If I Lose

by Kelsey D. Garmendia

  “Really?” I say playing along.

  “Yeah!” he says, his eyes going wide. “She can like shoot any target and never miss. Never miss! Even some of the soldiers here have trouble with the courses Aisley and I have been on.

  And she’s super fast. I mean, I’m faster than her, but she’s right behind me all the time. All the other guys who used to be behind me are all mad ‘cause she’s better than them at everything.”

  They’re having target practice? “How old are you Tristan?” I ask.

  “Oh me? I’m 12,” he says. “My birthday was last week.”

  I feel sick to my stomach. “Happy belated birthday,” I say with false cheeriness.

  “Thanks!” he says.

  “Do you want to hang out with us for meals?” I ask. “It’d be nice to have someone help Aisley with homework who knows the ropes around here.”

  “You sure you don’t wanna help her?” he asks.

  “I haven’t been in school in so long,” I respond. “Besides, you’re probably way smarter than me.”

  He smiles and nods his head like a bobble-head doll. “Thanks Ms. Henderson!” he says. “I’m tired of eating in the mess hall.”

  The clock tower rings out telling us lunch time is over. Tristan and Aisley both let out a moan and shove the last bits of their lunch into their mouths.

  “Bye Aisley,” I say giving her a sideways hug.

  “Bye Ms. Henderson,” Tristan says. “Come on Aisley, I’ll race you.”

  They sprint off towards the schoolhouse. For a second, I feel like I’m in a normal moment. I feel like the world isn’t crumbling, and we’re not hiding inside a Fort. The only thing missing is Xavier.

  Back to reality.

  The Truth

  “Why wouldn’t they let Xavier in?” I ask Keturah while we make our way around the courtyard.

  “Haven’t you noticed the common theme around here?” she responds. “Orphans, one parent, broken families.”

  “But it doesn’t make sense,” I say throwing my hands in the air. “Xavier technically wasn’t even related to me. And he was way more than capable of handling himself.”

  “But think about it, Hayley. You were at death’s doorstep,” she says. “Who would be the easier one to mold into what they wanted?”

  “So is that what it’s about?”

  “It’s one theory,” she responds.

  “What’s the other?”

  “That we’re insane for thinking there’s a conspiracy here.”

  I like the conspiracy theory. It explains why Xavier couldn’t come here, makes the chance of him being alive higher and gives us a shot at being a family.

  “Has everyone been brainwashed into thinking the Fort is some type of god?” I ask.

  “It’s a possibility,” Keturah responds. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

  “God,” I whisper. “How hard was it for you when you remembered?”

  She lets out a long sigh, then laughs. “It wasn’t a walk in the park, that’s for sure,” she says. The smile fades from her face, and she chews on her bottom lip.

  “It’s all right,” I say. “You don’t have to talk about it. It was kind of a rhetorical—”

  “No, it’s relieving to talk to someone about it,” she says smiling. “Do you have any idea how stressful it’s been knowing all of this and not saying a word?” She laughs and shakes her head. “It’s enough to make you go crazy.”

  “What was it like?” I ask.

  “Well, when I first came to after the brainwashing, I didn’t remember anything. Like, I mean anything,” she starts. “I was wiped clean.”

  “A shell?”

  “Huh?” she asks.

  “Aisley told me when I first woke up that the doctors would turn me into a shell if I spoke about my past.”

  “Well, that actually describes how I was to the ‘T,'” she responds letting her shoulders slump forward. “I was blissfully ignorant during the day and a basket case by night.

  I had these horrific nightmares of people craving human flesh. Half-animalistic versions of humans chasing me through city streets. I’d wake up every night in a cold sweat with only one thing echoing in my head; Nikia.”

  We make our way past the schoolhouse, and I wave at the soldiers. One nods while the other completely ignores us.

  “Anyway, I became obsessed with that name. I tried to think where I got that from. It was different, exotic, foreign to me but familiar at the same time.

  The nightmares got worse, and I barely slept. It got so bad at one point that I was confusing my nightmares with my reality. My former doctor got replaced, and then, Isha took over.

  It’s funny, really. He stopped by my house one evening and asked how I was doing. I lost it. I told him everything until I was dry heaving sobs onto his shoulder. He promised he would help me get past it. It was like he knew all the right things to say. He knew exactly what I was going through.”

  “Seems like Isha really does care about his patients,” I say.

  “He does!” she says taking a hold of my hand. “If there’s anyone you can trust here, it’s him.”

  “I don’t know. After that first session with the hypnotist, I don’t know if I can trust anyone anymore.”

  “You can trust me,” Keturah says nodding her head.

  I chew on my tongue. She has complete trust in me. How could I not return the favor? She’s the only person

  from the Fort that gets me. I went to her before Aisley to talk about what I saw at the hypnotist, didn’t I? Aisley will always have my back, but I can’t keep putting that much weight on her shoulders.

  Besides, strength in numbers—right?

  Loss

  “They wouldn’t let him in?” Tristan asks.

  “That’s what I remember,” I respond.

  “It makes much more sense,” Aisley says chomping on her sandwich.

  “Keturah thinks they didn’t let him in on purpose,” I say. “To brainwash me because I was the easier target.”

  “Maybe,” Tristan responds. “You should talk to Isha about it. He can help you.”

  “I’m not sure I trust him yet,” I respond.

  “If I had a choice to trust anyone from First Class, it would be him,” he responds.

  “Why?” Aisley asks. “He kept my mom locked up for months. Tried to make her a shell!”

  “You don’t know that for sure, Aisley,” he responds. “He was just made head doctor a couple of months ago—”

  “All I do know Tristan, is that I was an orphan then. There was nothing wrong with her, and they forced me to be alone,” she mutters. “I don’t take kindly to people who try and separate me from friends.”

  “Isha did everything he could to save my dad, Aisley!” Tristan yells slamming his fists on the table. “He sat with me at the funeral. He was theonlyone looking out for me then besides myself. Oh and newsflash, Aisley, Iaman orphan!”

  He stands knocking over his glass of milk across the table. “I’m sorry, Ms. Henderson,” he says. Tears line the brim of his eyes, but he whips his head around before they fall.

  Aisley’s nostrils flare, and she drops the rest of her sandwich on her plate. She smothers her face with her hands. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” she mumbles.

  “I know,” I say. “Go apologize to him.”

  She nods her head and stands up from the picnic table. “I’ll clean this up,” I say. “Go ahead.” She runs off in the direction that Tristan went. I pick up their Rubbermaid containers and place them in my basket.

  “Ms. Hende—Hayley!” a familiar voice says from behind me. I turn and see Isha’s white doctor’s jacket blazing in the summer sunlight.

  “Doctor Banks—”

  “I thought we were on a first name basis,” Isha says shaking a finger at me.

  “Isha,” the name feels weird coming from my mouth. “You’re a little far from your neck of the woods, aren’t you?”

  “I knocke
d on your door, and when you didn’t answer, I assumed you were here,” he responds. His jaw is clenched, but something behind his eyes tells me he isn’t stressed. “What happened here?”

  “Tristan and Aisley,” I respond. “Kids, you know?”

  “Ah,” he laughs. “I suppose kids will be kids.” I smile and nod while wiping up the milk from the plastic tabletop. He stands behind me while I finish cleaning up the mess.

  “What exactly did you need from me?” I ask wiping my hands off on my napkin.

  “Nothing in particular,” he responds walking alongside me. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. How you were adjusting to things.”

  I swallow and let out a long breath. Do I trust the man who let me out of lockdown? Keturah would say yes in a heartbeat. I want to, but there’s something that isn’t sitting right with me.

  When Isha smiles, it never reaches his eyes. It stops me from trusting him. Why isn’t he ever relaxed? I don’t think I’ve seen one genuine gesture from him yet. He always seems to be holding onto something, telling half-truths.

  “Did you really sit with Tristan at his father’s funeral?” I ask.

  Isha’s eyes widen and the muscles in his jaw relax. He tilts his head down and swallows.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Tristan told Aisley and I today—”

  “No, no. It’s fine,” he says. “Just caught me off guard, that’s all. No one has mentioned Tristan’s father in so long.” He pushes his thick black hair back and lets out a long sigh. “He was the first patient that was under my care who died.”

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “I still don’t know the answer to that question,” he responds. His shoulders sink, and the muscle in his jaw loosens until his mouth hangs open. “One day he was completely healthy; running with the cadets, teaching at the school. And then, he crashed.”

  His hand massages the back of his neck. I feel horrible for bringing this up. I had no business resurfacing old memories. After Cassie’s death when people would ask how I was doing, I would lose it. I never knew how much anger I could bottle up when it came to her. But I’ve had time to deal with her death.

  And Isha—something about the sound of his voice tells me that this loss was a breaking point for him. I don’t think it was his first loss, but definitely one that hit hard.

  “I’m sorry, Isha—”

  “Don’t apologize,” he says smiling. “Well, looks like we’ve returned to your home.” I look up at the gray stone and feel nothing of home.

  “Awesome,” I mutter.

  I feel a strong grip tighten on my shoulder. “Thank you for allowing me to talk with you,” he says. “It’s refreshing to talk about your past.”

  He smiles—this time it fills his eyes with a warming sunshine that makes my breath catch in my throat. The cloudiness of his deep blue eyes blows away. His smile blinds me against the darkness of his skin. And for a second, I see Xavier standing in front of me. I see someone

  I can trust, someone that I can lay the truth in their hands and not worry about the consequences.

  “It’s good to talk about those you’ve known, right?” he says before patting my shoulder and walking off in the opposite direction.

  “Right,” I mumble. It takes all my will to choke down the flood of crushing memories.

  August 2, 2013: Mourning

  I wake up sometime near dawn. The sun barely reaches the lip of the slit window in my room. Water beads against the glass like a waterfall. I wonder if they cancel school on rainy days as bad as this? There must have been a handful of days with bad weather when I was sedated that Aisley spent alone—or worse.

  Aisley breathes heavily into the crook of my arm. I slide out from underneath her and tuck the blankets around her. I waddle into the kitchen and hear a soft knock on our door.

  “Hayley,” a girl’s voice calls from the other side. “Hayley!” Her voice sounds pinched with panic.

  I open the door to find Keturah still in her white scrubs and white terrycloth slippers with mascara running down her cheeks. “I had no one else to talk to,” she chokes out. I want to invite her in, but I know it isn’t safe to talk here. Thunder booms and rattles the stones of our home. The rain soaks through her pajamas, and I can see the bulge of her stomach through the thinness of her clothes.

  Against my better judgment, I step out of the way and let her in. I close the door and do the same for my bedroom. “Do you want some hot water or anything?” I ask. She shakes her head, but I can see her shivering. “How about a towel?”

  A smile barely makes it across her face. I shuffle over to our linen closet and grab two towels for her. I wrap one around her and leave the other on the table. “Once you dry off, this one will keep you warm,” I explain. She nods her head and fiddles with her fingers. “So um, what’s up?” I look at the camera in our kitchen out of the corner of my eye—yup, still working.

  Keturah starts to say something but then stops. She knows she can’t say anything without being listened to. There’s gotta be something we can use to communicate without them knowing.

  “Maybe some soup or hot water would be nice,” Keturah says wrapping her arms around herself.

  “I figured,” I respond. I push myself up from my chair and search the cabinets for something hot I can cook. “Did you forget to bring an umbrella or something?” I ask.

  Keturah lets out a soft laugh in response. “I was a little preoccupied to say the least,” she whispers.

  “How does oatmeal sound?” I ask grabbing the can of oats from the last cabinet.

  “Sure,” she responds.

  I fill our tea kettle with water and let it sit on top of our propane stove. How can we talk? I look around the room and spot Aisley’s book bag hanging from the coat hook. A notebook—I wonder if Aisley has one in there?

  “You know, I’ve been meaning to show you some of the work Aisley has been doing at school!” I say reaching into her book bag.

  “Why?”

  “Oh, well—well, let me show you first.” I grab the first notebook I see and a pencil from the front pouch. I scribble down,write, don’t talk, and hand the notebook over to Keturah. She reads it and nods her head.

  “This is truly amazing,” she says with false happiness. I sit next to her, partially blocking the camera and read over her shoulder.

  I know what happened. I know everything. I had a very vivid session with the hypnotist the other day. Now, I remember everything.

  Nikia was sent back out to the Wild after they saw what we did. Then they took me and had me brainwashed until I couldn’t remember her anymore.

  I look up at her, my eyes wide. “It really is incredible,” I say. “The things they do here are unbelievable.” My voice sounds hollow as it echoes through my ears. Keturah nods her head and begins writing again.

  If they find out that we remember our past, we’ll be next. The only thing stopping them is our pregnancies.

  They chose to brainwash me because of our baby. They want my baby. They want to start everything over. The world, society, humanity. They want to start from scratch.

  I take the pencil from her and jot down a question I know can’t be heard.What if they find out now? I look up at her as I hand her the pencil.

  She jots something down in shaky handwriting and pushes the notebook over to me.

  Then we’ll be shells. They’ll take everything from us.

  Aisley walks out of my bedroom rubbing her eyes. “Morning Mom,” she mumbles. She looks at Keturah and frowns.

  “Morning Aisley,” I respond. “This is Keturah. We go to meditation together.”

  “Hi, Miss Aisley,” she says.

  Aisley flares her nostrils and throws a hand up in an attempt at a wave. She picks up the hot water and pours it onto the bowl of oatmeal.

  “Can you make another bowl?” I ask. “Keturah came for breakfast and—”

  “No, it’s all right,” Keturah says pushing herself up. She peels the towel off
of her shoulders and hangs it neatly over the back of the chair. “I should really be going anyway. I want to go to early morning yoga. Thank you for having me over, Hayley.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she responds. “You’ve done so much for me already.” She smiles and heads towards the door. “Goodbye, Miss Aisley.”

  “Bye,” Aisley responds with a mouthful oatmeal. Keturah smiles and shuts the door from the pouring rain.

  “Aisley, there is no need to be rude—”

  “She called me ‘Miss Aisley.’ Anyone who calls me that is a Fort Dweller,” she responds. “And an ass!”

  “Language!”

  “Oh and you’re the perfect explain of a clean mouth!”

  “I’m not 10!”

  “You also aren’t living my life!” she yells throwing down her spoon.

  We sit in silence. I can’t explain the anger flooding through me for her outburst. Keturah is truly my only friend here. Isha seems nice, but I can’t trust someone who’s first class. Tristan won’t understand anything I’m going through. Keturah knows loss. And sometimes I feel like I’m on the verge of losing everything.

  “I’m sorry,” Aisley responds.

  “It’s ok.”

  “It’s just that, you’re my only friend besides Tristan,” she responds. “I know that’s kinda lame because you’re my mom, but I don’t like anyone else here.” She scoops a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth and chews.

  The bell from the clock tower rings out shaking the plastic bowl in front of Aisley. I open our door and try to squint through the rain to see the time.

  “Seven,” Aisley says over the roaring rain. She pushes the bowl of oatmeal over to my side of the table and runs to the bathroom to tie up her hair.