Jenna laughs. “Serious? You can break out of the most secure place in the country, but you can’t cook a pizza?” She takes it from me. “What is wrong with you?”
I step back, too hurt to think of a comeback. I wish I knew what was wrong with me.
Jenna raises the rod horizontally above the pizza and tightens her hand. A blue light appears along the length of the metal. She scans it across the thick layer of dough and cheese three times. By the time she’s done, the pizza is cooked. She glances back at me. “Was that so hard?”
Colt walks into the kitchen and pushes past her to cut a slice of pizza. “Why do you have to be such a conker, Jenna?”
I’m not familiar with the term, but by Jenna’s reddening face, I know it’s an insult.
“Don’t call me that,” she says.
Colt takes a bite. “Then stop acting like one.”
Anthony looks up from an electronic device in his hands. “Hurry and eat and then get to bed. You’re going to need all the rest you can get.”
“Better do what he says and eat,” Colt says to me. “And fast before Jenna wolfs the whole pizza. In addition to being a conker, she’s a huge porker.”
Before I can respond, both Colt and I are ducking from a flying cup. It hits the wall behind us.
“Jenna!” Anthony says.
“Did you hear what he just called me?” she says, another cup gripped tightly in her hand.
Anthony sighs. “The last thing I need right now is to supervise a bunch of kids. Grow up, both of you.”
“Whatever.” Jenna takes a plate of food and walks into the bedroom. She slams the door behind her.
Colt chuckles, but still there’s no smile.
“I expect more from you,” Anthony says as he passes by Colt on his way to the kitchen.
Colt mumbles something through a bite of pizza in his mouth.
Anthony takes a slice of pizza into the living room and sits on a chair in front of a paper and pen. Every few seconds he scribbles a word like he’s making a list of some kind.
I stay where I’m at, standing beneath a fluorescent light. Their interactions are so strange to me, yet familiar somehow.
“Here,” Colt says and gives me one of his slices. He walks away and sits across from Anthony.
I quickly take a bite to prevent a long string of cheese from falling to the ground. As soon as I taste it, my stomach demands more. I eat three more slices, careful of the open blisters on my hands. The heat from the pizza stings my open wounds. When I’m finished I turn and see Anthony and Colt staring at me.
“How long has it been since you last ate?” Anthony asks.
“Ebony gave me pudding earlier today. I don’t remember if I was given anything before that.”
Anthony shakes his head. “Maybe it’s best if you don’t remember. The Institute is known for its cruelty.”
Colt sets his plate of his half-eaten pizza slice on the cushion next to him and returns to the kitchen. He looks inside several cupboards, shoving cans of food this way and that, until he removes a small white box.
“This will work,” he says. “Come here, Patch.”
I hesitate because I hate that name.
“You can choose a different name if you’d like,” he says as if he’s read my mind.
I go to him. “It’s fine, I guess. There are worse things then being named after a dog, right?”
His eyes meet mine. “You’re hardly a dog. Give me your hands.”
I don’t move. I’m too distracted by an unfamiliar feeling in my gut. It’s like my stomach has flipped in the most pleasurable way, warming my insides.
“Your hands,” he says again. “I need to put medicine on them.”
“Oh,” I say and open my right palm.
“Those look bad.” He twists a lid on a small tube and squeezes a clear, gelatinous substance out the tip. “Rub that around, and then get your other hand.”
I do as he says, trying my best not to flinch as the medicine is burning something fierce.
“It hurts at first, but it really speeds up the healing process,” he says.
I meet his gaze. His blue eyes seem to shimmer, reminding me of the colors of the inside of a shell just beneath a tide pool.
A tide pool.
I remember the ocean. The sounds, the smell.
“What is it?” he asks.
Realizing I’m still staring, I glance away. “The ocean. I think I lived by the ocean.”
“You’re getting your memory back,” he says and hands me the ointment. “Put a lot on.”
“Thank you.”
Ten minutes later I’m lying on the floor in the office, staring at the man in the painting.
“You don’t have to sleep on the floor,” Anthony says as he walks in.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind at all.”
He squats down. “Everything’s going to be okay, I promise. Soon you’ll remember who you are, and we’ll be out of the city and on our way to Eden. And who knows? Maybe you’ll know someone there.”
“Maybe.”
He straightens. “Get some sleep.”
Before he turns off the light manually, I say, “Thank you, Anthony. For helping me.”
“You’re welcome.”
The lights go off. As soon as they do, a soft glow appears at the base of the floor near the door. I can barely make out the outline of the man in the painting. I close my eyes and see him. His brown eyes, the slight smile. I think I hear him laugh. This makes me think of Colt, whom I don’t think knows how to laugh, and I wonder why Jenna hates him so much. I remember his eyes and think again of the ocean.
This is what I’m thinking of when I fall asleep. In my dreams I feel the ocean’s foam swirling around my ankles, cooling my skin. Waves crash to shore, tirelessly battering the earth. There’s a forest nearby with old, tall trees. I run into it laughing. There’s someone else there too, chasing me. They giggle. It’s a child’s laugh.
But then there is no laughter.
I’m with someone else and we’re boxing. It’s a faceless man. He’s teaching me to fight. Where to punch, where to kick. I’m tired, but I can’t stop. There’s a sense of urgency pushing me harder and faster.
The scene changes; I’m back at the ocean. Resting, watching waves crest and then fall. They never give up their motion. The sand is cool between my toes when I curl them. I’m not alone. The giggling child is here too. It’s a boy. A beautiful boy as still and serene as the forest at our backs. I feel such pride when I look at him. Such love.
My heart stops beating, and I wake up screaming. Anthony and Colt come rushing into the office, both of them commanding the lights on.
“What is it?” Anthony says. “What’s wrong?”
I look at the man in the painting; there’s a pain in my heart so great I think I’ll crumble into pieces.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, my eyes tearing.
Anthony takes me by the arms. “What’s wrong?”
I meet his eyes. “The boy at the Institute.”
Anthony frowns. “I know. Bram is going to help him.”
“He’s my brother. And I left him. I left him alone!”
I lean against the wall, sucking in great breaths to try and break the invisible band crushing my chest. I left my brother! I wipe at the tears on my cheek with the back of my hand. The man in the painting stares at me, accusingly. I’m more disappointed in myself than you could ever be. Out loud I say, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” Colt says, looking from the painting and then back to me. This is the first time he’s spoken since finding out about my brother. Anthony left a few minutes ago to call Bram.
“I made a promise to him,” I say.
“To your brother?”
I shake my head. “To him.” I nod at the painting.
“This man? But how do you even know him?”
I inhale deeply. It’s a shaky breath. My memories have all returned—how Ma
x and I were captured, our time at the Institute, and my life in hiding . . . much of it is painful.
“He’s my father,” I say.
His face goes pale, much paler than it already is. “Howard is your dad?”
“That’s not his name. My dad’s name is William. William Radkey.”
He doesn’t seem to hear me. He’s staring at the painting, his expression pained as if he’s just been poisoned. “I need to tell Anthony. Wait here.” He walks to the door, but before going through he places his hand on the doorjamb. Without turning, he says, “Patch, I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
He leaves without answering. I go to stand but wobble a little, my head spinning. How much sleep did I get? I glance at the clock. Only a few hours. It’s not even dawn yet.
I go after Colt, still fighting for breath. My brother’s all alone. Because of me. I think back to when I’d had a small moment of clarity just before they dosed me with a new round of anti-memory serum. I had actually been in the same room with Max drawing. Ebony was watching us interact, probably making sure the serum was working on both of us. Max didn’t seem to recognize me, but when his hand brushed mine as he reached for a marker, the fog in my brain lifted. I tried not to show it, but Ebony must’ve noticed. I saw her moving behind the glass to come into the room. I reacted quickly and wrote the words “Run Now” as small as I could on my pinky fingers. Thank goodness no one had noticed.
Colt is in the kitchen next to Anthony, who is speaking low into an earpiece wrapped around the top of his ear. “—need to know what time it starts—” he’s saying when Colt tugs on his arm.
“You’re going to want to hear this,” Colt says.
Anthony looks from me to him. “Get me what you can,” he says. “I’ll see you soon.” He reaches up and removes the earpiece. To Colt he says, “What is it?”
Colt shakes his head. “You’ll never believe it.”
I look from him to Anthony, still confused, and wonder what my father has to do with all this and why his picture is on the wall. And then there’s Colt, who acts like he knows him, but that’s impossible.
“You know Howard?” Colt says.
“What about him?”
“He’s her father.”
Anthony’s mouth opens. He blinks once then walks by me and goes into the office.
“Come on,” Colt says, and we follow after him.
I wonder again about my father and how they can know him. Growing up I rarely saw other humans. It was always just my dad and Max and me. But then I remember my mother and my legs go weak. My mom. I touch the wall to help steady myself. I can’t think about it right now. I can’t think about her. Too much pain. I force my legs to move. To go forward.
Anthony is staring at the painting. “Your father is Howard Edmonds?”
“His real name is William Radkey,” I say. “Please tell me what this is all about.”
Anthony lowers his voice and speaks to Colt. “No wonder she was at the Institute and not at Enfield.”
My head feels like it’s going to explode. “Enfield? Would someone please explain to me what is going on?”
Anthony is the one to answer. Colt still looks sick and pale. “Enfield is a place where the Institute holds Originals, but you were being held at the Institute’s research department because of this man.” He points to the picture. “Your father has saved countless lives, or prolonged them I should say. And not just Originals, Primes too. The Institute’s been looking for him for a very long time.” His eyes flash to Colt’s and Colt looks down.
I’m curious about the exchange, but before I can say anything, Anthony asks, “Did you know this about your father?”
I think back. “He had a lab next to our home that he’d work in a lot. And a few times a month, he would travel to the city to, according to him, help others. I always assumed it was for illnesses, but nothing of this magnitude.”
“Tell her, Anthony,” Colt says.
I look at Anthony, waiting for him to speak.
It takes him a few seconds before he says, “Your father isn’t just a scientist. He’s HOPE’s founder.”
“Hope?” I ask, thinking of the initials of the name on the painting.
“It stands for Helping Originals Protect Eden. Remember how I told you about the growing number of Primes who believe Originals are the only way our world can survive the future?”
I nod.
“It was your father who organized us, making us the first group to challenge the Institute. They’d love nothing more than to destroy Howard, I mean William, and they’d do anything to accomplish this goal. Anything.” He’s looking at me like he’s waiting for me to connect invisible dots.
The dots connect into something ugly and cruel. “Max and I. They know we’re his children.”
Anthony sits on the corner of the desk. “You’re probably the most valuable Originals they’ve ever captured. Not only could they sell your DNA for top dollar, but they can use you as leverage to get your father to turn himself over.”
I think of my father. “He will never do that.”
Anthony’s eyes flash back to the painting. “What happened that day you were taken?”
The day we were taken. I swallow, but there’s no saliva in my mouth and the air gets caught in my throat until I cough. “It was morning. We were in our home, a small log cabin in the woods near the coast of Maine. I was cooking breakfast while my brother, Max, stared out the window. He was watching my father walk into his lab.” I take a deep breath. “Then there was this horrible sound. It was the same sound we heard at the charging station.”
Colt and Anthony look back and forth, communicating silently.
I continue. “My father had taught me what to do if someone ever found us. I was supposed to run to the coast where we kept a boat. From there I’d sail to a nearby island. But I didn’t do that. I had to make sure my father was okay.” My body loses some of its strength. I lean into the wall to keep me upright. “When I opened the door to his lab, my father was escaping behind some secret wall I didn’t even know existed. It closed. I was calling my father’s name, and he still closed it without a single word to me. That’s when we were captured.” I look up at Colt. “That was about a month ago. The raid you talked about, someone was captured: me and my brother.”
Colt clears his throat, but doesn’t say anything. He still won’t meet my eyes.
“My father,” I say, “do you know where he is?”
Anthony stands. “Your father is fine.”
“Where is he?” Pieces of a puzzle I don’t want to solve are slowly coming together.
“I believe he’s in New York City.”
“Did he say anything about his children being captured?” I ask the question, but I already know the answer. The puzzle has come together. It is ugly and something I don’t want to look at.
The room is quiet until Anthony says, “I’m sure he had his reasons why he didn’t.”
A little color returns to Colt’s face. “What reason would that be? Had we known, we could’ve grabbed them on transport or at least used our connections inside the Institute to make sure they were okay.” He shakes his head. “But what’s even dumber is why they were in the forest to begin with. They should’ve been at Eden, not in the woods all alone without any protection.”
This was something I had also debated with my father for the last two years. “He didn’t feel the time was right.”
“You knew about Eden?” Anthony asks.
“I wanted to go there. I asked all the time, but my father always said it wasn’t safe yet. He never said why.” Because I don’t want to think about my father’s decisions, I quickly change the subject.
“When did you meet him?” I ask Anthony.
His gaze drifts above my shoulder as if he’s seeing through to another time. “Years ago his medicine gave my wife three more years to live.” He blinks and clears his throat. “I better wake up Jenna,” he says, and pauses. “Patch, do
n’t worry. We’ll get Max and get you to your father.”
“My name’s not Patch.”
He and Colt both look at me.
I lift my chin. “It’s Sage.”
Get up now, Jenna,” Anthony says inside the darkened bedroom.
Colt and I sit on the couch. Colt is quiet, lost in his own thoughts, and I’m lost in mine. I’m thinking of how I can get back inside the Institute to get Max. My brain, no longer trapped in a fog, is working quickly, calculating different scenarios. None of them are promising.
“Why is it I never get any sleep when I work with you?” Jenna says. “Give me five minutes and I’ll get up.”
“You better or I’m coming in with a bucket of water.”
“Ugh. You’re so cliché.”
Anthony closes the door. “I don’t know why I put up with her.”
“So what’s the plan?” I ask.
“I’m going to meet Bram soon. When I get back we can discuss what to do.”
I stand and pace the floor. “I can’t just wait here. I have to do something.”
“The safest place for you is here. Just be patient.”
“How? Max is surrounded by strangers in a world he doesn’t understand. And who knows what they’re doing to him? I have to go.”
“Listen to me. You can’t help him if you get captured again. Just wait. We’ll come up with a plan. We’ll save him together, but we have to know all the facts.”
The door behind him opens.
“Save who?” Jenna yawns. She’s combing her tangled hair straight.
“Her brother, Max. He’s the boy that’s at the Institute,” Anthony says.
She removes some stray hairs from the comb and says, “You left your kid brother with Techheads? That’s cold.”
I cross the room in three steps and slap her hard, surprising everyone in the room, especially myself. “I am tired of your insults,” I say, my face only inches from hers. “You know nothing about me or what I’ve been through.”
“Boo-hoo,” she says, gritting her teeth. “You’ve had a hard life. We all have. At least you get to live long enough to see yourself get varicose veins. Sheesh. You’re so emotional,” she says, raising a hand to touch her cheek. “I don’t know how you’re going to survive this world.”
Escape to Eden Page 6
