by Ana Mardoll
"Even if we can find their families, their memories are still wiped," Celia says, a note of caution in her voice. "Reintegration would be difficult verging on impossible. Up you go, hon. The rest of you can fit on the bench in the cab with me," she adds, helping Reese into the truck.
Tyr snorts and stretches out his arm along the side of the truck bed. "Tell 'em they were brainwashed by a cult. They're dressed the part and humans will believe anything. You can send a siren along if you absolutely have to; no one ever tells them boo."
Lavender mimes for Keoki to help me into their vehicle. I do my best to follow their guidance, but my head is swimming with possibilities. Miyuki and xer father. He must have been close to me. Would he know my parents? I look at Celia as she helps Imani and Sappho slide into the cab of her truck.
"You will help us find our families?" My voice sounds far away to my own ears, spinning with the breeze of the forest behind us. "All our families?"
Celia hesitates until the girls are inside, then meets my eyes with her clear gaze. "We will try. The odds are not good and I am sorry for that. But we will make an effort to look and we will teach you how to keep looking if we are not successful. And no matter what you find, you have a family here with us."
Miyuki catches my eyes as Keoki helps me to lie on the back seat of the squat little vehicle, xer smile happier than I ever remember. And each other, xie mouths before blowing me a kiss. I can't reach into the air to catch it, but I know xie sees my answering grin.
Yes. We can make a family with each other.
Chapter 34
Keoki
Memories don't come flooding back, but everywhere I look there's something familiar. The sky darkens as we ride away, but not to the total blackness I experienced in the arena. Instead, it's a soft blend of blues and grays, dotted with yellow lights that dangle overhead as we drive: streetlights.
My eyes know these lights just as my skin knows the kiss of the warm night wind. The heady scent of summer grass, hot asphalt, and burning gasoline brings tears to my eyes. We're home, I think, one arm draped over the side of the truck and around Tony, while the other holds a blanket Celia brought out to cover our bloodstained clothes and armor. Even if we don't remember it, we're still home.
We drive through a quiet town that feels bigger than it looks and come out on the other side to a stretch of wide road that would be empty were it not for the truck under us, the sports utility vehicle in front, and two new vehicles that swing out behind us: a giant white camper, the kind you can live inside as long as you don't mind cramped spaces, and a blue mini-van that looks like it could easily hold all of us. Clarent, the silver guy sitting with Matías, lifts a hand to wave at them before giving the rest of us a warm smile.
"Friends of ours," he explains, his voice carried away by the night wind. "Celia calls people on her cellphone. I'm still learning mine," he adds, scrunching up his metal nose in annoyance.
We pull in beside a lake dotted with fire pits around the perimeter and an occasional small building jutting from the grass-speckled sand. We pile out as the van parks behind us and a pretty woman hops from the driver's seat. She's as lean as the nearby trees and her skin as roughly textured as their bark. A quick introduction is tossed in our direction—"Name's Pensri. Call me Pri."—then she begins hauling out canvas and poles from her van, tossing them onto the sand before staking them up.
The camper is close on her heels and pulls off the road in a wide turn. A man steps down and looks around for someone he doesn't see; he has skin so pale he almost glows in the moonlight. "Where is my patient?" he asks Celia, who's slamming the truck door behind her.
"Lynn, the girl is in Rose's car. After you've finished with her, I want individual checks on everyone, one at a time in the RV with you. Sorry to drag you out here. I didn't figure they'd want to be separated yet, and a camping site is the best place to hide a dozen kids in plain sight. Pri, you got our permits?" She stalks over to the woman, reaching to help with the tent poles.
"Reserved our spot on my phone," the visitor replies without looking up. Celia nods without another word, and the two women strike up a silent rhythm as they work.
The rest of the night is surreal, starting with the fact that there even is a night at all. We do what we can to help Celia and Pri set up the massive tent, while Handler moves slowly about the group, unchaining the girls one by one. Pri announces that she brought food, so we get to make a fire and roast hot dogs and burn them until the skin is crackly and crispy. Aniyah and Miyuki are with the healer for a long time, and I join the group conversation to cover the gnawing worry in my stomach that food can't fix. We share words and learn new ones, and tell our rescuers about the arena and what we can do.
When Aniyah finally comes out of the camper, she's walking on her own two feet. She's a little unsteady and holding Miyuki's hand, but her easy smile is back. I jump up to meet them and pull her into a gentle hug. "You look amazing. Are you all fixed up now, like Justin? I missed you."
Her grin widens but she shakes her head. "Um. No, not healed but better. I have a lot to think about, but it's going to be okay."
I want to ask her what she means by that, but the healer places a delicate hand on my shoulder. "You next. Come on. You can talk later." I shrug and follow him up the camper steps with a parting grin. It's not like she's going anywhere, not when this is home and we've finally found it.
The inside of the camper is only slightly less sweltering than the campsite outside, and I plop down onto a nearby bench. Lynn kneels on the floor in front of me without saying a word, his fingers reaching out to hover just above my feet. I'm about to ask what he's doing; then his hands begin to glow faintly and he guides them over my body with a frown of concentration. The thin layer of air between us remains intact as he stands and moves up my chest, ending his examination with both hands above my head.
"You're healthy as a horse," he announces, leaning back on his heels and brushing his no-longer-glowing hands on his pants. "Send the next one in when you leave. Thanks."
I blink at the sudden dismissal, but nod and step back out into the night. Maybe things just aren't going to make sense for a while, I conclude, catching Tony's eye and jerking my thumb back towards the camper door. "You're up, but ask him how healthy a horse is for me? Kinda important."
As the healer finishes with us, we drift to the tent in ones and twos. We spend the night lying on ground that is even harder than the rock beds we've left behind. The temperature isn't quite as hot as the arena, but the nearby lake adds a sticky layer of humidity to coat our skin. With so many of us crammed into such a small space, the ruckus of snores, snorts, and nightmare-tremors is loud enough to prevent almost any sleep at all. I snuggle closer to Tony, listen to his heartbeat under my ear, and decide this is perfection.
This impression is reinforced when the sun comes up the next morning and we wake to the smoky scent of a fire, blended with sweet and savory aromas that make my stomach growl. We scramble out to find Tyr cooking skewered bacon while Pri uses tongs to turn over a loaf of foil containing a block of sliced bread, now turned into French toast through the magic of a liquid egg mix and frozen sliced strawberries. She helps us load food onto paper plates while Celia paces some distance away, her phone pressed to her ear.
"You're sure the pictures match?" A pause while the person at the other end talks and Celia tugs at her braid. "And it's just the one? I don't know if that makes things better or worse. No, we'll manage on our own; you get started on identities for the others. Yes, I'm aware it's a lot; Elric, I didn't bring in fourteen refugees to personally spite you. Take 'em a day at a time, and—" Another long pause. I look up from my bacon to see Celia rub her forehead while noise babbles into her ear. "No. No. Fine. Thank you, Elric."
She jams the phone into her pocket and strolls over to us. "What's going on?" Matías asks, looking up with alert interest where he sits with his cane. His knee seems the same as ever, so I guess the healer with the glowing hands wasn'
t as good as the girl who healed Justin.
"Everything is probably okay," Celia says, choosing her words with care. "I asked Elric to sweep the local 'Missing Persons' database; there's a public site he checks every so often. It is very rare for altereds to show up there, but you said you hadn't been gone long." This is directed at Miyuki, who is sitting straight as a spear.
"And?" she breathes, the food in her hands forgotten.
"We found an entry for one Emma, complete with a grainy photo which Elric insists matches the picture I texted him. She looks at Aniyah and myself. "You two are mentioned briefly by name in the notes. That's it; there's no separate report for either of you. You're both officially missing in the sense that you disappeared around the same time Emma did, but there's otherwise no trace of you in the system. If Elric hadn't been looking for her, he'd never have found you two."
I frown, trying to work this out. "What does that mean? Why does she have a report and we don't? What's wrong with me and Aniyah?"
Celia's furrowed brow indicates more concern than her easy stance lets on. "We don't know why altereds disappear without leaving the usual traces. In my experience Emma is the exception, not you and Aniyah. Maybe her family was somehow more resistant to the fade than most. I don't know."
"But we can go home?" Miyuki sets aside her plate and stands up, brushing her hands on her robes. "I can see my family?"
"It's up to you," Celia says, her voice gentle. "It will be difficult to reintegrate without memories, but Tyr's right that we can make up a story and bluff our way through. If we're going to do that, we ought to take you in now; the longer we wait, the worse it'll look if they retrace your steps. Disheveled and confused and found by the side of the road in white robes: all those details work for his kidnapped-by-a-cult story. I can't be the one to take you in, so I'll need to call one of our sirens to play the part."
The three of us look at each other. Miyuki reaches for Aniyah's hand and Tony slips his into mine for a quick squeeze. "Let's do it now," I vote, rewarded with a warm smile of approval from Miyuki.
We get up to hug the others and say goodbye for the next few hours, then Aniyah looks at Celia with a question in her bright eyes. "How long were we gone?"
"Twenty-seven days, according to the police report," she answers, her eyes on her phone where she's texting our proposed escort with directions to the lake.
Twenty-seven days. I've only just been reintroduced to the concept of days after the eternal sunlight of the arena, but the number seems staggeringly large. I spend the ride to the police station trying and failing to match the time we lost here to the time spent over there. Did time pass differently while we were gone, or was I too disoriented to tell?
I hadn't known what to expect when we reach the police station, yet they still manage to surprise me with their almost total indifference. The man at the front desk seems less concerned with us and more interested in getting the telephone number of our escort, a slender-limbed hypnotic-voiced girl with shimmering fish-scales spreading up the back of her neck and down her arms. She draws the attention of everyone within earshot, leaving little left over for our disheveled selves.
This pattern repeats as we're passed from officer to officer while they search for Miyuki's file, which seems to have gone missing. Long after my stomach begins reminding me about lunch, the officer we've ended up with decides we have been missing after all; this is convenient, because it matches our collective insistence that we've been kidnapped by persons unknown. Miyuki's file is found and turns out to be a slender printout with only the barest of details.
"Ah! Here we are," he says, stabbing a triumphant finger at the sparse notes. "Young woman reported missing by her mother. Normally we wait twenty-four hours to file a report, but when your father golfs with the mayor..." He chuckles and shakes his head. "We've been expecting a ransom demand."
"My girlfriend and I were kidnapped together," Miyuki says, feeling her way through our tenuous story with care. "Did anyone report her missing?" She stretches her hand out in an attempt to take the file, her fingers almost trembling with need; he ignores the gesture and takes a sip from his water bottle.
"Ann-i-yah?" He glances up at Aniyah before returning to his perusal. "Out-of-state student and roommate. We found your car at a bar downtown; first hint you two hadn't just driven out of town on a lark. Second was the 911 call we got from the same location. Ran the number on the cellphone; came back registered to..."
He hesitates, looking at my name on the page and then back at me. I nod for him to continue, confused by the pause. "...K-man here. We figured you three were bar-hopping together when you got nabbed. K-man shot off an emergency call before he was disconnected."
We exchange glances, unsure how much of this to believe. "We don't remember much of that night," Aniyah begins cautiously, to be interrupted by our escort.
"They were disoriented when I found them by the side of the road," says the siren, giving the officer a plaintive look. I still haven't caught her name, which is odd because I know she's given it several times. Her voice draws my attention every time she speaks, but it's like I'm too busy listening to the sound to hear her actual words. "Starved and beaten and dressed in funny-looking robes. Their scrapes and bruises made me think they might have been thrown from a car. I'm surprised they remember their own names."
He nods so vigorously I think his head might fall off. "Happens. College students are particularly susceptible to cults. You kids are lucky they got tired of waiting for a ransom and kicked you to the curb. We'll finish taking your statement and get you the name of a shrink you can talk to. Then we'll call your parents and get you a ride home. Wait here; I'll make sure the front desk has their numbers."
I don't know whether to feel relief or frustration at his lack of interest in the details of our ordeal. We give vague statements about beatings and meager food served out by strangers with veiled faces whilst being held in a cave we didn't recognize: easy half-truths Celia encouraged us to stick to. When I think I'm about to faint from hunger, they bring in three adults I don't recognize. Two of them rush to embrace Miyuki while the remaining one—a handsome man with dark skin and a kind smile softening his weathered face—wraps me in a tight bear-hug.
That's how I meet my father, George, for what feels to me like the first time.
My dad takes me to his home, which turns out to be my old home: a place I once lived in a bedroom filled with things that were mine. Everything I touch feels familiar, yet I recognize none of it. I'm drawn to the guitar that stands at the foot of my bed, my hand reaching for the pick at my wrist; somehow my fingers know how to play even when my brain scrambles to catch up. Through muscle memory and a lot of bluffing, I'm able to fake my way through eighty percent of each day.
When I can't fake something, Dad frowns but says he understands. The words cult and head-injury and traumatic disorder get thrown around when he thinks I can't hear. He spends a lot of time on the phone with police, doctors, school officials, and my mother, Kailani. My mind whispers makuahine the first time I hear her warm voice on the line, and I learn she lives in Hawai'i. I don't remember Hawai'i, but as soon as I see pictures on the internet the sounds and scents of home come flooding back.
This is how I learn how to trigger memories in little ways: foods Dad makes for me, each bite an explosion of savory familiarity; the clothes tucked farthest back in my closet, scented with old shampoo; the texture of white sand I keep in a jar under my bed. Over the weeks, I piece old half-memories together like a jigsaw, trying to match them up with the things I've experienced. Sometimes I'm frustrated with how slowly I'm integrating back into my old life, but at least I have good recollections to comfort me. Images from the arena stalk me at night, turning my dreams to nightmares until I wake in a cold sweat. I tremble until I remember where I am, or until Tony, my new boyfriend, reaches over to pull me into a tight hug.
I'm surprised to learn I'd been a student before I was taken, and then surprised by my own rea
ction. Somehow I'd internalized the notion that my mind and body were for fighting, and it's strange now to be faced with a world of choices about my future. I've missed the start date for the autumn semester and am too 'traumatized' for late enrollment—a word that neatly sums up the fact that I have to be reminded of what I've been majoring in for the past three years—but there's nothing stopping me from enrolling again in the spring. I have a legal identity, a home, and people who care about me.
Nor, as it turns out, do I have to stay here in Texas.
A couple months after I come out, Dad tells me he's planning to move back to Hawai'i. He says he misses Makuahine and that my absence made him rethink his priorities. He offers to take me with him and I'm tempted. I want to see the home I don't remember and become acquainted with it all over again. I want to see Makuahine, not just for a visit or over a call; I'd like to actually live with her, see her every day, and hug her whenever I can. I talk to Celia after one of the altered meetings, and she reckons I'd be as safe there as anywhere else, if not safer. When she shakes my hand and walks off, I realize I'm disappointed by her answer.
I have friends here. I have a boyfriend whom I bring home to meet Dad, then take out on the town for dinner and a movie. We drag ourselves to his brand-new apartment at sleep-o'clock and collapse on his bed: a very big bed, I'm delighted to see. When the sun rises, we vote for sexy shower times. I like that part very much. We have a girl friend who might or might not be a girlfriend, who is happy to drop by on weekends to watch television and roll around on the big bed with us. If I moved away, I would be leaving behind people who have accompanied me through something no one else understands.
It takes me two weeks to tell Dad what I realize I've known much longer: I'm staying in Texas. My school is here, and so is my boyfriend. He can't hide his disappointment at my decision and asks me about a million times if I'm sure, but when push comes to shove he says he understands. He hugs me and shakes Tony's hand, and tells me he'll see me again soon when I come to visit. He says to follow my dreams, be happy, and become the man I want to be. I laugh and tell him I'm happy right now and I like who I am, so I'm ahead of the game there.