Nine

by Rachelle Dekker

  It looked like the sort of place a serial killer would quietly kill and bury his victims, a place no one would ever think to search. It didn’t make Zoe’s vacillating fears settle.

  The van pulled to a stop, and Seeley moved first. He yanked the sliding door open and stepped out. Lucy followed, and without any other options Zoe exited the van against her better judgment.

  McCoy walked around to meet them. “This way.” He motioned and started toward the main house. It was humble but well maintained with white siding and a gray roof, a wraparound porch made from cedar, and pale yellow shutters hanging beside each open window. The farmhouse, clean and livable, formed a strange juxtaposition to the overgrown fields, weeds tall as toddlers, dying vegetation, and ignored shrubbery.

  Before they reached the house, the door opened and out stepped a thin woman with gray hair and striking blue eyes that Zoe could see from a distance. The breeze lifted the ends of her long silver hair and caught her gauzy white button-down shirt. It made her look heavenly.

  She smiled brightly and nodded toward them. “Welcome.” Then she said to their driver, “You took the roads I instructed?”

  “Every single one,” McCoy answered.

  “And you’re sure you weren’t followed?” she pressed.

  “I’m sure.”

  She paused to gauge his confidence and then, satisfied, turned her attention back to Seeley. They didn’t speak, just shared a long look that said more than Zoe could interpret but was one of recognition. Then her gaze shifted to Lucy and brightened.

  “You must be Lucy,” she said, stepping down off the porch. “I’m Dr. Gina Loveless, but you can just call me Gina.”

  She stopped a couple steps from Lucy, and Zoe inched closer so she was near enough to hear Lucy breathing. Gina ignored Zoe altogether.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “Okay,” Lucy said. “Are you going to help me get my memories back?”

  “I’m going to try. Memory is a tricky thing.”

  “So we’ve been told,” Zoe said.

  Gina snapped her eyes to Zoe, and the blue of them grabbed her tightly. She felt as if they were squeezing her throat, making it harder to breathe.

  “Miss Johnson,” Gina said, “we’re all on the same team here. Let’s do what is best for Lucy and try to cooperate instead of standing in her way.”

  Zoe just stood there in shock. It was as if she’d been transported back to school, when teachers would speak to her with level voices that were meant to be instructive but only led her to believe that no matter what she did, she came from darkness, so to darkness she would return.

  Shame rose through her chest and wrapped itself around her heart. How quickly she could be dragged back to the hell of her past. In one moment she went from being consumed with fear for Lucy to drowning in her own insecurities. It was overwhelming.

  And then from the darkness clouding her vision, Seeley spoke.

  “The only reason Lucy got this far alive is because of Zoe,” he said. “She helped her after we failed her.” He looked from Gina to McCoy. “Let’s not forget that.”

  Zoe locked eyes with Seeley for a moment, and the darkness that had been flooding in vanished. He dropped his eyes first, then turned back to Gina.

  “I’m sorry,” Gina said. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

  Zoe gave a polite grin, accepting the forced apology. Gina wasn’t sorry, but she’d play nice with Zoe if needed. Zoe knew her type well. She’d encountered women like this her entire life.

  Gina turned back to Lucy. “The more open you are to the process, the better results we should have. Can you be open?” Gina put out her hand for Lucy to take.

  The girl looked down at the woman’s open palm and after a moment of hesitation grasped it fully. “Yes,” she said, looking back up at her.

  Gina smiled. “Good, let’s begin then.” She gently pulled Lucy down a small side path that ran along the house toward the barn. Lucy walked bravely beside the strange doctor without looking back. McCoy followed, and Zoe knew she was supposed to as well.

  She could feel eyes on her and glanced sideways to see Seeley waiting to see what she would do.

  “Thank you,” Zoe said, the words just popping out before her mind had decided it was a good idea. “For sticking up for me,” she continued, feeling the need to explain herself.

  His mouth turned up in a kind and humble smile. It made her heart pulse. “After you,” he said, nodding toward the path the others were traveling.

  She took the path, aware that Seeley was only a foot behind her. More aware than she wanted to admit.

  Gina led them all to the barn. The red paint was chipping, and the shingles on the roof were peeling back. But when Zoe stepped inside, she found herself transported.

  She had expected dirt and hay for the floor, creaky wooden walls, stalls, unsteady rafters. Instead she found hardwood floors, decent overhead lighting, and items she might find in an animal shelter. Along the left wall was a collection of cages, big and small. Opposite the cages were trunks and shelving filled with blankets, animal foods of all types, food and water bowls, and a pile of leashes.

  But the thing that drew Zoe’s attention was the white sheeting that hung from long metal poles to form a large box in the barn’s center. She couldn’t make out what was behind the sheets, but the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

  “This was my father’s farm,” Gina began. “He was a veterinarian for thirty years, and after retiring he turned this barn into an animal clinic of sorts. When he passed away my mother didn’t have the heart to maintain it, so I took over the deed.” She spoke over her shoulder as she made her way to the white-sheet box. “Please don’t touch anything.”

  Zoe couldn’t help but look back to see how Seeley was reacting to this strange scene. His eyes were wide and skeptical. Was he regretting crawling into the van as much as she was? He must have felt her looking at him because he turned toward her, and she dropped her eyes quickly.

  “I know how this must look,” Gina continued. “But I needed access to certain medical equipment and couldn’t just walk Lucy into a hospital. Veterinarian and modern medicine are not that different, it turns out.” She yanked the front curtain open.

  There sat an array of medical devices that Zoe vaguely recognized. A steel table sat in the center with a bright light overhead. A portable set of drawers she could only assume were filled with medical tools stood on the right side of the table. A monitoring system with chunky wires and thin poles for IV lines stood on the left. At the base of the metal slab stood another metal cart, waist high with a large black container secured to its top. Two thick latches on the container’s front kept the contents secret.

  Gina walked to the container and unlatched the closures. The lid popped open. “As you’ve been told,” she said, eyeing Zoe, “memory is a mysterious function of the human brain. How, why, and where memories are created and stored isn’t an exact science, which makes it unpredictable and hard to affect. However, with some incredible modern devices, we can get pretty close.”

  The doctor opened the lid fully and reached inside. She pulled out a cap that had two thick black straps connecting one side to the other. It housed hundreds of thin wires jutting out in all directions. The entire headpiece was covered in attached rainbow wiring. Reds, blues, greens, yellows, all long and slim, fell from the cap in several foot-long strands that had microconnectors at each end. Each connector was plugged into the base of the container, which contained a large switchboard.

  “This is a newly developed optical brain scanner, smaller and transportable but highly powerful and accurate. They call her DOT, because she uses diffuse optical tomography to image the processes taking place in multiple regions of the brain, using infrared light to detect cellular activity.”

  “You want me to wear that?” Lucy said, her voice worried.

  Gina looked up at her. “Yes, it’s perfectly safe. It doesn’t use radiation like an MRI might,
so there’s no chance of permanent damage.”

  “Damage,” Lucy repeated, her worry changing to fear.

  Zoe moved closer to her. “How does scanning her brain help her recover her memories?”

  “I got the chance to look at the last brain imaging that was done after Olivia activated Lucy’s amnesia, and my theory is that Lucy’s memories weren’t removed. That may have been Olivia’s intention, but it appears her memories”—Gina nodded to Lucy—“your memories are still there, just in the wrong places. Which is why when you try to recall an event or time, you can’t. Because your brain doesn’t know where to look.”

  Gina placed the device back in the black container, her face filled with excitement. “I would like to walk you through a type of RMT that will hopefully help you get inside your own brain and locate memories while you’re wearing DOT. When the neuronal activity in the brain increases in a region, oxygenated blood flows to that part of the brain, allowing us to see it using DOT technology. Like the way you can detect if someone is blushing, because of the rush of blood to their cheeks.”

  She rubbed her hands together and dropped her eyes. “I believe that if I can help you walk through your own psyche and locate those memories, I can detect patterns of where and how they moved.” She looked up at Lucy again. “And then hopefully you’ll be able to access them.”

  “Have you done this before?” Zoe asked.

  Gina looked at her, an eerie thrill twinkling in her eyes. “No one’s ever done this before. No one’s ever been like Lucy.”

  A shiver ran the course of Zoe’s spine. She hated Gina Loveless. Hated who she represented. Hated who she reminded Zoe of. Lucy was a toy to Gina. Something she could poke and prod to gain information she couldn’t have any other way. Someone to play with, like someone had played with Zoe and the little brother she’d lost.

  She’d trusted Dr. Holbert, believed he was trying to help her and Stephen. She’d let him convince her to let Stephen go. That it was more important to focus on herself and let Stephen find his own way. The doctor had even convinced her that they would be better off in different foster homes. And after being abandoned by his sister, he’d found solace in another sibling. That boy had stolen everything good from her sweet brother, and now he might as well be dead.

  “What’s RMT?” Lucy asked.

  “Recovered-memory therapy,” Zoe answered, the sting of Stephen still burning at her brain.

  Surprise flashed across Gina’s gaze. “You are familiar with it?”

  “Unfortunately,” Zoe replied. Her rash burned underneath the long sleeve of her shirt, and she forced herself to ignore it.

  “Yes, I know it has a bad reputation, but with the unique structure of Lucy’s brain, I really believe it can be helpful.”

  “You plan to use amobarbital, I assume?” Zoe asked.

  “It has the mildest hypnotic properties,” Gina said. “Just enough to make her mind malleable.”

  “You mean easily influenced.”

  “That’s not my intent. I want Lucy to remember the truth, not my version of it. What motivation would I have for influencing her memories?”

  Lucy turned to Zoe. “I won’t do it if you don’t think I should.”

  Gina huffed and rolled her eyes. “This is ridiculous and a waste of our time.” She moved to Lucy’s side. “Listen to me, I—”

  “No,” Lucy said, pulling back. She shook her head. “No. Olivia told me to be careful who I trusted.” She turned to Zoe and grabbed her hand. “I trust you.”

  Zoe smiled at the sweet girl and nodded. She’d wondered if she might lose Lucy to the others. She was surprised by how happy she was it hadn’t happened yet.

  “Let’s get some air,” she said to Lucy. The girl nodded, and they turned to leave the barn. Zoe heard Gina complain as they walked off, and Seeley told her to relax.

  The two girls stepped out into the evening light, the symphony of nature playing around them. They walked for a couple of moments, hand in hand.

  “What are you thinking?” Zoe finally asked.

  “That I’m afraid,” Lucy said.

  “Me too.”

  “Maybe I don’t need to remember.”

  “What if Seeley is right, and that means a lifetime of running?”

  Lucy considered this. “I am very fast.”

  Zoe smiled. This was truer than she thought possible. “You don’t have to remember if you don’t want to.”

  Lucy stared at the fading sun, and Zoe knew the answer before she asked the question.

  “But you want to remember, don’t you?”

  “How can I know who I am without knowing who I was?” Lucy asked.

  Zoe wanted to say her past didn’t define her, that Lucy could be whatever she wanted for now, in this moment, but she knew those things were a lie.

  “Do you think it will hurt?” Lucy asked.

  “Remembering can be painful.”

  “What if I remember I’m bad?”

  It was the second time she’d heard Lucy verbalize this concern.

  “What if you don’t like me anymore, because I’m not good?” Lucy asked, tears in her eyes.

  Zoe turned and placed her hands on the sides of Lucy’s face. “That won’t happen. That will never happen.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  Lucy nodded, and Zoe dropped her hands. She knew Lucy was going to do it, let Gina try to walk her into her own mind, and if Zoe was being honest, she would probably do the same thing.

  “I don’t want to be with the doctor alone,” Lucy said.

  “You won’t be,” Zoe said. “Together, remember.”

  Lucy smiled. “Together.”

  They stood there for a long time, holding hands, watching the sun dip below the mountains and cover the sky in shades of pink and orange. Zoe wished the moment would linger just a bit longer. She had no idea how to prepare for what was coming next.

  EIGHTEEN

  IT WAS MORNING, and I was awake while the rest of the house remained still. Beside me in the large king bed, Zoe was still sleeping. I tried not to stare at her and instead closed my eyes to try to see into the depths of my mind. I was searching for what I’d lost. I could trace the map back for a while. I have made a few new memories since my past was taken into reverse.

  The dingy room is the earliest thing I can remember. As far back as I can reach. I don’t know where it was or how I got there, but I remember rising from a bed that had scratchy covers to the worried expression of a lovely woman who was sitting beside me. I remember her warm hand holding my cold one. I don’t know why I was cold.

  Thinking back on that memory now, I’m surprised I wasn’t more discouraged or fearful. If someone were to ask me what it felt like to wake up without any memories, I’m not sure what I would say. I was just awake, and the warm woman was telling me her name was Olivia. And my name was Lucy. We were in trouble, but I shouldn’t worry because she was taking care of me.

  Before more could be said, we were running from bad men out a door marked with a bright red sign. EXIT. Into the thick of trees, down a hill, over a small creek.

  Dots of light pierced the darkness behind us as they followed. I should have had questions, or concerns, or fears. But I don’t remember any. I was just following a stranger I had met moments earlier because she told me to.

  Because her hands were warm and her face kind. She told me to run west, and without question I did. I would again. I have no other recollection of her. Not now, not then, but still I feel connected to her. Sometimes I think maybe I remember the way she laughed. I get whiffs of what she must have smelled like. I imagine her in a doctor’s coat, because now I have context about who she was. Stories I’ve been told, facts given. Am I actually remembering, or is my mind producing memories that never happened?

  How will I know the difference? Hunting deer with Seeley in the woods, throwing knives at the ready, feels as real as seeing Olivia walk toward me in a white lab coat. But they
can’t both be real. Can they?

  These were the thoughts that pulled me from sleep before the sun was up. I couldn’t help but glance back at Zoe for a moment, before it felt like I was spying. She was the first person in my life who wasn’t a stranger.

  She knew me. Even though there wasn’t much to know, she had been there from the start. Before I could express I was afraid or worried, she seemed to sense it. She’d taken steps to be closer to me. It gave me courage, offered a sense of stability. Maybe it would all be alright in the end.

  Last night, after we decided to give Dr. Loveless’s plan a try, I enjoyed watching the sunset with Zoe. For a moment the world seemed open, not seconds from crashing down around us. We walked back to the large red barn together. I was ready to start right away.

  But according to Dr. Loveless, my mind needed to be sharp and stable so we’d have the best chance of success. She suggested starting first thing in the morning, after a night of rest. I wanted it to work, so I’d waited.

  Now I was up.

  I slipped out of bed and made my way downstairs. I waited for a while, but soon the rest of the house rose as well. Seeley, McCoy, Zoe, and Dr. Loveless. Thirty minutes passed mostly in silence as people cleared sleep from their minds, got coffee, and agreed it was time.

  Within the hour I was lying on a cold, inclined table. Dr. Loveless was attaching DOT to my head, and I tried not to wince each time she yanked my hair.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Almost done.”

  I’d been instructed to keep my chin still, but I could still see Zoe standing to my right, only a couple feet off, her face worried, her body tensed for action. She was ready to yank me from this table if anything went wrong. I was glad she was here.

  Seeley stood at the entrance to the strange sheeted room, just inside the open curtain. One hand in his pocket, the other holding a mug. He was watching carefully but not nearly as concerned or rigid as Zoe. I found myself caught up in the single memory I had of him. Again. The moment was fragmented, more flashes and feelings than a line of occurring motions.