The Complication

by Suzanne Young

  I’m being kidnapped in plain sight.

  “Stop!” I finally yell.

  But Derek gets me into the concrete stairwell, and the door slams closed behind us. I know it’s too late. He’s going to inject me with whatever’s in that syringe. He’s going to drag me out of here before anyone helps me. He’s going to—

  There’s movement behind him, a flash of red, and then a whack, the thud echoing off the walls. Derek’s dark eyes widen, and then I swear, it’s the like a real-life version of x-ed out cartoon eyes. He’s instantly unconscious, and before he hits the floor, a steady stream of red begins to pour down the side of his head. Down his neck. Over the shoulder of his shirt.

  I scream, horrified, as he hits the cement, face-first, and there is the crunch of his nose breaking. My entire body shakes, the pain settling in. I look around wildly, from Derek’s body to the girl standing there, a fire extinguisher clutched in her hands.

  “Holy shit,” I manage to say. Melody Blackstone stares back at me, a splatter of blood across her cheek.

  Melody no longer looks like Jana Simms. She’s not sporty and cute. She’s dressed in a black leather coat, black jeans, and boots. Her makeup stripped away. She gapes at me, wide-eyed, slighter than I remember.

  “Did you just kill him?” I ask, looking down at Derek. I try to cover my mouth, but my hands are shaking too badly. I can’t even get to my feet, and Melody sets the fire extinguisher aside and comes over to help me.

  Shoulder to shoulder, we stare down at Derek’s body, and I’m trying to figure out what to do, how to fix this, when Derek moans and moves his legs.

  “Not dead,” Melody says, disappointed. I look sideways at her, and she takes my arm. “But I have to get you out of here. Now.”

  “What about him?” I ask, motioning to Derek, whose moaning is getting louder. My head aches from where he punched me, and I can still feel his fist in my hair. His will overpowering mine.

  “I’ll take care of him once you’re safely out,” Melody says. “Now come on.”

  I don’t even recognize her. Melody is every bit a handler now, a closer. I let her lead me down the stairs, knowing that I shouldn’t trust her, but also knowing that I have to. I can’t wait to see who else is involved with Derek. What if they corner me? What if this happens again? Oh, God. This can’t happen again.

  “He flagged me,” I murmur, racing down the stairs with Melody. “He . . . hurt me. He was going to take me to The Program.”

  “Yep,” Melody says, peeking up the stairwell to make sure no one is following us. At the ground floor, I can still hear Derek’s moans. “You’ve been flagged since yesterday. I saw the call go out. Dr. Warren claims you’re a danger to yourself and others. I’m surprised Realm didn’t get to you first.”

  “Realm?” I ask, my memory flooding back. “He’s in on this?”

  “He’s not with Derek, if that’s what you mean. But Michael Realm always knows what’s happening,” she says with a small smile. “He would want to protect you. Something must be wrong for him not to be here.”

  “How did you know about the flag?” I ask.

  “I’m on the same listserv,” she says offhandedly, and we exit the door into the parking lot. The sun is bright, and it makes me squint, my head hurting even more.

  “He punched me in the head,” I say, rubbing the spot. “That fucking dick.”

  Melody sniffs a laugh. “Yeah, well, he’ll have a headache for the next week, I’d say. Now, about this flag . . . any idea why Warren suddenly wants you erased? Why now?”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t remember her from The Program, but I guess there was some deal struck. Maybe I broke it.”

  “Maybe,” Melody says. She keeps looking around as we walk quickly toward my Jeep, in that observant way closers and handlers have about them.

  We get to my driver’s door, and Melody opens it and ushers me in.

  “Marie was worried about you,” I tell her. Melody meets my eyes, and I know the question on her lips. “Nathan too,” I add.

  “Let them both know I’m okay,” she says. “I tried to skip town, but I couldn’t just leave you all in this mess. I’m sorry for whatever part I had in getting you into it,” she adds. “But Marie is close to a cure now, and that means you have to stay safe. Be more careful, but act normal. I’ll take care of Derek. I have a friend who’ll help me get him out of here. You won’t see him again. At least, not until this is over.”

  A thought occurs to me. “Did I . . . did I know you in The Program too?” I ask, wondering if I’ve been unfair to her all this time. If we have some long, forgotten history.

  “No,” she says. “But you were Realm’s friend, and by extension, mine.” She smiles. “Sound familiar?”

  But her joke hits me a different way than she intended. There’s more to my and Michael Realm’s story. I knew him in The Program. I was his friend. Well, what the fuck? Why didn’t he mention that?

  “Go straight home,” Melody says, checking back at the school. “Don’t tell your grandparents about this. Don’t tell anyone, if you can help it. Be normal, or the monitor will come sniffing around, and that is a whole different problem we don’t have time for. If Marie asks, tell her I went south with Asa and that I’ll call her when I can. It’s all about the cure now, Tatum. It’s the only way to stop The Program.”

  I nod numbly, my mind spinning. My hands are still shaking. Before she closes the door, I reach out to stop her.

  “Wait,” I say. “Won’t they just come after me again?” I ask, fear ticking up in my voice.

  “Yes,” she replies. “But their first flag failed. They’ll have to wait, or it’ll draw too much attention. So you bought yourself a few days.”

  “And then?” I ask.

  Melody holds my gaze. “And then they’ll send better handlers.”

  The idea that I’m being hunted, watched, is terrifying. “So Dr. Warren is behind this?” I ask. “She has the handlers?”

  “Dr. Warren is a part of it,” Melody says, checking over her shoulder again, looking impatient. “But no, she’s not in charge. They all have handlers—Warren, Marie, Wyatt. But Dr. Warren is the only one connected to The Program.”

  I’m confused, and I know we don’t have time to sort it all out. “So who’s the villain?” I ask.

  To this Melody smiles ruefully. “Society,” she responds. “Now, take care of yourself. And tell Nathan . . .” She stumbles over his name. “Tell Nathan that I loved him. For real. And that I’m really sorry.”

  I swallow hard, watching the hurt cross her features. And then Melody Blackstone eases my door shut, looking around the deserted lot, and runs back toward the school.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I SIT IN MY JEEP, my head throbbing. I reach up to feel the area, the slight, fist-size swelling. I check in the mirror but can’t see the damage. That’s good, I guess. It would be a lot harder to act “normal” if I had a black eye.

  But as I stare at myself, I’m awash in shame—even though I did nothing wrong. Embarrassment. And most of all, pure terror. My eyes well up and tears spill over, racing down my cheeks. I sniffle, crying openly as I try to wipe away the dried blood under my nose.

  His hands on me. It’s all I can feel, and I run my palms over my arms like I can replace the sensation. Take back my agency.

  I look out the window toward the school. “Bastard,” I whisper, my lips sore from where he crushed them to keep me quiet. I let anger in to replace some of my vulnerability. I want to go back in and give Derek a few kicks while he’s down. I’m not even violent, but he not only hit me, he was going to take me to The Program and let them . . . I don’t know, erase me? Lobotomize me?

  He was going to kill me—this version of me. Melody saved my life.

  And it was smart of Melody to suggest that I not tell anyone about this, but it’s unrealistic. And it’s pretty clear that the most important person on my interview list is Michael Realm. She said he knows everything that happened.
Well, he neglected to mention that he and I were friends. Now, why would he leave that out? What else did he forget to tell me?

  Before I can ask him, I’ll have to find him.

  I take out my phone and click through the numbers. I only have a few days to help Marie find a cure, and if that doesn’t work, I’ll have to leave town. Go on the run.

  I can alert the authorities about The Program, sure. But how will I know who’s in on it? The Program is underground, and I have to believe that people in positions of power are the ones driving it.

  Melody said society is the villain, and I get what she means. Our desire for a quick fix to our problems, our fear of death. Our parents and guardians will do anything to keep us safe, even if that means not letting us live our own lives. And our teachers and bosses want us to behave, do our work. That’s a lot easier when we can’t remember what we’re sad about.

  If The Program expands, it won’t just be to treat an epidemic. It will be to treat free will. It will be to control us. I don’t consider myself a hero, but I will fight to stop them. Marie thinks she has a cure, and I want to believe it. Even if it might get me lobotomized.

  I click my grandfather’s number and bring the phone to my ear. I wince, the entire side of my head hurting. I put the call on speaker instead, dropping the phone into the cup holder, and start the engine of the Jeep.

  “You okay?” Pop says as a way of answering. I smile, relieved to hear his voice, and drive out of the parking lot. I’m so grateful to have my grandparents back on my side—especially now. We still have a lot to work through, obviously, but I love them. And I know they love me.

  “It’s a long story,” I say, glancing at my reflection in the mirror. I’m not going to keep the incident with Derek a secret, but now isn’t the time for this kind of information. It’ll frighten them, distract them from what I need them to do for me.

  “Have you found out anything about Michael Realm?” I ask. “The guy I mentioned?”

  “Ah . . . ,” my grandfather says, and there’s a rustling of papers. “Speak of the devil. Your grandmother and I were just looking into that.”

  “Hi, honey,” my gram calls out from somewhere in the room.

  “Hi, Gram,” I reply. She must be skipping work to help him research, and I can’t think of another time when that’s happened. She doesn’t get involved in his investigations, but I guess this one is different. This is for me.

  Pop tells me he’s putting me on speaker, and I stop at a red light. I adjust the phone in the cup holder.

  “Any luck finding him?” I ask.

  “Not yet,” he admits. “But he has quite a past.”

  My stomach turns, afraid another world-upending revelation might just wreck me. “What kind of past?” I ask.

  “Just a lot of chatter,” he says. “Nothing verified yet. But he was definitely involved with the reporter who broke the story on The Program—the one who got it shut down.”

  “He was friends with Sloane Barstow and James Murphy,” I say. “So I guess that makes sense.”

  “Like I said,” Pop continues, “it’s just chatter for now. But some of his history is hidden in paperwork—purposeful, I’d wager. I can’t even find his original admittance paperwork for The Program. There’s a lot more to his story.”

  “Tell me about it,” I mutter. “Well,” I continue. “I need to talk to him. Immediately.”

  “I’ll keep looking,” Pop says with a sigh. “We’ll find him.”

  “Honey,” my gram says in a worried voice. “Are you sure talking to him is the best idea? For now, it might be advantageous to keep clear of him. At least until we know we can trust him.”

  “I knew him,” I say, watching the road. “I guess . . . I guess I was friends with him in The Program—that part’s not clear yet. But he was right about Dr. Warren,” I point out. My grandparents go quiet, and I hate that I have to bring up something they lied about. “He told me she was from The Program, and he told me to stop seeing her.”

  “Yes,” Pop says. “He was right about that. We made a mistake,” he adds. “Dr. Warren seemed sincere, but we shouldn’t have confided in her. We put you in danger.”

  “Yeah, well,” I say. “You thought it was just therapy. None of us knew The Program was still operating.”

  “I told her never to call the house again,” my grandmother announces defiantly. I furrow my brow, surprised.

  “When?” I ask.

  “Dr. Warren called here after you left today. Wanted to ‘chat’ about your last visit. Asked if she could talk to you, but I told her you were at school.”

  Shit. Dr. Warren looked for me at home first. She tried to make my grandparents accomplices in my removal. Again.

  “She asked if I’d bring you in for therapy,” Gram continues, and I can just about imagine the way her face is stern right now. Her little cheeks bright red with confrontation as she sweeps crumbs from the kitchen table into her open palm.

  “And I told her she wasn’t welcome in our lives anymore,” Gram continues. “And that she could take her concerns and shove them up—” She stops, and I hear my grandfather laugh softly.

  “Well,” my grandmother says, slightly embarrassed. “I just told her what she could do with her lies,” she finishes.

  The idea of my grandmother telling someone to shove their lies up their ass is one for the scrapbook.

  “Good for you, Gram,” I say. “We won’t let anyone else manipulate us. Now, Pop,” I say, glancing in my side mirror, feeling paranoid that I might be followed. “How long before you can track Realm down?”

  He hums out like he’s thinking, and there’s another swish of papers. “I can try and trace some of the calls that went out of the Adjustment office, but I imagine Marie already tried that.”

  Melody suggested Realm hadn’t shown because something had gone wrong. I’m starting to worry she might be right. If we’d really been friends, wouldn’t he have warned me? Stopped Derek from assaulting me? I shiver and push away the images.

  “And speaking of Marie,” Pop adds, “you might want to clue her in that Dr. Warren is looking for you. Now—”

  I swallow hard. “Yeah,” I say. “About that . . .” I pull onto a side street and park the Jeep. I take a breath and tell my grandparents what happened at school. I thought I was handling it, but the moment I describe Derek’s hands on me, the feeling of helplessness in a place where I was supposed to be safe, I break down crying. I was so scared. I was so fucking scared of him.

  “We need to call the police,” my grandmother yells, frantic. “We—”

  “We can’t,” I say. I wipe my cheeks and glance around the neighborhood, making sure no one is watching me now. “Melody—Jana, that’s her real name—she took him somewhere to keep him quiet. She said I’ll have a few days before they send more handlers after me.”

  “That is ridiculous,” Gram says, and there’s a smack like she hit her hand on the table. “The police can’t ignore this. I don’t care who they’re involved with.”

  “Things have changed, Gram,” I say, scared of the truth in it. “Until The Program is dead and buried, we can’t trust anyone but each other. Do you understand?”

  “Tatum,” Pop says, trying to sound calm. “Come home. At least let your grandmother take a look at your head. You could have a concussion.”

  “I will,” I say. “Melody told me to act normal, whatever that is. But first, I’m going to swing by the Adjustment office to check if Marie’s there. See if Michael Realm is there. You need to keep looking for him, Pop.”

  “I will,” he says.

  “Oh, honey,” my grandmother moans, sounding terrified. “Come home.”

  “I’m going to be fine, Gram,” I say, my stomach sinking at the worry in her voice. “I promise. I’ll see you both in a little bit.” Although reluctant, they say good-bye, and we hang up.

  I sit a moment in the quiet of my Jeep. My skin prickles with leftover fear. I don’t ever want to experience anyt
hing like that again. I’ve already had it happen twice. And I need to make sure it never happens to anyone else.

  Checking my mirrors, I pull back onto the street and head toward the Adjustment office. It’s a long shot; I know that. But I’m hoping Marie’s there, and part of me hopes Realm will be there. That he’ll just open my Jeep door and climb in.

  It makes sense now, the way I trusted him, even though I didn’t think I knew him. The way he told me he cared about me. He did. He does, I guess. And there is a tender pain in my heart, and I wonder if it belongs to him.

  I arrive in the empty Adjustment lot and park in front of the office. There don’t seem to be any lights on inside, but I get out and try the door anyway. I knock and ring the bell for ten minutes, but no one answers.

  While there, I try the only number I have for Marie, but there isn’t a voice mail to leave a message. I have no idea how she expects me to bring Michael Realm to her when I can’t even find her.

  I fold my hands on top of my head to look around but wince at the pain. I gingerly touch the knot on the side of my head. I think I need an ice pack and a few ibuprofen. Thinking about it, I wrap my arms around myself, not wanting to admit feeling weak.

  I’ll have to loop in Nathan and Foster about Derek, about the handlers. Hell, there’s even the true and catastrophic story of me and Wes to deal with. But for now, all I want is to feel safe. To remember what that was like.

  Even if it’s just an illusion.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I GET BACK IN THE Jeep, waiting an extra minute in case Michael Realm magically shows up outside my door. When he doesn’t, I go over to the 7-Eleven to check inside, but he’s not there, either. Frustrated, I start driving. I’m not sure where to look.

  Alone, my mind tries to replay the moment I was attacked at school. I shake my head, like I can shake out the memory. I roll down the windows, turn up the music, trying to tune out my own thoughts. My head hurts.