Elusive Memories (The Hunted #1)

by Amanda Shofner

  *****

  Sam blinked awake. A sliver of light covered a thin strip of the room, slicing across the bed. Confusion sparked when she didn’t recognize it. She tried to sit up.

  Nothing happened. Realizing she was strapped to the bed, she yelled for help. Heavy footfalls cut her off and snagged her attention.

  “Ah. You’re awake now. I’ve never been able to see how long the serum really knocks you out. I’d always wondered. It was longer than I expected, actually, if you care to know.”

  But he made no sense. She felt dizzy and cut adrift, not sure who the man was or what he was talking about. Pieces of information—snippets of memories—flitted around in her brain, but nothing concrete. Nothing to give her any answers. She wiggled her arms to see if there was any give in the restraints.

  There wasn’t.

  “It’ll take you a while to process everything, I’m sure. Take your time. We’re figuring out what to do with you. But don’t worry. We’ll get you back where you belong.”

  Alarm bells went off in her head. She knew one thing: “I don’t belong in restraints. Let me go.”

  “Oh no.” He wagged his finger at her. “You’ve gotten away from me twice now. I’m not going to make it a third.”

  Sam stared at him, taking in his dark green pants. His shirt of the same color with brass buttons. She knew those clothes—why did she know those clothes? Bits of people and places rushed through her head, moving so fast she couldn’t nail anything down.

  She felt something rise within her, something familiar, almost comforting. It bubbled up, making her eyelids flutter, and pulled her under.

  The crowd was small, but it was loud, and it was rowdy.

  Sam felt a smile curve her face as a man stood at the podium and raised his hand to quiet everyone. He found her gaze and smiled back.

  She struggled to place where they were. There was a building behind the podium. It was big and hulking, with five stories of a strong brick facade. Without any identifying features, it could have been anything, but it was new. Dirt ringed the building where bushes were being planted, and fresh sod had been lain out to the curb, where the asphalt parking lot sparkled in the morning sun. In the distance, men connected guard towers with fence, hemming the building in. Protecting it.

  Once the crowd had died down, the man spoke, “With this building, the Northern Alliance Betterment Society can finally unite in a single place and move forward with our vision for the world—one without the Gifted.”

  His next words were lost to the cheers of the crowds.

  But Sam had begun to acclimate herself. She didn’t know whose memory she was experiencing, but she knew who these people were: the Hunters.

  This was the beginning of the compound. How long ago had that been? Years. Before she was born.

  Sam looked down, trying to figure out whose memory she was in. A woman’s, judging by the small, soft hands and manicured nails. As Sam watched, the woman lifted a hand to her stomach, and Sam felt a slight bump.

  “We’re assembling a team of some of the best scientists in the world and now we’ll finally have the place for them to begin their research.”

  He beamed again as the crowd cheered and held up his hand, sweeping it around to the building. “Welcome to the Northern Alliance Betterment Society’s compound.”

  Sam woke to a slap in her face. She sputtered and her eyes flew open. Confusion and the sting of her cheek vied for her attention.

  “Don’t be disgusting, Samara.” Her mother stood over her, peering at her face. “I always know when you’re having one of your memories. You twitch and jerk. I was so disappointed when I realized you were born with the Gift.”

  Sam scrambled to follow what her mother said as memories came tumbling back, spurred on by her memory of the compound. Her mother and Jennings kidnapping her. Escaping to the retreat house with Coop. Jennings exploding the canister over Jones. Janey. Coop helping her escape the compound. Reed. Smith. Amy.

  Her mother. As a child, Sam had overheard her mom demanding to be an elder. “But you always wanted the Gift.”

  Her mother sighed and pulled up a chair, folding her hands and setting them in her lap. “No. I wanted the power. When I was younger, I wanted the Gift, but that was before I met Smith and he opened my eyes to the dangers of the Gifted.”

  That was what had niggled at Sam’s brain earlier. Smith’s inside source. No wonder why he knew about her family—why he’d asked about her mother, even though she shouldn’t have been on his radar. “You’ve been working against memory-bringers all this time.”

  The corners of her mother’s eyes crinkled and her lips curled slightly. “I have.”

  More of the conversation with Smith came rushing back. He’d asked about her grandma—if she was dead. “Where’s Grandma? Did you kill her?”

  “No, no.” Her mother shook her head. “She’s in a room down the hall. I’ve been questioning her for information. Smith wants to step up the testing against memory-bringers. And I wanted to make sure he wouldn’t subject your grandma to any testing before they perfected the technique.”

  “The… technique?”

  “To remove the Gift from you completely.”

  It had to be the memory serum. “The memory serum doesn’t work, you know.”

  “Thanks to you, we do.”

  Sam pulled against her bonds. “You knew what they were going to do to me?”

  “You’re an integral part of our plans, Samara. Despite what you may think, I just want the best for you and my family. I should have never let you get involved with the memory-bringer elders. They’re too dangerous.” Her eyes slid away. “I should have made him start the memory-bringer testing sooner.”

  Before she could say more, Jennings stuck his head in the room. “Ms. Benson. Smith wants to talk to you.”

  Her mother stood and pushed the chair back, her eyes lighting up. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  Because she could go anywhere? Sam pulled a hand up, trying to see if she could wiggle it out. No luck. Her mother pushed past Jennings and disappeared.

  Jennings leaned against the doorway, his thin frame barely taking up space, a self-satisfied smile on his face. “Your mom is delusional, you know.”

  She didn’t disagree with him, but knowing what he’d done to Jones—what he’d tried to do with her—she wasn’t going to agree with him either. He may not have physically hurt her, but he was no better than Reed.

  Sam channeled Coop. “Is Reed so scared to deal with me that he sent his favorite—expendable—lackey out to do his work for him?”

  Red crept up his face. “He’s injured.” Jennings pushed off the door frame and walked over to the bed, fingering the straps of her restraints. “And he sent me to fetch you. No matter what she says or thinks, your mom isn’t in charge here. I’m taking you back.”

  “I don’t have the information he’s looking for,” Sam said. “I’m not of any use to you.”

  Her mother might be a little whacked in the head, but she didn’t think her mother would hurt her. Other than removing her Gift. But Jennings and Reed, they wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her.

  Reed already had. Jennings had tried. And he still had the time and opportunity to do so.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, memory-bringer.” His lip curled with a sneer, and he produced another vial from his pocket. “You may not know anything, but you are useful. This?” He shook the vial. “You’ve been very valuable when it comes to testing our memory serum.”

  “It doesn’t work on me. I always recover my memories.”

  “No one has ever received as much as you have. Another one could be all you need to lose your Gift for good.” An evil glint appeared in his eyes. “And Reed requested a special dose before I came for you. Let’s see if this does the trick.”

  He turned to the chest of drawers at the end of the bed and picked up a needle. He stuck it into the vial, and Sam watched with growing dread as it filled with the se
rum. There was nothing she could do to stop him. No words she could use. She wiggled anyway, trying to get away.

  “Reed will be so pleased to see you again.”

  The sharp sting pierced her skin, but rather than finding herself deep in the blackness that usually followed, Sam felt her energy rise up and push the blackness away. Her body was fighting the serum—developing a resistance to it. But the surge of her energy built up inside her, exploding into another memory.

  She stood in front of a chain link fence. Sam struggled to orient herself; it wasn’t her memory, and it wasn’t from the past either. The malleability and looseness of the images crept along her vision.

  The fence was tall. Innocuous except for the barbed wire lining the top and the constant buzzing near its perimeter. The closest guard towers were obscured by trees. Sam—or the person whose memory this was—paced back and forth.

  The appearance of a Hunter forced her to dive behind nearby bushes and trees.

  So they were at the compound. But it was heavily guarded, the place where they conducted all their experiments.

  Where they killed the Gifted.

  “Come on, Janey. Think. How are we going to get in?”

  Oh, Janey. Sam remembered the force of the girl’s anger. She’d wanted to kill Reed. And if this memory was right—if it came true—she’d make an attempt. But there was nothing Sam could do within the memory to stop her.

  Janey peered around the bushes and checked the fence again. The guard was gone. She pushed herself up and snagged a tree branch that had fallen on the ground.

  Sam wanted to tell Janey not to do it—the fence was electrified—but she crept to the fence anyway, branch outstretched. She approached cautiously, keeping an eye out for another guard. Sam tapped into her thoughts; she knew the guards did perimeter checks, but she hadn’t been patient enough to wait and time how long they went between them.

  There was no one around, just the fence and the trees that rolled on for a mile and blocked the view of the compound. Janey reached out with the branch and touched the fence, the shock jolting her back and throwing Sam out of the memory.

  Sam gasped as she came back to herself, the shock pinging around inside her. She hadn’t been physically shocked like Janey would be, but the memory of it reverberated through her.

  “Samara.”

  The voice, barely audible, came from her right. She’d been moved. The air was sour. She wasn’t strapped to a bed. Instead, her arms were pulled behind her, bound with rope. Both her legs were tied to a chair.

  Sam turned her head. Her grandma lay in the bed, her legs and arms tied, much like Sam’s had been earlier.

  “Grandma!” She winced at how loud she was and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  “Your mother’s kept me here since you were taken.”

  The frailty in her grandma’s voice concerned her. Her grandma had always been a small woman, but she’d never been frail. The tremor was new and the paleness of her skin made her veins pop. She didn’t look like she’d be able to survive much longer. Was this how her mother took care of her family? Sam couldn’t bear to think what would happen if her mother managed to be successful at removing her Gift completely.

  Sam hopped and wiggled her chair over to the bed, not caring how loud it was scraping across the wooden floor. She had to free her grandma. Sam leaned forward as far as she could and opened her mouth.

  “Shh,” her grandma said, cocking her head toward the door. “It’s gotten quiet. Your mom and the other man have stopped arguing.”

  Sam straightened and listened. She hadn’t heard it before. The argument had been a distant hum when she’d come back from the memory. She’d filed it away as a background noise that only seemed conspicuous and odd now that it was gone. And she’d been too concerned for her grandma.

  Her mother appeared in the door frame, her face flushed. For the first time, Sam saw the lines and worry etched in the brackets around her mouth. The wrinkles that had begun to appear in her suit. The puffiness of her eyes, like she’d been crying. “Stop moving. I barely got you back this time.”

  She disappeared.

  Sam turned to her grandma, her eyebrow arched in question.

  “That man—”

  “Jennings,” Sam supplied.

  “Your mom discovered Jennings trying to leave with you. She became enraged and managed to make him stop. They put you in here. They’ve been arguing ever since, but I can’t hear what they’re saying.”

  “We have to get out of here.” Sam pulled her wrists apart, testing how much give the rope had. Not much, but if she kept working at it, she’d be able to ease one of her hands out.

  “Samara.”

  The way her grandma said her name made her stop and lift her head, meeting her grandma’s eyes.

  “You need to leave. Don’t worry about me.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Samara, I’ve spent the last few weeks here, listening to your mother. I know what she’s done—I know what she’s planning to do. You need to leave.”

  Sam didn’t want to listen. “I’m not leaving without you.” Sam renewed the twisting of her hands. The ropes rubbed against her skin, but she ignored the pain. A few more and she’d be able to pull her hands free.

  “Your mother wants you to take over the Hunters, Samara. She wants to erase your Gift and put you in charge.”

  Sam froze at her grandma’s words. But that was crazy. Sam was Gifted. Even if they took away her Gift, it wouldn’t change her. Coop hadn’t changed after his Gift was removed. “Why would she want me to take over the Hunters?”

  “Because you’re their daughter.”

  “I’m whose—but I thought my father died.”

  “That’s what your mother wanted us to believe. She never spoke about him, and I thought I was doing the right thing by not pressing her about it. But Samara, your father isn’t dead. He’s the one in charge of the Hunters—your mother too.”

  Smith. He’d seen her. Known what Reed had done. It couldn’t be true.

  “But I can’t be his daughter. That’s not possible—neither he nor Mother are Gifted. I shouldn’t be either.”

  “Your mother carries the Gifted gene. The possibility of you being Gifted was small. I suspect she had hoped you would be non-Gifted like her.”

  I was so disappointed when I realized you were born with the Gift.

  The totality of what her grandma was saying weighed her down. Her mother. Smith. Her mother hadn’t been jealous or resentful of her Gift—she’d been disappointed. And now she wanted to make Sam just like her. Her brain shorted out trying to process everything. Instead, she focused on what was in front of her. She had to help her grandma.

  A couple frustrated tugs, and her arm slipped free. Sam held up her hand victoriously. “I’m going to get you out of here, Grandma. We can find a way to get to Uncle Dan and Coop, and we’ll figure out what to do about…” Sam trailed off and waved her hand around the room. “…this.”

  Her grandma’s eyes sharpened and narrowed. “Coop. Short for Cooper?”

  “How did you know?”

  “I overheard your mother on the phone talking about the information he’d shared with her and what they should feed him next. She’s using him to monitor how much the Gifted know.”

  Sam bit her lip. If her mother knew everything that Coop did, he and Sam would have to start all over as they built the Gifted army. All of Coop’s work at the compound was for naught. His Gift—she shuddered and sucked in air. Her mother had destroyed everything he’d worked for.

  The thought of Coop burning down the labs made her feel better.

  With one of her arms out, Sam was able to pull the other free, and she set to work on the ropes binding her legs.

  “Samara. Stop a moment. How are you planning to get out of here?”

  Sam met her grandma’s gaze. “Sneak past Mother and Jennings.”

  “You might be able to get past them
, but I—”

  “We’ll make it work, Grandma.”

  “Good intentions and sheer will won’t get you through everything in life, Samara.”

  Sam stopped untying her leg and considered her grandma’s words. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, her grandma was right. Coop had had good intentions in sharing information with the memory-bringers, but her mother had twisted it into something for her own gain.

  She had to come up with a plan. Sam scanned the room. The door was open—neither her mother nor Jennings expected them to go anywhere—but if she could find something better, she and her grandma wouldn’t have to worry about sneaking past them. The room did have a single window, low enough to climb over. She freed herself from the bindings and pressed her face to the window.

  They were on the ground floor.

  It would have to do. Sam rushed over to her grandma, unbuckling the restraints. She tried not to notice how her grandma’s bones stood out prominently in her wrists and collarbones. Gentling her touch, she slid her shoulder under her grandma’s arm and helped her stand.

  A spike of apprehension shot through her as she realized her grandma could barely stand on her own. But she was light, and it wasn’t much of a struggle for Sam to drag her across the room. She could lift her feet, and that cut down on the sounds they were making.

  “You first,” Sam whispered. “I’ll help lower you down.”

  It wasn’t a long drop. Her grandma probably could make it on her own, but Sam didn’t want to take any chances. She looked over her shoulder. No one was there. She listened and could still hear voices. Not as angry as before, but hopefully loud enough to cover any sounds they’d make when they opened the window and escaped.

  Sam looked out. A quiet neighborhood with small houses and neatly trimmed yards spread out in front of them. Surreal. She didn’t recognize this part of town, but she hadn’t traveled much. When she’d gone with her grandma to the houses of memory-bringers, she hadn’t bothered to pay attention.

  She cursed herself for it now.

  The lock on the window twisted open easily, but Sam couldn’t lift the window with one hand.

  “Will you be able to stand on your own for a moment?”

  Her grandma nodded.

  She ducked under her grandma’s arm, pausing as her grandma grabbed the windowsill to steady herself. Satisfied, Sam turned her attention to the window. It hadn’t gotten completely stuck, but it was sticky. From the state of this room and the other one she’d been in, Sam suspected the house had sat empty for quite some time.

  Wiggling it open enough to slide her fingers underneath, Sam pulled it up, grimacing as it creaked. If luck was on their side, no one would hear it. She helped her grandma over the windowsill, hooking her arms under her shoulders and lowering her down.

  Sam motioned at her grandma. “Go. I’m right behind you.”

  Swinging her leg up, Sam straddled the windowsill. When she’d gotten into a sitting position with both her feet hanging out the window, she got ready to jump.

  But a hand gripped her arm and pulled her back hard. She hit her head on the window, the crack echoing in the empty room, and her head spun as she was yanked again. She landed on her back, staring up into the angry face of Jennings.

  “You’re not going anywhere.”

  Chapter Fifteen