Forgotten

by Kristin Smith

  Praise for Catalyst

  "A fast-paced, action-packed story.”

  ~Teen Reads

  "An amazing young adult thriller! Full of intrigue, high stakes, and danger, this read will keep your heart racing and your mind turning deep into the night."

  ~Jessie Humphries, best-selling author of The Ruby Rose series

  "A gripping thriller with a tough, but vulnerable heroine who must fight against a corrupt underworld. High stakes and non-stop action paired with terrific writing will have you turning the pages late into the night.”

  ~Kimberley Griffiths Little, award-winning author of the Forbidden trilogy (Harpercollins)

  "An action-packed sci-fi thriller filled with romance, danger, and twists you won't see coming, Catalyst provides a glimpse into an eery future depicting what can go wrong when those in power attempt to make things right.”

  ~Ilima Todd, author of Remake

  "Compelling. Intriguing. Fantastic! Catalyst gives us a view into a different world, but with relatable characters that everyone can understand. The novel’s exhilarating pace only gets better as the story reaches its heart-pounding climax. A YA read reminiscent of the best that the genre has to offer. Hunger Games and Divergent, eat your heart out.”

  ~Mark Noce, author of Between Two Fires

  “Catalyst is a stunning and unique addition to the dystopian genre. Fans of The Maze Runner and Divergent series will devour this series opener.”

  ~Sherry D. Ficklin, best-selling author of Queen of Someday

  “It takes a lot to literally make my jaw drop open but Catalyst did it! Packed with adventure and emotion, this book will have you turning the pages at a frantic pace. A brilliant start to a new series.”

  ~Nerd Girl Reviews

  “Kristin creates highly relatable characters with a storyline that draws you in. I couldn't stop turning the pages and I can't wait to see what happens next in Sienna's world!”

  ~~Stephanie Faris, author of 25 Roses and 30 Days of No Gossip (Simon & Schuster)

  by Kristin Smith

  For Adam

  Even if the moon turned to dust and all the stars in the sky collapsed, your love is one I could never forget.

  THIS book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  NO part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Forgotten

  Copyright ©2017 Kristin Smith

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1-63422-238-9

  Cover Design by: Marya Heiman

  Typography by: Courtney Knight

  Editing by: Cynthia Shepp

  ~Smashwords Edition~

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  If you love something, let it go,

  If it comes back to you, it’s yours,

  If it doesn’t, it never was,

  and it’s not meant to be.

  ~Albert Einstein

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  1

  SIENNA

  It already feels like a lifetime.

  Although it’s only been a week.

  This is what I know about amnesia from doing a quick search on Zane’s comscreen. Amnesia is most often defined as the loss of memory, including information, facts, and experiences. It typically does not affect self-identity. And there is no specific treatment.

  Problem is, Trey doesn’t have amnesia. According to the doctors inhabiting Zane’s home at all hours of the day and night, Trey doesn’t have memory loss—his memory has been altered completely. Erased.

  “How are you holding up?” Zane asks, taking a seat next to me on the wooden bench.

  I find myself drawn to his garden lately, amazed that his gardeners are able to grow beautiful white lilies and creeping purple coneflowers, plump peonies and blood-red roses, despite the desert heat.

  I give him a wry smile.

  “I think I know a good distraction,” he says. “How about the pool? Emily’s been begging to go swimming all morning.”

  Thinking of swimming puts a vivid mental image in my mind. An image of Trey and me in the lagoon, laughing, his hands at my waist, my arms around his neck.

  I shake my head quickly to get rid of the images.

  “I don’t think so,” I say. “But thanks.”

  I keep my eyes focused on the tiny blue flowers in front of me that wave and dance in the breeze like they have their own orchestra playing for them.

  “Forget-me-nots,” Zane says.

  “Huh?” I turn to look at him.

  “Those flowers. They’re called forget-me-nots.” He kneels and plucks one from its stem. Laying the delicate flower on my lap, he says, “There’s an old story that goes with it. Are you familiar?”

  I shake my head and pick up the flower, studying it. Five petals mirror the blue of the sky with a butter-yellow center. The petals are small, delicate, and clumped together on one stem as if they can’t bear to be separated.

  “Legend has it that when the Creator finished naming all the plants, there was one flower that didn’t receive one. A tiny voice was heard crying out through the sky, ‘Forget me not, Oh Lord!’ To which the Creator replied, ‘That shall be your name.’”

  I smile. “Cute story. Too bad the flower doesn’t have healing properties to help people remember.”

  “I think it helps gunky eyes.” Zane’s mouth tweaks at the edges before he glances down at his feet. “I know this is hard, Sienna. But just know that I’m here for you.” His eyes sweep to mine. “Always.”

  I swallow back the lump clawing up my throat. “I know. And I appreciate that. I really do.”


  Leaning over, he gives me a light kiss on the cheek, his lips lingering next to my ear, his warm breath tickling my skin. “This is one guy who will never forget you.”

  Before I can say anything, he’s gone.

  ***

  With a fistful of tiny blue forget-me-nots, I stand outside Trey’s door, my palm lightly pressed against the cool wood. All I have to do is push and the door will swing open. But I hesitate. Will he recognize me today? Will his memory return?

  Closing my eyes, I breathe in slowly, filling my lungs to their fullest capacity. Like a balloon, I’m full of so much hot air that I should float to the sky, but the heavy weight of sadness keeps me grounded.

  I picture him. I picture us. Stealing kisses in the hallways, our trip to the lagoon, our last night together in the Compound. I blush just thinking of lying next to him in his bed. But he remembers none of that. To him, I’m just a stranger who has taken a keen interest in his recovery. What he doesn’t realize is that I’m far from a stranger. I know so much about him, and yet, not enough.

  Sighing heavily, I push the door open. Trey sits up in his bed, looking better than he has in days. The color has returned to his cheeks, and his lips now have a rosy hue. Much better than the pallid boy I held in my arms as the Satellite Government Facility crumbled around us.

  But he doesn’t remember that either.

  He smiles when he sees me, and my heart does flip-flops. I try to tell myself he’s only happy to see someone he recognizes after the ordeal he’s been through. That his smiles aren’t really reserved for me.

  “Hey,” he says.

  “Hey.”

  “What do you have there?” He eyes the flowers clutched in my hand.

  “Forget-me-nots. I thought—” I glance around. “I thought you could use some color to brighten the room.”

  He motions for me to come in.

  A small, decorative vase already sits on the nightstand, so I drop the flowers in and take it to the bathroom to fill with water.

  “Guess what?” he calls out, his voice slightly muffled through the walls separating us. Even from a distance, I can hear the excitement in his voice. As I re-enter the room with the vase of flowers, he says, “I had a breakthrough this morning.”

  I swallow hard. “You did?”

  “Yeah. I was just about to call Dr. Hammond to tell him.” As he reaches for the button on the monitor beside him, his eyes flicker to me. “Do you mind?”

  So many emotions are bouncing through my body, but I shake my head and settle into the chair beside him. He dials Dr. Hammond, the wiry man’s thin face popping up on the screen. Once Dr. Hammond promises he’ll come by in a few minutes, Trey eases back against the pillows. As he lays there, he’s quiet, and I don’t pressure him to speak. According to Dr. Hammond, it’s best if we let Trey take control of the conversation, so if he does have a memory, it will come from him and not be implanted by something we inadvertently say.

  “I remember,” he says softly.

  I lean forward, wanting to be close when he says he remembers us.

  “I remember who I am.”

  “You do?” Trying to contain my excitement, I squeeze my hands in my lap so they don’t flap wildly and scare him to death.

  The door to his room swings open and in strides Dr. Hammond, followed by an entourage of nurses. The three doe-eyed nurses cluster around one side of the bed while I scoot out of the way to allow Dr. Hammond to examine Trey on the other. After shining a light in Trey’s eyes and checking his heart rate, Dr. Hammond draws up a chair beside me and takes a seat. The nurses still hover, their eyes never leaving Trey’s face. I roll my eyes because clearly, they’re not here to help Trey, but to look at him. And Trey is completely oblivious to the three drooling nurses.

  “So, you’ve had a development, you say?” Dr. Hammond questions.

  “Yes, I have.” Trey licks his lips. His eyes flit from the doctor, back to me, and then to the doctor, almost as if he’s unsure whom he should inform.

  “Well?” Dr. Hammond presses.

  “I remember.” He pauses for a moment. “I remember everything. The explosion—”

  My ears perk at his mention of the explosion. As I lean forward, the words rush out, “You remember the explosion?”

  He closes his eyes, as if he’s concentrating on some distant memory. “I was having lunch at a cafe in the Capital. There was an explosion. Caused by some crazed Fringe member.” His eyes open. “Then I woke up here.”

  I stare at him, trying to wrap my mind around what he’s saying. “Wait. What? The Capital?” The doctor shoots me a look.

  “I was eating lunch in Rubex—”

  “You think you were in the Capital? Why?” I demand.

  “Because that’s where I work. And live.” His next words are pointed right at me. “With my fiancée.” He enunciates each syllable like I’m a child learning a new word.

  He isn’t joking. There is no mirth in his eyes. No humor. Only lucidity. Like he finally remembers and wants us to know that he is of sound mind and understanding. I don’t know what they’ve done to him, but it hurts. More than anything else.

  Shaking my head, I lay my hand over Trey’s. “You don’t have a fiancée. And you don’t live in the Capital.” Dr. Hammond gives me a warning look, but I choose to ignore him. “Trey, don’t you remember? You are a member of the Fringe. You’re the leader of the Fringe.”

  Trey laughs, a deep, husky sound that I know so well. And I’ve missed too much. He slides his hand out from under mine, and I feel the sting of his rejection.

  “I know you want to believe I’m someone I’m not. Someone you lost. But the truth is that I have a life. Somewhere else.” He swings his legs over the side of the bed. “Now if I can just get back to it.”

  I bite my lip to keep from crying out in anger and frustration. I can’t stay here. Not while he’s looking at me with so much pity that it makes my heart ache.

  Standing quickly, I say to the doctor, “Can I speak with you for a moment?” I glance back at Trey. “In private?”

  Dr. Hammond nods and follows me out the door. Once the door is closed behind us, I pounce on him. “What’s wrong with him? Why does he think he lives in the Capital?”

  The doctor exhales slowly. “My best guess is he was given a memory-altering drug.”

  “Is it permanent?”

  “Without doing more tests and scans of the brain, I really don’t know.”

  “Tests? More?”

  “Well, yes. Before, we were looking for trauma to the brain, but now—” He pauses and licks his lips, a hint of excitement in his eyes. “But now, this is all new territory.”

  I focus on breathing. And not on the gleam in the doctor’s eye. I understand he’s excited to work with a new case. To delve into the science behind Trey’s memory alteration, but the cause of his excitement is the anchor of my heartache.

  Because only steps away is the boy I love, and yet, he doesn’t even know me. Is there any pain greater than that?

  2

  ZANE

  My personal gym is a mustier, sweatier version of the person using it. The mirrored walls are lined with dumbbells and bar weights, the inner part filled with machines and equipment. I have the heat cranked up, because that’s the way I like it, so I’m a sweaty mess as I stand in front of the mirror with a dumbbell raised over my head. My muscles are straining, every inch of my body tensed with the effort, when Sienna bursts into the room. The first thing she does is wrinkle her nose.

  The bar and weights come down with a thud, bouncing against the black rubber floor. As I straighten up, I notice the way her eyes widen as they flit over my upper body. It’s too hot to wear a shirt in here, so I don’t.

  After I wipe the sweat off my face with a towel, I pull a shirt on. “How’s Trey doing—” I stop when tears build in her eyes. Her beautiful bright green eyes. “What happened?” I ask.

  A small sob bursts from her throat and tears at my heart. I throw the towel
down and stride over, pulling her into my arms. Her face is pressed against my chest, her hair tickling my chin. Her small shoulders shake as I stroke her hair, whispering soothing words that I doubt she can hear. When she pulls away, she dries her cheeks with her palms and sniffles.

  “It’s worse than we thought,” she says, her eyes still glistening with leftover tears. “It’s not trauma. They did something to him. Altered his memories or something. He thinks he lives in the Capital and that he’s engaged. Engaged! Can you believe that?” She sounds so completely broken that it takes all my willpower not to pull her in again.

  “You think they brainwashed him like they did your mom?”

  “I don’t know. Obviously not the same thing because he wasn’t hooked up to that rotating machine—” She stops and purses her lips together like she’s remembering something.

  “What is it?”

  “Well…” She hesitates. “When we rescued Trey from the government facility, there was a machine I’d never seen before.”

  “You think it might have something to do with his memory alteration?”

  Her small shoulders rise and fall as she shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

  “But why? Why would Radcliffe or anyone want to alter Trey’s memories? Wasn’t it enough that they captured him?”

  Her eyes are sad when she responds, “For the government, is anything ever enough?”

  Before I can answer, the door to the gym bangs open for a second time and Emily runs in, followed by her huffing mother.

  “There you are,” Emily squeals when she sees Sienna and me.

  Sienna and her mother are now fully recovered, but I know Sienna doesn’t want to leave Trey, and Vivian doesn’t want to leave Sienna. So I’ve offered to let them stay here as long as they like. It kills me to see Sienna hanging over Trey’s bed constantly, but I only want to do what’s best for her.