Unremembered

  The last thing I want is to be recognized – and photographed – again. I’m starting to see a very disconcerting pattern here. The last two times I was photographed, those creepy men in black somehow managed to appear almost instantaneously.

  When I left the diner and the news vans and reporters were there taking my picture, I saw the man with the scar as soon as I tried to run. And then again a few hours ago at the gas station: the second that girl took my photograph with her phone, they appeared. Seemingly out of nowhere.

  I pull the cellphone Cody stole for me out of my pocket and place it on the table in case he tries to call. Then I reach down the front of my shirt and take out the locket.

  I hold the heart-shaped locket in my hand, gently stroking the grooves of the clasp and the raised surface of the symbol on the front – the eternal knot – then my fingertips graze the engraving on the back.

  S+Z=1609.

  I know for certain that the S and Z stand for Seraphina and Zen. And 1609 must be a reference to the poem. Our poem.

  Sonnet 116. First published in 1609.

  Zen said it was my favourite. And now I know why.

  Because it was about us.

  But even though the pieces are slowly starting to fall into place, there are still lingering questions that I can’t answer. Like, why would Zen engrave the year the poem was written on the back of the locket? Why not 116 after the name of the poem? Or a key word from the poem? A more direct reference.

  What does the year the poem was published have to do with anything?

  Despite the information I’ve managed to collect, my instincts are telling me that I’m still not seeing the entire picture. That there’s still one very large piece missing. Perhaps even more than one.

  And now I worry I might never find it.

  I might never have more than a half-finished story and an empty locket.

  I finger the clasp, preparing to open it and take a peek at its hollow core, when I hear footsteps approaching my table. I glance up to see Cody standing over me. I stuff the locket back under my shirt and launch to my feet, throwing my arms around his neck.

  ‘Oh thank you!’ I cry. ‘Thank you so much for coming!’

  My actions clearly take him by surprise because his body gets very rigid and he pats me awkwardly on the back until I release him.

  ‘How did you get away from your parents?’ I ask.

  He shrugs as though the solution was easy. ‘I told them I was going to Marcus’s house for the night.’ He jerks his thumb towards the entrance. ‘Where’s Trevor’s car? I didn’t see it out front.’

  I cringe, that ugly guilt feeling creeping into my chest. ‘I’m so sorry, Cody. I had to leave it.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘A gas station.’

  Cody purses his lips in concentration.

  ‘Are you going to get in trouble?’ I ask anxiously.

  He shakes his head. ‘I highly doubt it. Trevor has no idea I was the one who swiped the keys. Plus, the police will find it soon enough. It’ll probably be back in Wells Creek before he even realizes it’s gone.’ He nods in the direction of the counter. ‘Do you want something to drink?’

  I return to my seat, feeling relieved. ‘Sure.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  I shake my head. ‘Can you order something for me?’

  ‘Sure.’ He heads for the cash register, only to turn around a few seconds later. ‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ he says, reaching into his backpack. ‘I brought you this.’ He pulls out Scott’s familiar navy-blue-and-white baseball cap and hands it to me.

  I breathe out a deep sigh of relief and take the hat, jamming it down over my head and pulling the brim low. I already feel safer. As though it’s not just a hat, but rather a set of full-body armour to shield me from the harsh world and all the camera-bearing people in it.

  ‘Thank you!’ I say again.

  ‘I thought you might need it. Your picture has been all over the news today.’

  That warm and safe feeling disintegrates instantly and I feel my heart start to hammer. ‘What?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Cody says, pointing to a TV mounted near the ceiling in the far corner of the coffee shop. ‘Social Services has issued a press release. Everyone’s out looking for you now.’

  I shake my head in disbelief as I watch the television. Just as Cody said, my face is there. Filling up half the screen. It’s the same picture they showed right after the crash. When I was stuck in the hospital. As though nothing has changed.

  When in reality everything has changed.

  Cody leaves to get our drinks and I continue to watch the TV. The sound has been muted but there are words scrolling across the bottom of the screen:

  Jane Doe, also known as Violet, the sole survivor of the crash of Freedom Airlines flight 121, went missing from her foster-family’s home this morning. Sources believe that she might have run away but that has yet to be confirmed. Social Services reported in their official statement to the press that the sixteen-year-old girl is in danger on her own as she has still not regained her memory. California police are currently on a statewide hunt for the girl, and anyone with any information is encouraged to call the number on this screen.

  My mind reels as I watch the text go by.

  Social Services is the organization that placed me with the Carlsons. Are they working with Diotech? Are they part of this?

  No. That’s impossible. Otherwise, they would have simply turned me over to Diotech the moment they pulled me out of the ocean. Instead of placing me with a foster-family.

  The two entities must be separate.

  Add in the California police and that makes three groups of people that are looking for me.

  Could things possibly get any more complicated?

  I instinctively pull the brim of my hat down even further over my face.

  Zen returns a few minutes later with two large steaming mugs of liquid. He slides one across the table to me. I pick up the cup and sniff it. It has a sweet, spicy odour. ‘What is it?’ I ask.

  ‘Chai tea latte,’ Cody responds. ‘It’s my mom’s favourite. And a bunch of girls at school drink it so I guess it must be a chick thing.’

  ‘A chick thing?’ I repeat sceptically.

  ‘Sorry. A female thing.’ He pronounces female with a funny accent that makes me laugh.

  It feels good.

  And for just a moment I almost forget why we’re here. But then Cody removes his laptop from his backpack and places it on the table between us and I’m dragged back into the reality of our visit.

  Zen.

  He’s gone. And it’s up to me to find him.

  I take a reluctant sip of the drink. It’s delicious. But I can’t enjoy it. The delectable flavour feels empty in my mouth.

  Everything feels empty without Zen.

  Cody takes a sip of his own drink and immediately gets to work on his computer. ‘OK, tell me about this secret compound of yours.’

  ‘It’s a research facility owned by a company called Diotech.’

  ‘Diotech?’ Cody asks curiously.

  ‘Have you heard of them?’

  He shakes his head. ‘Not even a little bit.’

  My shoulders fall. ‘Oh.’

  ‘But that doesn’t mean anything,’ he interjects quickly, seeming to sense my disappointment and attempting to reassure me. ‘I mean, this is America. There are like a billion corporations out there. No one’s heard of every single one. What do you know about them?’

  I open my mouth to speak but quickly close it again, opting to take another sip of my drink instead. I’m undecided about how much to tell Cody. If I tell him everything I know about Diotech – everything Zen has told me – then I might have a better chance of finding it. Of finding Zen. But if I tell him too much, I might endanger him.

  The last thing I want to do is unintentionally harm Cody. If these Diotech people are as evil as Zen says they are, then there’s no way I can bring him into this. I’m torn between m
y desperation to find Zen and my impulse to protect Cody. He may have only been a temporary little brother to me but he still feels like family.

  Plus, I don’t even know if I fully understand what Diotech is. Or what they do. I just have these strange bits and pieces of information.

  All I know is that they did something to me.

  Something that made me who I am. Or what I am.

  Something horrible enough to make me want to escape.

  But until I figure out what that is, I think it’s probably best if I stick to the simpler details. The ones I’m more certain about.

  ‘They’re some kind of technology conglomerate,’ I tell him cautiously, repeating the words Zen used to describe the company to me for the first time. ‘Apparently located in a remote location. Away from civilization.’

  I think back to the memory I saw. The hot arid breeze that dried out my throat. ‘Maybe in the desert. That’s all I know.’

  Cody nods and starts typing. My stomach is churning as I watch his fingers fly over the keyboard. I take a large gulp of my chai tea latte and wait.

  A few minutes later, Cody sits back and scowls at the screen. ‘Well, that’s weird.’

  I sit up straighter. ‘What?’

  ‘I found something, but it doesn’t seem to make any sense.’

  I crane my neck to look at the screen. ‘What did you find?’

  Cody shrugs. ‘Some post on a random conspiracy-theory website by a guy named Maxxer. But it’s just a bunch of gibberish rambling.’

  I sigh. That’s exactly what I found when I tried to search last night. I’m about to take another sip of my drink when something about the web page that Cody is looking at catches my eye.

  ‘What?’ he asks, reading my expression. ‘What’s the matter?’

  But I don’t answer. I set my drink down and lean in closer, scrutinizing the screen. At first glance, it looks just like the post I found yesterday. But there’s one very distinct difference.

  Under the post, in the line that reads Tags, a new string of words appears:

  Diotech, technology conglomerate, remote, desert

  My jaw drops.

  These are the exact search terms I just gave Cody a minute ago. Once again, word for word.

  But when I searched last night, the tags that were listed under the post were completely different. They were my own search terms.

  How is that even possible?

  Are there two different postings that say the same thing? Or did the author change the tags sometime between now and then?

  Yesterday I was convinced it was Zen who wrote that post. But a lot has changed since yesterday. And now I’m really not sure.

  I’m not sure about anything.

  ‘What’s so important about this company anyway?’ Cody interrupts my thoughts. ‘What makes you think that’s where Zen is?’

  I know what he’s asking. He’s asking for the truth. He can sense that I’m hiding it from him. But I can’t give it to him. ‘Cody,’ I say ruefully.

  He raises his hand to stop me. ‘Hey, it’s OK.’

  ‘I’m sorry—’ I try again.

  But again he interrupts. ‘Look, I know there’s something going on with you. I knew it the moment you walked into my bedroom and solved that conjecture practically with your eyes closed. I knew then that you weren’t a normal girl. But that’s OK. I don’t like normal girls anyway. Which is probably a good thing since they don’t seem to like me much either. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. I’m fine just continuing to believe the fantasy I’ve created in my head.’

  I smile tenderly at him. ‘And what fantasy would that be?’

  He straightens up in his chair. ‘That you’re a megahot alien from a far-off planet full of supermodels who’s come to earth on a scouting mission because men have gone completely extinct on your planet and you’re looking for another species to breed with in order to keep your superhot alien race from going extinct.’

  I giggle. ‘That’s very imaginative.’

  He shrugs. ‘I read a lot of sci-f.’

  He clears his throat loudly and focuses back on the computer. ‘So anyway, this Maxxer guy seems to be full of it.’ He squints at the screen, reading aloud from the text that I’ve already committed to memory. ‘“The rise of Diotech will be the fall of humankind. This massive corporation will fascinate some and infuriate many.”’ He snorts. ‘The guy makes it sound like the company doesn’t even exist yet.’

  ‘What do you think that means?’ I ask.

  Cody shakes his head. ‘I have no idea.’ He clicks the track pad below the keyboard a few times with his index finger and then slides the laptop towards me. ‘But here. Why don’t you ask him yourself?’

  I stare speechlessly at the screen as a small white box pops up on the website. ‘What are you talking about?’ I say. ‘Ask him how?’

  Cody takes a long sip of his drink, finishing off the last drop and then tossing the empty cup into a nearby trash can. He points nonchalantly at the screen. ‘He’s online. You can chat with him.’

  ‘Chat?’ I repeat, confounded. ‘What does that mean?’

  But Cody doesn’t have to answer. Because just then a single line of blue text magically appears in the box. As though typed by a pair of invisible hands.

  Maxxer: Hello, Sera. I’ve been expecting you.

  35

  CHAT

  My heart is pounding. My hands are shaking violently. I look at Cody with wide, panic-stricken eyes. ‘What do I do?’

  Cody’s mouth is hanging open. He looks just as shocked as I feel. ‘I guess you write back?’ he says, his voice squeaking. ‘You can sign in as a visitor.’

  I nod uncertainly and pull the laptop closer to me, placing my fingers on the keys. I take a deep breath and start tapping out letters. Cody points to the Enter key and I hit it, watching my words appear in red below Maxxer’s blue text.

  Visitor: Who are you?

  Cody and I both sit completely still and speechless as we watch the screen. A few moments later, the laptop beeps and a reply appears.

  Maxxer: An old friend.

  An old friend? I wasn’t aware I had any old friends. Zen made it sound like all of my friends on the compound were just figments of my imagination. Fake memories implanted in my brain. The computer beeps again, startling me, as another line of text emerges.

  Maxxer: I’ve been sent to help you.

  I immediately lunge for the keyboard.

  Visitor: Help me with what?

  More seconds tick past, and then:

  Maxxer: Help you find what you’re looking for.

  The excitement builds inside me. For the first time since I saw them dragging away Zen’s lifeless body, I feel a twinge of optimism. I try to steady my trembling hands so that I can type out a response. But it takes several tries and backspaces before I’m successful.

  Visitor: I’m looking for Diotech. Do you know where they’re located?

  I hold my breath while I wait for a response. It’s taking longer than I anticipated for such a seemingly simple question. I look to Cody for help but he only shrugs. Finally there’s a soft beep and a reply appears. Although it’s not exactly the answer I was hoping for.

  Maxxer: Further than you would think. But growing closer every day.

  I frown at the screen. Cody verbalizes my confusion. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

  I shake my head. ‘I have no idea.’

  I rest my fingers on the keys, preparing to request more detail, when the computer beeps again.

  Maxxer: We should not be having this conversation here. It’s not safe. We must meet.

  A heavy, terrifying pause.

  Maxxer: In person.

  Before I can contemplate his response, the computer is ripped out from under me. ‘Don’t even think about it!’ Cody shrieks, hugging the laptop possessively to his chest. ‘Look, you had your fun little chat session but this is where I draw the line. Everyone knows you’re not sup
posed to meet up with people you find online! That’s like Internet rule number one. Especially guys who post things on conspiracy theory websites. I mean, that’s like the official breeding ground for nutcases. I mean, just look at the guy’s picture. He’s clearly a loony.’

  I glance at the photo on the screen, once again taking in his long silvery hair and the creepy glass eye that sends a shudder through me.

  ‘For all we know, he could be a serial killer,’ Cody goes on. ‘He probably puts up these vague, mysterious posts to attract curious young minds. Then he lures them in with fancy talk and the promise of answers but instead of answers . . . he slaughters them.’

  ‘He knows my name,’ I point out. ‘My real name.’

  Cody scoffs at this. ‘Big deal. These Internet predators have their ways.’

  ‘I don’t know how to explain it, Cody,’ I say. ‘I just have a feeling he can help.’

  Beep.

  Cody and I peer at the screen simultaneously.

  Maxxer: I can help.

  I gasp and glance around the coffee shop, fully expecting to see the man from the photograph sitting at the next table, listening in on our conversation. How else would he know what I was saying?

  But no one looks even vaguely familiar. Nor does anyone seem to be paying attention to us.

  Beep.

  Maxxer: But first . . . I think someone else is trying to get in touch with you.

  Cody and I exchange another look as an eerie silence falls between us.

  I start counting the seconds. I can’t help myself.

  Before I reach five, the silence is broken by the shrill ring of my stolen cellphone.

  36

  WANTS

  ‘Are you going to answer it?’ Cody asks, nudging me with his elbow.

  I shake my head numbly as I stare down at the ringing cellphone on the table. The screen is illuminated with the words Caller Unknown.

  ‘Aren’t you curious?’ he prods.

  With trembling hands, I reach out and pick it up. I press the green button and bring it to my ear.