by Liahona West
“Ma’am. We love him too. We only want what’s best for him and if that means letting him experience the world, he needs that.”
Frustrated, Joy turned around and walked away. She knew he was right, but she couldn’t push past the painful mourning to do anything about it. Besides, he was doing well enough.
Taking a moment to gain composure and uncurl her balled fist, Joy breathed as she stood in front of Seth’s door. He needed Mom, not the scientist. She tried so hard to keep them separate, but when he got sick thirteen years ago, the line between mom and scientist blurred. Now, she didn’t even know where it existed.
Joy knocked.
“Come in.”
As always, her heart clenched when she saw him. Seth was so frail, his breathing getting worse, and she worried even touching him would break him.
When will this nightmare stop? You’re supposed to be running, hanging with your friends, and going on adventures. Not this.
She sat by him. He glanced up, smiled, and returned to his drawing of a building. With Seth, the things he drew were from pictures he saw in books or from his own imagination, and Joy always marveled at how he could breathe life into a simple building. His detailed work was breathtaking and intricate, and he always worked various plants and shrubbery into the home as if they were a necessity.
“What do you…think?” Seth asked, tilting his notebook toward her.
She leaned in, amazed at the art déco inspired home with accents of Queen Anne architecture. The curved corners and tall, square windows blended seamlessly with the round towers and lace-like porch brackets.
“Beautiful.”
He returned to his work, adding details of shrubbery on the porch. “Are you going…to go after…Eloise?”
Joy leaned away from Seth. “Why would you ask that?”
“I dunno…” Seth shrugged. He paused, sighed, then looked up at her. “…I was…thinking it might…be nice to spend what…time I have left—”
Her heart beat in her head and she stood. “Out of the question. No.” Joy knelt in front of Seth, her hand resting on his cheek. “We’ve worked too hard for this. I’m not going to lose you.”
His eyes bored into her and the thought of never seeing them again drove her mad.
“Mama…”
I love it when you call me that. It reminded her of when he was an infant, full of wonder and discovery. She had raised him as a single mother, unable to find someone to start a family with, so she began one through a visit to the sperm bank.
Ever since he started talking, he’d always called her ‘Mama’ and a bittersweet ache formed in her chest. She blinked the tears from her eyes.
“I can’t do it. She’s too important. I can start my work over again with Project Nemosyne. Reinstate it.”
“Mama. You’re not…listening to me.”
“Alright,” Joy sighed. “I’m listening.”
“I don’t want this. I want to be…free and I can’t live…knowing Eloise is…hurting or dead.”
“You will be free soon.”
“No.” Seth shook his head. “I want to be free. From…my body. Mama, do…you understand?”
She did. Saving Seth had been her life for so long, she didn’t know how to let go. A knot formed in her throat, and she struggled to talk past it. “She agreed to this.”
“No, she didn’t! She agreed…to donate blood, not…dying. Why…can’t you understand? I want…this all to stop. I want Eloise…to be alive. I want you to be…my Mama and hold…me when I die. Please! Stop…all of this and just be my…mom!”
Listening to Seth beg ripped her heart to shreds and when she spoke, the rock in her throat only allowed a whisper to pass by. “I don’t know how, baby. You’re my entire world and I…I don’t know how.”
“Let go of Eloise…and be here. With me. Don’t go…after her. Stay.”
“I…” Joy shook her head. “I can’t.”
Seth wouldn’t look at her. “I don’t want…you in my room…anymore.”
“Baby,” Joy said, doing her best to speak calmly. She hoped he wouldn’t notice the shaking of her words. “Okay. I’ll leave. But I hope you understand that sometimes a parent has to make the hard decisions for their children.”
***
Joy sat in the metal chair, scouring her records, hoping to find anything she missed that might help save Seth’s life without the use of the nanites. The folders strewn across her desk had a decade old layer of dust coating them and when she swiped her hand over the surface to clear it, the grey powder rolled up and fell onto the desk.
Once you’re healed, I can replicate the leftover nanites and more people will be saved from heartache.
The words echoed around in her head. She closed her eyes. Eloise’s nanites were the purest version of her creation. The original. When Amanda and Merrick came to Joy, begging her to help them save Eloise’s life, she agreed, not realizing four years later they would destroy everything. The research. The nanites.
At first, she came across recordings she made during Nemosyne’s development; the piles of papers devoted to the documentation of their testing phase and the many, many rejection letters. They all noted Nemosyne was ‘too dangerous' or 'lacked clarity.’
Joy scoffed. Why did I keep these?
She would spend the next eight years after Eloise’s parent’s death failing to repeat what she had accomplished with Amanda and Merrick. The nanites were never the same. Their impurity caused the mind wipes, not their programming. It seemed Amanda and Merrick knew something she didn’t—they had always been smarter than her—and that infuriated her more than anything. She was a brilliant scientist. Her life’s work was to heal brain degradation. Seth suffered from a fatal brain disease. The nanites should have worked if she still had the original ones, but they—except for Eloise’s nanites—perished in the explosion, and Joy had to settle for half-strength ones from Eloise’s body.
Joy couldn’t figure out why Eloise’s nanites were half strength. None of the tests made any sense. Eloise had the original. So why weren’t they healing him? Every single test, after years, said the same thing: Eloise’s nanites weren’t strong enough. But why?
At the bottom of the stack of documents, Joy found a black, hardbound journal. As she flipped through it, she read about her pregnancy with Seth, him as an infant and young child, his unknown illness, her anger toward the fertility clinic for their oversight in giving her sperm from a donor carrying the disease, and finally his diagnosis. The final entry, dated March 2nd, 3028, was twelve years ago. Seth was five.
A miracle has happened.
Eloise’s body, previously immunocompromised due to her blood infection, has accepted the nanites. Is she the key to what we have been looking for? The future of Project Nemosyne is unsure, but I may have just been handed a solution on a silver platter.
Seth is going to be okay!
Joy flicked the book back in the box. She rolled her eyes at her naivety, then turned her attention back to her papers, flipping through the test results of Eloise’s past three visits.
The nanites are functioning at full, so what’s wrong?
She inhaled, held her breath for four seconds, then exhaled. Her eyes grew heavy.
The door to Joy’s office creaked as it opened.
“What is it?” Joy asked. Her office had no window, but she knew the sun was up. She could smell it on Edmund, the guard standing just inside the room. He reeked of it.
“Ma’am. We lost another one.”
Joy slammed her open palm on the desk, making the pencil cup rattle, and stood. “Damn those Sentinels!”
“What if we wait until she’s off duty and isn’t around the Sentinels anymore? We may not lose any more people that way.”
“No,” Joy said. “We need something else…”
“What about Liam?” Edmund suggested. “He lived in the Compound for about a year but left after he and Mason had a disagreem
ent. He should know how to get past the Sentinels.”
Excitement boiled in her stomach. “Get in contact with him and send him my way. Tell him to meet me here tomorrow and I will give him further instruction. In the meantime, I have an appointment.”
“Ma’am.” Edmund nodded.
CHAPTER SIX
Bannack
Bannack had resigned himself to a solitary life years ago. He lost his home and entire family in the span of a few years, resorted to kidnapping people for Joy’s human trials, and helped her delete the memories of the victim’s families who came looking for them, all for the promise that Joy would take away the memories of his family. Bannack allowed Joy to manipulate him into horrible sins. When the time came to hold up her side of the bargain, she gaslighted him, challenging his memory of her promise, and denying she even agreed to wipe his memories.
After five years of being in her service, he left. She didn’t seem to care. He devoted his time to finding his father’s akrafena sword, his last connection to his family.
He thought back to Eloise as he walked, the newly recovered akrafena attached to his hip and Malikah’s locket pressed to his chest. He’d returned to the items’ burial site hours earlier and dug them out. Seeing Eloise’s face with a scar through it jarred him. In fact, the entire experience had, including when she stood up to him. That hadn’t happened for a long time.
I did the right thing by saying goodbye.
What he did, the sins he committed, no one would ever accept him. Better to be alone.
Bannack wandered for most of the day, unable to decide which direction to go. The sun danced through the horizon, painting the heavy cloud cover a brilliant red. Below, the still ocean was a mirror blushing up at the sky.
From the other end of a bridge, Bannack watched the bustle on Raft Island. He perched on a rock, admiring the beauty of the silence. His dark hands fiddled with a small pendant, a pansy engraved on the front, and his thumbprint molded into the back. He’d held onto it more times than he cared to admit, willing it to bring his sister back to him but no matter how he tried, screamed, and threw the damn thing, it always ended up back in his hand and never with his sister.
I miss you most of all.
The day she died in the shooting, along with their mom, haunted him. Sometimes he even dreamed about it. The memory of finding their bodies by the shattered glass front door holding each other, and how he had ignored his maame’s warning not to go into the forest because he would get lost, tore into him like a bull goring into his stomach. True trauma came when he buried them. No ceremony. Just him, blinded by tears and pain, forced to listen to the dirt falling on their embraced forms. For seven years, he denied that he was all alone in the world. Anger became his constant companion.
Bannack’s eyes drooped as he sat upon the rock, and he shook his head to wake himself up.
Shoving the medallion in his pocket, he stood, trying to remember where the road had been. He ripped plants from the ground, then ran his hand across the cracked asphalt underneath. He squinted. Everything was so different.
Bannack continued down the road and found an abandoned home, shrugged his pack off, and sunk into a seated position on the concrete porch. He rested his forearms on his knees.
People have always been afraid of me. Why would Eloise be any different?
His body shivered as a breeze touched the porch. “I need a fire.”
Bannack pried some boards off the house and tossed them into a metal drum he found in the garage.
After an hour or two of attempting to light the wood, the fire finally crackled to life. Bannack piled on kindling. Once the fire grew to a good size, he scooted closer to the warmth and held his hands to the orange glow.
Shadows danced on the bay windows. Bannack threw a thick branch of madrone wood into the fire, sparks floating into the black sky.
As Bannack sat on the cold concrete, his feet resting on the step below him, his mind wandered to the past couple of days. Joy was coming for Eloise. He also knew getting her hands on Eloise was a matter of when, not if.
Sparks sprayed into the air when a log separated from its scorched brethren. Bannack stood, pacing back and forth on the deck with his mother’s words, “We do not leave those we love behind,” playing over and over in his head.
“There’s no escaping you, is there Maame?”
The only answer came from the crackling fire. Crickets chirped in the night. As Bannack surveyed the neighborhood with overgrown hedges, grass, and the occasional flowering rose bush, he worked his jaw.
Eloise is going to be fine. She has the Compound to keep her safe.
We do not leave those we love behind.
Bannack scrubbed his scalp.
Joy’s going to have to stop eventually.
She’s strong. A fighter. She’ll be ok—
We do not leave those we love behind.
Grass flattened under each stomping footstep. The wind whistled, rustling the tree branches and freezing his skin. Bannack growled.
It’s fine. Worse comes to worst, she’ll find a nice cave to hole up in.
We do not leave those we love behind.
“Fine!”
Nothing made sense anymore. Growling and muttering, Bannack stuffed his belongings into his pack, swung it over his shoulder so violently that the bag hit his side, aggravating his stitches. He cried out, then growled, moving more gingerly than before. The water he had collected in a five-gallon bucket from the nearby pond sizzled loudly, drowning the fire. Steam billowed upward.
He walked away from the neighborhood in angry silence. His lip ached as he gnawed on it. No one was with him to be the voice of reason, so he went straight to the only person he trusted enough to help him.
***
Kendal’s tavern sat empty in the late evening. Inside, she cleaned off a table with a large rag, humming quietly. A bucket filled with murky water sat at her feet. Her locs, tied back with a leather string, bounced with the movement of her shoulders.
Bannack cleared his throat.
“Get out of my tavern and go work off your morning imbibing in the sun. Don’t bring it ‘round here.” She then dropped a wet rag into the bucket of water and pulled a dry cloth from her belt.
Bannack cleared his throat again.
“God almighty!” Kendal turned, and her face changed from irritation to a wide smile. “Blue Eyes.”
“Hello, Kendal.”
“Where’s your lady friend?”
“Eloise?” Bannack asked, and at Kendal’s nod, he replied. “I came alone.”
“Hmm. Well,” she tossed a rag at his chest, “talk and work.”
After several moments of silence, Bannack relayed every event after leaving. While he spoke, Kendal remained quiet, continuing to clean off tables, toss scraps onto the floor, and switch from her wet rag to her dry one, swapping a new cloth out every time she finished with a table.
“You done?”
“Yes,” Bannack lied and fidgeted. Kendal knew of his past, so the only thing he worried about was her disapproval.
“I’ve known you a long time, Blue Eyes, and I’ve learned two things.” She wiped her hands dry with the last rag. Her eyes bored into him and he willed himself not to look away. “One, you are more honorable than you realize. And two, you shuffle your left foot when you lie.”
Blood rushed from his face. Bannack sighed and sat in the closest chair. Kendal did the same, spinning it around to sit backward in it.
“Okay. Yes. I am staying away because of my past. I cannot allow Eloise to find out about it.”
“And what are you worried about when she finds out?”
“She will reject me. I know it. It is always the same. I am welcomed and as soon as they learn of my sins, I am banished. Why should this time be any different?”
“Why should it not be different?”
He scrubbed his face. “Because I have never known things to change.
Humans are the same.”
“Oh, come now.” Kendal blinked softly at him and smiled as if amused by his answer. “You know that’s not true.”
“My experiences have taught me the opposite.”
Kendal placed her chin on the back of the chair. “And you believe Eloise will do the same?”
“I only suspect.” Bannack stared at his hands. “I need to know what to do. The memory wipe is all I have ever wanted and now that I cannot have it, I am lost.”
“And because of your past, you are afraid.”
Hanging his head, tears stung his eyes. Bannack nodded.
Kendal stood. “I want to show you something.”
“What is it?”
“Ever suspicious. If I reveal too much, it’ll give away the surprise.” Kendal crossed the room, grabbed a shawl, and smiled. “You know how much I love surprises.”
They walked for about an hour and then came to a house with neglected flower beds and a gnarled tree with moss and lichen growing on the bark. Kendal knocked and a man appeared. His black eyes searched Bannack. They narrowed in recognition.
“He’s not welcome.”
“I understand, Boris,” Kendal held up her hands in a placating gesture, “but he is unarmed and harmless.”
“Tell that to my wife.” Rising anger in Boris’ body language made Bannack tense. He took a step back.
“Boris, please. I know how hard it is to let this man into your home, but he's returned to put things right.”
“He ain’t setting foot inside this house. He does,” Boris took a menacing step forward, his eyes dark, “and I’ll kill him.”
Kendal searched the man’s face then peered over his shoulder into the house. A quick, small smile tickled the corner of her mouth. Unable to keep his hands from shaking, Bannack shoved them into his pockets.
A rustle came from the stairs behind Boris, then a woman appeared at the landing. Her dress, shin length and with tight-fitting sleeves, flared outward starting at her waist and complemented her carefully curled hair. Upon seeing her, Bannack’s blood ran cold. He knew her. The deaf woman who occasionally appeared in his dreams. She always stood in her garden, carefully tending to the vegetables.
