The Ridge

by John Rector

  Megan listened, trying to hold on to what Fiona was saying, but the meaning of the words drifted away from her, dissolving in her mind like smoke.

  “Me?” she asked. “Tyler?”

  “Your progress was delayed by the incident with Rachel, which was also a unique situation.” Fiona leaned back into the corner of the couch and crossed her legs. “Because it took us longer than normal to recognize the problem with Mrs. Addison, you had time to come to your own conclusions. For you, awareness wasn’t emotional, it was logical, and you were impressively persistent.”

  “Then I’m—”

  “A client? Yes, both you and your husband.”

  Megan felt the teacup slip out of her hand. She heard the dull clink it made when it landed on the carpet at her feet, but she didn’t realize what had happened until Fiona reached down to pick it up.

  “Don’t worry,” Fiona said. “Easy to clean.”

  Megan glanced up at the blue light that seemed to leak into the room from every surface. Then she looked over at Fiona and said, “How?”

  “Tyler’s employee contract,” she said. “You both signed on to his life insurance policy. The payout was much larger in return for agreeing to donate your bodies to the Institute for research.”

  “No,” Megan said. “How did we—”

  “Oh . . .” Fiona hesitated, shook her head. “I’m afraid that’s not something we’re allowed to discuss with—”

  “Please?”

  Fiona seemed to think about it for a moment. Then she set Megan’s teacup on the coffee table and took her hands.

  “You should know that after the procedure today, you won’t remember this conversation. Your memories will be purged, so anything I tell you now is temporary.”

  “What happened?”

  “There was a car accident,” Fiona said. “It happened on the Fourth of July. According to the report, you were driving home from a party, and someone ran a red light. You and Tyler were processed immediately that night. Unfortunately, there was nothing we could do for Julia.”

  “Julia?”

  Fiona nodded. “Children’s brains aren’t fully developed, so it isn’t possible to integrate them with our technology. They’re just not compatible.”

  Megan opened her mouth to ask, but then the lights in the room faded out and then back on again.

  “That’s us.” Fiona stood and held out a hand to Megan. “Are we ready?”

  Megan stared at her waiting hand, trying to hold on to the question in her mind, but it was already slipping away.

  “It’s okay,” Fiona said. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  Megan nodded and took her hand.

  34

  Fiona led Megan down a blue hallway toward a set of double doors. She pushed them open, and they stepped out into a bright courtyard filled with trees and grass and flowers, and surrounded on all sides by glass buildings that shone like crystal in the watery sunlight.

  Megan stopped walking and looked around.

  Then she felt Fiona’s hand on her arm, leading her gently toward a winding brick path that cut across the courtyard toward another set of double doors.

  “This way.”

  Megan followed her.

  Fiona opened the doors and walked her down a long hallway and into a wide blue room. There was a circle of single beds arranged like flower petals around a large white pillar that ran from the floor to ceiling. On the surface of the pillar, above each bed, was a single black display rolling through a cascade of white numbers.

  Megan stopped inside the doorway, stepped back.

  “It’s okay,” Fiona said. “Don’t be scared.”

  A woman in a white lab coat approached them and handed Fiona a clipboard. Fiona looked at the top page, flipped to the next, and said, “Nineteen is fine.”

  The woman nodded, took the clipboard, and crossed the room toward the pillar.

  Fiona motioned for Megan to follow.

  She didn’t want to, but she did.

  There were patients in a few of the beds, covered in pale-blue sheets and staring up at individual blue lights hovering over them. The tops of the lights were silver and connected to the beds by a long metal arm.

  Several men and women in white lab coats and others in blue scrubs moved through the room, checking the displays and making notes on clipboards.

  Megan looked down at an unconscious woman lying in one of the beds and saw a twist of translucent tubes running up from the floor and disappearing under the sheet.

  “Where’s Tyler?” Megan asked.

  “Recovery,” Fiona said. “But don’t worry, he’s doing fine. You’ll see him before you know it.”

  “Okay.”

  She followed her around to the far side of the pillar. Fiona stopped at an empty bed and patted the thin mattress with her hand and said, “Hop on up.”

  Megan didn’t move.

  “Megan?”

  She shook her head, stepped back.

  Fiona moved closer. “If it makes you feel better, you’re not going to be alone. I’ll be here the entire time.”

  “I want to see Tyler.”

  “You will,” Fiona said. “Just as soon as we’re done here, I promise.”

  Megan didn’t move.

  The woman in the white lab coat who’d met them at the door approached with two men in blue scrubs. Fiona raised a hand, and they stopped a few feet away from the bed.

  “Megan,” Fiona said. “Look who else is here.”

  She stepped aside, motioning to the bed behind her.

  David Mercer was lying on his back, staring up at the light above him. His face looked peaceful, his eyes wide and blue. The cluster of translucent tubes running under the sheets pulsed with a soft white light.

  “See,” Fiona said. “There’s no reason to be scared.”

  Seeing Mercer made her chest ache, and she looked away. She knew that he was there because of her, that it was her fault, but the more she thought about it, the more her mind seemed to drift until there was nothing left.

  “It’s a very simple procedure,” Fiona said. “And one you’ve been through before. I promise you won’t remember any of it.”

  “Like Rachel?”

  “That’s right. Exactly like Rachel.”

  “And I can see Tyler?”

  “Just as soon as we’re done.” Fiona patted the bed again. “Come on, honey. It’ll be over before you know it.”

  Megan glanced back at the woman in the white lab coat and the two men in blue standing behind her. They were waiting, their eyes cold and unwavering.

  Megan thought about seeing Tyler again, and that was enough to get her moving.

  She stepped forward and sat on the bed.

  “Go ahead and swing your feet up.”

  She did, and the woman in the white lab coat moved closer. Megan’s hospital gown had slipped up around her knees, and the woman pulled it down. Then she reached for a sheet and covered her up to her neck before walking off toward the pillar.

  Fiona leaned over her. She reached out and brushed the hair away from Megan’s face. “Comfortable?”

  Megan looked up at her. “Why do I have to forget?”

  “It’s standard procedure,” she said. “We’ve found that anytime a first-stage patient experiences trauma, whether physical or mental, the chances of a successful integration drop dramatically, and we run an increased risk of rejection. Better to be safe.”

  Megan understood the words, but the meaning wasn’t clear. She had more questions, but each time one came to her, it slipped easily from her mind, lost in the blue.

  “We don’t want you to have to worry about anything until you’re ready,” Fiona said. “All we want now is for you to be happy and safe and calm.”

  Megan felt tears snake down her cheeks. She thought she should reach up and wipe them away, but her arms were too heavy and she found she couldn’t move.

  Fiona noticed and frowned. “Why are you crying?”

  �
��Because I don’t want to forget.”

  “I’m sorry, honey, but it’s the only way.”

  The tears kept coming, and Fiona stared at her for a moment. Then something changed in her eyes, and she put a hand on Megan’s shoulder.

  “You know what, hold on a minute.”

  Fiona motioned to the woman in the white coat. She met her at the foot of the bed, and Fiona walked her a few feet away to where Megan couldn’t hear.

  The woman listened as Fiona spoke, making notes on her clipboard. When Fiona finished talking, the woman showed her what she’d written. Fiona glanced at the clipboard, nodded, and the woman walked back toward the display above Megan’s bed.

  Then Fiona was back.

  “Okay,” she said. “It’s all set.”

  “What is?”

  “Because you’re my favorite, I’ve arranged something special for you.” She glanced down at her. “Do you know why you’re my favorite?”

  Megan didn’t answer.

  “Because you’re different,” she said. “You’re rare, Megan, like finding a white buffalo. It’s why we’re all so excited about your progress. You represent a huge step forward for the program.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “True individuality.” Fiona put a hand on Megan’s arm. “In most patients there’s a personality shift. They slip easily into their roles at Willow Ridge, and they lose that spark that made them unique. But not you. From the very beginning you wanted something more, and you showed true independent thought. That makes you—”

  “Your favorite.”

  “Exactly,” Fiona said. “And that’s why I’ve arranged something special for you. Consider it a gift. You won’t remember it when we’re through, but I think you’ll enjoy it while it lasts.”

  “What kind of gift?”

  “I’m going to show you something beautiful,” she said. “Something precious.”

  Behind her, Megan heard the low mechanical whirl of the machine inside the pillar. She wanted to see, but Fiona was next to her, and Megan couldn’t look away.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I know,” Fiona said. “But you will.”

  The woman in the white lab coat came back. She had a coil of translucent tubes in her hand. At the end of each tube was a long silver needle.

  The woman nodded to Fiona.

  “Okay,” Fiona said. “Here we go.”

  She bent and pressed a button on the side of the bed, and Megan heard a hydraulic hiss behind her head. Then, slowly, a silver disk moved into sight over her. There were several dead black spots on the surface, and between them, her reflection.

  “What is this?”

  Fiona adjusted the silver disk above her and said, “This is just the beginning, honey.”

  Megan wanted to ask more; she wanted to know how long it would take and what kind of gift Fiona was giving her. But before she could find the words, the dead spots on the silver surface shone a familiar ice blue, and Megan felt her entire body contract, and her thoughts slip away.

  Then, before the world flashed blue, she heard a small voice, soft and lovely.

  One word, barely a whisper.

  “Mommy . . .”

  35

  Wake up.”

  Megan opens her eyes and she’s home, in her apartment in Chicago. Julia is next to her, pulling herself up onto the bed. Then she’s on her knees, leaning over her, small hands touching Megan’s face, dark hair tickling her skin.

  Julia’s blue eyes . . .

  “Mommy,” she whispers. “Wake up.”

  Megan reaches out and gently moves the hair from her face. Then she pulls her close and kisses her forehead.

  “Okay,” she says. “I’m awake.”

  Tyler stirs next to them, and Julia climbs over, landing on top of him, elbows and knees. He makes a breathless sound, then tickles her and lifts her up, squealing, into the air.

  “What is this? Who are you?”

  Julia laughs, trying to catch her breath.

  “Daddy!”

  Megan smiles, pushes the sheets back, and swings her legs out of bed. She walks out into the hallway toward the bathroom, hearing the buzz of the city outside and Julia’s laughter behind her.

  When she gets to the bathroom, she stops and looks back down the hallway toward Tyler and Julia. For an instant, her bedroom is gone and all she sees through the doorway is a blue room and a woman in a long white lab coat standing at the far end, watching her.

  Megan closes her eyes.

  When she looks again, she sees the redbrick walls of her bedroom and Julia running out, giggling, her white nightgown billowing around bruised knees. Tyler is standing on the other side of the bed, shirtless, with his back to her. He reaches over his head, stretches, then pulls the curtains back from the window.

  The sun shines in, bright and blinding.

  Megan loses herself in the light.

  And the world flashed blue.

  The line moves, and they step up to the counter. The girl working the register smiles, and Megan says, “Two strawberry and one lime, please.”

  The girl scrapes shaved ice into paper cones and soaks them in neon red and green. She hands them to Megan across the counter while Tyler pays. To her left, a woman standing at the ring toss game laughs as the man working the booth hands her a giant stuffed rabbit. While to her right, the carousel turns, the calliope music swells, and the amber lights crowning the top of the ride glow and spin in the early evening air.

  Megan stops walking.

  “Something wrong?” Tyler slips an arm around her shoulders and bites his red snow cone. “You look lost.”

  “It’s nothing,” she says. “Déjà vu.”

  Tyler nods, takes another bite. Some of the ice falls, hitting his white shirt, leaving a blood-red spot on his chest.

  Megan sees it, and something deep inside of her wants to scream.

  Then Julia runs up, grabs her hand.

  “Come on, you promised.”

  Megan glances down at her. “It’s getting late. If we don’t go soon, we’ll miss the fireworks.”

  “You two go ahead,” Tyler says. “I’ll get the car and pull around by the gate. We’ll make it in time.”

  Julia cheers and pulls Megan away.

  She waves to Tyler and follows Julia through the maze of booths and people, light and shadow, toward the Ferris wheel turning slowly in the blue distance.

  They make it just in time.

  They climb on, and the wheel spins, carrying them up. When it stops at the top, Julia moves closer and squeezes Megan’s arm tight.

  “Are you scared?” Megan asks.

  “No,” she says. “I’m not scared.”

  Megan smiles to herself, then puts her arm around Julia’s shoulder and pulls her in.

  “Of course you’re not.”

  She looks out over the edge at the carnival below, then up, over the trees, toward the skyline of the city just starting to glitter against the fading daylight.

  “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

  Julia nods, trembles against her.

  Megan looks down at her, and for an instant, she remembers the child as a baby–how she would fall asleep in her arms, her head resting against her shoulder, her warm breath soft on her neck.

  Megan kisses Julia’s head, holds her tighter.

  And the world flashed blue.

  “You made it.”

  The woman who answers the door has a glass of red wine in her hand, and she leans forward and hugs them both. Then she looks down at Julia, smiles, places a hand on her head.

  “Everyone is on the roof with the drinks,” she says. “I was on my way up, too.”

  “Have the fireworks started?” Julia asks.

  “Not yet,” the woman says. “They’re late this year.”

  Julia smiles, bounces.

  “Go on up,” the woman says. “I’m right behind you.”

  “Anything we can help with?” Tyler asks.

&
nbsp; “No, you go ahead,” she says. “Grab a drink. There’s beer in the cooler and wine on the bar. I’m getting more ice, but I’m right behind you.”

  Julia turns and runs down the hall toward the metal door leading to the stairs.

  Tyler yells after her, telling her to wait. Then he looks back and shrugs. “I’ll see you two up there.”

  Megan watches him go, then turns back to the woman and says, “Let me help you.”

  “There’s only two bags,” she says. “We can each take one. Grab a glass of wine. There’s a bottle on the counter and glasses in the cabinet.”

  “Thanks,” Megan says. “But I’m not drinking.”

  The woman laughs. “That’s something I don’t hear very often.” She starts to say more, but then the look on her face changes and she stops, stares at her.

  Megan tries not to smile.

  “You’re fucking kidding me?”

  “Tyler doesn’t know,” Megan says. “I was going to tell him tonight.”

  The woman sets her glass down and wraps her arms around Megan’s neck, pulling her in. “Oh my God. This is the best news. I’m so happy for you.”

  “You can’t let on that you know.”

  “Are you kidding?” The woman steps back, looks down at Megan’s stomach, then up at her eyes. “This is perfect and it’s meant to be. You’ve come so far, and now this.”

  “I just wish Mom were here to—”

  “Don’t do that.” The woman puts her hands on Megan’s shoulders, squeezes. “This is a happy time, kiddo. Mom wouldn’t want you to be sad.”

  Megan nods, tries to smile.

  The woman smiles back, wipes away tears. “Holy shit, I’m going to be an aunt.”

  “You’re already an aunt.”

  “Yeah, I know,” she says. “But it never gets old.”

  They carry the ice to the roof, talking and laughing along the way. When they step out into the night, Megan sees Tyler and Julia on the other side by the ledge. He’s on one knee, beer in hand, pointing out toward the sky.