Shudder (Stitch Trilogy, Book 2)

by Samantha Durante

  “Don’t get lost wandering through what they planted. Use the trace as a breadcrumb to find your way out.”

  It was only human nature to be curious – that was the danger of the stitch. The post-procedure mind was wounded, weak, searching for answers, seeking a safe retreat. And the stitch provided what the patient needed – a story to latch onto. One clear image would peek out of the dark, and the mind would chase it, following memory after memory straight down the rabbit hole. And when he came out the other side, as Nikhil well remembered from his past experiences, his doubts would be erased – the puzzle pieces would fit, the mind would be soothed, and a new Nikhil would stand in his place. But if he resisted the temptation and reached toward the trace instead, 14 had cautioned, he could clamber up the lattice of truth and find his way to the surface.

  “Their fake memories will be there too, so use them to play along.”

  And once he’d defeated the stitch, he’d finally be able to fight back. Recovering his real memories didn’t erase the ones that had been programmed into him – he could simply sort through them logically and use the information to his benefit. He could play the part they’d laid out for him, and wait. And when an opportunity eventually came, he could escape.

  “Don’t let them take you, Nikhil. Don’t.”

  He wouldn’t. Not this time. Not ever again.

  And so he’d been practicing. He’d chosen as his trace his first memory of 14, the day her note had come scrabbling through the wall. He’d thought day and night about the smallest detail of those moments: the relentless scratching that’d been driving him insane, the surprise of paper against his fingertips, the flurries of dust floating through the beam of light from the crack in the door as he’d devoured her missive. “Hey, neighbor. Anybody in there?” How could he forget?

  That was, after all, the first real thing that had happened to him in ages. In all his years as Paragon’s prisoner, she had been his only true ally – the only one to help him find the truth, help him remember himself. Maybe he’d never seen her, or heard her voice, or even spoken her true name. But he would never forget her. She was his trace – she had been from the beginning.

  So when they finally came for him, he was ready.

  He heard the heavy clunk of boot steps first, the guard approaching his door. Then the softer shuffles of the lab technician following close behind, the swish of a long white coat, the gentle tap of fingertips looking up records on a tablet. Then beep, beep, beep, beep, CLANK and his cell was unlocked. The door swung open, the bright lights from the hall blinding him.

  14, “Hey, neighbor,” scratching, paper, dust.

  He was ready. Nikhil raised an arm to shield his eyes and rose slowly from his cot. “Come,” the guard commanded, and Nikhil followed. They walked him down the long twisting hallway, back the way he’d come so many weeks before. The guard entered another code, and they exited through a heavy metal doorway. Suddenly the world changed from gray to white, the floors not concrete but linoleum, the cinder block walls melting into smooth shiny plastic.

  They’d reached the medical center.

  14, “Hey, neighbor,” scratching, paper, dust.

  They boarded a swift elevator up, and navigated down another long hallway, stopping in front of a doorway – white, always white – inset with one tiny porthole window. Nikhil could see the chair waiting for him, the straps propped open wide.

  This time it was the technician’s turn, fingering the keypad beside the door as a series of sharp beeps pierced Nikhil’s ears. The door slid open with a sudden whoosh and the technician ushered him inside. The door slithered shut behind them, and as Nikhil took his place in the chair, he noticed the guard looming outside the window.

  14, “Hey, neighbor,” scratching, paper, dust.

  The technician worked silently to fasten thick straps around his wrists, his ankles, his waist, his throat. Heavy clamps squeezed in beside his ears, and suddenly Nikhil was immobile.

  He could hear the technician behind him, clacking away on a keyboard. Then a hiss, and a small panel slid open in the wall in front of him. A single sinister syringe rested in the darkness beyond, waiting, menacing. A chill fog rolled off the case and fused with the white of the wall below, the mist seeming to disappear before it reached the floor.

  14, “Hey, neighbor,” scratching, paper, dust.

  The technician stepped forward and snatched up the syringe, regarding Nikhil with a grimace. Neon blue brimmed behind the needle as it reached for Nikhil’s arm, and he steeled himself for the fight ahead.

  Everything was dark, and everything hurt. Throb. Each pulse blared through Nikhil’s tender brain – he could almost hear it, like the buzz of too-loud bass. Throb.

  Ignore the pain. There was something he was supposed to remember.

  Dust.

  He saw light, but it hurt, it stung. He retreated, further, deeper, lower – far into the recesses of his mind.

  Hey, neighbor.

  Where was he? Why did it hurt so much?

  Paper.

  Something hovered at the edge of his mind, something important. But it was just out of reach…

  Hey, neighbor.

  Nothing made sense. He couldn’t remember… Who was he? Where was he? What had they done to him?

  Hey, neighbor. Hey, neighbor.

  There was supposed to be a path, something for him to follow, some way out. But all he saw was black. Anything else simply hurt too much.

  Scratching.

  What should he do now? Where would he go?

  Hey, neighbor. Hey, neighbor.

  A strangling fear rose in his throat. He was lost, lost, and he would never be found. His body trembled. He searched this way and that, but there was nowhere to turn. He was trapped.

  Hey, neighbor. Hey, neighbor. Hey, neighbor.

  Panicking now.

  What to do? How to get out?

  WHY HAD THEY DONE THIS TO HIM?

  Hey, neighbor. Hey, neighbor.

  He screamed, and screamed, and screamed. Screamed until his throat must have bled.

  But there was only silence.

  He was alone, locked in the dark, alone.

  Hey, neighbor.

  Who had done this to him?

  They would pay.

  They would pay.

  26. INTENTIONS

  They didn’t think Phoenix could hear them, but she could.

  The whish of the automatic door had woken her, but she’d kept her eyes pinned shut. Her mind was much stronger now, less clouded than before. She could focus, she could reason, she could think. Almost, she could remember. And with fewer bandages now covering the injuries on her head, she could hear quite clearly.

  They were standing right outside her door, arguing in hushed voices. They must have inched too close to the automatic sensor, she guessed, and the door to her room had slid open. But they were too absorbed in their conversation to notice. She could just about make out their words.

  The Developer was one of them. She recognized his voice, the nasal whine, the occasional stammer when his brain moved too fast for his lips.

  The other one she wasn’t sure about. That voice sounded familiar too, a cool rasp that she couldn’t quite place. Something about that voice made her uneasy, but she wasn’t sure exactly why.

  Finally the quarrel reached an apex, the words finally resolving in Phoenix’s ears as their voices climbed.

  It was the other one, not the Developer. “… ridiculous. She’ll never listen to me.”

  “Yes, she will,” the Developer argued.

  “Why? Why would she?” the voice cracked.

  “Because I took care of it. Just trust me. She’s ready for you.”

  “This is too big a risk. What if she remembers?”

  “She won’t.”

  “The others have.”

  “I’ve fixed it,” the Developer insisted. He sighed one of the long, weary sighs that signaled he was getting frustrated.

  There was a p
ause. “You’re sure this is necessary?”

  “Yes. She’ll never join us if she doesn’t trust us. She needs to understand who we are, what we did, and what made it justified. And you have a part of that story to tell.”

  Another pause. Then, “Fine.”

  That was interesting – Phoenix had been wondering what the Engineers wanted from her, why they were troubling to fill her in on their history. Apparently they needed her for something. That was good. That meant she had some power.

  But the question still remained: Why? Why did they need her? If only she could remember who she really was…

  She heard one set of footsteps trail away from her doorway, and a moment later, a man stepped through.

  He cleared his throat gruffly. Phoenix fluttered her eyelids, feigning disorientation from sleep before she finally settled her eyes on his.

  He wasn’t a large man, but there was something intimidating about him, something dark. He was middle-aged, neat, not unattractive exactly, but there was something about his face that pushed her gaze away instead of drawing it towards him. His eyes, maybe. His eyes seemed to drink all the light from the room, flat and cold as they bored into her. Something about those eyes made her shudder inwardly.

  She noticed that he was distractedly rubbing a long scar that slashed across his thin lips.

  “You’re awake?” he groused.

  As she sat up in bed, his eyes slithered quickly over her body, making her feel unclothed. She pulled the blanket up over her thin hospital gown.

  “Y-yes,” she answered. Her voice was shaky, but she didn’t understand why. She steadied herself, and more forcefully she added, “And you are?”

  He regarded her for a moment before answering in a low growl, “You can call me the General.”

  The General. The Draftsman had mentioned him. And the Doctor, she remembered.

  “I’ve heard some about you, from the others. You organized the work roster, right?”

  He nodded. “Among other things.”

  Something about that response irked her, but she couldn’t quite place her finger on why. He was hiding something. But what? His demeanor didn’t exactly invite questions.

  Timidly she inquired, “What other things?”

  He shrugged. “The prison, for one. Law enforcement.”

  Something about his mannerisms made Phoenix acutely unnerved. She felt an odd need inside to keep him talking, keep him distracted. She fumbled for a topic. “You were in the army before Paragon?” she asked finally. His name seemed to indicate as much.

  “Something like that,” he replied. “I led the civil service program, organizing civilians to support the war effort.”

  “So how did you end up the General?”

  “I was the highest ranking military official in Paragon when the gates were closed. Seemed to make sense.” He seemed a little defensive.

  “I see,” Phoenix responded gently. Something told her it would be a mistake to get on his bad side.

  An awkward moment lingered in the room while no one spoke and Phoenix fidgeted with her bed sheets. Finally, she broke the silence.

  “Is that how you knew about the memory alteration technology? From your military experience?”

  He regarded her suspiciously.

  “The Doctor told me about it,” she explained quickly.

  “Oh,” he grumbled. “Yes – as head of civil service, I worked with top ranking officers in the armed forces and national security. I had a very high security clearance.”

  For some reason, Phoenix got the feeling that he was trying to impress her, but not because he liked her – it seemed like just the opposite, in fact, like he was trying to raise himself up to show her own inferiority. It made her uncomfortable. She fought the urge to squirm as she waited for him to continue.

  “I was brought on initially to delegate the compound’s work schedule, use my civil service experience to make sure the Draftsman had the manpower to keep this place afloat. But then the rebellion started, and my military background proved… more useful.” A smug semblance of a smile crossed his cheeks. “The others didn’t understand what it took to maintain order, to keep a population under control. I did. So I established the prison, and the guards, and started weeding out the troublemakers.”

  The way he growled “troublemakers,” sent shivers down Phoenix’s spine. “And the memory technology?” she prompted. “Where did it come from?”

  He hesitated for a moment before answering, but then puffed up his chest and replied, “The government had stolen the research from one of our enemies in the Eastern Allies. It was under investigation at the time of the outbreak – highly classified – but all the top officers were aware of it.”

  He crossed his arms self-satisfyingly as a thought occurred to Phoenix. “Why didn’t you just modify the prisoners’ memories and reintegrate them into society? Why use them as actors?”

  “We needed the entertainment for the rest of the population. Given that, it seemed the prisoners would be more useful on the dramas than rotting in their cells.”

  Phoenix got the impression he was tiring of her questions, but she couldn’t help herself – she wanted answers. “But why did you need the entertainment at all, if you had this technology? If you were having trouble keeping everyone under control, couldn’t you just have changed their minds to make them behave how you wanted? The Doctor told me about the drugs in the food… It’s not really much different.”

  He shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Well… the technology was in the experimental stage when we acquired it, and it’s still not quite perfected. Sometimes… things go wrong.” He cleared his throat aggressively. “It was too big a risk to use it on the population at large, or to allow those it’d been used on to go unmonitored.” He finished with a scowl that made it clear that the topic was closed.

  Phoenix was extremely curious as to what kind of negative side effects they were seeing, but she didn’t want to press her luck. Instead, she asked about another aspect that’d piqued her interest.

  “I know the technology was stolen by our government from our enemies… But how did you actually get it? Wasn’t it, like, protected or anything?” she asked.

  “Of course.” He rolled his eyes. “But the Developer… he’s very skilled. He hacked into the government databases to retrieve it. It was almost child’s play for him – after all, he was only a teenager when he created the world’s largest and most sophisticated social media platform,” he explained.

  “I didn’t know that,” Phoenix responded, and for some reason she felt ashamed, stupid. She looked away from him as she said it, and he seemed to notice.

  A hint of a smile played at his lips, but his eyes were still unreadable, still cold as polished stone. “Oh yes, he’s brilliant, with computers at least.” His voice cracked again, and he cleared his throat. “Never even graduated high school, you know. Earned his first billion by the time he turned 18.”

  That was impressive, Phoenix thought. But why did it feel like he was holding this information over her, like he was using it to somehow prove his own superiority? She tried to deflect. “And how did you meet?”

  He puffed out his chest ever so slightly. “Even ‘geniuses’ need help. He reached out to me, when he was planning –” he seemed to catch himself. Averting his eyes briefly, he coughed exaggeratedly before continuing, “– when we were getting everything set up here.”

  Phoenix nodded. Again, the silence seemed to stretch before them. He’d been lingering by the door the entire conversation, and he remained there still, shifting his weight almost aggressively and watching her with those eyes.

  Phoenix noticed her palms were sweating, and she wiped them on the crisp white sheets. She felt unsettled, restless. All of a sudden, she realized she wanted him gone.

  “If you don’t mind,” Phoenix muttered, barely above a whisper, “I think I need to rest now.” She lay back in her bed and pulled the sheets up tight.

  “As you wish,�
� he rasped.

  The door whooshed shut behind him, and Phoenix felt the tension in her body release as her heart began to slow. Now she just needed to figure out why.

  27. APPROACH

  Alessa’s body throbbed from head to toe by the time they reached Paragon’s walls. The muscles in her legs were hard and sore, and her feet ached right down to the bones. It’d taken five and a half days of strenuous hiking, from first light to dusk every single day. They’d covered some 140 miles of wilderness, but they’d made it.

  They didn’t have much of a choice but to hurry, what with the creatures constantly on their tail. Miraculously, they’d somehow managed to avoid any confrontations throughout their trek. Occasionally Alessa had heard noises from the woods beside them, or caught a glimpse of a large shadow pacing up ahead. But for some reason, the beasts had left them alone. Isaac was on edge, never quite believing that they were truly safe. But Alessa had decided to just be grateful when life threw a bone her way – it certainly didn’t happen often enough, that was for sure.

  Besides, she had other things on her mind at the moment. Joe, for one. Ever since they’d left Raptor, he’d come to dominate her thoughts once again, much to Alessa’s frustration.

  Alessa had hoped that she’d finally put her feelings for Joe to rest after a couple blissful days with Isaac hidden away at their new refuge, but as soon as her lungs had tasted the fresh air outside the base, her mind was flooded once again with this nagging obsession that she couldn’t seem to quell.

  And beyond that, Alessa had been working on a plan.

  Isaac had actually given her the idea, when he was trying to convince her back at Raptor that everything would be okay. “It’s not like we can just run away,” he’d said. “What about Janie? You’re just gonna leave her there?”