The Unhappening of Genesis Lee

by Shallee McArthur

  I was used to politeness, not sincerity. The tone in his voice felt too warm for a stranger. I cleared my throat. “Um, thank you.”

  He turned to the group, and to my horror, pointed at me. “We have an exciting addition to our group today! Everybody, let’s welcome Gena. She’s joining us from the Mementi side of town.”

  The remains of background chatter died. I shrank beneath the weight of open stares, uncomfortable shifting, and mutters. I pressed my knees together. They were going to yell. They were going to riot. They were going to hurt me.

  “It’s okay, Gena.” Kalan’s whisper sent tingles down the side of my neck.

  Eyeliner-girl next to me held out her hand, beaming. “Welcome!” she said again.

  I stared at her hand. Touching her was the last thing I wanted to do. Would she get offended if I didn’t shake hands?

  “Thanks, Anabel,” Kalan said. “Gena’s a little shy about shaking hands, though. Mementi thing.”

  “Oh, sorry!” She laughed and dropped her hand.

  I gave her another smile, this one full of relief. “Thanks.”

  A few other “welcomes” drifted through the room. Some actually sounded sincere.

  Several seats down, a guy about Ren’s age stood up. His head had been shaved, but dark stubble showed a widow’s peak so sharp he could’ve been a vampire. “Elijah, are you out of your mind? We can’t have her here!”

  Somebody wasn’t listening to the song. Or maybe unity didn’t extend to Mementi. I squeezed the strap of my shoulder bag.

  A man sporting an earring, a neck tattoo, and a gray business suit leaned forward. “Stuff it, Joss. We all said we’d welcome any Mementi to join the church.”

  Whoa, who said anything about joining the church? Kalan shrugged, giving me a half-smile.

  “And who said she’s joining?” Joss said. I half-expected him to bare pointy teeth. “She’s only here for the thief meeting.”

  “Why shouldn’t she be here?” said Mr. Business Punk. “I’ve been saying we should pull in sympathetic Mementi for weeks.”

  A woman across the room spoke. “Corben, it’s not like we can just walk up and ask someone—”

  “Oh, stop,” Rachelle groaned. “How many times are we going to rehash this?”

  Joss gestured to me. “We don’t know anything about this girl.”

  “Hey,” Kalan said. “I know her.”

  “Okay, stop,” Elijah said sternly. “You all park your buttocks back in the chair and welcome her all the same. The Lord received everyone, Joss. Sinners and Samaritans and rich and poor were welcome at His table. Gena’s the reason we’re doing this. She’s who we’re trying to help.”

  Next to me, Anabel sang softly, “Every person I see, is His child just like me . . .”

  Joss whirled on her. “You want to say something to me?”

  Anabel smiled. “Didn’t I just?”

  Joss glowered, then gave a bark that vaguely resembled a laugh. He still looked stiff, but he sat. And tossed a lingering glance in Anabel’s direction.

  Hm. So he was human, after all.

  Elijah frowned at his bickering group. “I’ll only say this once, people: shape up.”

  A few faces looked contrite.

  “We are disciples of the Lord!” Elijah flung his arms out. “We leave our petty judgments and blaming outside where the Devil can choke on them! Unity, people, unity and love with Christ and with our family of fellow humans—His family. This is His work! And His work is our work.”

  “Amen!”

  “Yeah, Elijah!”

  “Praise the Lord!”

  Boy, these people were volatile. Possibly not the best trait in a rogue group hunting down a criminal. Kalan shook his head, then winked at me. Infinitely preferable to Drake Matthews winking at me. A grin tugged at the corners of my mouth.

  “Let’s get this work rolling, then,” Elijah said. I squirmed in my chair while he related what I’d told Kalan about my memory loss coming from a Mementi. I’d barely been comfortable with Kalan knowing that info, and now an entire group of Populace would feel they’d been right about the evil Mementi.

  Joss crossed his arms with a satisfied smirk. “So it’s the Mementi after all.”

  Prove me right, buddy. My nose twitched in frustration.

  “It’s probably that missing Mementi girl behind the Link thefts,” he added.

  Anabel said, “We don’t know if that girl was involved. She could be another victim or something.”

  Thank you. Exactly.

  But Kalan had said the same thing, earlier. Was he going to back me, or agree with Joss?

  “Why are we even helping these people?” A man threw his cigarette to the tile and stomped on it.

  “They’ve always hated us, anyway.”

  “People hate Jesus, but does He turn on them?”

  “They’re turning on their own people—”

  “We should take the good Lord’s fight to them!”

  “That’s not the kind of fight—”

  “We’re losing faith, God’s still guiding us as long as we—”

  “You all just shut up. You’re inviting the Devil’s spirit!”

  Shouts spun through the room until I felt dizzy. A woman with her pockets hanging below the tattered edge of her short shorts had her eyes closed, hands in the air and lips moving like she was praying. Joss and Corben were right in each other’s faces. Rachelle stood with hands on her hips, and Kalan glowered.

  Threads of anxiety trailed out from my chest. These people were going to kick off a panic attack if I didn’t do something.

  Shaking a little, I lurched to my feet. “Hey.”

  My voice disappeared into the din.

  Pale little Anabel stood up. “HEY!”

  Her shout hushed the uproar. A fork clinked to the floor elsewhere in the restaurant.

  “I believe our guest has something to say?” Anabel’s voice was mild, but her eyes were sharp.

  I swallowed. If I could go a week holed up in my room with no one staring at me, it still wouldn’t be enough. So many eyes, watching me, judging me, ready to dismiss me. A surge of anxiety dried my mouth.

  “I know you don’t know me.” I cleared my throat. Had to speak louder. My hands clenched automatically to stop the shaking. “And you don’t know Blaire. But I came here because the only way to stop the Link thief is to work together. I know Blaire, and she isn’t the thief. Her own mom is one of the victims. Right now, though, Blaire’s the only lead we’ve got. We need to find out what happened to her.”

  Joss piped in again. “How do you propose that, since we can’t exactly chat with her?”

  Kalan and I had worked out a strategy after finding the note in Blaire’s apartment. “Her Populace boyfriend, Tucker. Blaire had planned to move in with him, and he might be the last one who saw her. I’ve got no clue how to find him, though.”

  “Ideas, folks,” Elijah said. “Who’s got ’em?”

  Corben tapped a tiny metal implant behind his ear—a Cortex. He’d just turned his brain into an Internet-connected computer. Where’d he get the money for that? Maybe he worked one of the higher-end jobs at Happenings.

  “Tucker, right?” he said. “Let’s see what I can dig up on Tuckers in Havendale.”

  His eyes unfocused and shifted. Seeing something the rest of us couldn’t. Moments later, a chorus of beeps sounded around the room and several people pulled out phones.

  “Okay,” the man said. “Only three Tuckers listed. I sent the addresses to everybody.”

  He’d searched the Internet and sent text messages from his brain. Fast, sure. Secure, so they said. But kind of freaky to see in motion. The Cortex was the scary kind of biotech you weren’t sure was a good idea. The tech had been banned for decades, until Happenings finally created a secure enough firewall to prevent brain-hacking. Ascalon could’ve come up with something sooner, but they’d never touch something like that.

  “Excellent.” Elijah rubbed the stu
bble on his face. “We’ll split into three groups. Don’t be ashamed if you feel it’s your role to stay behind and pray for God to help us find the right Mr. Tucker. Who’s going out on this one?”

  Several people raised their hands.

  My eyes darted around frantically. When did this become the plan? It was just a souped-up version of their wander-the-streets tactic. We couldn’t just go knock on random doors of guys named Tucker.

  Well, I couldn’t, as a Mementi. I blew a frustrated breath through my nose. We didn’t have a lot of options here. I trusted Kalan. Could I trust his judgment of the people around me?

  Kalan raised his voice. “Dad, are you sure? It’s dangerous out there tonight. Plus the mayor announced that curfew at nine. If we get caught, we’re in big trouble.”

  “Well, I’m in,” Joss said. “It’s the first lead we’ve had in a while.”

  “Let’s bring the Lord’s justice!” someone shouted.

  A few people whooped.

  Around me, everyone divided into groups. They knew how to get things done, that was for sure. I stood and shouldered my bag. Bumble around the Populace side of town, or stay in the semi-safe, air-conditioned restaurant?

  Kalan’s eyebrows lowered into a worried position. “I don’t think you should go, Gena. You could be attacked, and then the backlash from that . . .”

  Thanks for the reminder. “Other people will be there. I’ll be okay.”

  And when it came down to it, I didn’t trust his friends. They were still Populace, and I was still Mementi. I wasn’t handing over this investigation.

  “You and I can stay here and act as a base,” Kalan said. “Have everybody relay info to us.”

  My nostrils flared. “And where will we go when the restaurant closes? Hang out in the parking lot, alone, and wait for someone to call the cops on me? I’ll be safer with a group of you. No one will look at me twice.”

  “Yeah, but a Mementi, knocking on their doors while everyone’s worried about a retaliation attack?”

  I pulled out my scarf and wrapped the ends securely around my neck, too nervous to leave it off any longer. “You knock, then. But Blaire’s my friend, and it’s my people at risk. My memories. Thank you for your concern, but I’m going.”

  To my surprise, Kalan laughed.

  “What?”

  “You’re so Mementi. Your mouth says ‘thanks for your concern,’ but your eyes say ‘stop me and I’ll deck you.’”

  My lips pinched.

  He sighed. “Fine. Then I’m going too. As your bodyguard.”

  * * *

  Our group consisted of me, Kalan, Joss, and Anabel. One big happy family.

  With the help of my phone’s GPS system, we headed south to Cutler Street. Crammed shops in a row gave way to small houses—actual houses. A tiny dog yipped excitedly as we passed, jerking at the end of its chain. Yards sprouted with weeds. Were there any nice areas on this side of town? Soon, we found ourselves back in the realm of boxy, boring apartments.

  Not a lot of people were out and about. A man left the building across the street, and two women jogged past us. None of them noticed me, but Kalan prowled next to me like a tiger ready to pounce. I reviewed the situation: Mementi girl. Populace side of town. Violence imminent. All hail Gena, the queen of bad decisions. Bow down before her impressive displays of stupidity.

  I jumped when Joss leaned in, peering at the map I’d projected on my hand. “Zoom closer,” he said.

  “This is as close as it gets,” I said. “But the Tucker we’re after lives somewhere in there.”

  I pointed to two blocky buildings set close to each other. Between them lay a patch of dirt that might have once made a pitiful attempt to grow grass.

  “We need to spread out,” Joss said. “Go door to door. There’s no apartment number on this one.”

  Dozens of doors on three levels stretched the length of both buildings. This could be a long night. I studied the map again, like Tucker’s exact location might magically appear. A glowing dot on the screen caught my eye, and I tapped it. A label appeared—not an anonymous number, but a name. An on-duty cop.

  DETECTIVE JACKSON, GUNNER.

  My hand convulsed. “Kalan.”

  He studied the map over my shoulder. “Well. I guess that confirms this is the right Tucker.”

  The map shuddered on my hand. It took me two tries to click the Sidewinder off. “He can’t see me, if he’s working with the thief they’ll know I’m trying to find her, and Jackson knows where I live, I don’t want to lose any more memories—”

  Kalan hovered a little closer. “Okay. Relax, we’re a step ahead of him.”

  Right. My GPS gave my location at Cora’s. I wanted to slam my hands against my leg in a powerful drum beat. I settled for tapping my fingers behind my back. Anxiety still slithered in my gut, but it wasn’t approaching panic-attack levels. Yet.

  Kalan turned to Anabel and Joss, who eyed me with concern and contempt, respectively. “We’ve got to hide Gena from this guy. You two keep an eye on the building. When you see a cop come out, that’s where Tucker lives.”

  Joss rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks. Never would have thought of that.”

  “Someday,” said Anabel to Joss with a lazy, doe-eyed smile, “you will say nice things. Because you’re actually a good guy who’s still learning how to be nice.”

  Joss coughed and turned away. I had some doubts about her assessment of him.

  “I’ll text you when we see him,” said Joss. “You scamper off, now.”

  His tone boiled my blood. Which seemed to prove useful in banishing fear. “So we just hide until Jackson leaves?”

  “Look-out duty is important too,” Kalan quipped.

  Smart aleck. I followed him around the building and plopped down on a peeling wooden bench. He pulled a small ball from his pocket, rolling it around and around in his fingers. I felt myself shift in subtle circles with it. Spiraling, circling, whirlpooling the tension down some internal drain.

  “What is that, anyway?”

  He held it up. It was a bouncy ball, swirled with white and black.

  “When I was a kid,” he said, “I’d get one every time I saw one of those toy machines at gas stations and restaurants. I’ve got a ball for every place I’ve ever lived or visited. So I have a lot.”

  I wanted to ask about all the places he’d been, but the bitterness in his voice surprised me. “It sounds like an adventure.”

  “I’d have preferred a house and friends and a mom who stuck around.” He gripped the ball in his fist.

  Maybe adventures only became adventures in the telling of them. “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged.

  Personal questions weren’t my thing, but curiosity was more powerful than etiquette. “What happened?”

  “Dad found God.”

  “Is that . . . not a good thing?”

  Kalan smiled. “It is. I wouldn’t have found God without him. I love Dad, but he was always trying to find his ‘calling.’ Even changed his name. He used to be Henry.”

  “Well. At least you ended up here.” I blushed. “I mean, if here is a good thing. For you. And not because—I mean . . .”

  Crap.

  Kalan grinned at the dirt. “Yeah. Here is a really great place to be.”

  We settled into embarrassed silence.

  He rested his elbows on his knees. “It’s getting dark.”

  I checked my phone. “9:03. We’re officially breaking city curfew.” I could practically hear Dad yelling from across town already.

  “We should get you home,” Kalan said.

  I wanted to say yes—but I wanted to say no more. I couldn’t leave this close to seeing if Tucker had answers about Blaire. Before I could answer, Kalan’s phone beeped.

  “Jackson’s leaving.” He jumped up. “Stay here, I’m going to take a look.”

  I gripped the bench, splinters poking into my gloves. It was getting dark. Jackson wouldn’t see me peeking around a corner.<
br />
  Though if I stepped past the barrier of the brick wall, he might feel my Link buzz.

  I snuck up behind Kalan, checking my GPS map. Jackson was marked on my hand, walking away from the apartment block. “Do you see him?”

  “Gena,” Kalan hissed as I hovered behind the safety of the brick building.

  “What do you see?”

  “Just a cop.”

  “No partner?” That should be standard procedure if he was interrogating Tucker.

  “No. He looks like he’s in a hurry, though. He just turned the corner.”

  “Come on,” I said.

  We found Anabel and Joss leaning against a twisted tree in the dirt-filled courtyard.

  “He’s up on the second floor,” Joss said. “Let’s go talk to this guy.”

  We climbed the concrete steps and knocked. Kalan stepped in front of me, like he was shielding me. Okay, this was getting a little much. Tucker had had a Mementi girlfriend, so the odds he’d attack me were pretty slim. I stepped out of Kalan’s shadow.

  The door opened a crack and an angry face peered at us. “What?”

  “Tucker James?” Joss asked.

  “I don’t know you.” He noticed my Mementi gloves and scarf. In the sliver of his door, a strange twisting warped his face. “This is about Blaire again.”

  Kalan shifted closer to me.

  “I’m a friend of hers.” Could he at least open the door all the way?

  “A friend?” The door didn’t budge.

  “My sister was her best friend growing up. They worked at Happenings together.”

  “Ren. You look like her.” He spat her name like it tasted horrible. Uh oh.

  “I, um, was hoping you could tell me more about . . . well, about anything Blaire said or did before she disappeared.”

  Tucker snorted. “Don’t you watch the news? I don’t know squat. The cops still won’t leave me alone.”

  Kalan spoke up. “The cop who just came—what did he want?”

  “To ride my butt? I don’t know. He won’t be back.” Tucker sounded bitter, and his head dropped.

  “Why won’t he be back?” Joss demanded. “You gave him something, didn’t you? Some information so he’d leave you alone.”

  Tucker stiffened. “Get out of here,” he snarled.