Twisting Minds

by Tessonja Odette

  “Stop!”

  I pause just before it makes contact.

  “I’ll tell you.”

  Excitement ripples through me, followed by relief. “When did you last see him?”

  “The last night I gave him food. Last...” He blinks a few times, as if trying to remember. “Wednesday. No, Thursday.”

  “You haven’t seen him since?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Do you know his last name?”

  “What, you don’t?”

  I feel heat rise to my cheeks, but I ignore it. “Answer the question.”

  “Yeah, it’s Emerson.”

  Darren Emerson. I lock the name in my heart where it becomes a minuscule flame of hope. “He works two janitorial jobs in the city. Do you know where?”

  He shrugs. “Veratech I think. Maybe Solaris-McMillan too.”

  Both tech companies. It checks out with what little I know. Two more facts about Darren. “Was he involved with anything that could have gotten him in trouble?”

  “You mean besides you?”

  I glare. “Me?”

  “Yeah, you with your 24/7 monitoring.” He says the words as if each one tastes like acid. “If he said such condemning facts about me, what did he say about himself? If he’s in trouble, it’s probably your fault.”

  I think back to the night when he was acting strange, recall the treasonous words spoken about the outlands and the faults of our government. What if someone had been watching? Someone important? What if he’s being punished for what he said around me?

  I feel nauseous, but I try not to show it. “Is there anything else you can remember? Was he acting strange at all?”

  “No, can I go now? I have to get back to work.”

  I look from him to my reader. He gave me what I wanted. It may not be much, but it was something. I click my screen. Discard the message draft. My voice comes out softer. “Yeah. Thanks. I’m sorry for doing that, but I had to do something.”

  He turns toward the door and reaches for the handle.

  “Wait.”

  He pauses, scowling. “What now?”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me right away? Why did you pretend you didn’t know him?”

  His eyes widen for a moment and his jaw shifts side to side. “I’m not supposed to say anything.”

  “What do you mean? Why? Who doesn’t want you to say anything?”

  “Let’s just hope this little game of yours doesn’t cost me my job...or worse.”

  I want to say more, but he swings open the door and pulls it shut behind him before I can. My head feels dizzy after such a heated conversation, and I prop myself up against the dumpster, closing my eyes as I replay the information I learned from Mitchell. What do I do with it next? Even with his last name, I doubt I’ll be taken seriously if I try to report him missing. Do I go to Veratech and Solaris-McMillan and inquire there? Without clearance to enter the buildings, there’s little chance anyone would speak to me. Do I see if Dr. Shelia can help?

  My stomach churns at the thought, especially after how our last encounter ended. The things I said to her. But what other choice do I have?

  I leave the alley and turn down the street that leads to the Select Health and Disease Prevention building when I remember Dr. Shelia isn’t usually in the office on Sundays. I open my reader and pull up her contact instead.

  Me: I have new information about Darren.

  I keep walking, but my eyes constantly flick back to my reader until a new message comes in.

  Dr. Shelia: So do I.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  My heart feels like it’s hammering my ribcage and will shatter my chest at any moment. Before I can compose my response, another comes in from Dr. Shelia: I’m not in the office today, but I can meet you there in two hours.

  Two hours! That sounds like an eternity when I’m this wrapped in nerves. But I need to know what she’s learned, no matter how long I have to wait. I wish she’d just message me what she knows. Does she finally believe me?

  I have more than enough time to spare, but I can’t help but rush to the Select Health and Disease Prevention building. Once inside, I take a seat in the brightly lit lobby on one of the plush chairs near the elevator.

  My eyes are trained on the front door, and every person who enters the building makes my body grow rigid, hoping it’s Dr. Shelia. The longer I wait, the more anxious I get. I can’t keep the information I’ve learned inside me much longer. Part of me wants to rush immediately to the nearest precinct and report Darren missing. Or storm into his places of employment, regardless of my lack of clearance to enter the buildings. But both those plans are reckless and would likely get me nowhere.

  Dr. Shelia is the one with the answers I need.

  When I finally see her, I spring to my feet, forcing my legs not to break into a run. The building isn’t nearly as busy as it is on a weekday, but I still want to maintain some measure of decorum. It doesn’t help that I’ve been chewing my fingertips and bouncing my leg in the lobby for over two hours.

  Her smile is grim when she greets me, and I try not to read too much into what that means.

  “What have you—”

  “Let’s go up to my office,” she says, then leads the way to the elevator. It’s clear she doesn’t want to share our news before then, so we ride in tense silence. We exit the elevator into the quiet corridor of the twentieth floor, then make our way to Dr. Shelia’s frosted glass door. The clinic inside is dark.

  She slides her keycard over the panel on the doorframe then enters. She slides it again on the inside and the lights come on.

  I follow her behind the front desk and down the short hall to her office. When the lights turn on, I take my seat on the couch, legs trembling. I squeeze my hands into fists as I wait for her to put down her purse and jacket, then take her seat at her desk. Her eyes meet mine.

  “I know his last name,” I say. “It’s Emerson. Darren Emerson. He works at Veratech and Solaris-McMillan.”

  Shelia watches me, her face blank.

  I continue, my words coming out with an excited tremor. “He has a friend who works at the Golden Tempest. He’s confirmed that he hasn’t seen him since the night I last saw him, and someone didn’t want him to talk to me. He’d purposefully withheld information about Darren from me. What did you discover? Do you know where he is? Do you know who took him? Why?”

  “Claire.” Her voice is firm despite how soft it is.

  I hate the sympathetic look on her face. It can’t mean anything good. “What happened?”

  “I need you to take a deep breath and relax.”

  Relax? What does that word even mean in relation to this situation? How does she expect me to relax? I can’t relax. I can’t breathe deeply. I can’t stop shaking. My frayed nerves are tearing apart every muscle, every bone. I need her to tell me what she knows before I explode.

  “Maybe you should lie down.”

  “Just tell me.”

  She closes her eyes, as if she’s the one trying to relax. “I watched your footage.”

  I can feel the blood drain from my face. That’s not what I was expecting. “Wait...what? I thought you said you couldn’t.”

  “I didn’t want to get your hopes up. After what happened Wednesday, I contacted your agent and explained your situation. She got the footage for me and sent it.”

  “And? You saw him in the alley?”

  She hesitates before answering. “No.”

  My heart sinks. “No? How is that possible? What did the cameras show? Did you at least get a look at his attackers?”

  She shakes her head.

  I feel like I’m going to faint. My eyes fall to the floor as I brace my hands on either side of my hips to keep from swaying side to side. When I lift my face, I meet Dr. Shelia’s gaze. My voice comes out small. “Did you at least see when he left my apartment? Did he look...upset? Did he—”

  “There was no footage of Darren in any of your recordings.”<
br />
  My stomach drops so low, I fear it will drag me to the floor. “That’s impossible! What have the cameras been recording?”

  “Just you.”

  A wave of anger washes over me as I imagine all the time I’ve spent with Darren while the cameras did nothing but record me. If this 24/7 monitoring is meant to provide entertainment, I can’t imagine how that qualifies. “Is there audio with the footage? There could be some clue from the way he sounded in the alley or maybe the night he left my room.”

  “Claire, you aren’t understanding. There was no footage of Darren, not because the cameras were focused only on you, but because there was no one else to be seen with you. Not anyone by Darren’s description, at least.”

  I frown, tip my head back. “That doesn’t make any sense. Maybe I didn’t describe him to you right. He’s tall, dark hair...wait, why should his physical description even matter? He’s the one I’ve been spending time with. He’s—”

  “You haven’t spent time with any man.”

  My eyes widen, my words stripped from my mouth. How can she be so daft? “Yes. I. Have.”

  Dr. Shelia leans forward and places her elbows on her knees as she plasters the most irritatingly apologetic expression I’ve ever seen on her face. “You aren’t well, Claire. This man you’ve called Darren is nothing more than a creation of your imagination, like the night you saw your mother.”

  I rise to my feet. “This is nothing like when I thought I saw my mom. Darren was real. Is real, and he’s seriously hurt. He’s...” I pause, then take a step back, which only brings my legs against the edge of the couch. “Wait. You’re in on it too. Oh my God, you’re involved. You’re keeping Darren away from me. Is it because of what he said to me that night? He was off his meds!”

  Dr. Shelia sighs. “There is no conspiracy keeping Darren away from you because there is no Darren. I wish I didn’t have to put it so bluntly, but this is becoming dangerous to your health. You’re running around reckless after curfew, chasing a figment of your imagination, calling the attention of enforcers. I can’t let you do this to yourself any longer.”

  Angry tears well in my eyes. “This is bullshit. This is such bullshit. I thought you were on my side.”

  “I am on your side. I can help you get through this. Lay down. Let’s talk through everything.”

  I step to the side, inching away from her. “No. I’m never coming here again.” I back toward the door, watching her as if she were an outlands viper poised for attack.

  “Yes, you will. Otherwise, I’m going to have to intervene through whatever means necessary.”

  I turn and run, fling the door open, and round the corner into the hall toward the front desk. When I step into the waiting room, I freeze.

  Dr. Grand rises to his feet, syringe in hand. His face is as blank as ever, eyes turned down at the corners. “I’m sorry, Claire.”

  I take a step away, then another. When did he even come in?

  “You need to relax,” Dr. Shelia’s voice comes from behind me, followed by her hand landing softly on my shoulder.

  I whirl around to shake her off, then feel a sting in the back of my neck.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  When I wake, I’m in an unfamiliar room. The walls are bright and white like Dr. Shelia’s office, but there are no windows. Just the bare bed I’m lying on. I bolt upright, but the blood rushes to my head. I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the dizziness to clear. When I open them, the door opens too.

  Dr. Grand enters.

  I glower. “What have you done to me? Where am I?”

  He closes the door behind him but doesn’t come any closer. His metal case is in hand. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m only here to run some tests on your vitals.”

  “You drugged me.”

  “I was ordered to sedate you. I’m sorry.”

  I laugh. “Sorry? I doubt that.”

  He studies me for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he wants to say something. His face remains blank, but there’s that look in his eyes again, almost apologetic. But I can’t believe there’s any redeeming quality about this man. Not him. Not Dr. Shelia. “I’m going to approach you now and proceed with the checkup.”

  “Where am I?” I ask again, tensing as he moves toward me.

  He approaches the bed and opens his case like he usually does at the end of my sessions with Dr. Shelia, removing the reader, the disks. “You’re still at Dr. Shelia’s clinic, but in the resting room.”

  “Where is she?” I flinch as he places a cold disk on one temple then the other.

  “In her office. I’ll have to tell her you’re awake soon.”

  “What is she going to do with me?”

  “Whatever she thinks she must do.” There’s a hint of bitterness in his voice. He places the remaining disks on me, then taps the reader to illuminate the hologram of my vitals. He lowers his voice, eyes on the image of my brain, the shifting column of numbers and letters on the side. “Don’t fight her this time. If you go along with everything, it will be over a lot sooner.”

  “Over? What will be over? Is she going to kill me?”

  Dr. Grand meets my eyes, his expression puzzled for once. “Kill you? No. It’s not like that.”

  “What is it like, then?”

  “I can’t say. Take my advice though. Don’t fight her. Do what she says.” He sounds tired. Spent. I realize the circles under his eyes are darker than mine.

  I shake the observation from my head. “Why should I listen to you? You aren’t any better than Dr. Shelia. You’re in on it together.”

  “You couldn’t be more right or more wrong.”

  I sneer, irritation making my shoulder twitch. “What are you talking about?”

  He turns off the hologram, then begins removing the disks. “All I can say is we’re more alike than you think.”

  Another bark of laughter escapes my lips. “You? Like me? I hardly believe that. You’re a doctor. That makes you at least a first rung Elite.”

  He nods. “I was. A fourth rung, in fact.”

  “Was?”

  “I’m a probationary citizen now, like you.”

  I narrow my eyes. “That’s the best you can do? A blatant lie?”

  “It’s not a lie. I’m a probationary, assigned to Dr. Shelia as my sentence.”

  I sneer. “Wow, I guess former Elites really are treated better than the rest of us, even after filing Forgiveness.”

  “It wasn’t simply a matter of filing Forgiveness. I was convicted of a crime.”

  A chill runs down my spine. Why is he telling me this? I swallow hard. “A crime?”

  He frowns as if he can tell what I’m thinking. “It isn’t the kind of crime you’re imagining. I didn’t hurt anyone. I...five years ago, I worked in a private clinic here in the Select District. One of my patients was a little girl. She was dying. Elite medicine could have saved her. Time was running out, so I wrote her the prescription. I saved her life.”

  “How was that a crime?”

  “Selects and Publics have to be on a waitlist for Elite medication and can’t access it unless they receive special approval. I’m sure you know this.”

  I nod. My mom was on that waitlist for her lung cancer medication. She didn’t have to wait long, though.

  He continues. “Well, this little girl’s family was first rung Select. Bottom of the list, ahead of Publics only. It was illegal for me to write the prescription without approval. Since I technically didn’t steal it, I wasn’t sentenced to prison. Instead, I was fined a hefty sum exceeding a lifetime’s worth of income. You know what that means. Probation.”

  “Still, at least they sentenced you to something in your previous field. They went easy on you.”

  He shakes his head. “It isn’t as easy as you think.”

  “Why?”

  He looks away from me, his voice so low, I strain to hear. “There are things you don’t know.”

  My eyes widen. Does he know someth
ing? About the truth? “Like what?”

  He ignores me and continues packing the briefcase, then snaps it shut. He turns toward the door.

  “Wait.” I scoot off the edge of the bed, find my footing on unsteady legs, then take a step forward. “Do you believe me? About Darren?”

  He pauses, fingers around the door handle. “I believe things have been very hard for you and are going to get harder. Do what Dr. Shelia says. Things can get far worse than you can even imagine.”

  Was that a threat? Or a warning?

  Without another word, he opens the door and shuts it behind him. I follow but find the handle locked. My eyes dart around the room, seeking any form of escape. Not a minute passes before footsteps sound outside the door, followed by the turning of the handle. I back away as Dr. Shelia enters.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, Claire. Have a seat on the bed.”

  Dr. Grand’s voice echoes in my head. Do what Dr. Shelia says. Things can get far worse. I don’t take my eyes off her as I return to the bed and take a seat.

  “How do you feel?”

  “How do I...feel? How do you think I feel?”

  She looks at the reader in her hand. “Your vitals seem stabilized, although I can’t say they look good. But your pulse seems normal. Cortisol only slightly elevated. I’d say you feel better than you did earlier today.”

  I glare. “I’m trapped in a windowless room against my will after being sedated. And you think I feel better?” At least earlier, before I came to see Dr. Shelia, I had hope. Now I’m only angry and confused.

  “Well, your anxiety is gone, is it not? Check in with your body, your lungs, your chest. You can breathe easier now. Your heart isn’t racing.”

  She’s right. I may be furious but the feeling that every inch of me is raw nerve waiting to explode has dissipated. My mind is clear. “Did you do something to me?”

  “I had Dr. Grand administer your antidepressant medication while you were sedated.”

  I bite my lip to keep from lashing out. Heat rises to my cheeks.

  She takes a few steps closer to me. “I want you to come see me first thing every day so Dr. Grand can administer your medication. Before work and on your days off. No exceptions. I also want to add an extra session together each week.”