Soothing music played, and a three-dimensional holocast unfurled across the floor and walls. Ahead of me, the hospital hallway had transformed into a peaceful beach dotted with palm trees. Beautiful and too bright to be real. If it was supposed to make you happy to be here, it failed.
I strolled past rolling waves, trying to look like I belonged. Nobody would think to ask why I was visiting when Cora hadn’t been admitted. I hoped.
Ahead of me, a doctor approached, Larissa Jonas. I fixed a smile to my face, but she rushed by with a hurried nod. My shoulders sagged once she’d passed. Almost there.
I went right past the elevator and pushed open the door to a stairwell. The sudden reintroduction of steel and concrete jarred me. An external exit—locked from the outside—waited across the landing. It really wasn’t necessary for Kalan to come. He was coming in through the back, sure, but he could still be spotted. And arrested. And hung by his thumbs while I was interrogated and had my memory wiped.
Get a grip, Gena.
Feeling like a coward, I called Kalan even though he was right outside the door.
“So.” Kalan answered on the first ring. “I forgot your real name is Genesis. That’s how your calls and texts are labeled.”
I tucked a loose hair behind my ear. “Is this relevant?”
“It’s the first book in the Bible.”
“Oh.” Some of my friends were Christian, but the Bible had always been at the bottom of my ‘Classics to Read’ list. Now I was curious. “It means ‘beginning,’ right?”
I heard the smile in his voice. “Yup. It’s the story of how God created the world.”
“You’ll have to tell me about that some time.” Or not. Memo to mouth: stop saying words before the brain can process them.
“Yup. You’re not going to open the door, are you?”
A light above me blinked out; they needed to redo the techpaint on this section of ceiling. The light fritzed back on. My neck prickled.
“Maybe my memories aren’t as good as yours,” he said, “but I should be there. I can put my memories on a Memo right away to prevent degradation. It only takes a few seconds to upload them.”
That was his purpose, I reminded myself. My personal external backup. I disconnected the call and opened the door.
Kalan sauntered in and nodded at the stairs. “Up?”
I nodded. “Up.”
We climbed all the way to the roof. The inpatient rooms in the psych ward all had private access to the rooftop cactus garden. The hospital schedule Cora had received said “outdoor free time” took place in the afternoons. Hopefully we weren’t too late.
Kalan opened the door and we stepped onto a gravel path, the sky wide and blue above us. Small gazebos lined the edges of the roof, each with an elevator to a patient’s room. A shimmer at the edge of the building indicated the safety barricade was on. Like they’d ever turn it off.
The path wove through a forest of cacti. Tall saguaros pointed at the sky. Bulbous golden barrel cacti bubbled from the dirt. Blue chalk sticks spread long fingers, making a pale carpet. Several odd-shaped cacti sported red, orange, and purple flowers. Much better than the fake beach.
Our footsteps crunched over gravel. The path turned sharply, and I heard voices around the corner.
“Maybe you should hide here,” I said softly. “I don’t want any of them to immediately freak out about a Populace up here. It could make things . . . unpredictable.”
“You’re not facing them alone if they’re unpredictable.”
His overly authoritative tone grated on my nerves. “Well, I can predict they’ll get unpredictable real quick if you walk up with no Link buzz.”
“No.”
“This will be pointless if they scream before we can say hi. You can rush in to save the day if I need it.” Wow. Sarcasm. How impolite of me. I hid a grin.
“Fine,” he growled.
We peeked around the corner, careful to avoid the spines of the saguaro cactus next to us. A simulated fire snapped cheerily in a clay-rimmed fire pit, surrounded by people. Cash Hernandez and Miranda Jacobs lounged on padded chairs, talking. Leeli Hanowitz circled the edges of the shaded area, weaving around the wooden pillars that held up a trellis laced with vines. Her lips moved, though no one stood near her. Valeria Willis sat in a lounge chair she’d dragged away from the fire, turned away from the rest of the group. There should be one more. Jacie Moran, just a little younger than me. I didn’t see her anywhere.
“How can they still . . . I don’t know, walk and talk if they lost all their memories?” Kalan whispered.
“Those are procedural memories,” I said absently. “We still store those in the brain. It’s only episodic and semantic memories that go in our Links.”
“I’ll take your word that that makes sense,” he said.
“Stay here.” Clenching my fists, I stepped around the corner.
A clod of dirt smacked the cactus next to me. I jumped, nearly skewering myself on hundreds of needles.
Valeria Willis stood next to her chair. Her loose hair danced around her head in a frizzy red halo. Hospital-issue white gloves covered her arms up to her shoulders. Over the gloves, a diamond-studded gold band wrapped her left ring finger.
“We don’t want any more medicine,” she said calmly.
I stepped forward, trying to ignore Kalan shifting behind me. “I’m not a doctor.”
“Who did you know before?” Valeria asked. Her flat tone contrasted with her wild hair.
“All of you,” I said. “But only a little bit.”
“Why did they let you in? It’s mostly family.”
Leeli started walking again, muttering the six times tables to herself and pulling her thick scarf over the dozens of braids in her black hair. Miranda picked at the new Links under her gloves.
I took a deep breath. “I’m here because of my friend. Cora. She—”
“She’s the one who lost a single Link.” Cash’s face reddened. “Stupid girl. Only one.”
“You shut up,” Valeria ordered. “Any memory lost is life lost. She’s one of us.”
One of them. Like memory theft was a sacred and horrific hazing ritual for a club. Maybe they’d accept me if I told them about my own memory loss.
But one of them was missing. “Is Jacie here too? Jacinta Moran?”
Valeria gripped her wrist with one hand and looked away. “No. She’s not anywhere, really. They used to haul her out here, try to make her talk or move or just look at things. Now they leave her alone.” Her eyes darted to an empty chair in the shade. “She was the first victim. At least the rest of us know what we’ve got ahead of us.”
My body went rigid. The bright cushions on the empty chair dented in where a small person might have sat. How many hours had they made her sit, staring vacantly, trying to bring her back to life? How could they bring her back to life when she had no life to come back to?
Cora. Oh, Cora. She wouldn’t get that bad. She still had the other fifteen years of life for context. But how empty would she become, if she were never filled back up?
It wouldn’t happen. I’d find her Link before she was too far gone.
Which meant I had to ask these people about Blaire. There wasn’t a crueler question in the universe than one about the people you couldn’t remember. I had to start with Miranda.
I’d tried not to look at her. Hers was the most familiar face. It sparked memories of peanut butter sandwich picnics and calls for Blaire to come home when the sun faded over neighborhood night games.
“Mrs. Jacobs?” I said. “Can I talk to you?”
She eyed me. “Okay.”
I approached and sat on a chair to her left. “I’d like to ask you about someone you were close to. Do you mind?”
“No,” Cash interrupted. “Absolutely not.”
I ignored him. “Mrs. Jacobs?”
She darted a look at Cash.
“You listen to me,” Cash growled. “You think you can just walk in and treat u
s like zoo animals?”
“What?”
“We’re not here for you to gawk at.”
“I’m not here for that—”
“You shouldn’t be here at all!” He stood, waving his arms in the air. “Asking about the pasts we don’t have? Nobody asks that, not even our families. What do you want, some sad and pathetic tale to take back to school?”
I shrank away, my automatic anxiety reaction hunching my shoulders. “I’m trying to help.”
“You don’t—”
“Cash.” Miranda held up a hand. “She’s just a kid. She’s not after you. Or me.”
His hands dropped. He opened his mouth again.
“Shush,” she said firmly.
I almost smiled. That was a familiar tone. The I’m-the-mom voice I’d heard her use on Blaire.
The tremble of her lips contradicted the strength in her voice. “You . . . have a question.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“I won’t be able to answer it.” She said it matter-of-factly, but her hands clenched in her lap.
“I know. I’d like to ask anyway.”
“Okay,” she said. She brushed hair under her scarf.
Exhale. “What do you know about your daughter, Blaire?”
Her hand froze halfway to her face. “Blaire.”
“Yes. Your daughter.”
The frozen hand shook. The tremor spread to her shoulder. Her breath came in shallow gulps.
“A daughter. A daughter. I’m a mother.”
I clapped a hand over my mouth. Even after Blaire’s disappearance, no one had told her? Her head shook in a distorted rhythm while her mouth opened and closed. Like she wanted to say something, but couldn’t remember what.
“A daughter. I forgot my daughter.”
Cash leaped up. “Get out! Get out of here, what kind of person are you?”
Miranda’s tremors became a rocking. “What does she look like?” Desperation tinged her words. “Does she look like me?”
“She . . .” I swallowed. “She’s tall like you, and she has your hair. Your brains, too. She graduated top of her class.”
Miranda’s hands flew to her face, covering her eyes. “Graduated. Of course. Graduated. She wouldn’t be a baby anymore . . .”
The entire rooftop held its breath.
A horrible wail split from Miranda’s lips. She yanked her own hair in gloved hands. I drew back, clutching my stomach against the pain eating me inside. If there was a God, he’d send me to hell for causing pain like this.
Miranda tumbled from the chair, sobbing Blaire’s name. Her fingers grasped at my leggings, and I backed away.
“Why hasn’t she come?” Her fingers dug into the dirt. “Why hasn’t she come for me?”
Before I could blink, Cash rushed from his chair. Toward Kalan, who had darted around the saguaro in the corner.
“Populace!” Cash yelled.
“No, Cash, stop, he’s a friend!” I yelled.
“Why hasn’t she come? Blaire. My daughter . . .”
Kalan wrestled with Cash, struggling to fend off the older man’s blows. I tugged Miranda’s hands from my shoulders. She crumpled to the ground. I ran toward the men, but Valeria got there first.
She slapped Cash on the back of the head, knocking off his cap. The unexpected touch stopped him mid-swing.
“Leave him alone,” Valeria demanded. “Move, let me see him.”
Cowed by Valeria, Cash snatched his hat and backed away. My eyes darted between Kalan and Valeria. Now what? He stood straight, breathing hard.
“Is it you?” she asked. Her body had softened, her face lifted toward his.
“Is what me?”
“Did you come for me?”
He looked away. “I’m so sorry. No.”
Valeria’s shoulders drooped. Memories and facts connected in a horrible, perfect clicking of domino pieces across my mind.
Blaire, going missing around the time Miranda lost her memory.
Victims losing all their Links instead of having a few memories siphoned. Because they had to forget something—or someone—important in their lives.
Valeria, looking for someone she felt should have been there.
“Valeria,” I said, “are you missing someone? Someone who’s never come to visit?”
After a moment, Valeria whispered, “Names. Faces. Moments. I almost remember them. And almost is torture.”
Her wild hair glowed in the sun. A trace of hollowness crossed her eyes. Like a shattered angel, her wings were broken. I could almost hear the brush of feathers falling to the dirt.
Over the sound of Miranda’s piercing sobs, a strange voice called out. “Hey, folks! Who’s ready for group therapy?”
Crap. “Kalan, go!” I hissed.
We dashed away, the crunch of gravel leaving a trail of sound for someone to follow. Kalan yanked at the door to the stairwell, but it was locked. I skidded up and slapped my hand on the DNA scanner. The door opened, and we rushed through.
“Think they’ll rat on us?” Kalan asked.
“No idea. Run.”
Down the stairs, out the back door, and across the lawn. We stopped under the shade of the hospital’s solar panel array to catch our breath.
“That was awful,” Kalan said.
“That’s the connection. It’s not just Blaire. Someone wanted to make people disappear, and made sure their relatives never noticed they’re gone.” I paused. “There’s one more thing I want to try. Keep an eye out for anybody coming.”
Cash would totally tell on us. At least he didn’t know who we were. I unwrapped the Sidewinder from my wrist and tapped through menu options. The visitor check-in list popped up on my screen. I glanced at it, then turned off my Sidewinder.
“Did you even have time to read that?” Kalan asked.
“Shh.” I skimmed my memory for names and mentally compared them to the check-in list I’d just memorized. “So check this out. Cash Hernandez’s only direct relation is his son, Rory, 24. He hasn’t visited once. He’s been employed at Happenings for the last year.”
Kalan shrugged.
“Miranda Jacobs, mother to Blaire, Happenings employee, never visited, missing. Leeli has a brother and two sisters who visit a couple times a week. She’s single, but she’s been a friend of the Hernandez family for ages—there are even rumors Cash and Leeli were cheating long before Cash’s wife died. His son Rory works at Happenings too. Jacie Moran . . . hm. She has parents and two brothers who visit her every day. Maybe a friend?”
“And Valeria?” Kalan asked.
“She’s engaged,” I said quietly, remembering the ring on her finger. I wondered if she woke up and was terrified that she didn’t know who gave it to her. “Only her family is listed as visiting. But she thought you—a Populace guy—had come for her. If her fiancé is Populace, it’s not too far a stretch that he worked at Happenings.”
“Populace fiancé,” Kalan said. “Wonder how that happened.”
I thrilled at the discovery at the same time I hurt for the names on this list. “Almost everyone who lost their Links has someone who’s never visited and who works at Happenings. That’s why the victims had their Links stolen. They had to forget a whole person who’d been in their lives for ages.”
Looked like maybe the rumors about Happenings were true after all.
“What about Cora?” Kalan asked.
Good point. Cora had a huge extended family, but none of them had connections to Happenings.
“Ren.” A lightning bolt of shock rooted me to the ground. “The thief wasn’t after Cora that night, she was after me.”
My hands shook as Kalan’s eyes met mine.
“Why would someone want to make me forget Ren? Mom and Dad would still remember her, it’s not like she could vanish without them noticing.” She hadn’t vanished already, had she? “I have to go see my sister.”
“Come on.”
I typed out a text to Ren as we left. Kalan’s long legs kept
up with my stride and we rushed up the tramstop stairs.
“I can’t buy that three people could go missing and nobody had a clue,” Kalan said. “They have friends, right? And what about the doctors, and the cops, and nosy reporters, for crying out loud?”
“Maybe no one’s seen the connection to Happenings. Leeli’s is speculative, Jacie doesn’t have an obvious one, and no one would have looked at Valeria’s Populace fiancé.” I paused. “And I wouldn’t put it past Jackson to wipe any evidence that came out.”
My Sidewinder stayed silent and still. I wrapped the phone around my ear. “Call Ren.”
The line went immediately to voicemail. My foot drummed out a metallic rhythm.
“If the thief wanted you to forget Ren, you would have already,” Kalan said gently. “She’ll be okay, Gena.” His hair hung low over his eyes, the combination of brown and blond like a swirl of honey. “So will you.”
I couldn’t help it. I loved that he wanted to comfort me. For a minute, I let myself fantasize about touching him. To not worry about sharing memories, to just feel his skin. My mind rebelled, spitting the thought right back out. I didn’t want that from him. No matter what I may have wanted just a day ago.
The tram pulled up. The worry inside me drowned out thoughts of boys and what I did or didn’t want from them. My mind chanted to the hum of the engines as we rushed over the city. Ren would be fine, she was fine, she would be fine. She would text me any minute, any minute, any minute.
My Sidewinder stayed silent.
15
A web is woven across the sky . . .
—Alfred, Lord Tennyson, In Memoriam III
Ren answered the door in her pajamas, her short hair standing on end. I grabbed hold of her doorframe. She was fine. She was fine.
“Gena?” She rubbed red eyes.
“What are you doing here?” “Wow,” Kalan said. “Digging the purple hair. And the frogs.” He gestured to Ren’s cotton pants.
Was he flirting with her? I glared at him.
So did Ren. “Who are you?”
“Kalan Fox,” he said cheerfully. “I can see where Gena doesn’t get her politeness.”
The Unhappening of Genesis Lee Page 15
