PANDORA

by Rebecca Hamilton

  Don’t trust Alexander, and don’t tell him if you remember anything. He’s dangerous. Don’t go to the game, and please, stay away from him.

  I didn’t have time to lose; I ran out my door as fast as I could to the elevator. I had to catch whoever left me the note.

  Once on the ground level, I ran through the foyer to the front desk. A teenage boy wearing a navy blue uniform and hat worked the late shift. He looked up on my approach. “Mrs. Eh-uh, Miss Ellery, how can I help you?”

  I ignored the way he stumbled on my name. He had to be new. “Someone was just at my door and left a note. I need you to pull up the feed and show me who it was.”

  He turned to his screen hidden behind the desk. A few dings and beeps later, he shook his head. “I’m sorry. No one was at your door after Mr. Barabbas.”

  I looked out the entrance to the condos. Too much time had passed for me to find whoever it was that left the note. I needed answers immediately. “Fine. Do you know when the Academy closes?”

  He gave me a blank stare. “Miss Ellery, the Academy never closes.”

  “Good,” I said, then walked out of the building.

  I blinked.

  I was back in my room, lying in my bed with the sun rising through the window. I sat up, no recollection of how I got home. Only the vaguest sense of running. I wore different clothes, almost like I had dreamed the whole day. I would’ve believed it, if it weren’t for the necklace and bracelets I still had on.

  Everything else seemed to be in their rightful places. Nothing stood out of the ordinary. Then I saw the folded white paper laid on top of the pillow next to me. The same paper the other note of warning was written on. Hesitantly, I picked it up.

  Don’t come looking for me again. I’ll find you when the time is right. Stay safe.

  TWELVE

  I STOOD OUTSIDE THE Academy, staring at the emblem that showed against the grey stone and glass, as if it were illuminated. A number of wide stairs inclined up to the doors, leading to the foyer and commons. Two large statues flanked each side of the stairs. One was of a human. The other, a Nepherium. Both held a hand out toward the other, frozen in a position meant to represent the union and peace of the two races.

  They’ve fallen to mere lawn ornaments. The meaning long lost, along with the reason hidden in my missing memories.

  I padded toward the fountain at the center of a circle of murals that portrayed the creation of the Academy and the time of No-war. A time widely welcomed and cherished.

  The appearance of the Nepherium was a sign of change and peace. Ending wars and teaching humans about the gifts lying dormant inside them. The Nepherium were responsible for all the changes in governments and religion. They brought to light knowledge of the Earth’s soul, a collection of consciousness. Those events were depicted on the walls, in a mosaic, the pictures blurring and distorting the closer I got to them.

  I took in the fractal frames and still images from my periphery as I climbed the stairs, passed under the statues, and ultimately reached the doors. After pausing to consider what I was going to say, I took a deep breath, stepped through the threshold, and walked straight to the receptionist’s desk near the middle of the commons.

  The woman peered at me over the silver rim of her spectacles. Her lips, painted in too bright of a red, pressed so firmly together, two small bumps on top of a thin line. Her coppery red hair was piled high in a messy, twisted bun. A few loose strands fell along the back of her shoulders, appearing orange against the red of her Academy uniform.

  I remembered the time I received mine. I felt torn. Something that was supposed to be joyous was wrapped in sadness. Was it because of my dad? Possibly.

  “Can I help you?” she clipped.

  “Yes, please. I need some information. I was in an accident that caused me to lose my memory. I know I was in the Academy. If I could just get my record—”

  “Name?” she said, running her fingers along the screens in front of her.

  “Elsabetha Ellery,” I replied.

  “First year of attendance?”

  “Twenty-four forty-five.”

  She heavily sighed, continuing to whisk her hands furiously over the screens. All too soon, she replied in the same snide tone, “No, I’m sorry. I’ve no record of you.”

  I stared at her as she avoided my gaze, swiping her hands a few more times, then she took a sip of her coffee.

  “No, that’s impossible,” I argued. “Check again. Make sure you spelled my name correctly. E-L-”

  “I know how to spell your name Miss Ellery. Your brother was in attendance two years before you. Now, if you don’t mind, I have important business to attend to.” She stood from her seat.

  “You are mistaken. I’m in the system. There has to be—”

  “Elsabetha?” My name echoed against the walls of the commons. I didn’t need to look to know it was Jenna Malcom.

  “Hi, Jenna,” I said, trying to control the disdain in my voice.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “This woman insists I wasn’t involved with the Academy,” I said, pointing to her.

  “No,” the receptionist said. “What I said was, I have no record of you.” I glared at her.

  Jenna stepped up to me, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Come on, let’s go get a sandwich. I’m on my lunch hour.”

  I left with her. I’d pushed my luck enough as it was. I remembered watching students get roughly escorted off the grounds, and I didn’t need that added to my day. We walked in silence. I used the time to take in the scenery, hoping it would jog some memories loose. Jenna glanced my way occasionally. Finally she said, “You’re awfully quiet. What was that about anyway?”

  I shrugged. “I was just walking by. Thought I could get some information from my records to help me remember.” It was a lie. A small one, but still, I couldn’t trust Jenna. That feeling had grown more evident each time I saw her.

  “A little anxious?” she asked.

  “It doesn’t make sense that they wouldn’t have record of me.”

  We arrived at a sandwich shop on campus. Once Jenna had her sandwich, we sat at a table near the park. I remembered running there when I was a cadet. People surrounded us, enjoying the warmer, mid-October day. The sun shone between a few dark clouds that promised a good snow storm later in the evening, if not overnight. But, for the moment, it was pleasant. The smell of dried leaves mixed in with the aroma of smoked meats, coating the breeze. Every time it blew in my direction, I smelled summer.

  “You know, I don’t think Alexander wants you running around and checking into things yourself.” She picked at the lettuce in her half-eaten sandwich. “Some of the people he feels were responsible for your accident have very strong ties with the Academy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She set her sandwich down and locked her gaze on mine. “Do you remember the Nepherium?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, there’s been some wicked stuff happening around here that involve them. Things we never expected from them.”

  “Like killing people?” I offered.

  “Did you remember that?” she asked a little too curiously.

  “No. I get news updates,” I said sarcastically. It was true . . . sort of.

  She nodded. “Like killing people that don’t support them. And even then, it’s the leaders of the anti-Nepherium activists.” She waved her hands in the air as if she was making a big to-do with the anti-Nepherium supporters.

  That’s right . . . the Nepherium had fallen out of popularity. Possibly because of their warnings of a destructive race, known as the Aagrarians, who were believed to be used as a means to keep humans ‘in line.’ The appearance of this brother-race never happened. Human’s started to wonder if they ever would. After a few hundred years, humans stopped believing.

  Then, the Nepherium disappeared.

  It didn’t explain why a non-volatile race would suddenly turn violent. If the Nepherium killed someon
e, they were forced into it. What Jenna said made no difference. I didn’t believe her. I couldn’t.

  “Are you saying you think the Nepherium—a race sworn as humanity’s protectors, not to mention one that has practically disappeared—is responsible for trying to kill me?”

  She smiled. “Now she’s connecting the dots. And they’re here. We just don’t know where to find them.”

  “So why are you here then? At the Academy, I mean.”

  “I’m working on something in the library. A side project for Alexander. I think you were discharged from the Academy some time ago.”

  Her words were spoken far too casually for someone who just told me my life was in danger just by stepping on campus. My mom’s warning entered my mind and echoed soundlessly. Don’t trust anyone. Not even Jenna . . . Sometimes things happen for a reason, Elsabetha. Don’t be in a rush to find the memories you lost. They may lead you to a place you don’t want to go.

  “I don’t understand something. You took me to an on-campus restaurant and you are acting like I’m not in danger right now. What gives? What is really going on in that head of yours?”

  She looked at me with cold, darkened eyes. They were unlike anything I had seen before, yet, reminded me very much of Alexander’s in depth. In a smooth, calm voice she said, “Go home, Elsabetha, before you get yourself hurt. Let the people trying to protect you find the missing pieces.”

  I pressed my palms firmly into the table. “I want to know what happened to my record. What forced me to leave the Academy?”

  She stood up and leaned over the table. “You should get going. My lunch is over in ten. It was nice to see you though. I’ll stop by later so we can finish this little chat.”

  I shook my head, removing myself from the table, and shoved my hands into my jacket pockets. “Why won’t you tell me what happened?”

  “You should take your questions to Alexander. He’s the one that can answer them. Honestly, I don’t know any more than you. But, if Mrs. Brekner says she has no record of you in her system, then that leads me to believe that you were either kicked out or someone had your records erased.”

  “You said you knew me from the Academy,” I retorted.

  She sighed and tried to stifle a laugh. “Darling, your brother made you famous. Everyone in the Academy knew you and everything about you. Because of him. Gotta love notoriety.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “How did you know where I lived then?”

  “Alexander told me.” She tossed the remnants of her lunch into a receptacle then turned to me. “Look, I’ll check into the records thing and see what I can find out. But do yourself a favor and go home. Don’t go looking for things that will get you killed, okay?”

  I nodded, only to satisfy her, and watched her walk away. I waited until she was out of sight before I made my way home. The frustration had grown within me. So much so, my feet hit the sidewalk harder and my strides got longer. Before I knew it, I was halfway home. That made everything worse. Getting home quickly was not in my plans. I turned around swiftly to find a park to run laps in, but I slammed into some guy, knocking his coffee all over the front of him.

  “Deus id damnate!” I paused. Huh. So I can speak Latin, too? Not just understand it?

  He casually brushed at his shirt. “Hey now, watch the language.” The corners of his lips hinted at a smile, as though not fazed by the spill. Must not have been that hot.

  “You know Latin?” I asked, surprised.

  Then I recognized him. More than anyone else in my mysterious past, I knew him, and he most certainly knew me. But how?

  “Uh, it sounded pretty harsh. It’s just coffee.” He shrugged, playing it off.

  It was extremely difficult not to fall into his eyes. They were the bluest ocean color with specks of silver and gold. His long, dark hair fell in front of them, almost shielding them from me. The sharp angle of his nose and jawline was as though he was carved from stone. Very familiar.

  “I know you,” I said.

  “I’m pretty sure you don’t,” he said too quickly. All humor was gone.

  “No, I do. I’m sure of it.”

  “I’m sure you don’t,” he said. A crease appeared between his eyebrows.

  “I never forget a face,” I retorted. A lie. I couldn’t remember much of anything, but this man . . . This man I knew.

  “That is an incredible talent you have. In that case, we must have passed each other on the street. Sort of like now, only you didn’t dump my coffee down the front of my shirt.”

  “No, that’s not it. It doesn’t work that way. You’re really . . . familiar to me. That’s not something a mere passing by gives. I’m sure I know you, I just don’t know how.” Or can’t remember.

  “I’m sorry. I wish I could help you, but I can’t say that I know you.”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  He nodded, tossing his cup into the trashcan near us. “Okay, say we do know each other. What would you do next?”

  I opened my mouth to answer him, but nothing came out. I smiled. “At least allow me to buy you another coffee and get you a clean shirt.”

  “That’s not necessary. Lady’s shirts don’t look that good on me, despite what you may think.” He was back to being the lighthearted fellow I dumped coffee on, before I claimed to know him.

  I giggled. “Please. It’s the least I can do, and I’ve had a really crappy day. It would make me feel better.”

  He smiled. At the same time, my heart left my chest.

  “I’ll take the coffee, but I’m okay without the shirt. I’ve got a jacket, and it zips.” He tugged on the sides for emphasis.

  “Thanks,” I said. “Where to?”

  He looked around aimlessly. “Uh . . . know of any good coffee shops around here?”

  “I do, actually. There’s this—”

  A loud chirping noise emitted from inside of his coat. He chuckled to himself and pulled out his communicator, then answered it. “Yes? Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I’ll be right there.” My heart sank as I watched him push another button and slip it into his pocket. “Perhaps another time on that coffee?”

  “Sure, it sounds like you have something to take care of . . . ”

  “Thanks, anyway,” he said, walking away, but not before frowning at the line that marred the side of my face. The wind had blown my hair away from it. I had to learn how to do my hair differently to keep it from being such an easily seen, sour mark.

  “Yup,” I said, and I waved as he moved past me.

  THIRTEEN

  SATURDAY. GAME DAY. TIME for another piece of my memory to fall into place . . . Hopefully.

  I made it to the stadium a little early, hoping for some time to check out the seat listed on the ticket stub my mom gave me and look for a line into the gate that wasn’t half a mile long. Giving up, I slipped into the nearest line and leaned against the chain-link fence that surrounded the stadium. I stood behind a burly man. He seemed rather friendly with everyone. Then he leaned against the fence with me.

  “Big fan?” he asked, clearly noting my lack of game day gear.

  He was brawny, not burly like my mistaken observation of him from behind. He wore a light jacket in team colors—blue, silver, and white—that made me wonder if muscle didn’t act as an insulator. It was very cold, but that didn’t seem to faze him. His face had one large streak of blue painted in a diagonal. It made his eyes pop in a stone grey color that held specks of blue and green. His hair was light blond and shaved close to his head.

  Although this man didn’t seem particularly familiar, I trusted him. There weren’t many people like him around me. Warmth radiated from his friendly smile. A calming and welcoming energy pulsed from him.

  I smiled. “This may seem odd, but I don’t really know.”

  “Really?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “First game then?”

  I shook my head. “I lost my memory in an accident. My mom gave me a ticket stub from a game five years ago th
at I apparently went to.” I brushed my hair from my temple and let him see the scar that was forming. The stitches had fallen out, leaving a bright pink, puffy line.

  He whistled. “That’s a perdy one.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “She thought coming here would help me remember something from my past. I just can’t figure out what or how.”

  “Did you lose all of your memory?”

  I frowned. “Just most of the last six years of my life.”

  “And you don’t remember anything at all from that span of time?”

  I looked at him, just to gauge and reassess my impressions of him. He was trustworthy and wanted me to know it. I could tell that about him. A gift I have. He gave a subtle nod toward me. I nodded back.

  “Most of it I don’t.”

  He smiled, as did his eyes. “Well, I’d say you are in for a really exciting game. If you weren’t a fan before now, you most certainly will be by the time this game is over.”

  I smiled back. “Yeah, but if I could get more clues to my past, that would be great also.”

  “Name’s Blake Harringson.” He held out his hand.

  “Elsabetha Ehlers—uh . . . Ellery. Sorry. You’d think I’d forgotten my name, too.”

  He smiled and shrugged, completely judgment withholding. “That’s all right. Sometimes I forget things, too. It’s the nature of our minds.” He pointed to his temple. “So did you come alone, then?”

  “I’m meeting someone, actually.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  “Ha! No. Not in this, or the next, lifetime. He happens to hold some keys to my past. That’s all.”

  He nodded and removed himself from the fence as the line moved forward, and thusly, ended our conversation. Once we were through the gate, he pulled me to the side. “I don’t want to alarm you, but the company you’re here for isn’t one you should get too close to. If you get my meaning.”

  “So I keep getting told,” I muttered.

  “He’s dangerous.” He pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to me. A communicator. “Take this. Wait until the first touchdown from the home team, proceed to the concessions on the third level. Tell your friend whatever you need in order to leave alone. I’ll meet you there to explain further. Make sure you’re alone. That’s important if you want to stay safe.”