Jonathan sighed. “Less than you’d imagine, Old Man.”
“Tell me. Tell me how it happened,” Heyer said. “When did you become aware of the change?”
“I woke up in the dark,” Jonathan said. “In some ways, it feels like my first memory. But, I remembered being Jonathan and being Douglas.”
“What do you mean then, when you say it felt like your first memory?” Leah asked.
“If I told you it was the opposite of amnesia would that make sense? Jonathan got hit on the head. I woke up remembering parts of another life along with his.”
“You’re talking about Jonathan like he was someone else,” Leah said.
“I am,” Jonathan said. “Because he was and he isn’t. I don’t think you can add the memories of another person to your own and stay the same.”
“But, you just woke up this way?” Heyer asked. “There was nothing in between?”
“No,” Jonathan hesitated—seemed frustrated in his effort to find words to explain.
“There was this sense, that he and Douglas made a choice. That they chose to be what was needed. How do you explain what it is to decide to become yourself? It was his decision, and so it was also mine. He needed to be me—and I wanted to be what was needed.”
Jonathan shook his head. “When I woke, Grant’s shadow was about to shove Excali-bar through my chest—and more than anything I knew Rylee needed me. There was no time to think about how it happened.”
“This somewhat explains the why,” Heyer said, “but not the how.”
Jonathan shrugged again. “You might as well ask me how I move my hand. I decide and it happens. What I know about the machinery, how my body does it, doesn’t matter when I wave at you.”
Jonathan waved his hand as though it might bring his point home.
“But you said you chose. Something must have happened when you made that decision?” Heyer asked.
“Those memories are the vaguest sort of dream. I remember a black abyss, a long brick wall, a key and a locked box, a little girl, a vault door. I remember my father talking to me. I don’t remember what he said, only that he was trying to help me.”
Mr. Clean chose that moment to interrupt, suddenly appearing within the reflection of one of the mirrors that lined the garage walls. “Apologies, but I believe that based on Jonathan’s account, I may be uniquely suited to provide some insight.”
“If you have a theory, we are all ears,” Heyer said.
“Jonathan identifies a moment as the inception of his current self. He does this despite being in possession of memories he knows precede that moment. Yet, he has no conflicts nor confusion, no trouble placing the collective memories of two identities into a mental timeline. There is only one other being I know of who is both capable of this and choses to do so on a regular basis.”
Heyer smiled. “You’re talking about yourself?”
“Indeed,” the AI said. “I believe what has happened to Jonathan was made possible because he and his father were in possession of something that you’ve never had with any host.”
“A genetic relationship?” Leah offered.
“No. Biology has nothing to do with it, but the father-son relationship does,” Mr. Clean said. “Rather, nearly thirteen years’ worth of overlapping experiences. Time spent in one another’s company. Identical points in time, shared in memory from two perspectives.”
Heyer’s hand went to his chin as he was drawn into contemplation. “Long-term shared memory.”
“Jonathan and Douglas may have been uniquely capable of navigating one another’s experiences, because they shared so much time together. So many memories where they were both present, reference points within one another’s minds.”
“He may be right,” Jonathan said.
“What makes you say so?” Leah asked.
“I was unconscious the first time Douglas was able to reach me. We found one another in a memory, not a dream. A moment from my childhood but his adulthood.”
“What memory?” Leah asked.
Jonathan smiled. “It was the first time I asked him if our family could get a dog.”
Leah smiled back, but something he’d said had sent Heyer into thought. “He reached you? Douglas is a conscious entity that communicates with you?”
“He was,” Jonathan said. “Whatever happened. It ended with me. After that… I believe it destroyed too much of him.”
Heyer nodded. “Yes, you are not accessing memories stored inside your device any longer. They became a part of you. As though you became a person and a half. The consciousness left over would not have been enough to remain comple—”
“Heyer,” Leah interrupted. She nodded toward Jonathan. He wasn’t looking at them, there was a great sadness on his face.
“I’m . . . I’m sorry, Jonathan” Heyer said.
“He made a choice, and I understand it,” Jonathan said, looking at Leah. “It’s the same choice I would make.”
She looked at Jonathan and wondered. Did this explain why he forgave her? Had all that fierce love Douglas had for his son become a part of him? Jonathan caught in the middle somehow, both the child and the father. Then he learns she is expecting his son. Was that why he forgave so much—so easily?
Was the life she carried the only way Jonathan could make sense out of it?
Years of fatherhood, all that love, had it needed to go somewhere and landed on her?
It would explain so much, because she certainly hadn’t earned it.
“Well, while the mystery may be solved, I can’t help but note that if we are correct, this is a dead end,” Mr. Clean said.
“. . . what?” Leah asked.
The conversation had taken so many turns she had practically forgotten how they got here. Jonathan’s face looked as confused as hers. The alien was the only one who wasn’t at a loss.
Mr. Clean began to explain. “Jonathan’s parental irrationalities aside, his points about the strategic challenges of reestablishing the bonded pair were fair. The issue, at first, seemed a mirror of what Heyer and I faced years ago. We have lost a combatant with needed knowledge, but have now found a vessel who would possess the raw physical strength to be a powerful asset. Unfortunately, if shared memory is the—”
“Mr. Clean, while this may not be the time or the place,” Heyer said, “it is most certainly not the moment.”
Leah hadn’t fully caught up but one look at Jonathan told her he had—and he wasn’t happy about it.
“So that is what this is all about. There isn’t going to be a right moment. This is not something we are going to consider.” Jonathan said.
“Hey,” Leah said, her voice getting louder as she grew more annoyed at being the only one who hadn’t seen how the puzzle pieces fit together. “Someone want to fill in the new girl here?”
No one responded. There was a bit of a silent standoff going on between Heyer and Jonathan, and she wasn’t sure either had even heard her.
“We already asked her to sacrifice everything. We’re not forcing her to do it again,” Jonathan said.
“Jonathan, I do not have the luxury of playing at sainthood and neither do you. We have to consider the entire planet,” Heyer said.
“Let her be,” Jonathan said. “Let them both be.”
“You have told me a great deal of your plans, Jonathan. But they all hinge on your being able to handle Malkier. I’ve yet to hear exactly how you think you will accomplish this now that he likely understands his own weakness.”
“And until the time is right, it’s gonna stay that way,” Jonathan said.
“For the love of . . . someone tell me what the hell we’re all so damn angry about!” Leah yelled.
Jonathan looked away from them. Heyer, after watching him for a moment, finally turned to Leah. “Just like Douglas, Rylee’s consciousness is stored inside her dormant device. Mr. Clean and I are discussing the possibility of unlocking her consciousness.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
WHAT
THE ALIEN was thinking hit her like a sledgehammer.
She’d been standing there next to him listening this whole time with no idea that he had been considering—what exactly? Merging her with Rylee’s consciousness?
“Rylee and I, we . . . we weren’t on the best . . . I mean, I don’t think she’ll be as happy to hear what you’re . . .”
She trailed off.
“I kind of think being in my head would be a little like dying and going to Hell for her.”
Jonathan shook his head. He wasn’t arguing with her. He was looking at her eyes and telling her not to even consider what she was hearing.
“This argument remains unnecessary,” Mr. Clean said. “Rylee and Leah have almost no shared long-term memory. If my theory is correct, there is no reason to believe this is possible.”
Heyer paced. “We haven’t explored this enough to simply give up on it.”
A moment passed, her thoughts racing.
“Oh . . .” Leah said.
“We aren’t exploring it,” Jonathan said. “You’re not asking this of them.”
“Oh . . . no,” Leah whispered.
“Jonathan, I don’t believe this decision is yours to make,” Heyer said.
“No . . . no . . . no . . .” Leah said, her eyes shutting.
The room grew silent, Jonathan and Heyer ceasing to argue, even Mr. Clean turning to consider her. There was a very unreadable expression on her face.
She sighed finally and licked her lips. “There . . . there may be a way.”
“She presents an intriguing possibility,” Mr. Clean said.
“I agree,” Heyer said.
Jonathan’s face made her reluctant to pile on. “Perhaps we vote?”
Nope, that didn’t help, one look around the room and it was clear everyone knew how that vote would go.
“No,” Jonathan said.
“You are in command of this army, but you are too close to this. It is not a decision to be left to you alone,” Heyer said.
“I agree, it’s a decision that should be between Leah and me,” Jonathan said. “You have no place in it.”
“On what grounds?” Heyer asked.
“Because I’m the only one in this room who knows what the hell I’m talking about,” Jonathan said.
This did nothing to turn the room in his favor, but there was anger coming out of him now. “Does it even occur to you that you’re not just doing this to them, I’m the other half of the bond?” Jonathan said.
The alien paused and took a step back. “It is a valid point, but it speaks to my stance on this,” Heyer said.
“We aren’t the only ones who should have a say,” Leah said. “Someone should speak for Rylee.”
There was a silence in the room as each person realized what she meant.
“You want Rylee’s father to have a vote?” Jonathan asked.
“We can’t make this work without him, and this is not the sort of action you take and ask forgiveness instead of permission. I doubt he’ll help us if we make the decision without him.”
“She is right,” Heyer said. “He may be integral to our success.”
“Is this not a bit of a token gesture, one more vote will not change the clear majority,” Mr. Clean said.
“Mr. Clean, I don’t mean any offense but I’m not sure you should get a vote. We all know Heyer can order you to vote with him,” Leah said.
“This is childish squabbling,” Heyer said.
Jonathan shook his head. “You’ve gotten too used to making decisions for people. For mothers and fathers,” Jonathan said. “The last one you made for Rylee took her life. You don’t get to ask her for more sacrifices.”
The alien’s jaw tightened. A long slow breath coming out as he stared at Jonathan. “That is not fair, Jonathan.”
“You don’t get to talk to me about fair,” Jonathan said.
A long tense moment played out. When Mr. Clean suddenly spoke, it was as though someone threw a brick through a window. “I’m unclear, shall I request Mr. Silva join us?”
“No,” they all yelled in unison. This was the first thing they had all agreed on in some time.
Who should approach Mr. Silva was a delicate question.
Mr. Clean lacked the social graces.
The alien obviously avoided Rylee’s father for good reason. His presence would not help matters at all. Jonathan was adamantly opposed to the entire plan, and she was the spy no one trusted and the last person to literally be decked in the face by Mr. Silva’s daughter.
“I think it might be best if Leah approached Mr. Silva privately,” Heyer said. “I might caution you to avoid the specifics of your . . . personal relationship with his daughter.”
“Too much riding on this for him to catch me in a lie later,” Leah said. “The man just lost his daughter and hasn’t even been allowed to tell his wife where he is. We can’t expect that any of this is going to be easy for him.”
At that point, no one seemed to have anything to add.
“I need a break,” Jonathan said. He walked away, not giving either of them time to object.
As she watched him, she had so many unanswered questions. Each one feeling like she had no right to ask him. Despite everything, it was as though there would always be walls she couldn’t get past with him.
Her face hardened at that thought. “We shouldn’t have done it like this,” Leah said. “Let me go after him.”
Heyer sighed but nodded.
Leah paused before she left the chamber, stopping to look at her garage door as it existed in the simulation.
“Mr. Clean, can I take things out of the projection chamber?”
“Did you have something specific in mind?”
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
SHE CAUGHT UP to Jonathan just before he disappeared inside his quarters. But, as she reached out to stop him she also remembered Sydney’s warning and the lack of privacy crowded her awareness. She didn’t see anyone watching, but more and more of late, Hangman’s Tree felt too full of soldiers for there to ever be no one paying attention.
“Jonathan, can we speak alone?” she asked.
He still looked drained from the conversation that had proceeded this, but he opened his door and held it for her. She hadn’t seen the inside of his quarters. Jonathan was one of the few who still had a space to himself.
She didn’t know what she’d expected. What she found was not so different from his room at the old house. A made bed, a desk without any clutter. The only furniture of note was a chest—a footlocker like the one he had recovered from Portland before he was taken prisoner. She thought it might well have been the same footlocker.
“You knew about the child. You didn’t say anything,” Leah said.
He nodded.
He’d never hidden it. In hindsight that much was obvious. He’d been so careful, gone out of his way for her with no apparent reason. How many times had he made sure food was brought to her?
Jonathan sighed. “In The Never, your shadows . . . they asked me to let you tell me. They didn’t want me to act surprised, nothing like that, but—”
“I get it,” she nodded. “I wanted the chance.”
“I told them I would, more than once. I’m sorry, I owed you more.”
“I’m sorry too,” she said. “I should have said something sooner. Thought the best time would be later. After . . .”
She didn’t finish the thought—she didn’t need to.
When he spoke, his words were softer. “But . . . I don’t like this plan. It’s taking everyone I can’t lose and putting them in danger.”
“Where would I be safe, Jonathan?” she asked.
Jonathan shook his head. “Anywhere but The Never.”
Jonathan took a long breath and looked at her. “Until I let Rylee die, I was used to being the one who made the sacrifices . . .”
He shook his head.
“It was simpler before, you know. Heyer did the asking. Gave people the choice to risk the
ir life. It was okay to hate him for asking. Now, every day, I’m the one putting these implants into people. And I know there isn’t any choice . . .”
He sighed, and she could feel his exhaustion.
“Since this began, I never get to choose between right or wrong. It’s always what saves the most lives. But, this feels wrong to me.”
“I think it’s supposed to feel that way,” Leah said. “You’re not supposed to want this for anyone.”
He nodded.
“Jonathan, if I had the power to save you from all of this, let someone else take your place, I would do it. I wouldn’t think twice, I wouldn’t let myself think—I’d just do it,” Leah said. “And someone else would be sitting where you are right now. But that person, he wouldn’t be the right one for the job.”
“What are you saying?” he asked.
“I’m saying I couldn’t decide this for you, and you can’t decide for me.” She took something from her pocket then and held it out to him.
It had been in a frame in her garage before, a photo she’d taken of him the night their child had been conceived. This wasn’t the original, Mr. Clean had to recreate it and let her take it with her from the chamber.
In the photo he looked back at the camera, his face half hidden in shadow. There was an eerie malignance to that darkness, as though it stalked him.
“Do you remember when I gave you that?”
He nodded. “You said it made you sad.”
“Because it made me feel like I had to watch you walk into the dark alone,” she said. “I said I’d do anything to keep you from that place.”
“Leah—”
“I know, Jonathan. I know now that there was never any keeping you out of the dark. But, this time, you can’t stop me from going with you.”
He understood, but that didn’t mean it made him any happier about the situation. For the moment, he seemed too tired to keep arguing about it.
“Jonathan would you . . .”
She paused, she liked that he was taller than her but not now, not for what she meant to ask him. She pushed him gently backward and he didn’t resist. When his ankles hit the footlocker he stopped.
The Never Army Page 57
