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The Gift of Remembering

Page 23

by C. L. Shaffer


  Everyone in the car seemed relieved to be beyond the obstacle. Buck became chatty and inquisitive. "How are you doing all this, Irene? I thought you were processed? Are you part of The Underground?"

  Irene turned to him. "The Underground?"

  Buck seemed to pull his foot off the gas, for the vehicle slowed. He leaned toward her. "You're kidding, right?"

  "I have no idea what you're talking about."

  Buck flopped back in his seat as if dumbfounded. "Why do you think The Firsts go to all the trouble with security?"

  "I don't know. To keep riffraff like us out?"

  Buck shook his head. "No, it’s because they know there's a group living among us trying to sabotage everything they've built."

  "Are you talking about the people who were processed, but it didn't take?" Irene asked. "The people who have The Gift of Remembering?"

  "What? No. I've never heard of such a thing." Buck stared at her for a second or two. "I'm talking about The Firsts themselves—the workers who didn't get processed. Twice now, I've heard of revolts in the lower sectors."

  "The lower sectors?"

  Buck cocked his head. "You really aren't with them, are you?"

  "I've heard about The Underground," Emma interjected. "A week or so ago, someone stuck pamphlets along with some business cards throughout the books in the library. It took us days to weed them out. But I left a few pamphlets behind and snuck one home to read. It was all about freedom, and how The Firsts are nothing more than tyrants, working people in the lower sectors to near starvation so that they can continue to live their upscale lifestyle."

  "I guessed early on that The Firsts were up to something,” Irene said. “Did you mention that you found business cards along with the brochures?"

  "Yeah."

  "U . . . G," Irene said to no one in particular. "Were the cards navy with gold lettering by any chance?"

  "That's right, and there was an invitation on the back to join. How did you know?"

  "Someone once handed one of our team members such a card. I had no idea who the group was at the time. It sounds as if they've been fighting an internal war with The Firsts for some time." Irene looked at Buck. "So you think it’s the UG who is trying to get those in the lower sectors to revolt?"

  "I do." He gave her a sideways glance. "I get that you're not with them. But then why hijack my truck?"

  "My mom has her own plan for us to be free of The Firsts," Emma said.

  Buck gestured at Irene with his chin. "But how does your mother here even understand the concept of freedom? Again, wasn't she processed?"

  "Not exactly," Emma said.

  Buck stretched his neck from side to side as if he was frustrated by Emma's vague answer. "I wasn't necessarily a fan of forced processing," he finally said. "I was a little shocked when I first learned about it. But in the end, it was necessary to build the peace we enjoy now."

  Irene raised her gun slightly. "I think those in the lower sectors would disagree."

  Buck cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I'm sure that's true."

  They drove on, and Irene's gun seemed to quiet Buck for some time. But after a few more miles, its effectiveness began to wear off. "By the way," he started again, pointing at Irene's gun. "Where did you get that thing?"

  "It was my husband's. He told me to use it if things went bad."

  "So things have gone bad?"

  Irene decided not to say anything further. She didn't want to worry Emma more than she already had with what she assumed was the truth, which was that Chris had been double-crossed by Tia and was now being held against his will.

  Processing would surely follow. The real fear was not that he'd lose his memories—which he would eventually gain back—but that Roger's town would be uncovered during the procedure. Irene could only hope that Chris would find a way to escape and make his way to her before that took place.

  "So, what is our plan?" Emma asked, sitting up in her seat as they neared the entry point back into Mayfield City.

  Irene lowered her gun. "We're going to pick up your sister at headquarters." Irene focused on Buck as he slowed the truck. "Don't do anything stupid. Just show your pass."

  "That's Mick," Buck said, pointing at the security guard standing up ahead. "He knows me pretty well. I won't even need to show my pass."

  Irene pushed the gun into Buck's leg. He grimaced a little but lifted his pass up to the glass of the driver's side window. Irene watched as the security guard gave Buck a friendly wave and motioned him forward.

  Buck waved back. "See, me and Mick are old friends." Buck put the truck into gear and drove it toward Main Street. "Onto headquarters," he said with a mocking tone.

  But Irene didn't allow the comment to rattle her. She settled back into her seat, realizing she'd been on edge since they'd left the library.

  "How are you going to gain access to your daughter at headquarters?" Buck asked, glancing at Irene. "No offense, but it's not like walking into a library."

  "Maybe I can help with that part of the plan," Emma said, fiddling with the rubber between the window and the door.

  Irene turned to her daughter. She was more than willing to hear suggestions. The plan Chris had come up with to get into headquarters was dodgy at best.

  Emma nodded. "When I first began recalling . . . my past, I did a little research, and I tracked Vanessa down."

  "Really?" Irene asked, surprised by her daughter's initiative.

  "We've spoken a few times."

  Irene shifted more fully to her daughter. "Emma, that's incredible."

  "Not really. I mean, the first time we met, I was merely testing the water. I wanted to see if she remembered me like I remembered her. But she gave no indication whatsoever that she did, so I decided to keep the fact that I was her sister to myself. I thought it would be dangerous to tell her the truth. We became acquaintances, however. And I could use that to draw her to the truck."

  Irene felt a sense of pride surge within her. "What you did took a lot of courage. I'm proud of you."

  "Don't get too excited. Vanessa is a bit of a . . . how can I put it . . . she's a workaholic. She loves her job, and she can be kind of a snob about it. It won't be easy to get her to leave that all behind and come with us."

  "Well, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Buck added.

  …

  Waiting in the truck for Emma to carry out her part of the plan was nothing more than nerve-racking. Irene attempted to keep her mind off it by watching people stroll by on the sidewalk. From a distance, street life was not unlike that found in Roger's town. But on closer inspection, Irene could see differences.

  Most were dressed in the same uniform Irene donned every day since she'd arrived: a black suit and a white shirt. A lack of material was the leading cause for the commonality of dress, but Irene often wondered if a lack of spirit and creativity was to blame as well. On the way to work, now and again, she'd spot a bit of color on a wearer: a yellow scarf or a green hat, bought perhaps while visiting The Firsts' utopia. But beyond those items, black seemed to win out.

  She noticed another difference as she sat in the truck—something she couldn't necessarily see, but it was there, nonetheless. She recalled the day when the team of Firsts showed up to take Dean Kessler from his office. Hushed conversations among Nick and his fellow managers suggested to Irene that Dean had been taken to be processed for some unknown crime. Had Dean been a part of The Underground? After what Emma and Buck had told her, Irene guessed he had. And it was this threat—the fear of being snatched away—that created an unspoken, unseen but clearly felt sense of unease over the entire city to which even The Firsts workers were not immune.

  "What do you make of that?" Buck said, pointing out the window to a team of Firsts agents coming down the street. Every time they spotted a woman with blonde hair, they turned her about, presumably to get a look at her face.

  “They're looking for you," Buck said out loud, confirming what Irene had already realized.
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  Irene snatched the cap from off the dashboard and pulled it down on her head. "We need to get off this street. Pull around into the alley."

  Buck did as she asked without the need for the gun. And despite his earlier comment, she was still leery about trusting him. "Let the back of the truck stick out a little so Emma can see us."

  Buck put the truck in reverse and allowed it to coast backward. Placing it in park, he kept the engine running. "I don't think she'll be much longer," he said with a tone of anxiety that matched how Irene was feeling.

  But his comment came true as Irene peered back to see Emma and Vanessa coming their way. Irene was struck by how professional and grownup Vanessa looked in her suit.

  Irene quickly opened the door of the truck. As she did, she heard Emma say something to her sister. "We can hitch a ride with these guys. They're friends of mine," Emma said to Vanessa.

  Vanessa's facial expression changed to one of disapproval. "What are you talking about? I'm not getting into a truck with complete strangers." She took a step backward. "Look, I've got a ton of work to do. I'm sorry. I know I agreed to go with you to that new restaurant. It's cool that you got a pass to get in, but I'm not going like this. It's just weird, Emma. Sometimes, you can be so weird."

  "Come on. I may be weird, but at least I'm not someone who's glued to her desk. It'll be fun," Emma said. "And these people aren't strangers. They're my friends, and you're insulting them."

  Vanessa peered inside the truck's cab at Buck and then at Irene, who smiled in return. But Irene's pleasant expression seemed to do little to ease Vanessa's reluctance. Vanessa pulled away from the cab. "Absolutely not."

  "Get in the truck, Vanessa," Emma said, picking up a short board from a stack of construction wood in the alley.

  "No, I will—"

  The blow to her head was swift, and it knocked Vanessa to the ground. Irene leaped from the cab.

  "Sorry," Emma said to her sister with a smile.

  Irene lodged her gun behind her back and yanked the board from Emma's hand. "You didn't have to enjoy it so much," she said, tossing the board back onto the pile.

  "It was necessary. The streets are teeming with guards, probably looking for you, and she wasn't budging."

  "Just help me get her into the cab."

  The two lifted Vanessa as Buck helped pull her toward him. Irene slid into the seat, adjusting Vanessa's body to a more comfortable position. She turned to Emma as she rested Vanessa's head on her shoulder. "I hope you didn't do any permanent damage."

  "What more could I have done to her brain that The Firsts haven't done already?"

  "She has a point," Buck said.

  Irene pulled Vanessa closer as she glared at Buck. "Let's just get out of here."

  "Where to?"

  Emma glanced into her side mirror. "We can't go back the way we came. The entry points will be swarming with guards."

  Irene placed her hand on Vanessa's face. Had they come all this way just to be stuck in a back alley? Hope began to drain from her, but then Buck turned and looked her in the eye. He bit his lip as if feeling a little hesitant. "I think I have a way to get you out. It will be uncomfortable, though."

  For a second time, Irene was struck by Buck's comment that seemed to occur without coercion. "You're going to help us?"

  He sat there for a second or two. "My son was killed in the war. If he were still alive, I'd probably do just about anything to help him, and I see you're trying to do the same for your kids. I still don't understand all of this remembering after being processed stuff, and I think it's somewhat pointless to fight against The Firsts, but right now, the way I see it, I'm not betraying The Firsts. I'm simply helping a mother and her kids."

  Chapter 30

  Still unconscious, Vanessa rested on the floor between Irene and Emma, who sat across from one another behind a fake panel in Buck's truck bed. He'd explained that he used the small, concealed compartment to smuggle items, like chocolate meant for the higher-ups, which he sold for side money. It was uncomfortable, just as he'd warned, especially when the truck hit the occasional bump in the road.

  "Do you think we can trust him?" Emma asked, slapping her hand onto the wall of the compartment, seeming to try to steady herself.

  Irene peered down at Vanessa. "We don't have a choice, do we?"

  "I guess not."

  Irene felt the truck come to a stop and guessed they were back at the city's checkpoint. Through the thin walls of the truck's bed, she could hear the voice of a male guard beginning to converse with Buck, but she was unable to make out what they were saying. She looked over at Emma, who seemed suspended in time—frightened to move. Irene gave her a reassuring smile, and she appeared to relax somewhat, offering one in return.

  The truck's back door rolled up, causing them both to look in its direction. Not wanting the next sound to be the panel being removed and their concealment revealed, Irene remained completely still, wishing she'd situated herself in a more comfortable position.

  "Looks like you're nearly finished with deliveries today," Irene heard the guard say.

  "Thank goodness. It's been a long day," Buck said with a weary tone.

  "Mind if I take a look at your manifest?"

  "No, I don’t mind."

  Irene could hear the rustle of paper as Buck seemed to hand the guard his delivery schedule.

  "I see you have a box of books yet to deliver."

  "That's right," Buck said. "Stupid me, I forgot about it. Now I've got to go back and deliver it before the end of the day."

  "See anything suspicious during your deliveries today?" the guard asked.

  "Can't say that I have. Is that what all this extra security is for? I normally can drive right through here with just my pass. Usually, there isn't a lot of hold-ups. It makes the day go a lot smoother."

  "I'm afraid, going forward, your days will be a lot less smooth."

  "Oh?" Buck asked with a tone of anxiousness embedded in his words.

  "The days of easy access are over. Extra security measures are being put in place all around, even for deliveries."

  Irene could hear the schedule being handed back to Buck. A soft moan from Vanessa caused Irene to look down to see Emma already putting her hand over her sister's mouth. Emma smiled mischievously at Irene but then turned her attention again to the pair beyond the panel.

  "I wish you safe travels," the guard said, "but if you see anything suspicious, be sure to contact headquarters."

  Irene watched as Vanessa began to move. Come on, come on, Buck, she said to herself.

  "Of course," Buck said to the guard. "I'll be sure to do that."

  Irene heard footsteps heading away from the panel. Another moment went by, and she listened, as footsteps seemed to draw closer to her and Emma. "Everything okay in there?" Buck whispered through the panel.

  "Vanessa is waking up. We need to go," Irene said as she watched Vanessa put her hand to her forehead.

  "Okay. I'll take the panel off later," Buck said before seeming to scamper away.

  The back door to the truck rolled down, relieving some of Irene's anxiety. The start of the engine and the truck beginning to drive away, provided even more relief. Both Irene and Emma reclined back as they watched Vanessa waken. She rubbed her brow and lifted herself with her elbows. She looked directly at Irene and studied her. "What is—?"

  "It's okay, Vanessa," Emma said first before Irene had a chance.

  Vanessa twisted her head back. Seeing Emma seemed to rouse her anger. She beat the floor twice with the palm of her hand in apparent frustration. "What is going on?"

  Not getting an answer, she attempted to get to her feet, but the uneven road wouldn't allow her a steady standing. Instead, she seemed to examine the walls about her. It was most likely a prison to her. She pushed on the panel, trying to get out. When that didn’t work, she pounded on it.

  Irene covered her mouth, trying to hold back her emotions.

  "Give it up, Vanessa," Emma said, t
aking hold of her sister's arm. "The panel is locked in place."

  Vanessa jerked her arm free. "Don't touch me."

  The truck hit a bump, and Vanessa nearly collapsed onto Irene. Pulling herself up, Irene tried to help, but her daughter pointed a finger at her. "I know who you are," she said, putting her hand to her head, looking dizzy and unstable either from the rough road or from Emma's strike to the head. "You're that Discord leader. You're Irene Duncan." She closed her eyes and shook her head, seeming to try to focus. She then looked at her sister and glared.

  "And I'm not Emma Russo but Emma . . . Duncan. And you're Vanessa Duncan." Emma gave her sister a smirk she'd no doubt inherited from her father.

  "Emma."

  "What? She needed to know. Didn't she?" Emma folded her arms in front of her. "Besides, I'm sick of all the secrets."

  Vanessa wilted to the floor as if Emma's words were the final blow to her unsteadiness. "My name is Vanessa Thompson," she said like a machine on autoplay. "I'm in charge of eastern operations at central headquarters. I have nothing to do with either of you. You've kidnapped me for reasons I know nothing about." She rubbed her brow roughly. "But I will figure it out. Make no mistake; your punishment will be great when I do."

  "Dribble, Dribble, nothing but dribble," Emma taunted. "You're my sister. Deal with it. I certainly have had to."

  Vanessa put her hands over her ears. "Stop saying that."

  It was clear to Irene that Vanessa wasn't ready for the truth. Irene straightened her posture as best she could in an attempt to at least appear confident. "We did kidnap you," she began. "But you won't be going back. You won't want to."

  Vanessa slowly lowered her hands from her ears.

  "We've made it appear as if you're part of The Underground. We've uploaded back and forth conversations on the internal net between you and a man named Boris, who is one of the leaders of The UG. So you might as well face it, you're coming with us and staying with us."

 

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