The Epidemic

  “What happened after that?” I ask. “How did you . . . make it work? It’s a pretty bizarre set of circumstances.”

  “The way all terrible ideas work,” Reed says. “We snuck around. At first we tried to be friends. But a few nights in the backseat of my car . . .”

  “Ew,” I say, making him laugh. “I sat back there.”

  “I’ve had it detailed since,” he jokes. “But for real, we had a good thing. Katy wasn’t a closer, but it was like she understood. It’s strange, but . . . I’ve been noticing that. Lately I meet people who are good at disguising themselves—regular people. Although some seem to be getting weaker, a few others are getting stronger. Guess it all depends on how a person reacts to tragedy.”

  “I’ve seen the same,” Aaron says. “It’s like there’s a divide between those who can hack it and those who can’t.” He looks over at me. “It’s like closers are predisposed to handle the disappointments of life. They’re trying to be like us.”

  “This isn’t life,” I tell him, nodding toward the window. “What’s happening out there is a mass hysteria being fed by a delusional doctor.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Aaron says. “Or maybe our way of life is how they can avoid it. Never get attached—right, Quinn?” He says it like a mantra, one that we sucked at following. It’s our biggest failing and, at the same time, our greatest quality.

  I turn back to Reed. “What happened to her?” I ask.

  “Katy?” he says, seeming lost in his thoughts. “Oh, well . . . she died. She, uh . . . yeah. She died in a boating accident a few months later. Of course . . . she was on the boat alone. She . . .” He swallows hard and lowers his eyes. “She killed herself.”

  My lips part in surprise, and I think about her poor family. They lost two children—how does one recover from that? Is that what will happen if the epidemic gets worse?

  “I couldn’t go to the funeral for fear her parents would see me,” Reed says. “It would have compromised their healing, and I couldn’t make it worse for them.” His cheeks pale, and tears dull his blue eyes. “I loved her, you know,” he says quietly. “God, I still love her. We were going to leave town when I finished my contract, use the money to go to college. She was going to be a teacher. The money was always for her.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, although I know it’s not enough, and I know it doesn’t matter if I say it. It doesn’t change a damn thing.

  “I think the worst part was keeping her a secret,” he adds. “Even more so after she was dead. I was pulled from my next assignment, stuck in therapy by Marie for three weeks because they said I was acting erratically. Do you have any idea how hard it is to lie to them? To find a way to evade the chemicals in their truth tea? I did it, though,” he says. “Not because I had to—Katy was already dead. I lied because she was mine, and I didn’t want them to have her. She was my secret.”

  The air in the room has grown heavy, and Reed drops his feet to the floor and leans forward, his elbows on his knees as he rests his head in his hands, his fingers shielding his tears. I realize then that he’s never told that story before; he had no idea how much it would hurt.

  I get up and go over to where Reed is sitting and bend down to wrap my arms around his shoulders. He doesn’t hug me back, but he does turn his face against my side. We stay like that a moment; when he pulls back, his eyes are red and watery.

  “We should have been friends sooner, McKee,” he says, looking up at me.

  “We are now,” I say. “And at least now is real.”

  Reed smiles sadly. “Sometimes.”

  And the three of us fall quiet after that, alone in this little motel room. Lonely in the life that we’ve made for ourselves.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  REED GOES INTO THE BATHROOM and splashes water on his face while Aaron and I sit quietly in the room. I’m worried that Deacon hasn’t texted yet. I told Aaron about Deacon’s plan when he first arrived and it caused a permanent crease between his brows. But when I look over now, Aaron seems to read my thoughts and tells me to wait a little while longer before getting really worried. Luckily, I have my own plan on how to get information.

  When the water turns off, I look over at Aaron and find him watching me. He waits a beat and then laughs to himself.

  “You’re thinking,” he says.

  “You’re right,” I tell him. Reed walks out of the bathroom, wiping a towel over his face, and notices our demeanor.

  He stops abruptly and groans. “What are you about to make me do?” he asks, and tosses the white towel back over his shoulder onto the bathroom floor.

  * * *

  There’s a car parked in Arthur Pritchard’s driveway, one none of us recognize, but a check in the garage window proves that Arthur’s car is gone. He’s probably at his office, but it’s nearly five o’clock, so I worry he’ll be home soon.

  “Try her again,” Aaron whispers.

  I dial Virginia’s number, but it goes immediately to an automated voice mail. Reed is standing off to the side, staring up at the house, his brow furrowed. When I told him we were going to find Virginia and rescue her, he wasn’t exactly keen on the idea. Especially since Marie told us not to come here. Reed eventually relented, because, honestly, none of us are great at following rules. But also because we want what’s best. And we know that keeping a girl locked away in her house is cruel and unusual, and we want to find out why. Why is Virginia being punished? What does she remember?

  “Do you know which room is hers?” Reed asks. I think back to when Deacon and I broke in, but I didn’t get a chance to fully explore the house. I remember the layout, though, so I guide us around the side of the house and point to the gate.

  Reed jumps and catches his hand on the top, pulling himself over, the huge muscles on his biceps flexed. I turn to look back at Aaron, and he rolls his eyes.

  I chuckle and walk up to the fence. Aaron bends his knee next to me, and I step on it for a boost. I find Reed on the other side, a hand stretched out to help me over. Once we’re all in the backyard, we cling to the wall and slowly make our way around the house.

  There are several windows, but they’re high up from where we stand in the sloped yard. Based on the layout of the home we saw, I use process of elimination to guess which one is Virginia’s.

  We pause under the window, debating the best way to get the attention of the person inside. We want to be able to hide if it’s not her.

  “This is going to sound completely implausible,” Reed says, crouching down to pick up a handful of small pebbles from a garden pathway. Aaron looks at him like he’s crazy, but I’m not sure we have a better option. The three of us go to hide behind a small shed near the corner of the house.

  “How’s your aim?” I ask Reed. He laughs and looks sideways at me.

  “Perfect, obviously.” He pokes out his head from behind the shed and tosses a pebble at the window, making a hollow click. We wait, hidden enough that we can slide out of sight if someone we don’t know appears. A minute passes, and Reed gets ready to throw another, when the curtains slip open. I hold my breath.

  “It’s her,” I say, pushing Reed’s shoulder. Virginia opens her window, looking confused as she darts her gaze around the yard. I step out from behind the shed, and she gasps like I startled her.

  “Hey,” I say awkwardly . . . since I’m hiding in her backyard. “Can, uh . . . can you talk for a minute?”

  Virginia looks behind her and then turns back to me. “Who are you?” she asks.

  My heart sinks to the ground. She’s been erased again—we’re too late. “My name’s Quinn,” I say, no longer bothering with my other identity. “I’m your friend.”

  Virginia’s hands slide over the windowsill, gripping it like she’s steadying herself. Does it shock her? Or has she come to expect the fault in her memory at this point? After a moment she holds up her index finger.

  “I’ll meet you out front,” she says. “Do you have a car?”

  I tell her that
we do, and without a word she lowers the window before turning away and disappearing inside. I look at Aaron and Reed, and both seem concerned.

  “She really doesn’t remember,” Reed says, sounding horrified. “She had no idea who you were.”

  “Just like last time,” I tell them. “They did it again.” I curse and run my fingers through my hair, frustrated. Scared. “We shouldn’t have let them take her,” I say, struggling with my own guilt.

  But beyond the horror of Virginia’s memories being wiped out, I’m also disappointed. I’d hoped she would help me recover my own. Arthur didn’t just steal her memories; he stole the possibility of me getting mine.

  We need to trigger her memory again.

  “There’s a place,” I tell Aaron and Reed. “A lighthouse on the coast. We have to get her there.”

  “Uh . . .” Aaron looks alarmed. “And why would we do that?”

  “Because her memories are there.”

  * * *

  Aaron, Reed, and I all get to the front and wait near the car, just down the road from the house. As the minutes tick by, we start to fidget, worried that Virginia couldn’t get out or that her father’s been alerted. But then, suddenly, she appears in the bushes on the side of the house and picks her way through until she stumbles onto the sidewalk. She has a backpack, like she’s set to run away.

  “Shit,” Reed murmurs under his breath. “I thought we were just going to talk to her.”

  “Looks like it’s going to be a little more involved than that,” I say to him, and hold up my hand in a wave for Virginia. She smiles, and I realize that I may have given her the wrong idea when I said “friend”—she won’t like it when she finds out we’re all closers.

  “Hey,” she says, blushing when she notices Reed and his alarmingly good looks. “We’d better get out of here,” she adds. “My father will be on his way home.”

  We rush to the car, and Virginia and I hop in the backseat while Reed starts the engine. Virginia stashes her backpack behind Reed’s seat, hope shining in her eyes as we pull away from her house. When we get around the corner, she turns to me without even a flicker of recognition.

  “Who are you people?” she asks, perhaps not as naïve as I’d thought. Reed glances at her in the rearview mirror, and Aaron doesn’t react at all.

  “We’re closers,” I say.

  Virginia’s jaw tightens. “So my father sent you,” she accuses. “Why bother? He’s already—”

  “We don’t work for your father anymore,” I tell her. “I swear it. We’re here to help you. I . . . I was there the other day at the game. You were upset, enraged. You said you remembered everything.”

  She tilts her head, trying to figure me out. “What game?”

  In the passenger seat Aaron turns to look out the window.

  “You were at a volleyball game,” I say, hating that I have to fill in the blanks of her life. “You told your coach that you remembered everything. She called your father.” Virginia tenses at the mention, but I press on. “You begged them not to erase you again,” I say. “But they dragged you away.”

  Virginia bites the inside of her lip and lowers her eyes to the floor. I can tell that she’s searching for the memory, but after a moment she takes in a shaky breath like she might cry, and I know that she can’t find it. I put my hand on her shoulder to comfort her.

  “This has happened before,” I tell her. “And last time you took me to the lighthouse. Maybe if we go there—”

  “Lighthouse?” she repeats.

  “The lighthouse you said you and your friends called the End of the World.”

  She stares back at me as if she’s never heard of it, and I have a new spike of worry. She’s forgotten it. And if that’s true, than this erasure goes deeper than the others. I swallow past the dryness in my throat. Maybe she can’t be fixed this time. But then again, maybe this is how they meant to fix her.

  “I know where the lighthouse is,” I say calmly, even though my insides are in knots. I lean forward and give Reed the directions, the mood in the car shifting to melancholy. Reed nods, taking the turns as directed. Aaron checks his phone.

  “Anything?” I ask him.

  He shakes his head. “Not yet,” he says. Aaron looks back and tries to smile encouragingly, but I know he’s starting to worry now too. “I’m sure he’s fine,” he adds. “Deacon’s always fine.”

  * * *

  Although it should have taken us nearly an hour, Reed gets us to the lighthouse in about forty minutes. His race-car driving skills seemed to impress Virginia, who gazed at him in the rearview the entire time while Reed tried to dodge her attention.

  Reed pulls up to the walkway in front of the lighthouse. I’ve tried Deacon’s phone a dozen times, but he’s not answering. I bury my panic as best I can because there’s nothing I can do to help him right now.

  The scenery of the lighthouse is just like it was the last time I was here: peaceful, beautiful, and lonely. I look sideways at Virginia and wait for some sign of recognition, but when she turns to me, she just smiles.

  “It’s pretty,” she says.

  “We should go inside,” I say, turning back to the lighthouse.

  We all climb out of the car and come to a pause at the walkway. Aaron sighs heavily, reluctant to walk into an abandoned building. The wind is strong here, and his jacket billows in the breeze as he hangs back a step. I start forward with Virginia, strands of her windblown hair sticking to her lip gloss.

  I’m about to ask for her key when the door comes into to view. My heart stops. The padlock is gone, a dead bolt now in its place. I shoot an alarmed look back at Aaron, who comes over and tries the handle. It doesn’t open.

  “That wasn’t here last time,” I tell him. “Someone’s been inside.”

  Aaron takes a step back and then rams his shoulder into the door. There’s a crack of wood, but it doesn’t open. Reed sniffs and comes to stand next to Aaron, looking more than ready to show off.

  “On three?” Reed asks.

  “Yeah,” Aaron says, rubbing his shoulder. I assume that hurt him more than it hurt the door.

  They count down, and on three Reed bursts forward, slamming his shoulder into the door and popping the lock open. The wooden door cracks at the frame and slams into the wall behind it. Reed pulls his face into an exaggerated expression.

  “Ow!” he says, and looks at Aaron, who is still standing at the starting point.

  “Sorry,” Aaron says. “I figured you were strong enough to get it on your own.”

  “Asshole,” Reed mumbles, rubbing his shoulder. Virginia watches him, taken by Reed’s baited heroics. Despite his disinterest, Reed is a good closer: He turns and flashes Virginia a winning smile.

  “After you,” he tells her, holding out his arm like a gentleman.

  Virginia walks inside, fading into the shadows before Reed, looking uneasy, heads in behind her.

  Aaron pauses next to me and murmurs, “Here we go.” We both walk in and are immediately struck by the toxic smell of fresh paint. Standing in the center of the circular room, Virginia puts her hand over her nose to block the scent.

  But my breath is caught in my chest as I spin to look around the room. The walls have been completely painted over with sterile white paint. I run to the stairs and start up them, shoes echoing on the metal and all around the cylinder. I search for Catalina’s note. But it’s gone—every single word covered up.

  “No,” I say, finding the spot where I think it used to be. I begin to scratch at the paint, but a chip lodges painfully under my nail. I cry out and tear my hand away. I feel desperate to find the words, to find Catalina. I start to cry.

  Aaron appears next to me and pulls me away from the wall. “Calm down,” he whispers, putting his arms around me. “You’re okay.”

  “It was all here,” I tell him. “All of Virginia’s memories. Catalina had been here. Other people. But they’re all dead now, and this was what was left of them.”

  “I beli
eve you,” Aaron says. “But obviously someone else got here first. Which means we have to leave. Now.”

  I look down the stairs at Virginia. “Do you remember any of this?” I ask her. “Does it look familiar?”

  I see that she wants to tell me it does, but I read the lie before she speaks it. I cover my face, trying to regain my composure but failing. I thought this could work. Those memories were here, triggers for her. But someone found out, and they didn’t want her to remember.

  It can’t end like this. I go downstairs and stop in front of Virginia, an irrational wave of betrayal in my chest, even though it was her life on these walls. “Who else did you tell?” I ask. “Who else knows about this place?”

  “I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t even remember it myself. I have no idea why we’re here, Quinn. What does any of this mean?”

  I stare up sadly to the top of the tower, the place that was supposed to be filled with hope. But now it’s just another dead end. There’s no point in telling her about the notes, even if I could remember them all. There will just be another roadblock, and another. And I wonder how many I’ll need to hit before I give up entirely.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THAT LIGHTHOUSE WAS THE ONLY safety net Virginia had. I’m devastated for her, and as she stares out the window of the car, she doesn’t even know what she’s lost. I do, though. And it feels like I’ve lost too.

  Aaron wanted us to bring Virginia back to our motel until we heard from Deacon. He didn’t think her house was safe. I told him our motel probably wasn’t safe either, but he reminded me that our options were limited. Fact remained, someone had learned of Virginia’s lifeline and decided to erase it. The leading suspect is her father.

  We still haven’t heard from Deacon, and I can only hope he’s okay. And curse myself for letting him go in the first place.

  When we get to the motel, Virginia looks around the meager complex. Aaron leads the way up the stairs, but before I get to the landing, Reed reaches out to take my hand.