As he listened to the people outside his door, Bernard reached down and grabbed the IV needle sticking in his arm. Quick and accurate, he thought to himself. He wasn’t ready, but that didn’t matter. Life doesn’t wait for you to be ready. He tightened his grip on the needle. Then he heard them speaking. They weren’t coming closer to his door. Maybe he wasn’t alone. That didn’t make sense, though. All of the other cell doors were unlocked. Maybe they were bringing someone else down. Bernard carefully made his way toward the small square window in his door so that he could look out and see what was happening.
Bernard saw three men standing outside in the open area in the middle of the cells. Two of them were big, muscular men dressed in identical white outfits. The third man was smaller. He was dressed in ordinary street clothes. Bernard guessed that the two men in their white shirts and white pants worked there as guards or nurses or some sort of hybrid of the two. He didn’t know what to make of the third man. Bernard guessed that he could be one of the Company’s owners. Perhaps he was even a client. Perhaps this was the man who had paid millions of dollars for Bernard’s memories.
Bernard watched as the two men walked over to one of the cells and opened the door. For a moment he thought they might lock the third man inside, but instead the man walked into the cell, looked around, and then walked out again. The three men spoke, too softly for Bernard to make out any of the words, but he could tell their conversation was not confrontational. The more he watched, the more certain he became that he had seen the third man somewhere before. He was an odd-looking character with light skin and nearly white hair standing up wildly around his thin, square face. His eyes were so dark that Bernard couldn’t tell what color they were. They could have been deep blue or dark brown. Maybe they actually were black. Bernard must have seen his picture in a magazine, a story about a rich socialite of some sort. But that didn’t seem right. The man didn’t carry himself like a man of wealth.
Bernard got so lost in watching the third man that he forgot to hide his eyes from view. The man looked up. At first he glanced right past Bernard’s cell. Bernard froze, thinking that any movement would be even more conspicuous than his eyes staring out of the small window. The third man looked away from Bernard’s cell. Bernard tracked his line of sight. He was looking at the other cell doors, at their locks. He remained calm and kept talking to the two men in the white outfits. As the third man spoke, his eyes tracked back to Bernard’s cell and to the lock on the outside of his door. Bernard still didn’t move. He watched the third man as his eyes moved up from the lock to the window. Bernard and Cole made eye contact. It was brief. Cole averted his eyes so as not to draw attention to what he’d just seen.
Bernard moved slowly away from the door now and sat back down on the gurney. He didn’t know what was going to happen next.
Cole thanked the men who had led him down here and shown him where he was to spend the next half hour or so while the doctor did whatever he needed to do to make the memory-erasing procedure work. He told them that he was fine and that he wanted to lie down, which had been true. Only moments ago, that’s exactly what he wanted to do. He wanted to remember a few more of Ivan’s memories. He wanted to give them a proper sendoff in his head. Then he saw the face staring at him from the only locked cell, and what Cole wanted to do at the moment changed.
The two men prepared to leave. Cole asked them how long he had to rest. They assured him he had at least twenty minutes. Cole stepped into the cell directly opposite Bernard’s and sat on the bench against the wall. The men went to close the door. “Please leave it open,” Cole said to them.
“Don’t worry,” one of the men responded. “We aren’t going to lock it, but you’re supposed to have as few distractions as possible. I think it would be better if we close it.”
“I’m a bit claustrophobic,” Cole said. “I’ll be able to open it if I need to?”
“Sure, just give it a little push.”
The men closed the door and walked away. Cole waited a moment. Then he stood and walked to the door. He stared out the small square window. The windows to all of the other cells were empty. Then a face appeared in the window directly across from him. It was a younger man’s face. Cole would have guessed that he was about thirty years old. He was tan and handsome, with light blue eyes and sun-bleached hair. They stared at each other for a few seconds. Then Cole did what the other man could not. He reached down, pushed the door to his cell open, and stepped outside the cell. At first, he looked around to make sure that no one was there, watching him. The room was empty. Cole did notice a couple of surveillance cameras hanging from the ceiling, but he remembered Fergus telling him that the only people left in the building were those working on Cole’s procedure. He wondered if that was literally true or if Fergus had been exaggerating the extent of his philanthropy. Cole stared at the camera for a moment and then decided to go for it anyway.
Bernard watched through the window in his locked door as this strange man walked closer and closer to him. It was only when the man was three or four steps away that Bernard realized who he was. Bernard had seen his picture before and had read about him in a magazine or online, but it wasn’t an article about a rich socialite. It was an article about a murder. The man walking toward his cell was a police officer. He was the Memory Detective.
Cole stopped outside the door to Bernard’s cell. They stared at each other through the reinforced glass for a moment. Then Cole reached down and unlocked the door. He stepped back and pulled the door open. He didn’t leave it open, though, in case someone was intermittently watching the video surveillance. Instead, Cole stepped inside the cell with Bernard and closed the door behind him.
The two men stared at each other for a moment. “Who are you?” Cole asked, breaking the silence.
“My name is Bernard.”
“What are you doing here?” Cole was confident that he knew the answer but he wanted to be sure. He could see that Bernard was hooked up to a number of machines and medical devices.
Bernard didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t know how much he would have to explain. He decided to keep it simple. “They’re going to kill me,” he said.
Cole nodded. “They’re going to harvest your memories.”
“Yes,” Bernard said, relieved. “How did you know?”
“I’ve known about them for a while.” Cole could barely hide his guilt. “I worked on a case that the Company was involved with. I could never prove anything.”
“The Memory Vampire case?” Bernard said. He had read about the case even as far away as Asia. That’s where he had seen Cole’s picture. He had always assumed that the case had something to do with the Company.
“Yes,” Cole confirmed.
“What are you doing here?” asked Bernard, suddenly suspicious about how well the Company employees seemed to have treated him.
“It’s a long story,” Cole said, “and not very important to you. We only have a few more minutes, then I need to get back into the other room.”
The color ran out of Bernard’s face. “You have to help me escape,” Bernard said. “You can’t just leave me here to die.”
Cole looked around without even knowing what he was looking for. Answers, probably. It was one life versus potentially dozens. “I can’t just let you go,” he said to Bernard. “There’s important work that I need to do here.” Cole hesitated, though. What if he did let Bernard go and all hell broke loose? Maybe then he wouldn’t be able to finish the procedure. Maybe then he could save Ivan’s memories too. Cole felt guilty even considering it, but he considered it anyway. “Besides, if I let you go now, they’ll catch you.”
Bernard began to panic. His heart began to race. He looked up at the heart monitor and could see the increased activity. He tried to calm himself down, to avoid drawing any attention to himself. “I don’t know how much time I have,” Bernard said. “I don’t even think I’m supposed to be awake.” He glanced down at the gurney. “I don’t think I was suppo
sed to ever wake up again.”
Cole took a quick glance out of the square window. No one was coming. Not yet. “There’s barely anybody here,” Cole told Bernard. “They sent most of the people home. I don’t think they wanted me to see them. Whoever was supposed to be in charge of you must have been sent home too. He’s probably at a bar right now, on his fourth beer. The only person I think you need to worry about right now is Fergus, and he’s a bit distracted.”
“So you’re going to help me?” Bernard pleaded.
Cole could hear the fear in Bernard’s voice. That’s when he decided to save him. That’s when he decided to save them all. He didn’t want to compromise, to trade one life for another. He didn’t want to kill beauty in the name of hope. He wanted to be good. He began to speak quickly, knowing how short their time was. “I’ll leave the door to your cell unlocked. When they come back down to get me, I’ll make sure that nobody looks in this direction. You need to stay put for another forty-five minutes. That should be enough time. By then, everyone in this building is going to be focused on one thing.”
“What’s that?” Bernard asked.
“Me,” answered Cole. “After forty-five minutes, sneak out. Move quickly. Here.” With his finger, Cole drew a quick diagram on the wall, showing how to get out of the building. “Can you remember that?” Cole asked.
Bernard had the map in his head. He didn’t need it explained again. “Yes.” He looked down at his clothes. He was in a hospital gown. He had no shoes, no socks, no pants. “Once I get outside, where do I go?”
Cole shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know where we are.”
“So what do I do?” Bernard asked.
“Run,” Cole told him.
“What are you going to do?”
Cole shrugged. “I’m going to try to do what’s right.” With that, Cole pushed open the door to Bernard’s cell and stepped outside. He closed the door behind him and pushed the lock as far over as he could without locking Bernard in. Then he made his way back to his cell. After talking with Bernard, Cole wasn’t sure if he could go through with the procedure. He knew that he should. He could save people’s lives. He’d told himself he was going to be able to go through with it. He’d thought he could handle it. He was wrong. Ivan’s memories weren’t just chips in a game that Cole could throw away at will. The bomber had blown up Ivan’s body. She shouldn’t get to destroy his memories too.
Chapter 22
TWO DAYS AND EIGHT HOURS UNTIL THE SECOND BOMBING
Cole woke up in a daze, but he didn’t open his eyes. He wanted to focus on the memories. He didn’t want to have any of them impaired or impacted by what he saw around him. He had practiced this technique following his last nine memory transfers. Of course the procedure he was waking up from wasn’t a memory transfer, but it was intended to have the same effect. Erasing Ivan’s memories was supposed to make Faith’s memories flood into his mind. If it was going to work, he wanted Faith’s memories to be as pure as possible. Nothing came to him at first, but he waited a few moments. It often took a little time for the memories to come.
Then Cole opened his eyes wide. His heart began to race. He sat up suddenly and looked around him. Dr. Tyson was sitting next to his bed. He tried to breathe but felt like something was constricting his lungs. He felt fear begin to grip his entire body. It wasn’t one of Faith’s memories that induced the fear, though. It was one of his own.
Cole looked around him, trying to determine where he was. He looked past Dr. Tyson. They were in the fancy room with the televised wall. Dr. Tyson had set it so that it looked like they were looking over a gorgeous, barren desert full of rippling sand dunes. They were still in the Company’s compound. Cole had hoped that he’d be somewhere else, that they had transferred him to a real hospital while he was asleep.
“Are you okay?” Dr. Tyson asked as Cole looked up at her. “You were talking in your sleep.”
Cole had been having strange dreams full of bright colors, dense crowds, and exotic aromas. “What was I saying?” Cole asked her.
“Nothing coherent,” Dr. Tyson answered him. “Fergus said you tried to back out at the last minute.”
Cole nodded. “He forced me to go through with it. Ivan deserved better.”
“We all deserve better than what we get,” Dr. Tyson told him. “You, of all people, should know that. You need to focus now, though. Don’t let the sacrifice go to waste. Sit up. Have a drink of water.” Dr. Tyson reached over and grabbed a bottle from beside the bed. It was the same thick-glassed bottled water that they’d had in the SUV, another reminder of the danger Cole was in. “Take a moment. Then see if you can find the bomber’s memories. We don’t have much time.”
Cole pushed the bottle of water away. “We have to get out of here,” he said, trying to restrain the panic in his voice. “We have to go,” Cole repeated. “Now.” He’d remembered the man he’d set free before the procedure, the door that he’d unlocked. Cole didn’t have to try to imagine what the Company might do to him if they found out that he’d helped one of their assets escape. He knew what they would do. Dr. Tyson knew too, or at least that’s what Cole had been led to believe. Not only did she know; apparently, she had played a role planting the trigger inside Cole’s brain. It was part of the reason why he still wasn’t sure he could totally trust her.
“We don’t have to go, Cole. Everything you need is here. This building is designed for the purpose of triggering memories. Nobody has more experience than the people right here. I think leaving could be a big mistake.”
“This building wasn’t designed for the purpose of triggering the sort of memories that are in my head. I need to leave. You should come with me. I’m not sure it’s safe for you here either.”
“What are you talking about? You’re acting paranoid. This was one of the risks of removing the buffer to Faith’s memories. Can you remember them now?”
Cole shook his head. “This has nothing to do with Faith’s memories,” he said to Dr. Tyson. He grabbed her wrist. “This has to do with getting as far away from this place as possible, as far away from Fergus as possible.”
“I know you’re not happy with what they did to you, but for better or worse, we have the same goals now.” She looked down at Cole’s fingers, wrapped around her wrist. “I think Faith’s memories may be messing with your judgment. They obviously had an impact on hers. We need to be careful. You need to be somewhere where they can monitor you.”
“If I stay here, they’re probably going to kill me. I don’t know what they’ll do to you. This has nothing to do with Faith and it’s not paranoia. It’s real. We don’t have much time, if we’re not too late already.”
“Cole, what are you talking about? How am I supposed to believe this isn’t memory-induced paranoia? Talk to me.”
Cole took a deep breath. He tried to clear his head, tried to think of the right words to say to escape this nightmare. He turned and stared into Dr. Tyson’s eyes. “You did something to me. Something we never talked about. You put something in my head. I don’t know why you did it. Maybe they lied to you. I hope they lied to you. But you keep telling me you’re on my side. If you want me to believe that, if you want me to believe that you brought me here for any reason other than to help them drive me insane and ultimately kill me, you will help me get out of here.”
Dr. Tyson could tell how serious Cole was. She could see the gravity behind his eyes. He was near panic. She honestly had no idea what he was talking about. She didn’t know if he was going crazy, but even if he was, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to convince him that he was. All she could do was try to help him. “Okay,” she said to him quietly, trying to appease him and calm him, “what do you want me to do?”
“Just get me out of here.”
“Do you think I can sneak you out of here without anyone noticing?”
Cole knew she was right. The compound was thinly staffed, but everybody who was there was there specifically for him. It wouldn�
�t be possible for them to sneak out together. They would have to give Fergus a reason for them to leave. Then he would simply have to hope that Fergus let them go, that they hadn’t discovered what Cole had done yet. He stared at the giant, shifting desert projected on the wall next to them. “Fergus really seems like he wants to help stop the next attack. Tell him I need to leave to trigger Faith’s memories.”
“Cole, he’s going to tell us what I already told you. This place was designed to trigger memories. They can give you whatever you need. They have the most sophisticated memory-triggering technology available in the world. They have a budget that no hospital or clinic can match.” Dr. Tyson kept her voice quiet, as soothing as possible.
“Just tell him that I need to leave, that if he really wants to help, he’ll let me go.”
Dr. Tyson knew she couldn’t afford to put up much more of a fight if she were going to retain what little trust Cole might have in her, if there was any left at all. Her worst fears seemed close to being realized. He seemed to be going crazy right in front of her eyes. The only way she could protect him would be to keep his trust. “Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll tell him.” She stood and walked toward the door. There, she hit a button that looked like a doorbell, only this doorbell was on the inside. After she hit the button, she said out loud, “I need to talk to Fergus.” A second later, Cole heard a click as the door unlocked. Dr. Tyson took one more look back at Cole. “Try to stay calm,” she said to him. Then she stepped outside, closing the door behind her.
Cole was alone again. He thought about getting up and testing the door. He thought about running. Dr. Tyson was right; he wouldn’t be able to sneak out without being noticed, but maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe he would rather be gunned down trying to escape than have whatever they’d implanted in his brain triggered. What scared him more than the idea of dying was spending his last moments on this earth wanting to die. He knew firsthand how hard and cruel the world could be; he had the memories to prove it. But those memories were full of beauty too. He had survived this long on the simple knowledge that there was almost always beauty to find beneath the filth and the crud, almost always love hidden amid the horror if you looked hard enough. The memories showed that to him. That’s what he was addicted to. That’s why he didn’t want to let Ivan’s memories go.
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