meet mine. I anticipate them. I crave them. Our mouths meld together. Our two separate breaths become one inhale and one exhale. I lose myself. I lose time.

When he pulls away, he locks on to my eyes again. ‘Now,’ he tells me, gently stroking my hair, ‘whenever I touch your forehead you’ll remember this moment. Or at the
very least, you’ll remember that there once was a moment. And that it was perfect.’

A peaceful aura settles around me. It blocks out every noise. Every sensation. Except the feeling of Zen’s touch. I burrow deeper under the blanket and reach up to clasp his hand in mine.
I pull it down and tuck it between my arms, close to my heart, squeezing it tightly to my chest.

‘Do you remember?’ he asks, leaning in and pressing his lips to my cheek.

‘Yes,’ I whisper. ‘Always
yes.
’

I’m on a beach. I watch three faceless figures play in the
water. Swimming further and further away. They call to me.

‘Sera! Come on!’

But I don’t go to them. Despite the fact that they are my best friends.

I just watch as they get smaller and smaller.

A giant wave crashes down, sucking all three of them into its powerful undertow. One of them manages to surface and scream. But her voice is quickly snubbed out by the sound of water. She
struggles against the current but it’s merciless. Whipping her this way and that. Never letting up. Never surrendering.

She is no match. And I watch her go down again.

I jump to my feet and run towards the water, bracing myself against the cold as another large wave buries my feet. I dive headfirst under the next one, the horizon disappearing in a flash of
blue.

I am submerged now. Paddling hard. Frantically.

I open my eyes.

I can see everything clearly. The seaweed. The coral blowing in an underwater breeze. A small school of sand-coloured fish.

Their perfect harmonious formation breaks and they scatter as I swim through them, searching for my friends.

I can still hear their screams.

Even down here.

My hair swirls around my head, blocking my view. I push it back and search harder. They have to be here somewhere!

But they are nowhere. Vanished. Swallowed by the ocean.

I see light above me. It’s an unusual colour. Not yellow like the sun. But fluorescent white.

I swim towards it, feeling my lungs slowly contracting.

I need to breathe.

My arm reaches up to break the surface. I anticipate the feeling of the warm beach air. But it never comes.

My hand smashes against something hard. A smooth, solid surface. A glass ceiling. Holding me captive under the water.

I flatten my palm and press upward but it doesn’t budge. I feel around for an edge. An opening.

There is none.

I glance up and see my own terrified reflection.

I press harder, banging with my fist but I hear only the hollow echo of my efforts reverberated back through the salty water.

I need to breathe!

Then suddenly through the thick sheet of glass, I see someone. Walking above the surface. I bang again, hoping to capture his attention.

He leans over and peers down at me. I see his eyes. They are cold. Ruthless. They send an explosion of tingles down my already tingling body.

‘Alixter, I think that’s enough,’ I hear a vaguely familiar, muffled voice call from somewhere behind him.

He stands up. His movement sharp. Chilling. ‘No,’ he responds callously. ‘She’s not ready.’

I make one last vain attempt to break through the glass but it’s too thick.

I open my mouth to scream and water floods my lungs.

I wake up gasping for breath. Choking.

The familiar surroundings of room 302 blur in and out of focus as sweat drips into my eyes.

This is my second dream.

The sun is bright in the sky when I awake. It filters through
the blinds on the windows, lighting up the entire room. It’s probably midmorning by now. I
wonder how long I’ve been sleeping.

I stretch and glance around me. As I take in the small tables and chairs, the colourful walls and my makeshift bed on the floor, the events of last night come racing back to me.

The small silver hard drive.

The memories.

The truth.

That’s when I realize that Zen is gone. And so is the gun.

‘Don’t move!’ I hear someone yell. I immediately recognize the voice as Zen’s. It’s coming from just outside the door. ‘Who are you!?’

I leap to my feet and run, kicking the door out. It flies off the hinges and clatters to the ground on the other side.

Zen jumps slightly at the noise but then regains focus. He’s holding the gun at arm’s length. Pointing it at someone down the hallway.

I follow the direction of his aim and gasp when my eyes land on Cody, cowering against the wall. His eyes are shut tight. His body is shaking.

‘Zen!’ I scream, running to Cody. ‘What are you doing? Put the gun down!’

‘Sera,’ Zen starts to argue.

But I don’t let him finish. I flash him the most menacing look I can muster. ‘Put. It. Down. Now.’

Reluctantly Zen lowers his arms. The gun comes to rest against his thigh. ‘Sera,’ he tries again. ‘You can’t trust
anyone
.’

I sigh. ‘And you can’t distrust
everyone
. This is Cody. He’s my thirteen-year-old foster-brother. I assure you, he’s harmless.’

I reach out and touch Cody lightly on the back. He jumps. ‘It’s OK,’ I tell him.

But that doesn’t seem to reassure him at all. Instead I watch his eyes grow very wide.

‘Who the hell
are
you?’ he demands. ‘Why are you kicking down doors and hanging out with people who carry guns and . . .’ His breathing quickens to the point
where he can no longer speak.

I try to touch him again but he jerks away. ‘Cody, relax.’

‘Ask him how he found you,’ Zen yells from down the hall. He’s started to pace.

Cody looks uneasily from me to Zen, then back at me. ‘I went through your search history. On my laptop. I saw that you Googled this address.’

‘You left it on the computer?’ Zen screams.
‘For anyone to find?’

The stress of having to pacify both of these boys is fraying my nerves. I hold up my hand to attempt to quiet Zen. ‘Please.’ Then I turn back to Cody.

‘My parents totally freaked out when they woke up and you were gone,’ Cody explains. ‘They had to call Social Services and tell them you were missing. My parents blamed me.
They assumed I had helped you run away again. Even though I swore I knew nothing. But of course they didn’t believe me. I guess I have a track record now.’

I lower my head. ‘I’m sorry about that, Cody. I really am.’

He shrugs. ‘Whatever. I went through your room looking for clues, thinking that if I could find out where you were and bring you back, I could clear my name.’

‘She’s not going back there.’ Zen’s voice is firm and protective.

I shoot him another pleading glance and he bows his head and falls quiet again.

Cody eyes the gun, still grasped firmly in Zen’s hand. Then he looks back to me. ‘What is going on here? Who is
that
?’

‘That’s Zen,’ I explain. ‘He’s . . . a friend. From my past.’

Cody snorts. ‘Some friend. What is he doing with a semiautomatic weapon?’

I bite my lip as I struggle to find an answer. An answer that will make sense but that won’t put Cody in any danger. I finally decide on, ‘It’s complicated. Zen is just being
extra-careful.’

Cody’s eyebrows rise. ‘Does this have anything to do with the people who came to the house looking for you this morning?’

In an instant, Zen is by my side, glaring down at poor Cody. ‘What people?’ he demands.

I push against Zen’s chest, urging him to take a step back and give Cody some room to breathe. He obliges. But his ominous glower never falters. ‘What people?’ he asks
again.

I step between them and try again to put my hand on Cody’s shoulder. This time, thankfully, he doesn’t flinch. ‘Who was looking for me?’ I ask, careful to keep my voice
much calmer and gentler than Zen’s.

‘I don’t know,’ Cody admits. ‘I was already heading out the door when they arrived. I just heard them say they were scientists and that they wanted to talk to
you.’

Zen and I exchange a look. We both know what this means.

He’s right. I can’t go back there.

‘Did they follow you?’ Zen asks.

Cody shakes his head. ‘I don’t think so.’ He looks at me again, pleading with his eyes. ‘Violet, what’s going on? Are you in trouble? Did you do something
illegal?’

I sigh. ‘I can’t explain. I’m sorry. I don’t even have the entire story myself. I just know that I’m in danger and I can’t stay here. I have to leave town. If
I tell you anything more than that, it will only put you in danger as well. And I can’t do that. I’ve already caused you and your family enough trouble. Please tell your parents that
I’m sorry.’ I can feel tears spring to my eyes. I blink them away. ‘And thank you.’

I face Zen, taking control of the situation for once. ‘Come on. Let’s go.’

‘Wait!’ Cody calls. ‘Maybe I can help you somehow.’

I turn back and smile. He looks so scared. Yet so eager. ‘Thank you, Cody. But you can’t help. The best thing you can do for us is go home and tell your parents and whoever else
comes to the house that you don’t know where I am and that you haven’t seen me.’

‘But—’ Cody tries to argue.

‘Please,’ I stop him. ‘Please just go home.’

‘If you’re in trouble I want to help.’

I shake my head sadly. ‘Cody, there’s nothing you can—’

‘Actually –’ Zen steps up beside me – ‘there might be something he can help us with.’

Cody’s eyes light up. I think it’s partly out of fear of Zen and partly out of anticipation of what he might say.

I shoot Zen a disapproving stare. ‘What?’

Zen looks hopefully from me to Cody. ‘We could really use a car.’

I watch as Cody carefully steps over several unconscious
bodies lying on the floor, bending down to examine each of their faces. The scene in front of me is a
frightful one. The family room of this unfamiliar house that Cody has brought us to is covered in plastic bags, food crumbs, aluminum cans, various items of clothing, and, most unnerving of all . .
. people.

They look dead.

And I’m instantly reminded of the water.

Waking up in a salty wasteland. Surrounded by an ocean full of dead airline passengers.