Gabe leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“With Dr. Wesley,” I added.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Gabe said softly, head drooping so he could smooth back his already-smoothed-back hair.
I started fidgeting with the hem of my zip-up hoodie, my bottom lip unconsciously drawn between my teeth. Inexplicably, I felt tears well in my eyes, and I bit down a little too hard on my lip to hold them back. I couldn’t, however, prevent my chin from trembling.
“I—” Gabe stood abruptly. “I should see if I can find out anything from my old contacts back at the Colony. Excuse me.” I watched him stride to the front door, his long legs eating up the hardwood in a mere handful of steps, and then he was gone.
For several seconds, I stared at the door, my eyes tracing the outline of the six small panes of glass inset into the wood but not really seeing. For several minutes after that, I stared at the cup of tea steaming on the end table, then at the low flames dancing in the hearth.
I thought I should pick up the mug of tea, or possibly tend to the fire, or sort and clean up one of the myriad of bunches of herbs hanging to dry from the hooks Jason had screwed into the cottage’s low, exposed crossbeams throughout the front room, or do anything else besides sit in that chair doing nothing. But nothing was all I seemed capable of at the moment. I could sit there and do nothing while confusion crept in and the thin veil of numbness shielding me from hope and excitement and all-encompassing joy and fear grew thinner and thinner.
I jumped when someone knocked on the front door. When the door didn’t immediately open, I turned my head and stared, hard, but my angle was wrong and I couldn’t see through the small windows to tell who was on the other side. Why wasn’t the visitor simply letting themselves in?
Again, someone knocked on the door, louder this time. “Dani? It’s Tom. Can I come in?” There was no question of whether or not I was within; with his Ability, he could sense me easily enough.
So, with a sigh, I hoisted myself up out of the armchair, trudged to the entryway, and opened the door. “Come on in,” I said, holding my arm out in wilted invitation.
Tom stood in the doorway, hands in the pockets of his worn leather coat, somehow looking both sturdy and rickety at the same time. Though Jason was larger than Tom, he had definitely inherited his father’s prominent stature. And for the first time while looking at Tom, I wondered if I might be catching a glimpse several decades into the future. I had to stop myself from studying his weathered features too closely, from seeking every little hint of his son, every little undefinable reminder of Jason.
Ducking his head in greeting, Tom stepped through the doorway. My heart clenched and my stomach twisted. There was so much of Jason in that single motion, and I felt instantly grateful that Tom hadn’t visited me in the cottage until now. A week ago, I wouldn’t have been able to handle such a raw reminder of what was gone, or even yesterday. But today, everything was different. No matter how hard I tried to quell the hope that Becca’s vision had stirred, I couldn’t ignore it completely. I couldn’t prevent at least a small part of myself from believing that Jason truly was alive.
I shut the door and turned around to find Tom standing behind one of the chairs at the kitchen table. His hands gripped the top rail, seeming to steady him. “Please, sit,” he said, pulling out the chair.
Frowning, I crossed the short distance between us, the wood floor creaking under my boots, and sat in the offered chair. My stomach was still far from settled, and I glanced at the mug on the end table indecisively, but before I could stand again to retrieve it, Tom was already moving toward it.
“Here you go,” he said, setting the mug on the farm table before me and taking the adjacent chair.
I looked at him, then at the mug for several long seconds, before I finally lifted my stare back up to his troubled blue eyes.
He smiled sheepishly. “Yes, I did just glean that from your mind, and I’m sorry.” He bowed his head, just a little. “I know how much you value the privacy of your own thoughts, and I really do try to keep to myself.”
Raising my eyebrows, I picked up the mug and brought it up to my lips. For whatever reason, I’d expected it to taste like bitter raspberries despite the honey, but I was pleasantly surprised by something that tasted quite a bit like black tea.
“Anna enjoyed it as well,” Tom said softly, and when my eyes met his, he offered me that same, quiet smile. “The kids never knew about it, but we lost our first baby. It was the stress, after leaving Gregory, or the fear, I guess you could say.” His fond expression melted, and I found myself sitting next to the same lost man I’d known as Zoe’s dad for most of my life. He cleared his throat. “Your grandmother was a great help during the pregnancy…and after.”
My mouth felt suddenly parched, so I took another sip and licked my lips. “I’m so sorry.”
Tom nodded slowly. “Thank you.” He sighed. “But I’m not here to dig up old losses. I know you think you might be repressing something in your memory of that day, and that Zoe’s been trying to help you uncover whatever that may be…and I also know about the dream you had last night.”
“How—”
“I picked up on it out there,” he said, nodding toward the door. He studied my face for a moment. “I know you both think her efforts have been unsuccessful, but I think you’re wrong, and I think your dream is evidence of that. I think she’s nudged the truth—uncovered the tip of the iceberg, if you will.”
I took another sip of tea, holding the warm liquid in my mouth, waiting.
“The fact of the matter is, Zoe’s dead set on going to search for Jason, but I’m not willing to let my one remaining child risk her life on a manhunt unless I know for sure that he’s out there.”
I swallowed the tea in one big gulp and winced. And coughed. “So what are you saying exactly?”
“Zoe’s Ability is strong.” Tom’s gaze met mine, his eyes blue pools of determination. “Mine is stronger.”
“So you want to dig through my memories,” I said flatly. It wasn’t that it was a bad idea; on the contrary, it was a great one. It was just that it was such a violation of me. When Zoe did it, I had no control of what she did or didn’t see, or of how long she rifled around in my mind. It was hard enough handing over that control to someone I trusted implicitly. And now Tom was asking me to do the same with him.
But if it helps us find Jason…
I pressed my lips together and nodded resolutely. “Alright. But can Zoe come along for the ride? Is that even possible?”
Tom’s shoulders sagged in relief. “I was just about to suggest that myself.”
~~~~~
I relaxed in one of the comfy chairs near the fireplace, footrest extended and chairback reclined. Zoe was perched on a stool to the right of the recliner, and her dad sat on my left. Each held one of my hands; Tom claimed physical contact would only increase the connection, making the memory-excavating process both quicker and easier. Both sounded good to me, especially considering what memory I would be reliving during the process, fully conscious and aware.
“Alright,” Tom said, giving my hand a squeeze. “We’re going to go through the memory once, as is.” When I looked at him, I found his attention on Zoe. “This will allow us to look for any seams—places where a ‘patch’ might have been placed, however unintentionally, over a memory. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
Zoe nodded. “I think so. Everyone has them…all over the place.”
Tom, too, was nodding. “There’s no such thing as a perfect memory.”
Much as I was a fan of a good learning opportunity, my anxiety and nerves were building to a slow crescendo. “So…” I couldn’t help the slight tremble in my voice.
This time, it was Zoe who gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. “Just relax and close your eyes, D.” When she smiled, I did as she directed. “You won’t see us, but we’ll be there with you.”
I inhaled deeply, then let it out slowly.
; I was in the woods, Jason by my side and one of the traders from New Bodega approaching. His hands were raised defensively, his benign words making me complacent. Only a few moments later, those same hands brandished a pistol. The crack-crack-crack of gunfire was deafening. The sight of Jason, bleeding and on the ground, heartbreaking. The feel of the soft earth under my boots and the damp air whooshing in and out of my lungs barely registered as I ran for help. Jason…
“Ughhh…” Zoe dropped my hand, clearly frustrated. “I’ve been over it dozens of times, and it’s always the same. I can’t sense any sort of ‘seam’ or anything like that.” She ran her fingers through her hair roughly, almost like she was trying to pull her frustration out through her scalp. “Either we’re wrong and the dream was just a dream, or the whole damn thing is a fucking ‘patch’ or whatever.” Yep, Zoe was really frustrated.
I smiled weakly. “Sorry…”
Zoe huffed out a breath and met my eyes. “It’s not your fault, D.”
“No,” Tom said. “It’s not.” His voice was tight, his tone flat. It sent goose bumps crawling up and down my skin.
Zoe and I exchanged a wary look, then shifted our attention to Tom. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“It’s a plant.” Tom lurched to his feet, his stance rigid. “It’s a goddamn plant!” He took several steps away, then turned to face us. His hands flexed at his sides. “They’re good, I’ll give ’em that. They’re really damn good.” He shook his head, looking angrier than I’d ever seen him.
“Dad…” Zoe stood slowly. “What do you mean, a ‘plant’?”
Tom rushed back to his chair, sitting and leaning toward me so abruptly that I shrank away. “Someone planted the entire memory in her mind.” Narrowing his eyes, he cocked his head first to one side, then the other, like I was a specimen to be studied. “That’s why there are no seams…no holes to be patched up.” He reached out, gently brushing a stray curl out of my face. “The memory is too perfect, because none of what she remembers is real.”
“She’s right here,” I said, a teensy bit terrified.
Tom blinked, and his hand fell away. “I’m sorry.” His eyes slipped to Zoe as she reclaimed her stool and my hand, then fixed once again on my face. “I’m so sorry, Dani.” He shook his head. “It’s just that I’ve never seen an example of another’s work that was so, well, perfect.” He narrowed his eyes, thinking. “Maybe not thought through completely, but I think it would be almost impossible to blend such a huge false memory into someone’s mind without knowing them well. This is impressive—”
“Dad!” Zoe said, sounding more than a little exasperated. “Focus. Can we get rid of the whole thing somehow? I’m pretty sure D doesn’t want some stranger’s implanted memory in her mind any longer than necessary.”
I shook my head vehemently. “Nope, not even a little bit.” The realization that yet another person had been inside my head frustrated me to the point of tears. “I want it gone.” And beyond that, more than anything, I wanted to know what hid beneath the false memory. We all did. Somehow, it had to explain what had happened to Jason, dead or alive. Please be alive. Please be alive.
Please, please, please be alive!
“We need to go back to a time earlier in the day,” Tom said, “way before they would’ve started the false memory. And when we find the beginning, we should be able to peel it away, revealing what’s beneath.” His eyes were bright, and when he took my hand in his, I could feel him shaking, just a little.
I glanced from his face down to his hand and back.
He gave me a small smile and clenched his trembling hand into a fist. “We’re about to find out who’s responsible for my son’s disappearance. We’re one giant step closer to finding him.”
“Let’s not get our hopes up just yet,” Zoe said. But when I looked at her, when I saw the brightness in her eyes, I knew that she was just as excited. I felt just as excited.
“Alright, Dani,” Tom said. “This is just like before, but think of sometime an hour or two earlier in the day.”
I quirked my mouth to the side and searched my recollection of the time before the incident. It was filled with small, but not insignificant moments that I’d avoided until now. Moments with Jason that were painful in their sweetness, or at least they had been when I’d felt certain I would never experience another such moment with him again.
I settled on the final few minutes before Jason and I left the farm on foot, our foraging baskets on the gravel driveway. We’d both been kneeling on the ground in front of Annie, trying to coax her out of near hysterics at the prospect of being left behind.
“Good,” Tom said. “That’ll work just fine. Now just relax and close your eyes and let us do the heavy lifting.”
Exhaling a sigh and repressing tears, I closed my eyes.
I was having the best day I’d had in months. Jason and I were alone—we had been for hours—and in the woods, surrounded by leafy trees and the pleasant smell of damp earth and decaying foliage. It was like we were in our own, private fairy land. And as we trampled death caps beneath our boots in our eagerness to get closer to one another, I hoped that this day, this moment where we had zero responsibilities, where we were allowed to just be us, would last forever.
But as Jason leaned in to kiss me once more, I sensed two minds approaching. I quickly told Jason about them, adding, “One feels a little more familiar than the other, but…” I shook my head. “Must just be New Bodega people.”
“Which direction?” Jason asked.
I pointed to the southwest. “They’re close. Should be able to hear them soon.”
“I can hear you out there,” Jason called. “Either identify yourselves or start moving in another direction. The choice is yours, but you’d better make it now.” He glanced at me.
I shook my head. “Still coming.”
Jason raised his gun. “Remember, Red—shoot first, feel—”
“Feel bad about it later,” I murmured. “I know.”
“Hello?” a man called ahead. “Who’s there? Can you tell me where we are? We seem to be lost.” Moments later, a man came into view between one of the few pines in the forest and a robust oak tree, a woman a few steps behind him.
Flicker.
A woman comes into view between one of the few pines in the forest and a robust oak tree.
Flicker.
A man and a woman came into view between one of the few pines in the forest and a robust oak tree.
Flicker.
A woman comes into view between one of the few pines in the forest and a robust, old oak tree. She’s brunette, tall, and broad shouldered. And then there’s the sawed-off shotgun she has propped almost lazily on one shoulder and the wary gaze she throws our way.
Jason takes several steps forward, blocking my view of the stranger even as he aims his gun at her. “Don’t fucking move.”
The woman laughs, a rich throaty sound. “Whatever you say, sugar. I’m good right here.”
“Why are you here?” Jason’s voice is flat, cold, dangerous. “What do you want?”
“Oh, this and that…”
Their back-and-forth continues, but I’m too distracted by the hard press of what I can only assume is a gun nozzle between my shoulder blades.
“Don’t make a sound,” a man whispers near my ear, his hand curling around my neck. “Don’t move or make a sound unless I tell you to. And do not use your Ability.” He removes the gun from my back, but I’m still so scared that I can barely force my lungs to draw breath. “Now, I want you to raise your gun and press it against the side of your head.”
Tears are leaking out of my eyes, streaking down my cheeks. I don’t want to do it. Every fiber of my being is screaming, crying, thrashing. But it does no good. My entire body is trembling as I raise my pistol and press the nozzle against my temple.
“Very good,” my unseen, mind-controlling attacker says. “Now, my associate has been…let’s call it ‘clouding’ your companion’s perc
eption of reality for the past minute or so. He doesn’t know that I’m here, but she’s going to stop just as soon as I tell her to. When she does, if your companion makes a move—any move—to harm me or my associate, or if he doesn’t do as I say, you are going to pull the trigger and your brain is going to be all over the forest floor.” His hand tightens on my neck, and I can feel his breath hot against my ear. “For your sake, I hope he cares enough about you to make this as painless as possible.”
He releases me, and all I can do is stand there, silently shaking and crying while on the verge of ending my own life.
“You can drop the illusion now, Larissa,” the man says from behind me. A few seconds later, he says, “Hello, Jason. It’s nice to see you again.”
Jason spins around, his second pistol drawn and aimed at the man behind me—and at me. His icy mask falters when he sees me, when the gun I have pressed against my skull registers. “Dani, what are you—”
“Tell him, child.”
I bristle instantly, though I know it’s stupid to find offense from a belittling name, especially now, when so much more is at stake. After a shaky, deep breath, I manage to say, “He’s compelled me, Jason. If you try to hurt him—either of them—I have to…” I stifle a sob. “I’ll pull the trigger if you try to hurt them. Or if you don’t do what he tells you to do.” My chin is trembling, and one lone sob escapes. “I don’t want to die.”
I can see Jason’s Adam’s apple move as he swallows. Jaw clenched, he clears his throat. “You’re not going to die. I promise you, Red, you’re not going to die.”
“Good, good,” the man says as he steps out from behind me, and I get my first real look at him. I’m shocked to find that I recognize him—I’ve traded with him in New Bodega a time or two. “Now, Jason,” he says, “it’s very important that you understand how my Ability works. I can compel others to do as I wish, but I must be touching them for the compulsion to work. Once it has set in, it can last days or weeks or even months, depending on the person. Unless, of course, I release the compulsion.”
The Ending Series: The Complete Series Page 145