by Cross, Amy
"We have to -" I start to say.
"Turn around," she says again, interrupting me, "and cross the street. Like I said, I don't want to shoot you, but if you force me..."
"You've been in communication with someone the whole time?" I ask, staring at the device strapped to her arm.
"The company has workarounds for certain problems," she replies.
"So you could have just called home and asked when the storm's likely to be over?"
"The storm will end when I give the order," she says. "As Dr. Cooper pointed out repeatedly, this isn't a normal storm. It's part of the defense mechanism put in place by the company in case anything went wrong."
"You can't start a storm like this on purpose," I reply.
"Yes," she says firmly, "I can. We developed some very interesting technology at Compidome, and we didn't share it all with the world. Not by any means. When the experiment went wrong, I needed to make sure that no-one else came snooping around until I could get back to the city and check on a few things. That's why the storm was created as soon as our boat had reached the shore. It was only a matter of time before the E.U. or the U.N. would've sent vessels over here, with landing parties. We needed to deter them. They'll be waiting for the storm to break, which means we've got time to get the mission resolved." She pauses. "But not if you keep asking dumb questions. Walk."
I want to call her bluff, but there's a look in her eyes that suggests she just might be willing to pull that trigger. Lacey seems to be a dangerous combination of scared and crazy, and even though I still don't understand everything that's happening here, I figure my best option is to play along for now. Cautiously, I turn and start walking across the street, with the storm still raging across the city. Water is flowing past me and a strong wind is trying to push me along, and I have to shield my eyes from the driving rain.
"This isn't illegal!" Lacey calls out to me from a few paces behind, no doubt with the gun still pointing straight at me. "It's just unethical! And it'd raise a lot of questions! Once we've retrieved a few items from the Compidome office, I'll put the gun down and we'll go back to the boat! I honestly have no desire to hurt you! I hope you understand that!"
As I continue to walk, I find myself wondering whether I could make a break for it. I don't know how far behind she is, but I figure I'd at least have a chance of getting the gun out of her hand. Then again, I should probably try to lull her into a false sense of security, and strike when she's least expecting it. Deciding to bide my time, I allow her to direct our path, and once we're across the street, she tells me to turn left, and then eventually to take a right and head along a street that leads away from the waterfront.
"Are you mad at me?" she calls out from behind.
Ignoring the question, I keep walking. The wind is blowing against us, making it harder and harder to make any progress, and I'm starting to feel weak and tired. There's a part of me that wants to just stop and sit down right here, in the middle of the soaking wet sidewalk, but I know I have to keep walking.
"Cross!" Lacey shouts.
Stopping for a moment, I turn and then start wading across the storm-ravaged street. I have no idea where we're going, but in a nearby shop window I get a glimpse of my reflection, and I see that Lacey is several paces behind me, with the gun still aimed at my back. She might seem like a china doll, but there's clearly a sense of real danger about this woman, and I'm going to have to choose a perfect moment in order to strike back. I just wish I'd seen this side of her sooner. How could I have been so dumb? How could Cooper and I have not realized that she had some kind of ulterior motive? I guess we were just blinded by the fact that she was willing to pay so well for our services. After everything we've done in our lives, did we blunder into our deaths purely because someone dangled enough money in front of us?
"Stop!" Lacey calls out.
Stopping, I wait for my next command. Right now, I'm too tired and drained to fight back. Slowly, I turn and see that while she's still got the gun pointed at me, she's distracted by something she's trying to pull out of her pocket. For a moment, I consider trying to grab the gun, but I know I'm too weak to put up much of a fight. Finally, I watch as Lacey pulls out what appears to be some kind of access card, which she slips into a slot in a nearby doorway. To my surprise, a small green light flashes for a moment, and a decrepit-looking wooden door clicks open.
"Huh," Lacey says, seeming momentarily amazed. "It all still works perfectly. Isn't that amazing? Despite everything that's happened, it all still goes."
"I thought there was no power!" I shout, trying to make myself heard above the howling wind.
"Underground generators!" she calls back to me. "It's marginally easier to survive a disaster if you're the ones who caused it in the first place! Now get inside. You have to go first, but don't worry, it's perfectly safe."
Unable to summon the energy to resist, I walk through the door and find myself in what appears to be some kind of futuristic-looking bunker. There's a large Compidome logo on one wall, and a desk at the far end of the room, but there are no windows, and the place seems strikingly lifeless. Hearing a noise behind, I turn to see that Lacey has followed me inside, and she pushes the door shut before turning to me.
"It's quiet," I say, realizing that I can no longer hear the noise of the storm.
"Isolation," she replies, with the gun still pointed at me. "The building was designed to be insulated from the sounds of the city. It was just an experimental project at first, but eventually we decided to leave it in place. I mean, who wants to hear the sound of cars passing and people arguing all day?" She pauses. "Head over to the desk."
"So this is Compidome's New York office?" I say, as I walk slowly across the room. "I asked around, but no-one was ever really sure where you were based. A few people had heard of the company, but everyone was very vague on the details. Even after you approached us to come out here, Cooper and I couldn't find out much."
"We like to keep a low profile," she replies, keeping pace with me. "It's one of the ways we avoid scrutiny."
"Scrutiny?" I reply. "From who?"
"Anyone and everyone," she says. "Governments. Regulators. Journalists. The public. It's so much easier to get on with your work if no-one's looking over your shoulder all the time, asking dumb questions. Do you have any idea how many bureaucratic hurdles are put in the way of even the most simple operation? All the money in the world can't buy you a free hand. There's no way I was willing to let mindless little bureaucrats slow us down. Our work has always been too important."
As we reach the desk, I turn to her. "Everything that's happened," I say, as I'm struck by a sudden moment of realization. "Everything we've encountered since we got here, everything we've seen... You acted as if it was as much as surprise to you as it was to the rest of us, but you understand it, don't you? You know what's happening."
"Most of it," she says a little uneasily, keeping the gun trained on me as she walks over to the nearby wall and presses a button next to a set of doors. "There have been a few surprises, but..." She pauses. "I couldn't just come out with it all, could I? Besides, it was kind of fun play-acting a little. I was hoping to steer you, Cooper and Gretchen to the building without raising any suspicions, but obviously things got a little out of hand. Gretchen's death was unfortunate, but Cooper's made me realize that it was time to get a move on."
I pause, feeling a kind of cold anger starting to build in my body. "When we were huddled in that subway station," I continue after a moment, "you knew the storm wouldn't stop, but you didn't say anything."
"I figured it'd be more realistic if I pretended to be scared for a while," she replies. "Well, I was scared. I mean, I am scared. It's just, I couldn't tell you everything I knew, could I? I still needed the pair of you on my side."
"And that guy," I continue. "Lydecker. Did you know about him?"
She pauses. "No," she says eventually, even though there's a look of concern in her eyes that says otherwise.
&
nbsp; "Are you sure?"
"Why would I lie to you now?" she asks, but it's clear that she's feeling extremely uncomfortable. I guess her whole persona since we arrived here has been partly genuine and partly a lie. She's had genuine reactions, but she's framed them in very specific, and totally false, contexts. Behind her, the doors slide open to reveal what appears to be the chamber of an elevator. "Come on," she says nervously. "We're going up."
"Do you know where everyone went?" I ask, walking over to the chamber and stepping inside. It's hard to believe that Lacey Hobbs could be in a position of such power, but behind the fragile, panicked mask, there must be a personality of solid steel and determination.
"Can we not talk about this now?" she asks, joining me and pressing a button. "It's not something I really want to get into." Moments later, the chamber starts to rise, and soon we're traveling up through a glass-walled tube that reveals a stunning view of New York. Lacey smiles nervously at me, and I can see that she's scared of something, even if she's not willing to tell me the full truth. I'm absolutely convinced that she could end up shooting me in a moment of panic, and that's what makes her so dangerous.
"Are you responsible?" I ask eventually. "Is this whole mess your fault? Yours and the company's?"
Staring at me, she doesn't reply.
"It's okay," I continue. "You can tell me. I just want to know. Did Compidome have something to do with the way all those people disappeared?"
"Let's just focus on the task at hand, okay?" she replies, with the gun still pointed at me. "I'd rather not get distracted by endless conversations where you try to pick at the truth. Once we're done, I'll be happy to show you all the reports and information your heart desires, but right now we just need to focus." As the chamber continues to rise higher and higher up the side of what seems to be a huge skyscraper, she looks up at the ceiling and there's a clear look of fear in her eyes. She might be the one holding a gun, but I get the feeling that she's not in control of this situation.
Caroline Jones
Fourteen days ago
When I open my eyes, I see that the light outside the window has changed. Earlier, it was bright and sunny, whereas now there's a softer, warmer glow. Blinking a couple of times, I realize that I must have been asleep for a few hours, and when I reach over and grab my phone from the nightstand, I see that it's almost 5pm.
Rolling over, I find Reed fast asleep next to me. My first thought is pure, overwhelming relief that we're both still here. A few hours ago, I was terrified that one or both of us would simply disappear while we slept, but so far everything seems unchanged. I feel warmer, too, as if his body warmed me while we were making love. It felt so good to have his skin against mine, and even though I'm usually the kind of woman who thinks it's racy to kiss on a first date, I can't pretend for a moment that I regret what happened. I needed human contact, and I needed to distract myself from the fear that was growing and growing in my heart. Right now, I feel a little more confident, but I'm sure the panic will return next time I have to go to sleep. For now, I just have to focus on the fact that I'm alive and awake, and I still exist.
Figuring I should let Reed sleep for a few more minutes, I carefully climb out of bed and slip into my panties before walking through to the bathroom. I stand in front of the mirror, looking for any hint of change, but I still look like myself. I don't know what I was expecting, really, but eventually I hold my hands up, convinced that they're suddenly going to be see-through. Finally, I allow myself to relax as I realize that I'm definitely still here. Then again, it's not as if this whole mess is over yet. We still have to go to Church Street and find the Compidome office, but maybe Reed's right; maybe they'll be able to help us. It's not much of a hope, but it's something.
Checking the bandage on my shoulder, I see that there doesn't seem to have been any fresh bleeding while I was asleep. Reed and I both had to be careful while we were making love, and we both experienced some pain a couple of times, but we kept going regardless. It was good to be with him. In a way, I feel as if we're the only people in the world who can understand each other.
I take a few minutes to fix myself up. One of the things that's been worrying me since Chloe's death is the possibility that I might suddenly get incredibly thirsty, which seemed to be the only obvious symptom that she was sick. So far, though, I feel okay; I drink a glass of water, but I'm definitely no more thirsty than normal. Taking a deep breath, I keep trying to tell myself that while it's good to be wary, I can't afford to waste energy on unnecessary worries. If I was going to get sick or disappear, it would have happened while I was asleep. Pumped up on adrenalin, I figure that if what happened to Chloe was going to happen to me, it would have happened back in the coffee shop. There's no reason that -
Suddenly the door opens and Reed walks in, completely naked, stopping as soon as he sees me.
"Woah!" he says, looking shocked.
"Hey," I reply.
We stare at each other for a moment, locked in an awkward silence.
"You do remember me, right?" I ask eventually.
"Of course," he says, staring at my bare breasts.
"How are you feeling?" I continue.
"Good," he replies. "I'm really..." He pauses. "Yeah, I'm really good. Are you good?"
"I'm good," I say, with a faint smile. "Sorry if I woke you. It's getting late, though. Don't you think we should get going?"
"Yeah," he says cautiously, but I can see from the look in his eyes that something's wrong.
"What is it?" I ask.
"Nothing," he says quickly. "I just... I'm just not used to..." He pauses.
"Reed?" I ask, unable to ignore the sensation of dread that's starting to build in the pit of my stomach. "What's my name?"
"Your name?"
"What's my name?" I ask again.
"It's..." He pauses, and finally a sheepish grin crosses his face. "Look, I'm really sorry, I'm not this kind of guy at all. I never, ever, get so drunk that I can't remember what happened, but..." He stares at me. "Can we start again? My name is Reed Williams. And your name is..."
"You don't remember me," I say, starting to tremble with fear. "I knew this would happen! You don't remember me at all, do you?"
"I'm trying," he says, smiling as if this is all a joke. "I'm guessing... I mean, don't take the wrong way, but since I'm naked and you're almost naked, I'm assuming we..." He pauses. "Are we in a hotel?"
Staring at him, I realize that my worst fears have come true. I might still exist, and he can certainly still see me, but he has no idea who I am.
"What's your name?" he asks, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. "Let's start there."
"Compidome," I say.
"That's your name?"
"My name's Caroline," I say firmly. "But tell me what the name Compidome means to you."
"Um..." He pauses. "Sounds like a company. Something to do with technology?"
"Who's John Lydecker?" I ask, hoping against hope that maybe I can remind him of everything that's happened.
"John Lydecker?" He frowns. "I'm sorry, I've never heard that name before. Listen, would you let me buy you breakfast? I'd really like to talk to you and understand how we ended up like this, and maybe... figure out what's going on. I mean, like I already said, I'm totally not the kind of guy who wakes up in hotel rooms with random women he doesn't even remember."
"Chloe Atkins," I say.
"Who?"
"Fuck," I mutter, with tears in my eyes. "You don't remember anything." Turning to face the mirror, I stare at myself for a moment, half-expecting that I'll fade from sight at any moment.
"Let's get breakfast," he says, "and we can talk, okay? I feel as if maybe we should meet each other properly. What exactly happened, anyway? We were, like, in a bar or something?" He waits for me to say something, and then reaches up and touches his shoulder. "What the hell happened to me?" he asks, feeling the edge of the bandage. "Seriously, what's this?"
I turn and stare at him fo
r a moment. "A man named John Lydecker shot you," I say eventually. "With a rubber bullet. He shot me too, in pretty much the same place. We got into the back of an ambulance and you fixed us up. Then we came here. We were..." I sigh, realizing that I can't lie to him. I need to tell the truth, as much for my benefit as for his. "We met a couple of days ago. We were both looking for Lydecker. Chloe Atkins was with us too. People stopped remembering us, as if our lives were being erased, and then eventually Chloe died. She suffocated after her skin seemed to close up. And we ended up here, resting for a while before we go to find the office of this company that seems to be involved." I wait for him to say something. "Does that make any sense to you at all?"
He smiles nervously, as if he's started to think that maybe I'm insane.
"I have to go to Church Street," I say, hurrying past him and grabbing my clothes from the floor. Despite the pain in my shoulder, I start getting dressed as quickly as possible. "I have to find Compidome."
"Are you okay?" Reed asks, watching me from the bathroom doorway.
"Don't worry about me," I say as I hook my bra back on. "Just... Don't worry."
"I'd still like to buy you breakfast," he says. "It sounds like you've got some interesting stuff going on."
"It's nothing to do with you," I reply, feeling my panic starting to be replaced by a kind of cold-hearted determination. "Not anymore. It's just me." I pause as I realize that it's true: Chloe and Reed are both gone now, and as far as I know, I'm the only one left. "It's just me," I say again, as I struggle to get my shirt back on.
"You can't go out there like that," he says. "I don't quite get what happened, but we should both get to a hospital. I'll drive. Do you happen to know where I left my car?"
"You go to hospital," I tell him. "I'm going to Compidome."