‘I don’t know,’ I reply, flustered. ‘There’s a giant wall. It circles the whole house. I can’t see anything over it.’
‘It’s all right,’ Zen assures me, resting his hand atop mine.
‘What is the wall for?’ I ask.
But to my surprise, it’s me who responds. Or some variation of me. Once again, I hear my voice drop into an unnerving, inflectionless drone as I callously repeat something I don’t recall learning. ‘It’s for my own protection.’
A debilitating chill runs up my arm. Zen strokes my fingers. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he says. ‘Focus on what happened next.’
I nod, forcing myself back into the scene.
My eyes scan the length of the wall, searching for the source of the strange noise I heard from inside the house. I notice something move off to the side.
‘I saw something,’ I tell Zen.
‘What did you see?’
My gaze whips to the right and lands on a pair of hands that are gripping the top of the wall. I hear a grunt as someone struggles to pull himself up. A head appears a moment later. I can’t make out the features of his face but I can see that he’s young. My age. Maybe slightly older.
‘A boy,’ I reply, my excitement growing. ‘He was climbing the wall.’
He swings one leg carefully over the top, followed by the other. Then he sits perched on the ledge, staring down. Gauging the distance to the ground. After a moment, he pushes himself off, free-falling for a second, before landing in a crouched position on the other side.
My side.
He stands and dusts himself off. I can see his face now. He has thick, dark eyebrows that are pinched together to form a crease above the bridge of his nose. His eyes are a rich brown. His hair is almost black. It sweeps across his forehead, a few strands tickling the tips of his eyelashes. He shakes his head to brush them away as a single drop of sweat falls from his forehead.
‘It was you,’ I say quietly, opening my eyes and gazing into the same oval-shaped face.
Zen grins. ‘It was me.’
‘You climbed the wall?’
He shrugs. ‘What can I say? I was curious. You put a giant concrete wall in front of a guy, he’s gonna try to find out what’s on the other side.’
‘I guess I wasn’t the only one who was bad at following rules,’ I point out playfully before shutting my eyes again.
The sight of the trespassing stranger brings about an ambush of emotions. Terror. Exhilaration. The unyielding urge to run.
I pivot back towards the house, my gaze immediately landing on a flashing red button that is secured to the wall just inside the front door.
‘What is that?’ I ask Zen.
‘What is what?’
‘The red button on the wall. What’s it for?’
But before I even finish asking the question, the answer has already been triggered in my mind.
It’s in case of emergency.
A shudder overtakes me and I mutter, ‘Never mind,’ before Zen has a chance to respond.
But evidently I didn’t consider the appearance of this boy an emergency because as I fall back into the scene, I find that:
I’m still on the porch. I didn’t run back inside. I didn’t hit the flashing red button. I’m still hiding behind the same pillar. Watching him. Trying to figure out where he came from. Who he is. How old he is.
I open my eyes and look at Zen. ‘How old are you, by the way?’
‘I was seventeen when this took place. I’m eighteen now.’
Content to have something concrete to add to my meagre list of facts, I close my eyes again.
From my hiding spot, I watch the boy as he stares at the house in wonderment. He gazes up and down the facade, his face revealing a dazed, almost endearing curiosity. His presence both fascinates and frightens me at the same time.
‘What do you see?’ I hear Zen ask from beside me. I think he’s moved closer.
‘You,’ I say, allowing myself just the hint of a smile.
‘What am I doing?’
The boy takes a few steps forward but then stops. Very abruptly. He clearly sees something. And it only takes a moment for me to realize what it is.
Me.
I tentatively peer around the pillar and our eyes meet.
‘You’re looking at me,’ I reply.
He laughs softly. ‘It’s hard not to.’
He’s definitely closer now. I can feel his gaze on me. His breath. It’s warm and sweet.
My heart starts to pound.
And at this exact moment, I honestly don’t know if it’s because of the girl in my memory, standing on her front porch, frozen in fear of the stranger who has just unexpectedly infiltrated her life. Or if it’s because of me now. Sitting next to that very same stranger. Paralysed by feelings I don’t understand.
All at once, everything is tangled.
I can’t tell the memory from the reality. I can’t separate the emotions.
I can see through her eyes. Hear her thoughts. Feel her fear. Because it was once my own. Because it still is. And because, not so long ago, I felt the same hesitation. I had the same doubts.
Doubts that suddenly seem absurd.
That suddenly seem . . .
Gone.
I open my eyes and he is there. Right there. Closer than he’s ever been before.
I feel my lips start to tingle and twitch. I press them together but it does no good. They want to move. They want to go somewhere. They pull me forward. Towards him. Towards his.
Like there’s a path that was carved out years ago. A direct route. The only route.
I don’t understand what’s happening. Or why every part of my body seems to be acting without my direction. Without my permission. But my instinct is telling me this is something I don’t have to understand. I don’t even have to try. Because I will probably never succeed.
I’m pulled in even more. Our mouths are almost touching. His hand finds its way to my cheek. And then . . .
‘I think we should finish,’ he whispers.
Cool air rushes over my skin as his fingers slide from my face and he’s suddenly far away again.
I have to blink to bring my surroundings back into focus. Sensation slowly returns to the parts of my body that were momentarily lacking it.
I nod my agreement but don’t say anything out of fear that my voice will fail me. Miserably.
I sit up straighter in my chair as I try to tune my thoughts back into the events of that day. To pick up where I left off. But there’s not much more to remember.
I watch the boy slowly approach the porch, my uncertainty growing with every step he takes. I eye the alarm a second time. Once again, debating between following the rules and giving in to my curiosity.
The curiosity wins.
‘Who are you?’ he asks.
I swallow a lump in my throat and slowly part my lips. ‘My name is Seraphina.’
Then there is nothing.
The memory is over.
27
ISOLATED
My body and mind are exhausted and craving sleep but I don’t want to stop. I’m addicted to the taste of my own memories. The flavour is intoxicating. The thought of finally having answers to my questions exhilarates me. It’s enough to keep me wide awake.
‘I thought you said that when you first met me I was living in a lab,’ I point out.
‘You were,’ he replies. ‘Your house was part of an enormous research compound. Away from civilization. Away from everything. I originally thought the reason Diotech chose to build it so far away was because that was the only place they could find enough space to house all their buildings and staff. But I later discovered it was because they just didn’t want anyone to know what they were really doing.’
He makes a vague gesture in my direction that I can’t quite interpret.
But he must notice my puzzled expression because he quickly adds, ‘Sorry. As you can probably tell I have sort of a love–hate relationsh
ip with Diotech.’
‘What does that mean?’
He heaves a heavy sigh. ‘I hate them for what they did to you. But at the same time, if it wasn’t for them there would be no . . . well . . . you. And for that –’ he flashes me that beloved lopsided smile again – ‘I guess I have to thank them.’
I can feel my cheeks flush with heat. Is this what happens when Cody’s face turns red? I quickly avert my gaze.
Zen rubs mercilessly at his eyebrow. ‘It’s just all so twisted and complicated. You see, I practically grew up on the Diotech compound. It was my home too. My mother was one of the head scientists. We moved there when I was only eight.
‘They keep everything on that compound,’ he continues. ‘All of their research, projects, administration, employees, employees’ families. The whole company is there. That way they can keep tabs on everything – and everyone – at all times.’
The resentment in his voice is thick and icy. It turns him into someone else. Not the innocent, carefree boy who climbed the wall that day. I have a feeling that boy has been missing for a long time.
‘People rarely leave,’ he explains. ‘Why would you, when everything you need is right there? Schools, stores, restaurants, entertainment.’ A bitter smile contorts his lips. ‘I suppose it’s not much different from a cult.’
‘A cult?’
‘Yeah. You know, everyone is brainwashed so they’ll believe something that’s not true. They’re lied to. To keep them from fleeing.’ He lets out an acidic chuckle. ‘But I guess they didn’t hide the truth well enough. Because we discovered it. And we did flee.’ He lowers his head and drops his voice. ‘At least, we tried.’
‘And that’s why they sent people after me,’ I state, struggling to make this new information fit with the few things I already know. ‘Those men in the barn. Because we ran away?’
He nods solemnly. ‘They work for Diotech. Part of Alixter’s elite security force.’
‘Alixter?’ I repeat the name. The sound of it is hauntingly familiar. It sends a tremor of fear through me.
Zen watches my reaction carefully. ‘Yes. Jans Alixter. The president of Diotech and the most abominable man in existence. He created the company. Along with Rio. They were the founding partners. Alixter was the business brains of the operation, while Dr Rio handled all the science.’
Rio.
The redheaded man.
The mention of him sparks something in my subconscious.
I sneak a glimpse at the silver cube on the table. It’s still on. I’m still connected to it. I wonder if there’s anything stored in there that can tell me more about him. About the man who paid for my meal at the diner. Who released me from the chains in the barn. Who Zen tried to kill only a few hours ago.
But nothing comes.
‘Are you all right?’ Zen asks, studying my face. ‘Maybe we should take a break.’
‘No,’ I reply in haste. ‘There’s still so much I want to know.’
Zen grins. ‘OK. Like what?’
‘Like . . .’ I pause, scrambling to arrange the multitude of questions swimming around in my head into some kind of prioritized list. ‘What happened that day we met? After you saw me behind the pillar. Did I sound the alarm on you?’
‘No. Thankfully.’ His smile grows. ‘We sat on the lawn and talked. For a while actually. You were very wary of me at first. You sat like ten feet away.’ He chuckles heartily at the memory. ‘It was obvious you didn’t trust me. But slowly, little by little, you started to open up. You inched closer. It was adorable.’
‘What did we talk about?’
He shrugs. ‘Lots of things. Although truthfully, I did the majority of the talking. I was nervous. I just couldn’t get over how beautiful you were. And you were talking to me. That was the most unbelievable part of it.’
I think about what Cody said on the bus. About girls refusing to talk to him.
‘Are you bitter at pretty girls?’ I ask.
He breaks into laughter. ‘What? No. I . . . Well, I’d never met someone as pretty as you, let’s just say that. You were so –’ his voice suddenly gets very quiet – ‘different.’
I watch his expression shift. The change is perceptible. And I know right away that the darkness has returned.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.
He shakes his head, as though he’s trying to loosen a thought that’s gripping his brain. ‘There was just something so unusual about you. I saw it right away.’
‘Unusual how?’
‘Mostly it was your speech. It was kind of stilted. As though no one had ever taught you to use inflections when you spoke. It was evident you were tremendously intelligent but there was so much you didn’t know. Everyday words and phrases and pop-culture references.’
So I’ve always been like that.
The thought comforts and unsettles me at the same time.
‘Then there was that weird mark on your wrist. You told me it was a scar from when you were a baby. But I knew that couldn’t be true. No scar looks like that. But I didn’t press it. I assumed you just didn’t want to tell me. It wasn’t until later that I realized you were regurgitating what they had told you. You didn’t know what it was either.’
I touch the thin black line on my wrist, shuddering as I remember what it felt like when it vibrated and gave away my location.
‘But the biggest reason I knew there was something unusual about you,’ Zen continues, ‘was the fact that I’d never seen you before. You see, all the kids who live on the compound go to the same school. There are only about a hundred of us. You come to know people really well. Like in a small town. So seeing you hiding way back there in that restricted section and knowing that you didn’t hang out with the rest of us was pretty strange.’
‘Restricted section?’ I repeat.
He nods. ‘It’s in the far back corner of the property. No one is allowed in without proper clearance.’
‘So how did you get in?’ There’s more than a little teasing in my tone.
He chuckles, letting a little bit of the lightness back in, and waves away my question as though the answer was trivial. ‘Oh, I made a duplicate of my father’s fingerprint years ago. Growing up on a technological research compound gives you access to a lot of really cool gadgets. Life is pretty boring there. You find ways to entertain yourself.’
‘Like climbing concrete walls?’ I ask with a smirk.
‘Exactly.’
I eye the small silver box that strangely houses the contents of my life. Or at least some of them. I find myself hoping that something in that little device will reveal why I feel so peculiar around Zen. Why my lips felt drawn to his like a magnet. What a soulmate really is. ‘So what happened after that?’ I ask. ‘After we talked.’
Once again, I watch his demeanour shift. The light in his eyes dims. ‘You asked if I would come back to see you and I said yes.’ He averts his gaze and picks up the hard drive again, cradling it in his hands. ‘Then I left and you forgot all about me.’
I blink in surprise. ‘That’s impossible. I would never—’
But before I can finish the sentence, I’m blasted by a barrage of images. A thousand pictures spinning chaotically, mixed with flashes of milky white.
I know it can only be one thing: the pieces of another memory.
I allow my eyes to close as I watch the scene unfold before me. As I witness it first-hand.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Panic tightens my chest. My blood runs cold.
No one ever knocks on the door. My father always uses his fingerprint to enter.
Another knock. Then . . .
A voice. ‘Sera?’
A voice I don’t recognize.
But somehow it knows my name.
How does it know my name?
With shaking hands and uneven breath, I press my finger against the reader. When it beeps, I open the door a crack and peer through it. There’s a boy standing on my front porch.
A boy I’ve n
ever seen before.
I muster my strength, puff up my chest, and demand of him, ‘Who are you?’
‘Seraphina.’ He says my name with such intimacy it makes me tremble slightly. ‘It’s me. Lyzender. I was here yesterday.’
I open the door a little wider and poke my head out, looking him up and down, trying to jog my memory. But it doesn’t work. I don’t recognize him.
‘No, you weren’t.’ I retreat back inside and slam the door shut. My breathing still has not stabilized.
Go away, I think to myself. Please just go away.
But he doesn’t.
He knocks again. ‘Sera, please.’
His plea immediately pulls me out. Back to the present moment. Back to now.
I recognize those words. I recognize that desperation. I heard it in the parking lot of the supermarket.
‘Please, Sera. Try.’
How many times have I forgotten this boy?
How many times has he begged me to remember?
‘I don’t understand,’ I say slowly, forcing myself to stay calm. ‘Why didn’t I recognize you? Why was I behaving like we’d never met?’
‘Because,’ he states in a measured tone, ‘they erased me from your memory.’
28
FABRICATIONS
His answer punches me in the chest. And suddenly I feel like I’m back in the ocean. The cold, ruthless waves slapping against my face.
‘W-w-what?’ I barely manage to squeak out.
‘Actually, erase is probably the wrong word,’ Zen admits. ‘Removed is a better one. Because the memory still existed after they took it from you.’ He pats the silver cube on the table in front of him. ‘It just didn’t exist in your mind any more.’
‘Why?’ I cry out. My control over my emotions is slipping. ‘Why would they do that?’
‘Control, Sera,’ he says with such gravity I have to look away. ‘They tried to manipulate everything. Everything you remembered and everything you didn’t. They controlled what you knew. What you thought. What you experienced. But most of it was a giant lie. Your childhood, your friends—’
‘My friends?’ I ask in surprise. ‘I had friends?’