Restitution (The Alpha Drive Book 3)

by Kristen Martin

  Without warning, Emery burst through the door to his office, her hair disheveled, cheeks flushed a rosy shade of pink. She rushed over to his desk, then leaned over and placed her hands on the smooth titanium surface. Her voice shook as the words left her mouth. “Everyone’s skin is turning grey.”

  He clicked off the landscape as he rose from his chair, walking around the desk to face his daughter. He placed his hands on her shoulders, hoping that it would calm her. “Are you okay? You’re shaking.”

  She shook her head as she stepped backward. She lifted her hands so that they were directly in his line of vision. “My hands. They’re grey. Everyone else’s skin is also turning grey.”

  He stepped forward and gently lowered her hands. “There’s no need to panic. But what exactly do you mean by everyone?”

  “I went to the cemetery to visit Mason,” she began, her voice cracking, “and on a whim, I decided to visit Los Angeles. I went into a café and everything seemed to be fine, but when I came back out, everyone around me had grey-tinged skin.” She took a deep breath as she sat down in the chair behind her.

  He studied her for a moment. Even as a child, she’d had a vivid imagination—but he could tell that this wasn’t something she’d made up. The concern in her eyes, the tremor in her voice, told him that this was real.

  “Do you think it has something to do with the lethargum?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  He sighed. “I’m really not sure. But I know someone who might.”

  He noticed her perk up a little as he pressed a few buttons on his phone. In seconds, Naia appeared in the doorway, her blonde hair bobbing as she walked toward them. “Hi there. What can I help you with?”

  “Naia! It’s so good to see you,” Emery said as she bounced up from the chair to give her a hug. “Where have you been?”

  Naia returned the embrace, then smiled. “I took a short vacation,” she admitted. “After everything that’s happened with President Novak and the disintegration of the Federal Commonwealth, I needed some time away.”

  “But we sure are glad you’re back,” Byron chimed in. “Please, have a seat,” he said as he stood up, gesturing toward the chair. “Emery and I have some questions for you.”

  Naia obliged, looking back and forth between the two of them as she sat down. Her eyes landed on Emery’s hands. “Oh my word,” she gasped as she took her hands.

  Emery shot a look at her father. “You’ve seen this before?”

  Naia nodded, a solemn expression crossing her face. “Yes. When we were training candidates for The Alpha Drive.” She paused as she let Emery’s hands fall to her lap. It was almost as if she didn’t want to continue.

  “What happened during the training?” he pressed.

  “Our older participants, thirty-five and up, had some difficulties, to say the least,” Naia explained. “Their bodies began to deteriorate at an accelerated rate. A few did have grey-tinged skin.” She hesitated, then swallowed. “Our testing was inconclusive. We’re not sure what caused it.”

  “But you have a theory?” he asked, his voice hopeful.

  Naia bowed her head as she ran a hand through her hair, then gazed back up at him. “Yes,” she whispered. “There’s a theory circulating that lethargum has negative side effects on those who are exposed to it for long periods of time.” She shrugged. “It would explain why the older participants in The Alpha Drive couldn’t perform as well as the younger ones.”

  “Did it kill them?” Emery asked, her eyes wide with concern.

  “A few died, yes,” Naia responded, “but sanaré healed the rest.”

  Emery nodded, allowing the words to sink in. “But there’s no more sanaré. I used the last of it when I set the gas capsule off in Chicago.”

  The room was silent.

  “It was a courageous thing you did,” Byron commended as he walked back behind his desk. “We owe you our lives.”

  “Very brave,” Naia agreed.

  Emery smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. He knew his daughter’s past had tormented her and would continue to do so until all was right again, until all was resolved. Somehow, he felt responsible for this.

  “We’ll start with the basics,” he said suddenly as an idea struck him. “We’ll run some tests on our patrons—on those who were in Dormance, as well as those who remained in the 7S world.”

  “We can do that?” Emery asked.

  Byron could have sworn he saw a small glimmer of hope flash across his daughter’s eyes. He gave her a firm nod before answering, determined to keep that hope alive. “We can. And that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

  8

  Torin fired up his holopad, keeping his eyes glued on the sleeping figure in front of him. He checked the timer on the screen. Two more minutes. Just two more minutes until Sandra would wake from her usual slumber. But even after she woke, there was no assurance he’d figure out what was wrong or be able to cure her.

  It was becoming increasingly more difficult not to feel disheartened. He’d tried everything he could think of to bring Sandra’s memory back. Over the past week, he’d made numerous attempts, but nothing had worked. Hacking into a system was one thing—trying to bring back human memories was an entirely different ballgame.

  One minute. He stood from his chair and made his way over to the bed, taking caution as he adjusted the nodes on Sandra’s head. Like it’ll do anything. His fingers stopped moving as she stirred. He removed his hands, watching like a predator would its prey, as she slowly rose to a sitting position.

  He hurried back to his seat. He had to take full advantage. Each window of opportunity was limited and seemed to grow smaller every day. At first, he’d had a full thirty minutes with Sandra. But as the days went by, he noticed he’d lose thirty seconds after each twenty-four hour period. Seeing as it was the eighth day for his futile attempt at jogging her memory, he now only had twenty-six minutes.

  Make ‘em count.

  He started with the usual question. “Mrs. Parker, do you know who I am?”

  At first, her face was blank, but then, there was a brief flicker of recognition. “You’re Torin,” she answered, her voice raspy.

  “Good,” he commended. He checked the holopad to ensure the program was receiving a signal from the nodes. “Now, tell me about your family.”

  She wrinkled her forehead. “My family? I . . . I don’t think,” she paused, “I don’t think I have a family.”

  He sighed as he glanced down at his holopad. The nodes were sending signals, but they were minimal. Just small blips on a large scale.

  Don’t give up.

  “What about her?” Torin asked as he pulled up a picture of Alexis on his holophone. “Do you remember her?”

  Sandra motioned for him to enlarge the photo. She looked at it with confusion, trying her best to focus on the image before her. “That’s . . . Alexis.”

  “Good,” he said again. “Now, how do you know Alexis?”

  Sandra shrugged. “I don’t. I just know her name. She’s the girl that’s here with you, in your living room.”

  He bowed his head, disappointed, but not surprised, by her response. The only reason Sandra could remember him or Alexis was because she’d seen the two of them every time she’d woken up. Her short-term memory was there, and it was improving with each day, but her past was a black hole—like it had never even happened.

  He continued to ask his customary set of questions, all the while trying to find a way to hack into her microchip, seeing as that’s how the Federal Commonwealth had erased her memories to begin with. He figured it was a good starting point. The only problem was that the microchip seemed to have been developed by someone with much more knowledge than he was currently equipped with.

  Hacking was simple, but this . . . this was a nightmare.

  I’m never going to figure this out, he thought glumly. As much as he didn’t want to give up, nor disappoint Alexi
s, his confidence in his abilities was dwindling. Some things just couldn’t be undone and this seemed to be one of them.

  His thoughts scattered as Alexis poked her head through the door. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know she was awake.”

  He couldn’t help but notice how she kept her eyes trained on him and not her mother. “It’s okay. Do you need something?”

  Her eyes flitted briefly to her mother, who was now staring out the window. “Yeah, but it can wait. I know you only have a limited amount of time with her.”

  He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he’d almost given up. So, he fibbed. “I only have a minute or so left before she falls asleep again.” He shut down the holopad and walked over to where she was standing. Alexis strode into the living room and he followed, shutting the bedroom door softly behind him. “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Is there any real progress with my mom?” she asked hopefully as she plopped down onto the couch.

  He hesitated before answering. “Her short-term memory is improving, but she still can’t remember anything before the purge.”

  Alexis’s lower lip quivered. “I was hoping for better news.”

  “I know,” he said with a sigh. “So was I. I’m sorry.”

  She waved a hand in the air. “It’s not your fault. You’re doing everything you can.” She tried to give a reassuring smile, but he could tell it was forced. “There’s something else . . .”

  “Hmm?” he murmured as he took a seat on the couch next to her. “What’s that?”

  “I’m not really sure how to explain it,” she began, searching for the words. “Here, I’ll just show you.”

  He watched as she knelt over her lap and began rolling up the legs of her pants. He watched with concern as she brought the fabric up to her knees. What in the world?

  The sight rendered him speechless.

  Her legs were a light shade of grey.

  9

  Byron drummed his fingers against his new desk. Titanium had such a different feel to it than wood—something about it made him feel more powerful. And an ego boost was exactly what he needed if he was going to deliver the speech floating before him.

  “Let’s go through it one more time,” Naia instructed as she powdered his forehead and cheeks. “Your voice was a little strained last time.”

  He sighed. It would be the sixth time he’d reviewed his speech—the one that would announce Operation Revive to the world. After his conversation with his daughter and Naia, he’d had an inkling that it was time to finally take action. He couldn’t sit back and watch as the world he’d fought so hard for deteriorated beneath his fingertips.

  Over the past week, he’d called a couple late night meetings with the sergeants, corporals, and interns. The more manpower the better. They’d spent a full forty-eight hours brainstorming their next move. The result? An initiative that would allow for the testing of dormants and their symptoms versus those who had never stepped foot in Dormance. The plan was immaculately detailed, and even went so far as to break out the test subjects in groups based on age ranges. The testing itself was non-invasive and would allow all participants to continue on with their daily activities, with a few limitations, of course. The lab had designed a pill that, once ingested, would disperse into micronodes that would travel through the bloodstream and latch onto tissue, bone—even red and white blood cells. The nodes would send signals of any irregular activity within the participant’s body to 7S’s Operation Revive Program, where lab scientists would monitor, record, and analyze the data. In his honest opinion, it was some of their best work yet. If Naia’s theory was correct, then previous dormants, thirty-five years and older, didn’t have much time left. The clock ticked faster and faster with each passing day.

  Byron cleared his throat and rehearsed his speech one last time. Naia stood behind her holopad, recording every word. When he was finished, she played it back.

  “It’s good,” she praised as the video finished playing. “I think it’s your best one yet. You’re ready.”

  He rose from his chair and, with a nod, said, “Alert the camera crew that it’s time to go live.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied as she dabbed a final bit of powder onto his forehead.

  He watched as she hurried out of the room, her hand pressed firmly against her headset. When she was finally out of earshot, he heaved a loud sigh. I hope that this is the right move.

  He’d already considered the population’s reaction once he made the announcement. It could go one of two ways: complete panic and chaos, or grief and mourning. The latter was highly unlikely. He was basically telling the nation that half of the population was ill without any additional information. No one knew what had caused it, whether or not it was contagious, or what it even was. His goal wasn’t to instill fear and panic into the hearts of the citizens, but as a public servant, it was his duty to make them aware of any danger or imposing threat the moment it was brought to his attention. So that’s exactly what he planned to do.

  Naia returned with the camera crew, five in total, and placed them in position in front of Byron’s desk. Normally, he didn’t allow unauthorized personnel to enter the undisclosed offices in the Seventh Sanctum Headquarters, but this was clearly an exception..

  “We’re doing this here?” the lead cameraman asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yes,” Byron answered coolly. “Is there a problem?”

  “No problem,” the cameraman shrugged. “I just thought we would do it outside of the building. Maybe standing in front of your headquarters?”

  “No,” he stated firmly. “We’re finished hiding from the public. With the news I’m about to announce, I need to earn our patrons’ trust. So we’ll do it here. In my office. Where I work, for the people, every single day.”

  The cameraman opened his mouth to respond, but seemed to think better of it. “Rolling in five,” he muttered as he turned on his equipment. Byron squinted as a member of the crew switched on a bright white light.

  Here goes.

  At that moment, his daughter strode through the door, her hair bouncing in soft waves behind her shoulders. Emery leaned against the back wall, peering over the camera crew until she was able to make eye contact with her father.

  My sweet Emery. I promise, I’m going to fix this.

  “Rolling in 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . .”

  He kept his eyes locked on his daughter’s, giving a brief smile as the cameraman finished counting down.

  “Action.”

  Only then did he direct his attention toward the camera. “Good evening to the great people of this nation. The purpose of this broadcast is to announce something of grave importance.” He paused as he stole another glance at his daughter. “It pains me to inform you that we’re going to have some tough times ahead of us . . .”

  10

  Torin gazed out the guest bedroom window as heavy raindrops hit the glass, his holopad sitting dejectedly on the chair next to him. While Sandra had made improvements with her short-term memory, she was nowhere near remembering anything before or during Dormance. Her head was a ghost town, empty and barren, much like her expression every time she stirred from slumber. He turned to look at her. She was peacefully sleeping. Sitting in a chair opposite the bed was Alexis, nodes protruding from her temples and wrists. The blips on the second holopad were faint, but audible.

  Like mother like daughter.

  After discovering the skin discoloration on Alexis’s legs, he’d felt the need to shift gears. As much as Alexis wanted him to focus on her mother, he still couldn’t find the courage to tell her that he was close to giving up. He was running out of options and patience. How was he supposed to break such heart wrenching news to her? That her mother would probably never recognize her again? That, in her mother’s mind, she was merely a ghost?

  Focusing on Alexis and her condition was just what he needed: a mental break from Sandra and her unforgiving loss of memory. Although
it was selfish, he knew that identifying Alexis’s condition was a more fruitful venture.

  The only problem was the actual identification part.

  Her condition was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. His research wasn’t much help either—there was no concrete research out there about grey-tinged skin.

  Alexis plucked the nodes from her temples and her wrists, then shut down the monitoring program on the holopad. “I think that’s enough for today,” she sighed as she shuffled into the living room. She was wearing cropped pants today, and while it wasn’t clear if the discoloration had spread, her ankles were certainly a deeper shade of grey than they had been a couple of days ago.

  It’s getting worse, Torin thought glumly. Both Alexis and her mother are getting worse by the minute.

  His thoughts flitted to Emery. He hadn’t made another appearance at the cemetery after their last run-in—the risk of upsetting her was too great. She needed time, and he understood that; but the situation with her family was growing more complex every day, and the fact that she didn’t even know about it was just plain wrong. She’d wanted to be left alone and he’d respected that, but it’d been long enough. It wasn’t her call anymore.

  His thoughts scattered as his focus shifted to the couch in the living room, where Alexis now sat. She was on the edge of the cushion. Flashes from the television danced across her face. Her eyes were glued to the screen.

  What has her so captivated? he wondered as he left the bedroom.

  A familiar voice filled the space around him. He stopped mid-step. It was the Commander. The Commander . . . who was also Emery’s father. Meaning he was Alexis’s father, too.