I pursed my brows as I gazed at the strange piece of paper. I never cared much for football. Why would a ticket stub from five years ago mean anything to me? One more question added to the rapidly growing list.
I replaced the ticket stub in my pocket and lifted my gaze to a bus driving past me. A sign on it forced my eyes to follow. The Three Realms Club. Four words caused a pull of familiarity and promised answers.
SEVEN
THE CLOSER I GOT to the Three Realms Club, the more and more I saw of those obnoxious glowing necklaces and bracelets. Some party goers went as far as wearing obscene amounts of glowing makeup. It had to be the night’s theme, because I didn’t remember that being a part of the normal atmosphere.
I joined the growing line that snaked around the building and down half a block. As the line moved closer to the doors, the bass was not only heard but felt. The doors were painted with an eerie depiction of the Old Belief regarded as the three realms of Earth. Heaven, Hell, and Earth. The ebony-toned doorman scanned wrists and waved people in, giving each little regard.
Until me.
When I approached, he parted his lips to say something but seemed to have forgotten the words. I looked at him, expecting him to spit it out. When he didn’t, I said, “Do you know me?”
“Yes, but . . . I thought you were dead!” The man’s deep, burly voice carried no further than the space between us. I figured he knew of the accident and had been misinformed.
“I can assure you, I’m very much alive. Can I go in?” I lifted my wrist.
He waved it away. “Don’t be silly, go in.”
I gave the man a warm smile and stepped around him into the short foyer. Inside, black lights whirled around a smoke coated room. On a beam above my head, in bright neon paint, were the words, To go to Heaven, with an arrow pointing to the left. Another set of words, next to that, said, To go to Hell, and an arrow pointing to the right. Both sides had a set of stairs. One going up and one going down.
The people with the obnoxious face paint went down stairs, while the others, with the necklaces and bracelets, went up. I wanted to remain on the Earthly realm, where I could be the most comfortable and get the most answers. The bar along the right wall was covered in mirrors and liquor-filled shelves. I sat at it and waited while the bartender talked with his customers at the other end.
I pulled out the ticket stub and stared at it more. It held a pale glow in the black lights of the dance floor behind me. Bright green laser lights shot scattered beams around me. They reflected in the mirrors, catching my attention. The bartender came into view with wide eyes and a knowing smile.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he said. He had glowing blond hair, spiked in the front. He placed his hands on the bar and waited for me to respond.
“Apparently, I’m back from the dead.”
“I see that.” He pointed to my scar.
“Battle wound,” I said. “So, I came here often, then?”
He chuckled, dropping his gaze for a moment, then returned it to me. “Are you serious?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Amnesia.”
“Wow.”
“That about sums it up.”
“Tell you what, I’ll make your usual, see if that helps to jog your memory, then we’ll play catch up. Sound good?”
“Sure.”
He poured a concoction of a dark liquid into a glass of ice, added a cherry, then set it in front of me. “Cherry Coke on the rocks, and on the house.”
I grabbed the glass, took a sip, and then set it down. My gaze shifted to the bartender, who looked anxious. Did he honestly expect it to magically unlock my memories? Not knowing what to say, I grinned.
“What do you think?”
“I . . . uh . . . think this is the best Cherry Coke I’ve ever had. But I can’t be sure.”
“No memories, huh?”
“Sorry,” I said.
He shrugged then shook his head. “I can’t believe it.”
“You’re not the only one.”
“You remembered this place though . . . ”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“That means there’s hope for you yet!”
I looked at him—really looked at him. He seemed incredibly familiar to me, and much more than just a mere acquaintance from a club. “I know you, don’t I?”
He nodded firmly.
“Can you help me with some answers?”
“I can tell you what I know, but you’ll have to wait until after closing time.”
I scrunched my brows together, pulling on the cut on the side of my head. I touched it slightly with the tips of my fingers, causing it to sting a little. As much as the idea held appeal, I really needed to get some sleep so I could make it to the Academy. Besides, I needed an excuse to avoid my place in case Alexander decided to ignore my refusals.
“What are you doing tomorrow, around five?”
“In the evening?” he asked.
I nodded.
He chuckled. “Meeting you, of course. Where shall it be?”
“Here.”
He smiled. I found it pleasant . . . truthful . . . reliable. “You got it.”
“Good.” I smiled in return as he moved back down the bar to another customer.
The ticket stub claimed my attention. Twirling it between my fingers, I focused on the feel of the paper’s fibers. Almost as if I willed it, I started to remember something—or someone. I was sitting at the same bar when someone sat next to me and ordered a drink. Though I don’t remember what I was upset about, he talked to me. I couldn’t recall his features, his voice, or even his words. But somehow, he made me smile. His words reached me when nothing else did. It made my heart yearn for him. The stranger that remained a fragment of my lost memories.
“That’s the game the cost us the championship,” the bartender said, snapping me back to present.
“I don’t really follow the sport.”
He made a face at me. A doubtful face. One that said he knew a whole lot more about me than I knew of myself.
“What?”
“If you were willing to stay after closing, I would be able to talk to you more freely, and not over loud music.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I really have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I removed myself from the counter.
“Five o’clock,” he said pointing at me.
“You got it.” I turned to make my way home, more confused than I was before.
Something else came to me from that memory. Something that made me second-guess myself. The bartender was there, and he didn’t like how the other guy made me smile. I slipped my hands into my jacket, replacing the ticket stub.
I stepped around the doorman just as he stopped me. “Hey, where are you off to?”
I faced him. “Home.”
“See ya, Ghost.” His lips pulled tight over his large, white teeth.
“You bet,” I said. His term ‘Ghost’ echoed through my mind. Somehow, I knew he wasn’t referring to me being back from the dead. Still, I turned, continuing home.
EIGHT
I LIED IN MY bed and tried to let sleep claim me, but sleep wouldn’t come.
Worry of the nightmarish chaos to come weighed on my shoulders to the point my back ached. The horrifying images and sounds, the terrifying feeling they left in the pit of my stomach, the nagging suspicion there was more to them, also kept me from sleep.
The endless streams of questions wouldn’t cease. I needed to know more about the accident. More specifically, why I was the only one found, and if there were other survivors, why they didn’t look for me?
I removed myself from bed and dressed. The lobby on the bottom floor of the condos offered a lounge with a full-service restaurant, bar, and live news reports. I could pick up a digital Newsstand and search the archives. A transporter accident would make quite a mess and wouldn’t go unnoticed. Something would have been mentioned.
By the time I reached the lounge, it was filling with cadets grabbi
ng their coffees, pastries, and recent news updates before leaving for duty at the Academy. Many of them had on the typical, military-style, red uniform, complete with a black stripe down the side of the legs and across the shoulders with silver buckles and buttons. The Academy’s emblem was embroidered on the right shoulder of each jacket. Strangely, the sight made me feel at home.
I approached an unused Newsstand sitting on the charging station and took it to an empty table. I pressed the archive button on the screen and waited while the search page loaded then input ‘transporter accident’, the date, and then clicked search.
No results returned, centered on an entirely blank screen.
Confusion riddled my senses as I stared at it. I tried again, using different key words. All resulted in the same response. I took the Newsstand back to the charging station, still staring at it blankly.
“Is that one glitching?” asked a cadet returning his. He was tall with the same dark eyes that Alexander had, except his hair was a softer brown and combed to the side.
“I guess. I don’t know.”
“I’ll tell ya what, no matter how advanced our technology gets, it will always have some sort of pitfall or glitch. You could try the other ones. You may have better results.”
“Actually, did you hear of a transporter accident just less than a week ago?”
He stared coldly at me with pursed brows, then cleared his throat, and took in a gulp of air. “I don’t know where you heard that. But I can assure you, there hasn’t been a transporter accident for years.” He started to walk away, then turned and said, “You’re not from around here, are you?”
I blinked at him then shook my head.
So the accident was covered up, then, which also meant all information regarding it would be hidden under layers of restricted clearance.
The cadet was right about one thing: Transporters were much safer and less likely to malfunction and crash than normal vehicles and planes. The fact that I was in an accident in one would have been plastered all over the news and caused too much alarm. It would be too showy.
Whoever was responsible for the transporter going down must have done it on purpose.
They had been clever enough to cover their tracks, to not be caught or have attention drawn to it. So, how had I survived? They must have attempted to kill everyone to ensure it was successfully covered up. Did they know I survived? Would they come after me? More importantly, how did Jenna and Alexander know about it? My memories had to be the key.
The cadet said, “If you want, I could show you around when I get off?”
“No, thanks. I’ll find my own way.”
He shrugged. “Well, if you ever change your mind, I’m here before and after duty. Just come by and see me.”
“Thanks.”
I waited just a few minutes longer before returning to my apartment. Instead of crawling in bed, I grabbed a pillow and blanket and tossed them to the couch. With the information I had just gained, I needed to visit the Academy. That meant I needed sleep.
The couch was firm. It was smaller and warmer than my bed, which helped me not feel so alone. Just as sunrise lightened the sky outside my window, I couldn’t fight sleep any longer. I wasn’t so frightened anymore . . .
Alarms pierced my ears. Chaos erupted around me. Things fell from the ceiling as wind pulled at me, taking my breath away. I tried to move toward the front of the transporter, looking for someone. Then something slammed against my head, or I was thrown into it. Things weren’t stable enough to keep my footing.
My vision blurred as a throbbing sensation radiated from the point of impact. I viewed the world from underneath murky waters. The transporter was empty of the one I searched for.
Something pulled on me, but I yanked my arm free. Even as my heart raced and broke at the same time.
I was going to die, and the person I was searching for had left me behind. Me! Why would he do that?
I turned around; the rear corner was missing and torn away as if some great creature had taken the chunk with its razor sharp claws. Knowing my chance at survival was slim, I strapped myself into the nearest seat and waited for the sudden end of the plummet. The end that would take my life.
Another sound pierced my ears, silencing the dream of all sound and movement. As if it was paused inside my mind. It was the sound of a doorbell. Mine, to be exact.
The remainder of the dream faded away, replaced by the consciousness of reality. I didn't know what was worse—the nightmare or my life. As the doorbell dinged again, I peeled open my eyes. I groggily made my way from the couch to the door.
A small screen popped up from the keypad, showing Jenna on the other side. My mom’s warning whispered in the back of my mind. Don’t trust Jenna . . . Somehow, I knew I wasn’t new to dangerous people or situations. Jenna knew more than she lead on, and I needed answers. Pieces to the puzzle of my mind. I could find some through her. My gut told me as much. But that didn’t mean I needed to disclose my newly found information to her just yet.
I pushed the button on the keypad to open the door. She smiled pleasantly with a box in her arms.
“Good morning,” she said.
I nodded. “What’s in the box?”
“Your personal effects from the hospital,” she said, offering me the box. “I figured you would want them. Help jog those memories of yours.”
I took the box to the counter, slid it on the surface, and faced Jenna. She slowly shifted her gaze from the disarray on my couch to the flower-free apartment. I wasn’t going to offer any excuses, and she didn’t seem inclined to ask.
The black pants, blue dress shirt, and long black coat fit my impression of her better, but I still wasn’t entirely sure, she’d dropped the facade. Even the black flats struck me as something more to her tastes than the boots she wore the last couple of days. Her hair was down and pulled from her face by a thick, plastic, blue headband.
She propped a fist on her hip and her arm on the counter, then said, “Rough night?”
“Something like that. So you really just came to drop off my stuff?”
“Alexander was hoping that you would gain some memories when you saw the items. He also wishes you to reconsider tonight and insists you meet him for dinner.”
“So that’s what this is about. Well, you can tell him I respectfully decline,” I said. “I need to have some time . . . alone.”
She sighed, crossed her arms, and leaned against the counter in between two chairs. She looked me deep in the eyes and said, “I’m only telling you this as a friend, so please, don’t take this the wrong way, but when Alexander says jump . . . ” She let the rest of the old adage remain unspoken.
Without breaking her intense stare, I said, “I just got home, and I want a few days to myself. If he wants me to go to dinner with him that badly he can come to me and ask—not demand. He may own half the city, but he doesn’t own me.”
She blinked a few times then said, “Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Are you going to open the box or let it sit there all day?”
I shrugged and turned to open it carefully. It was my gear, but it wasn’t what I was missing. That feeling remained. I pulled each piece out, inspecting it carefully, making sure I spent ample time on each to appease Jenna. I sighed, dropping the last weapon belt into the box, and took it to my room, setting it on the desk in front of the window.
“So what do you think?” Jenna asked when I returned.
“About what?” I picked up the blanket and pillow from the couch and brought them to my room to remake my bed.
Jenna’s shuffling feet followed me.
“About the memories, feeling anything spark or come back?”
I shook my head. “Nope. I don’t think there’s a magical switch somewhere that’s going to bring back my memories. Though that would be nice.”
“True. I was hopeful you would’ve at least remembered something by now . . . ”
“There’re holes missing wher
e there shouldn’t be. Things I only partially remember. But nothing new.”
“What’s it like?” she asked.
“What is what like?”
“Not having your memories.”
“How do you think it is? I’m walking in a stranger’s shoes. It’s almost like I had skipped the last six years and dreamt the parts I remember.”
I proceeded to the kitchen for some semblance of food. I must not have liked to eat or I ate out a lot because it was empty. All that was left in the cabinets were a couple cans of vegetables and a box of really old looking mac and cheese. I sighed.
Jenna came up beside me. “If you want, I can take you out for lunch.”
My eyes found her gaze and saw only the selfish need of her trying to unlock my private memories. But I was so hungry . . .
NINE
WE WENT TO AN inner-city garden bistro situated at the top of an old apartment building. The penthouse had gone through a number of conversions before settling on the number one restaurant in town. They had the best food for a little more than the droid-operated McDonald’s.
“Since when do you not eat meat?” Jenna asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know I don’t.”
She smiled. “Sounds like you are starting to remember.”
“Some things feel right and others don’t. That’s all.”
“For example?”
“Not eating meat and just knowing things without knowing how I know them.”
She made a face like she was going to ask more questions when an annoying sound erupted from her coat pocket. She dug out a phone, looked at the screen for a split second, then said, “I’ll be right back.”
She stood from the table, quickly walking away.
Our table was next to the patio that overlooked the city in a three-hundred-sixty degree view. Most of the buildings on one side towered much higher. On the other sides, the view was all sky and tree line. The residential district to the south remained shrouded by tram rails and highways. Transporters dotted the sky, flying in toward the air station and Academy.
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