Erased

by Jennifer Rush

  Nick didn’t say anything.

  “He’ll be nice,” Cas said. “Right, Nicky?”

  “Don’t fucking call me Nicky.”

  “See?” I said, pointing at Nick. I was being petty and whiny, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want us to separate. I didn’t want to be left alone with Nick while Dani went with Sam.

  Sam started for the front of the house. “It’s for the best, Anna,” he said over a shoulder. “I’ll find an extra vehicle for you two so you have transportation, and then we’re splitting up. I don’t want any more arguments about it.”

  The door slammed shut a second later.

  Nick took watch at the front of the house. Cas stayed at the back door. I went to the dining room and sat on the white carpet, leaning against the wall. I drew my knees up and stared out the sliding glass door that led to a weather-worn deck.

  Dani sat next to me.

  Now, alone with her, I didn’t know what to say or do with myself. What had we been like before all this? I wondered if we’d talked for hours on end. If she’d given me advice about boys and homework, and if she’d done my hair and made me breakfast.

  I wondered a lot of things about her.

  “So,” she said.

  “So.”

  “I know it seems like a bad idea, separating, but Sam’s only doing it for your safety. He’s always been protective.” There was a note of sadness in her voice.

  I turned to her. “I’m sorry.”

  “About what?”

  “I don’t know. Everything.” I rested my chin against my knees. “I wish we would have met again under different circumstances.”

  She sighed. “Me, too.”

  “When I found out the Branch had taken my memories, that I had a different life before the farmhouse, I knew I had to fill in the missing pieces. But there isn’t much left, is there?” I glanced over at her. “You’re the only part that remains.”

  “Not true. We still have Uncle Will.”

  I sat up straighter. “Uncle Will? You’ve seen him?”

  Dani nodded, and a wispy strand of hair fell from her ponytail. “He’s the one who learned you and Sam had escaped the lab. He’s got great contacts within the Branch. Actually, I think you might know one of them. Sura? She used to be married to your handler at the farmhouse.”

  The mention of Sura brought on a new wave of sorrow. My dad had led me to believe Sura was my mother and that she was dead. And when I found out the latter was untrue, I’d been ecstatic. I’d met her, only to learn she’d never had any children, that my dad had lied about her being my mother, too.

  And then she’d been shot right in front of me.

  I could still hear the pop of the bullet and the crack of it hitting her skull.

  I squeezed my eyes shut.

  “Anna, did you hear me?” Dani said.

  “What? Sorry. No.”

  “I said I could put you in touch with Uncle Will. He’d like that. He might have information, too. He’s always digging into the Branch’s movements. He used to be friends with the person who founded it. Now, he does whatever he can to sabotage their missions.”

  I raised a brow. “Really?”

  She smiled. “Pretty badass, our family, huh?”

  “I guess.”

  I recalled something Trev said to me the morning he helped us escape Branch headquarters, that the Branch wouldn’t stop looking for us. I’d wondered at the time who “they” were with Connor dead.

  “How big is the Branch?” I asked Dani. “Who’s coming after us this time?”

  Dani reached over and squeezed my hand. “One question at a time, bird.”

  She and I met eyes, the old nickname hanging in the air between us. It was an immediate reminder of what we’d lost, and it made something stir. A connection to her, a spark of our past, the wick of my old life catching fire.

  “You remember,” she said softly. “I used to call you ‘bird’ all the time. Because you ate—”

  “Like one,” I finished. I didn’t know how I knew that, but the answer was there, on the tip of my tongue and spilling out over my lips.

  “Yeah.” Her green eyes lit up. “I could only ever get you to eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I had to cut the crusts off.”

  “In all of my flashbacks, you were always the one taking care of me. Why? Where were our parents?”

  She stiffened. “Our parents weren’t the best kind of parents.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean… they were busy.”

  “Did they work a lot?”

  She nodded. “Something like that.”

  “Did you mind taking care of me?”

  “No. Never.” She smiled. “I liked it, even.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said again, looking down at my feet.

  “You keep saying that.” She nudged me with her shoulder.

  “It’s just… I wish I could remember more.”

  Because I can see how happy it makes you, I thought. A large part of my life, or at least the one I could remember, had been spent trying to make others—the boys and my dad—happy. And some habits died harder than others. I wanted to make the smile reappear on Dani’s face. But I didn’t know how to force myself to feel something for her or to remember all of the things we’d shared.

  “None of this is your fault.” Her voice shook. “I was the one who failed you. I was the one who lost you that night. I was the one who couldn’t get to you all those years you were missing.”

  “That night?” I repeated.

  “What?”

  I turned sideways. “You said you were the one who lost me that night. The night our parents died? You were there? Did you see what happened?”

  “No,” she said with a quick shake of her head. “I meant I lost you that night because I wasn’t there.”

  “Oh.” I deflated, the hope escaping me as quickly as it’d come. I hadn’t realized until that very second how badly I wanted to know the details of the night our parents died.

  “Uncle Will knows what happened that night,” Dani said. “He might tell you if you asked.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded. “If I can get a message to him that you want to meet up, would you go?”

  “Of course.”

  “He’ll be in Port Cadia.”

  My shoulders sunk an inch. Port Cadia was my hometown, but it was also the place where the Branch had captured Sam twice now. Once before the farmhouse, and again two months ago when we went back to retrieve the files Sam had hidden there.

  Sam would kill me if he knew I went there. But… if he wasn’t with me…

  Nick might agree to go if I gave him a good enough reason.

  The front door opened. “Everything go all right?” Nick asked. Sam muttered a response.

  “Get Uncle Will the message,” I whispered to Dani.

  She nodded with a grin.

  I’d reach Port Cadia one way or the other. With or without Nick.

  16

  I SAID MY GOOD-BYES TO CAS AND Dani before Sam walked Nick and I over to our new, stolen vehicle. It was a nondescript car painted the color of wet charcoal. The windows were lightly tinted. That always made me feel a bit safer when traveling by car.

  As Nick loaded a supplies bag in the trunk, Sam led me around the car to the passenger side. “Let me see your gun,” he said.

  I handed it over.

  The street was deserted this time of day, and I wondered if everyone who lived in this neighborhood was off doing normal stuff like working in offices and having lunch with friends. What I wouldn’t give to have a normal life.

  Sam dropped out the clip from my gun and made sure it was fully loaded before sliding it back in place.

  “When will you come back?” I asked.

  He opened my jacket and returned my gun to my shoulder holster. “I don’t know. I’ll call your dad and see if he knows of any other programs. We’ll go from there. Until then, only call if you have to. I don’t want
to risk one of us saying the wrong thing.”

  Snow started to fall in small, lazy flakes that clung to Sam’s shoulders. I brushed them clean. “And what am I supposed to do? I have to help.”

  He shook his head. “Take a break. Rest.”

  We fell into silence. There was one more thing that needed to be discussed, but neither of us was brave enough to bring it up first.

  Dani.

  “Stop giving me that look,” Sam said finally.

  “What look?”

  “Like you’re worried I’m going to hook up with your sister.”

  “That’s a very specific look.”

  He put an arm around my shoulders and dragged me closer. “You don’t have to worry. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are.”

  I picked at the cuff of my jacket. “Do you still have flashbacks from before? About her?”

  He didn’t say anything for the longest time, then, “Yes.”

  “What are they about?”

  He sighed. “Nothing important.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Sam.”

  His fingers threaded with mine. His were long, solid, and made mine look tiny in comparison. The veins in his hand stood, pronounced, running through his knuckles. Out of all the perfect parts of him, his hands were what I loved most.

  And I realized with sudden, crashing despair that I hadn’t ever sketched his hands.

  The images I had seared into my brain weren’t reliable. What I needed was something more tangible. Pictures. Sketches. Words on the page.

  And I’d failed at recording Sam.

  Don’t go, I thought. I wanted to shout it at him, beg him not to leave. But he would never listen.

  He leaned into me, his other hand cupping the side of my face. He kissed me softly, slowly, in a way that was more than just lips on lips. A kiss that was not only physical but something more, something deeper. A kiss I felt in my soul.

  A kiss that felt like a good-bye.

  A kiss I didn’t want to end.

  I always wanted more of Sam. Always.

  When he pulled away, I kept my eyes closed a second longer, memorizing the feel of him, the smell of him, wanting nothing else to distract me before I burned the memory to a place that I hoped would outlive even the Branch’s tampering.

  “Be careful,” I said.

  “You, too.”

  And then he was gone.

  17

  NICK DROVE OUT OF TOWN AND TOOK the freeway. I couldn’t tell where he was headed. Maybe he didn’t know, either.

  I leaned my forehead against the window and closed my eyes as I felt a familiar burn deep in my sinuses. I didn’t want to cry. Not now. Not in front of Nick.

  “It’s not like they’re dead,” he said.

  No, but it felt like I’d never see them again.

  “I hope you don’t keep doing that,” he said. “Because we’re not going to get anything accomplished with you crying.”

  “And we’re not going to get anything accomplished if you keep acting like an asshole.”

  He went rigid. I tensed, knowing that I’d crossed a line.

  But a hint of a smile spread over his face. “Now that we got the petty shit out of the way, why don’t we make a plan? Unless you want to write in your diary about how sad you are and how you got saddled with the fucking asshole.”

  “It’s not a diary,” I muttered.

  “Good. Because diaries are for douchebags.”

  I laughed. “Was that an indirect compliment?”

  He furrowed his brow. “No.”

  “I’m pretty sure that was a compliment.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’re irritating me.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Great, so are we going to argue, or are we going to do something about this?”

  “Do something about it,” I said and he nodded. “I have to go to Port Cadia.”

  “What?” he shouted.

  “My uncle lives there. He might know something. He has contacts in the Branch.”

  “In case you forgot, the last time we went looking for one of your family members, we ended up screwed.”

  “Come on, Nick! What else are we going to do? Go to Branch headquarters and blow the place up?”

  “Yes.”

  I sighed. “Please. This is important to me. And I think meeting him could help. He might know something worthwhile.”

  And he was there the night my parents died, I thought. I would have used it as additional ammo if I were talking to anyone other than Nick. But he didn’t want to learn about his past. He’d made that painfully clear. So he wouldn’t understand my need to learn about mine.

  “Nick?” I tried again.

  “Do you know exactly where to find him?”

  “Dani is going to contact him.”

  He grumbled in the back of his throat. “This keeps getting better and better.”

  “Please.”

  “Fine. But if Sam finds out about this…”

  “He won’t.”

  “Oh, yes, he will. It’s Sam we’re talking about.”

  “Just head to Port Cadia, and I’ll deal with Sam when the time comes.”

  What would he do when he found out where we were headed? I didn’t think I wanted to know.

  Nick took several back roads as we headed north. He found a local rock station, and the music filled the silence between us.

  I dug in my bag for my journal, finding it wedged on the bottom beneath a hairbrush and an extra gun clip. I grabbed my set of colored pencils next. It was always hard to predict how long we’d be on the road and whether or not there’d be a free minute to sketch. I could go from eating a turkey sandwich to getting shot at in the span of two seconds. Drawing seemed like the last thing I should be wasting my time with. But it helped anchor me to the real world. It was something that was familiar, something normal.

  So I started sketching.

  I didn’t have a particular image in my head, and I was fresh out of travel magazines for inspiration. I considered asking Nick to stop at a grocery store so I could buy something to browse, but then I reminded myself this was Nick I was talking about, and no way would he stop for a magazine run.

  As usual, I started with a warm-up. I had a few pages in the very back that I’d designated as my doodle pages. There were waves and hearts and 3-D cubes. I scribbled in a goldfish, then an umbrella, then more hearts.

  I looked over at Nick. His left hand rested at the top of the steering wheel. His right hand held tightly to the stick shift between us. His black hair curled around his ears and over the collar of his coat. Even in profile, with only a sliver of his eyes in view, I was taken aback by how shockingly blue they were. How he had this way of looking at things like he didn’t care at all, when I knew deep down he was taking everything in. Every detail. He forgot nothing. And he would use it against you as soon as the perfect opportunity presented itself.

  Nick downshifted when he got stuck behind a semi waiting for the car in the next lane to pass. His jaw tensed. His eyebrows sunk in frustration.

  I turned to a fresh page and started drawing. I thought I’d sketch Nick driving, but the further I got into the sketch, the more I realized it wasn’t of Nick sitting next to me, now. It was of him pushing someone, someone familiar, into a darkened room, panic creased around his eyes. There was a four-poster bed behind him.

  I was studying the image, trying to figure out if it was real or imaged, when the journal was snatched from my hands.

  I looked up. The car was parked in front of a gas pump. Nick spread the journal open on the steering wheel.

  “You drew this just now?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Did I tell you about this?”

  I frowned. “No.”

  He stared at the penciled image for a long time. A car pulled up at
the pump on the other side of us.

  “What is it, Nick?” I finally asked.

  “This is one of my flashbacks.”

  I sat forward. “It is? What is it about? Who are you pushing into the closet?”

  He slammed the journal shut and tossed it back to me. He climbed out of the car and went around to the gas tank. I climbed out, too. The frigid air hit me before I was ready for it. Salt crunched beneath my boots.

  “Nick? Who is it?”

  He flipped open the gas tank, unscrewed the cap. He punched at the buttons on the gas pump, and it beeped in response.

  I took a step closer. “Was it me?”

  “Yes. Okay. It was you.”

  My breath puffed out between us. “What happened? Why were you shoving me in a room—”

  “It was a closet. And I don’t know.”

  I pressed my back against the side of the car. Sam and I had been to my old house. In one of the rooms, we’d found the empty frame of an old four-poster bed. In the closet, I’d found a picture of me and Dani, stuffed in a keepsake box along with a—

  I gasped. “A paper crane.”

  Nick furrowed his brow. “What?”

  “In the closet in the house in Port Cadia, I’d found a box with a picture of me and Dani and a flattened paper crane.” A million theories started running through my head. I paced. “And in one of my flashbacks, there was a boy sitting on my bed with me. Dani and Sam were fighting down the hall. I could hear them and I was upset, so the boy showed me how to make a paper crane to distract me.” I met his eyes, suddenly realizing what my brain had been trying to tell me for a while now. “That boy was you.”

  His eyes grew distant. “My mother showed me how,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper.

  I nodded. “That’s what you told me in the flashback.”

  “It’s the only thing about her I remember. I don’t even know what she looked like.” He blinked and pulled the gas pump from the car. “What kind of person leaves their kid, anyway? A godda—”

  He cut himself off and looked away.

  Just like that, our moment was over. Nick was back to being Nick, but I was going to celebrate the victory, no matter how minuscule it was. Nick had opened up. Maybe there was a part of him that did care after all.