by Kim Curran
I hated myself for it. I wanted to hold on to her and myself at the same time. But only one of them was possible.
“But that doesn’t change the fact that you need treatment,” Aubrey said. “You’re forgetting basic procedure, and if your memories don’t come back–”
“Don’t you get it?” I said, running my hand across my head in frustration. “I don’t want them to come back!”
Aubrey looked at me, her eyebrows drawn in together over the top of her patch. “Why not?”
“Because it was better,” I said with a sigh, feeling the weight that had been crushing me lighten. Even saying it felt good. “It was better. And I can’t lose it.”
“Better how?” she said.
“No war. No bombs. No… this.” I waved my hands around at the Hub, at the soldiers and armed kids and, by extension, the torn streets above.
“Are you talking about before the war? But you can only have been about six.”
“No, I mean in the other reality, where I come from. Where there was no war and you and I were…”
“You and I were what?” she said, a small smile playing at the side of her mouth.
“Weren’t here,” I finished lamely.
“But there are no other realities, only one, because of the–”
“The collapse of the wave function, I know. I don’t know why, but there are other realties. I can remember them.”
We’d been taught at ARES that while there were multiple possible realities, there was only ever one actual version. When a Shift was made, the other reality collapsed and the new one took hold.
“How is that possible?” Aubrey said, sounding concerned and confused. “I thought everyone forgot the old realities. And if they didn’t, they went mad.”
I laughed, a small laugh. “Well, I’m hardly a picture of sanity right now, am I?”
She laughed too, and it felt good. It felt normal. “I’m not sure any of us are all that balanced. Not given the things we’ve seen. The things we’ve done. And, bloody hell, if I could remember the other realities, it would tip me over the edge, I’m sure.”
“I’m fighting really hard to hang on here,” I said.
She chewed at the side of her thumb. I could tell that she wasn’t sure whether to believe me or not. And who could blame her? What I was telling her went against everything she’d been told her whole life.
“So, how do you do it?” she said.
“I don’t know how it works or why. But I can remember fragments of the other realities. It’s just something I can do.”
She dropped her hand and sucked in her bottom lip. “And in this other reality, there’s no war?”
“Well, there are wars around the world. But nothing in Britain. Nothing like this.”
She let out a long sigh. “What was it like?”
“Good,” I said, looking at her, drinking in her face. “Wonderful.”
She dragged her finger across the wall, tracing the path of a trickle of water. “And you… you know me there?”
“Yes. We’re partners. You know, at ARES,” I said, quickly deciding that to tell her we were more than that would be too weird right now.
“What am I like?”
“Pretty much like you are here, only–” I gestured to her eye patch.
She raised her hand to touch it. “Oh,” she said.
“What happened?”
“It was my first mission,” she said. “I’d only been out of training for a couple of weeks when I was sent to the Brighton base. We got word that there had been a Shift in a house on the seafront, but there was no Shifter registered as living there. So I was sent in, as a Spotter, you know.”
I nodded to let her know I understood. “What happened?”
“We found this kid there, a girl, freezing in a bathtub, a dead body on the floor next to her.”
“She’d killed them?”
“I’d have done the same. The things that had been done to her…” She squeezed her eyes tight, trying to block out the memory. “When I tried to help her, she drew a knife on me. And…” She drew a line across her face.
“You didn’t Shift?” I said.
“I wasn’t focusing. I was so shocked at what I saw. Rookie mistake.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was an important lesson. I’ve never lost focus since.” She walked around the room, her boots squeaking on the floor. I watched her, making note of the subtle differences between her and my Aubrey. She held herself differently. Looked less like an animal ready to attack or run, the way the Aubrey I knew always had. She was softer and there was less pain in her expression.
“I bet the other me never did anything that stupid, hey?”
“I don’t know. She had pretty suspect taste in men,” I said, wondering if I should tell her about the two of us.
“Oh, it sounds like we have that in common, too,” Aubrey said, laughing. “I was always a sucker for the bad boys.”
I wasn’t sure I could ever be thought of as a bad boy, but I decided not to say anything.
“So, there’s still ARES, even without the war?”
“As long as there are Shifters, there will be ARES to keep them in line. But it’s not like it is here. It’s less official. None of the public know about us, for a start.”
“Then how do you do your job?”
“You keep it subtle. Under the radar. Mostly, we go about our lives.”
“Like normal people?” The side of her mouth turned up the tiniest fraction.
I smiled at the memory of the first night I’d met Aubrey Jones. How she’d taken me to her flat and told me all about what it was to be a Shifter and how all she wanted was to be normal. I’d known then that was never going to be possible.
“Normal compared to here, I guess.”
“It sounds good.”
“It is.”
“And you think there’s a way back to that reality? That’s why you won’t let go of it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve tried, but something is keeping me here.” I couldn’t admit that that something was her.
“So, why don’t you let go of it, then?” She walked over to me. “Why don’t you accept that you are here, you are now?”
It was the phrase Frankie had said to me, part of the training we got at ARES to help us deal with reality attacks. If I did let go, if I did give myself completely over to this reality, to this now, how much would I lose?
Memories flashed through my mind: tucking a lock of Aubrey’s hair behind her ear, kissing her, holding her.
“Because I have to hope that he’s wrong. Because it’s too good to let go.”
“But if there’s no way to return, you have to accept that this is the only reality we have. Because if you don’t…” She made a corkscrew gesture next to the side of her head.
It was going to send me mad. She was right. But I was going to hold out as long as I could.
“What choice do I have?” I said.
“The only choice any of us have. You fight. Keep fighting till there’s an end to this war, and then maybe you can have this normal life again.”
“Maybe, but I keep thinking that there’s something I can do.”
“All Shifters do that. My father told me that it was part of the baggage of being a Shifter. That constant sense of responsibility and guilt.”
“Your father?”
“He used to be one of ARES’ best Mappers and a colonel in the probabilities office. He’d have liked you.” She smiled.
“Used to be? He died?”
“Last year. It wasn’t even while on duty. He saw some people raiding a food supply truck and decided to step in. They hit him around the head with a crowbar. Stupid, really. I mean, of all people, he should have seen it coming.” It was a bitter joke, but I joined her in laughing anyway.
“Were you close, you and your dad?” I asked.
“As close as possible, what with him in the army and me training at ARES.”
Here was yet
another of consequence of Frankie’s influences having vanished. Aubrey’s dad hadn’t become the homeless tramp we’d met, driven mad by Frankie’s threat of killing his daughter. He’d been a part of Aubrey’s life. And a good part, too, judging by the sadness on her face.
“When Mum died, he made sure that he was there for me.”
“Your mother is dead,” I said, and it wasn’t a question.
“All of this is in my file,” she said, then shook her head, realising something, “which of course you haven’t read, you not being you. She killed herself when I was twelve.”
I nodded. It seemed that some things crossed through all realities.
We stood in silence for a while, Aubrey still rubbing her finger on the damp surface of the wall. She seemed to come to a conclusion.
“I won’t say anything.” She tapped on the wall with her knuckles. “If I had memories like yours,” she said, looking up at me, “I’d want to keep hold of them, too.”
If only she knew how good the memories were.
“Thanks,” I said. “And I’m glad you’re in my squad.”
“I’m glad, too. You know, I was scared about coming here. I’d heard all this stuff about this amazing Commandant Tyler. The mighty war hero. But now I realise you’re just as messed up as anyone.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said.
“Come on,” she said, nudging me with her elbow. “We’d better go, or else Zac will have drunk all the booze.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The party was already in full swing in the barracks by the time Aubrey and I arrived. The men and women of Thirteen squad certainly knew how to enjoy themselves. Music was blasting, some seventies rock song I vaguely remembered Dad used to like. Unwin and Turner appeared to be in some kind of dance-off while the others cheered them on. It was good to see Turner laughing. CP sat on a top bunk, her legs swinging, her hand beating out the rhythm on her leg. Zac was in deep conversation with Williamson, the two of them looking at images on Williamson’s tablet. Ladoux stood leaning against the wall, watching it all without joining in. Hedges must have decided to give the celebrations a miss, as he was nowhere to be seen. A metal canteen was being passed from hand to hand. It got to Unwin, who stopped dancing and raised it unsteadily in my direction.
“To the Com,” he said loudly.
The rest of the team all stood and echoed his toast. “To the Com.”
Unwin took a swig from the bottle and then thrust it into my hand. “Just because we don’t remember doesn’t mean we don’t know,” he said, leaning in close. I smelt the bitter heat of the alcohol on his breath. He patted me on the shoulder and then staggered over to the stereo.
I took a swig. The heat of the raw ethanol burnt my throat. I coughed, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, and handed the bottle to Aubrey. She took it, smiling at me. And we had a moment. A moment like the ones we used to have – where we could say everything without saying a word. Then she took a slug and the moment passed.
“Come on, Com,” Unwin shouted, having put on a new song. “Show us your moves.”
I held my hands up, shaking my head. “Absolutely no way. I do not dance.”
They booed and jeered, but I stood my ground. Zac took the pressure off me by leaping up, grabbing Aubrey by the hand and swinging her into the centre of the room. He proceeded to throw her around, like some kind of crazy Lindy Hop. She laughed, tipping her head back as he spun her in circles. She looked relaxed and happier than I may have ever seen her.
The jealousy I felt every time I saw Zac and Aubrey together bit again, spiking in my stomach. I had to clench my jaws to keep the smile on my face. It was clear these two had history. How much, I wanted to know. And at the same time, I didn’t want to know.
I slunk to the back of the room, unable to bear it any more, sickened at my own stupidity, and left them to their fun. Aubrey laughed high and clear as I opened the door.
I sat on the steps of the prefab building that served as the squad’s barracks, and rested my head against the railings. When I closed my eyes, the surprised expression on the sniper’s face had joined that of Cooper’s to haunt me. Who was I? What had I become? I should give it all up and find a way to return to the old reality. Was I really allowing all of this to continue because of the vague hope that Aubrey and I could… could what? Become boyfriend and girlfriend again. It felt pathetic to even think it. But it was true.
I tried to force myself to make a Shift. I thought back to before I’d heard about Frankie, to when I was trying to piece together what I knew about the Shifters, the choice that led me to Benjo, which in turn led me to Frankie. That was the tipping point. I sensed it. If I could undo that, it would all unravel and we’d have just given up on our hunt for the last member of Project Ganymede.
I held it there, that desire to make sure Benjo hadn’t survived, and I pushed. Trying to let go of the curiosity that was so often my undoing. I pushed, telling myself to have stayed in bed. I willed that point to flip.
And then I heard Aubrey’s laugh, clear and high. The world stayed as it was.
“There has to be another way,” I said out loud.
“Another way to what?” I hadn’t heard Ladoux open the door behind me. She walked down the steps and stopped at the bottom, leaning against the banister. She had her lighter in her hand again, spinning it around and around in little circles.
“Nothing,” I said. “Never mind.”
“It’s hard, sometimes, accepting this life.” She stared up at the dark skies overhead. “We rage against it. ‘I am the master of my fate. I am the master of my soul,’” she said.
“What’s that?”
She handed me her lighter and I saw the words she had spoken engraved on the casing. “It’s from a poem. It was my husband’s favourite.”
I handed it back to her. “Where is he?”
She looked down at the lighter in her hand. “He died three years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “It feels a long time ago now.”
I was surprised at how pragmatic she seemed over the death of her husband. “What happened to him?”
“He was my co-pilot. We were on a drop mission when we were fired upon. The helicopter went down. I walked away. He didn’t.”
I didn’t know what to say. A host of empty platitudes ran through my mind. I settled on a quote I remembered seeing in my flat by an old general. “May God have mercy for my enemies, because I won’t.”
“Oh, this was not the enemy,” she said. “We were fired upon by our own side. A strange English phrase: ‘friendly fire’? I can assure you, it really is not that friendly.” She slipped the lighter back into her pocket. “It’s ironic, I suppose. He was never the master of his own fate. None of us are.”
I stared up at her, her small face framed by the red beret. I remember thinking that exact thing when I was lying in a hospital bed, having narrowly missed being blown up on a Tube.
“What’s going on here?” It was Zac. “Why do neither of you have a drink in your hands?”
“Ah, what I wouldn’t give for some real champagne!” Ladoux said, suddenly changing tone, as if we hadn’t just been talking about death.
“When the war is over, I’ll get you a magnum of the finest champagne there is!” Zac raised his plastic cup in her direction.
“Ah, but Captain, this war will never truly be over. Au revoir, Commandant.” And with that, she walked out into the dark.
“I wonder where she’s off to,” Zac said. “Probably going to find Hedges. The two of them are always sneaking away together.”
I didn’t say anything. What Ladoux and Hedges got up to was none of my business.
Zac carried on. “She’s a funny one.” He nudged me with his knee to make room, and sat down on the step next to me. “Almost as weird as you.”
I sighed. “Can’t you leave me alone?” I snapped, the memory of Aubrey in his arms heating my blood despite the chill of the evening.
> “What’s got into you?” he said. “I mean, you’ve been a prickly bastard for the past few years, but I thought you’d started to soften again.”
“Nothing’s got into me. Why don’t you go back inside and carry on showing off?”
“Showing off? Moi?” He held his hand to his chest in mock offence. But he wasn’t going anywhere. “Is this about the sniper?”
“No. What about him?”
“Only…” He looked down at his fingers. “The barrel on his rifle was loose, as if he’d been dismantling it. There was no way he could have shot you with it.”
I stared at him, my head filled guilt and anger.
He held his hands up. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to say anything. I know you, Tyler. You had your reasons, I’m sure.”
If only he knew that my real reasons had been nothing but cowardice, I’m not sure he would be bothering to talk to me. I stared ahead, hoping that he would leave me alone.
“Come on, Tyler,” he said. “You can tell me. Time was, you told me everything. Remember that? When we’d sit around and you’d tell me all about your family, about what girls you liked.”
I flinched.
“That’s it!” he said, his face lighting up in glee. “It’s a girl? Jones!” He held up his finger like Sherlock Holmes coming to a genius conclusion.
I turned away from him, my face too red to bother trying to deny it.
“Do you want me to put a word in? She and I go way back, you know.”
“Yes, I know all about you and your history.”
“What are you on about, Tyler? Hang on, you don’t mean… you’re worried about me? And her?” He burst out laughing, clapping his hands together.
“What’s so funny?” I said, standing up to get away from him.
“You think… You can’t remember…” He could hardly get the words out, he was laughing so much.
“Shut up!” I shouted. The harshness of my tone snapped him out of it.
He stood up, level with me thanks to the higher step he was standing on. “Scott, you have nothing to worry about in regards to me and Aubrey.”
“Oh, no?”
“No. Because I’m gay.”
It took a moment for what he was saying to sink in. “Gay? But… But you weren’t, in my reality.”
