Cyan saw her chest heaving, put a gentle hand on her arm. He spoke steadily and calmly. “That’s because it all happened while Jonquil was around.” He nodded towards the mirror. “Do you see the proof now, Ruby? Dr Haven’s removed everyone’s memories. To keep the danger here hidden.”
It took a while for Ruby to speak again. She stared at the outlines on the mirror. The breaths that heaved through her nose began to level.
When she spoke, her words were hoarse. “We need to tell someone about this.”
Cyan sighed. “I know. But who are we supposed to tell?” He ruffled his hair with both hands. “If we tell the staff, we’ll be taken to Dr Haven to have everything we know removed. And then we’ll be in danger again, without even knowing it. There’ll be no chance of helping Jonquil ’cos no one’ll know she exists. It’d be back to square one. Square zero, even.”
Ruby’s eyes roved the cabin.
“What about the other residents?”
“I thought about that. But if we told any residents, what’d happen then? They might not believe me; you nearly didn’t. And even if they did, it’d be the canteen all over again. We’d be rounded up and knocked out, and then we’d have all the memories removed. Dr Haven presses the reset button, and again we’re back at square zero. Lab rats in ignorant bliss.”
Ruby gave this some thought. She pressed two fingers against her lips, then narrowed her eyes at Cyan. “But you told me. Why?”
Cyan wasn’t sure what to say. He met Ruby’s gaze, and sucked in some air before replying. “Because I’m scared, Ruby. I had to tell someone.”
He looked ruefully at the tall outline on the mirror. “And I need to find Jonquil. I feel like I…put her at risk. I sent her to Dr Haven when she tried to talk about her past. She was never the same after that. I need to find her and help her. But I can’t do it alone so…I was hoping you might…help me. You were her friend.”
Ruby gestured at the plumper figure on the glass. “Teal’s her friend too, right? You could have asked him for help.”
One of Cyan’s eyebrows rose. “Teal can barely cope with itchy shirts, Ruby, let alone this. And he’s not great under pressure. You should have seen him when they sent the helicopter to get Jonquil.”
“Helicopter?”
“That was when she tried to open up to us. Before Dr Haven gave her extra treatment.” Cyan grimaced and pushed his fingers through his hair. “But what I’m saying is…we can’t let Teal know about any of this. Dr Haven said his worrying comes from all the repressed emotion that hurts residents; he’s more vulnerable than you think. I wouldn’t want to force this on him. Plus…” He trailed off and felt his cheeks flush with warmth. “Telling you just feels sort of…right. Do you know what I mean?”
Ruby looked mystified. She flicked a spiral of hair from her eyes. “No. I don’t.”
“Either way, will you help me?”
Ruby chewed gloomily at her lower lip. “Help you to do what, though, Cyan? What can we actually do about this?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet. But I know Jonquil’s in trouble. And it feels like the longer we leave it, the more trouble she’ll be in. If we can find her we can hide her somewhere safe, until we think of something. Maybe we can even reach the shore with her, flag down a boat or something. Whatever we manage to do, it’s got to be better than leaving her at the sanctuary with Dr Haven.”
“Do you even know she’s still at the sanctuary?”
“Dr Haven said he was keeping her there for more research – not far from wherever that room with the white tiles is. Before I passed out I heard him tell Mr Banter to get my file from next door. I think Jonquil must be on the staff floor somewhere.”
A sideward glance from Ruby. “We can’t get down there. You need staff cards.”
“Yeah, but there might be another way. We can get to the engine floor through the framework. You said you think it has access to the staff floor. So I’m thinking we sneak down tonight, when everyone’s asleep. Have a look and go from there.”
Ruby scrunched up her face. “I don’t know, Cyan. That’s a really iffy plan.”
“Probably. But it’s all we have. Unless you’ve got any better ideas?”
Cyan could see from her expression that she didn’t.
He stared down at the mouldy carpet, before sheepishly raising his eyes. “So…will you help me?”
Ruby met his gaze before turning to the mirror and letting out a long, sorry sigh. “I don’t think we have any choice. No one else can help Jonquil, can they?”
The pair fell silent, until muffled beeps had them reaching for their pockets. While unclipping his locket, Cyan glanced at the window. The sky above the chasm had bruised to blue. He checked his locket’s screen. “Lunchtime.”
Ruby nodded, pocketed her locket and went glumly to the door. “So what’s it like?”
Cyan followed her into the corridor. “What’s what like?”
“Being off the pills.”
“I’m…not sure.” Cyan gave this some thought while they headed to the engine rooms. “It’s only been two or three days. But I feel sort of…sharper.”
“Sharper?”
“Yeah. Everything feels sharper.”
“As in…it hurts?”
“No. As in focus. I feel…a bit clearer now. Less…fuzzy. And it’s not just that…”
Cyan thought about the way his heart had raced when he’d spotted Ruby earlier, but decided against mentioning it. “It’s intense too. All my feelings are stronger. As if they’re under a magnifying glass. Like being alone or afraid… I’m more scared now than I’ve ever been before. As far as I can remember, at least.”
He clenched his eyes shut, then kicked a stray, mould-encrusted suitcase along the corridor. “So, yeah. It’s intense. But at least if I avoid the medication, there’s less chance of whatever happened to Jonquil happening to me.”
“That’s the theory.”
“Yeah.” Cyan caught up with Ruby. “What about you?” “What about me?”
“Will you be skipping your medicine too?”
Ruby shook her head. “I think I’ll see how it works out for you first. You can be my guinea pig.”
Cyan grunted and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Looks like we’re all guinea pigs anyway.”
Late that night – or perhaps in the black, early hours of morning – Cyan clambered through a snug’s opening into a dimly lit shaft. Rather than climbing up towards dune-light, he inhaled a large gulp of oily air and began heading down the ladder. The engine floor waited beneath him, deep in the darkness below.
He didn’t know how long he’d been climbing; only that his thighs and forearms ached to the point of burning. His hands smelled metallic from gripping an endless row of rungs.
After more climbing, Cyan glanced down and saw – with a queasy clash of relief and dread – that the shaft ended not far beneath his feet. He peered about the gloom. The final horizontal shaft was just above his head. Below him the ladder entered dim, empty air.
Cyan descended further, freed one hand from a rung and tipped himself towards the opening. He saw the shaft’s four ladders meet a network of gangways, between which sat huge machines and clusters of cogs, all aglimmer in the glow of muted lights.
He listened out and surveyed the area. The coast seemed clear so – as silently as he could – he slipped down the ladder and crouched behind a generator.
He’d been squatting for some time, trying to figure out what to do next, when a shifting shadow made him start. A face appeared at the corner and muttered a deadpan, “Boo.”
“Sshhhh,” hissed Cyan. He glanced around frantically, with his tingling fingers gripping the gangway.
“It’s okay,” whispered Ruby. “No one’s around. Been dead since I got here.”
Cyan wiped his forehead, which felt hot and clammy in the cool air. “Do you know where to go? You said there’s stairs to the staff floor.”
“A lift too. They’re at oppos
ite sides. Must be the lift and stairs the restricted-access doors near the foyer go to. I’m guessing they go down to the staff floor.”
“Let’s hope so.” Cyan cocked an ear to check for sounds of anyone else. All was quiet, so he went on. “From what I’ve seen from the foyer, the staff use the lift pretty much every time. So let’s try the stairs. Less risk.”
Keeping low, Cyan followed Ruby past mammoth cogs, silent engines, oiled pistons, cables and pulleys. He saw two wooden columns among the ladders that dropped from above, each containing a staircase that led from the foyer to the upper rooms.
When they reached the far wall, Ruby opened a heavy grey door. Behind it was a drab stairwell, with concrete walls and steps of metal mesh.
She grimaced wryly at Cyan. “Going down.”
Tiptoeing down the U-shaped staircase, they paused by a door with FLOOR 2: COMMUNAL stencilled above its top, then continued down to the final floor, where a door labelled FLOOR 1: STAFF awaited them.
Cyan whispered in dim grey light. “This is it.”
Ruby nodded gravely. “What now?”
“We take a peek.”
Cyan stooped and shuffled to the door, then raised his eyes to the small window at its top. The light on the other side was murky, so he had to press his nose and spectacles to the glass.
Ruby was staring from the door frame, bobbing nervously on her feet. “What can you see?” she hissed.
“Good news and bad news. The good news is there’s no one around. Seems quiet. There’s dimmed lighting too, like in here. So we can see where we’re going. But maybe any light is bad news. I’m not sure.”
“What’s the bad news you are sure about?”
“It’s a really long corridor. Leads right to the lift at the opposite side. And there’s several doors along the way, all spread out.”
“Why’s that bad?”
“Means there’s lots down here to search through. Which means more risk of getting caught. The staff sleep here, remember. Someone could turn up. And if they do, there’s not much in the corridor for hiding. Just a few trolleys.”
“Oh.”
They lingered by the door. Cyan rubbed his chin and pushed his glasses up his nose. Ruby stared at the concrete floor, and stopped jiggling her knee when she saw Cyan frowning at her.
He nodded to himself. “Okay. I say we take a side each. I’ll check the doors along the left; you take the ones on the right. Just peeking in, as quick as we can. This is a scouting operation for now – unless you see Jonquil. Then we meet straight back here and share our intel. Figure out our next move.”
Ruby sniggered.
Cyan’s white eyebrows drew together. “What?”
“Intel,” she mimicked. “Since when did you become a secret agent?”
Cyan scowled. “Are you taking this seriously? Do you know what’ll happen if we’re caught sneaking around? We’ll get our memories erased, and then Jonquil’s gone for ever. And who knows what else Dr Haven might do to us. I’ve seen his true colours now, and they’re pretty dark.”
Ruby scratched sheepishly at the back of her neck. “Sorry, Cyan. But it… I’m just…really scared. It’s nerves, I guess. You know what I mean?”
Cyan gazed at his plimsolls before raising his eyes again. “Yeah. I know what you mean.” He straightened his back and inhaled deeply through his mouth. When he released his breath it came out shakier than he’d hoped. “Okay. Let’s do this. I’ll take the doors on the left. You take the ones on the right. Quick and quiet.”
“Like stealthy cats.”
Ruby tried to smile, but Cyan could see the strain in her expression. He tried to smile too. “Yeah. Like stealthy cats. In slippers.”
“That went to ninja school.”
They both smiled then, until Cyan put his hand to the door.
After leaving the safety of the stairwell, Cyan and Ruby crept to the first doors on each side of the corridor.
The door to the left had a brass nameplate: Professor Vadasz, Technical Manager. Cyan eased it open, just enough to squint through the crack.
The office was empty and lit by nothing more than the large computer monitor on the professor’s desk. The image on the screen looked familiar. When Cyan realized what it was, he leaned back into the corridor. “Psst.”
Ruby turned from her own doorway and let Cyan usher her into the professor’s office.
He whispered after shutting the door. “What was in your room?”
“It’s a massive storage space. The lights were dimmed, so I couldn’t see right to the back. But it was furniture, mostly. Shelves and racks with pictures and light fittings and stuff.”
“It’s what they use for changing the rooms.”
Ruby rolled her eyes. “Good work, Sherlock.” She scanned the cables and equipment on the professor’s shelves. “What’s this room?”
“Professor Vadasz’s office. Check this out.”
Cyan beckoned her to the computer on the desk. They studied the cube-shaped grid on its flickering screen.
“It’s the sanctuary,” whispered Cyan. “A 3-D map.” His finger worked its way up from the cube’s base. Staff floor; communal floor; engine floor. And the upper rooms.”
Ruby ran a fingernail between the dots scattered across the grid. “And look. These have all got residents’ names next to them. Must be where all the residents are. This computer’s tracking lockets.”
She squinted in the screen’s light. Her finger zipped to a dot labelled Ruby. “There’s mine. By BF3. That’s where I climbed in through the snug.”
Cyan searched the screen, and his finger shot up towards another dot. “That’s mine. DH9. No wonder it took so long to get down.”
Ruby was still searching the screen. “I can’t see a dot for Jonquil.”
“I doubt she’s got a locket now. And have you noticed? There’s no dots for staff either. Staff lockets aren’t tracked.”
Ruby’s eyes roved across pixels. “Yeah. You’re right.” She glanced over her shoulder at the office door. “Come on. Let’s try the other rooms. The sooner we’re done with this the better.”
While Ruby progressed along the corridor’s right side, Cyan moved on to the next room on the left. Using a torch he’d found in a socket by its door, he peered inside and searched the darkness. It was a larger room, with blueprints covering the walls and boiler suits hanging up in rows; presumably the technicians’ room.
The next room along was even bigger, with coffee tables and communal seating. Cyan flashed his torch through the doorway, guessing from some stacked white uniforms that this was the orderlies’ staffroom. He was about to move on when his beam crossed a filing cabinet by the wall.
Cyan hesitated. And then, with thoughts of what Dr Haven had said about his file – with thoughts, even, of what the doctor had said about his parents – he let himself in.
The cabinet was filled with order forms and paperwork; no residents’ files.
Cyan sighed and slid the cabinet’s drawer shut. His heart felt heavy in his chest, and he realized with some sadness how high his hopes had been – how eager he’d been to learn about his parents.
His torch threw a white circle along the walls, flitting like a moth across noticeboards prickled with pins; posters of maritime scenes; plug sockets and shelves; whiteboards smeared with ink.
Another metal cabinet – this one much taller than the first – caught Cyan’s eye. Again, he was unable to resist. He opened its double doors, and instead of files found stacks of white plastic cartridges.
“Ahoy, pointy tranquilizers. Don’t mind if I do.” While slipping a cartridge into his blazer pocket, he spotted a tray on another shelf filled with staff access cards. “And ahoy to you too,” he whispered, pocketing a card for good measure.
He closed the cabinet and moved on, but stopped when his torchlight met a pinboard spanning a huge section of wall. The torch’s white circle moved slowly up, down and across, pausing on some of the sheets that were pinned to the
board.
“What?” Cyan stepped closer.
There must have been over a hundred sheets, all lined up in tidy columns. Cyan’s beam moved frantically, illuminating photos of residents. He saw a picture of Teal, then moved backwards along the alphabet to find one of Ruby.
Every sheet had text next to its photo. Cyan began to read Ruby’s but stopped. Not only because it felt wrong, but because something was dawning on him.
Again, his torchlight searched the sheets. He paused on some for longer than others, then finally understood. Among the pictures were photos of other residents – residents he didn’t recognize at all.
His beam passed a face he hadn’t seen in some time, then flitted back again.
And there she was. That tidy centre parting. Those high cheekbones. The sorrow in those deep brown eyes.
Jonquil.
And stamped in red letters across the text by her face: WITHDRAWN
Cyan stopped breathing. He continued skimming the sheets with his torch and began to see a pattern: all the residents he didn’t recognize had WITHDRAWN stamped on them too.
“But…” he croaked. “But that—”
He fell silent when his light found another red-stamped resident, with pale skin and a blonde bob of hair. He read her name again, and found himself thinking of whale bones – of notes in drawers and green and red…
“Amber,” he whispered.
Cyan didn’t realize he was backing away until something hard met his calf. It was too late to stop, and his retreat became a stumble that sent his torchlight soaring across the ceiling. He’d been tripped by a low coffee table, and even though he managed to stagger sideways before hitting the floor, a stack of glasses was left teetering on the table’s top.
Cyan aimed his torch at the glasses, just in time to watch them topple and crash against a water jug.
The noise was obscene: a storm of glass against glass.
With his stomach cramping, Cyan flicked off the torch. Darkness fell and he held his breath. Heat bloomed across his cheeks and palms.
The passing seconds stretched and coiled, until the silence was broken again. A door, opening and closing in the corridor.
The Memory Thieves Page 11
