“I see. I warned you there was a chance X wouldn’t want to be found. To know there’s something strange about yourself that no one can explain… Could be terrifying to be told the truth of it all. He might not react well.”
I consider this. “Kyle’s smart, but yeah. That could be tough. But it doesn’t explain anything about me.”
“Well.” Malone coughs. “You could have told him, he panicked, and because you’re kind, you gave him time to adjust before reporting in.”
He says it lightly, but there’s nothing light about it. That would be a direct violation of my orders.
Besides, would I?
I love Kyle. My feelings for him aren’t the same as they are for Cole, but they’re just as strong. And that’s why I want to protect Kyle. Letting him adjust while others are after him wouldn’t make sense. I’d be endangering him. “No. I wouldn’t do that.”
“I don’t believe you would, but I’m thinking aloud, trying to cover the possibilities. Perhaps one of them will trigger a memory. What triggered this one, by the way?”
Kissing Cole? Oh, shit. I certainly can’t tell Malone that.
“Not sure. It wasn’t related to anything I was doing at the time.” Besides feeling guilty for kissing the wrong boy. I’m going to have to create a cover story with Cole. He’s not going to want to get caught, either.
Malone gets up and gives my shoulder a shake. “I bet it’s because you were trying so hard to remember. You gave that information priority. I knew we could rely on you, Seven. You did well. Whatever else happened, I’m sure those memories will return soon too. Now relax and leave it to others to find this boy and keep him safe.”
Assuming Kyle’s at RTC and can be found. But Cole and Malone are right. I can’t dwell on the possibility that he’s not. It’s too late to do anything about it.
“Sir, may I ask a favor?”
Malone sits on his desk. “Certainly. What is it?”
“If it’s possible, I’d like to be part of the team that goes to get Kyle. I was friendly with him, and as you said, this could be scary. It might calm him if he sees a familiar face.”
And me. It would definitely calm me to know he’s okay.
“I’m afraid I already sent in a couple operatives who are in the Boston area. Given your concern that you or Kyle might have been discovered, I didn’t want to waste time sending a team from here. You understand?”
I nod. It makes sense, and I feel silly for asking. I just hope that whoever Malone sent, they aren’t the same two guys I made Kyle run from yesterday. That would really freak him out.
My fault. Again. Ugh.
“Then may I see him when he arrives? If he’s coming here, that is.”
“He is. As soon as our meeting is over, I’ll be in getting in touch with my contact at the CIA. Kyle will be transferred to a more secure location, but they’ll need time to finalize the arrangements. So yes, I’ll see to it that you get a chance to visit him before he leaves.” Malone stands and gives me another shake. “You did as well as I could have hoped on this. Now, go get yourself some lunch. And it’s up to you whether you want to attend your afternoon classes or keep working on your recall.”
Lunch, yeah right. My stomach is too uneasy to eat, but I thank Malone and leave his office.
Halfway down the hall, I wish I’d asked for another favor—to have the photos off my phone. My mission is over. Really over. I’m never going to see Audrey or Yen or Chase again, and I never got to say goodbye.
Then down the elevator more answers come to me, followed by more questions.
Kyle was confused yesterday morning. He could tell something was bothering me, but he had no idea why I’d brought him to South Station. So clearly I hadn’t told him anything, and I wasn’t giving him time to adjust.
What was I playing at then? What was I planning on doing to Kyle? Was there some reason I couldn’t get through to Malone or anyone else at the camp Friday night? Or was I withholding information about Kyle on purpose?
“Are you malfunctioning?” Malone’s assistant asks.
I twitch and realize I’ve stopped in the middle of the doorway. But still—malfunctioning? Is she serious? Like I’m some CY? I pull my shoulders back. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”
“Then shut the door. You’re letting cold air in here.”
Shooting her a nasty look, I storm outside then hurry to the mess before it’s too late and I miss lunch. Malone has confidence in me. Cole has confidence. I’ll figure this out. The important thing is that I rediscovered who X is, and Malone’s sending people after him.
In order to avoid spending more awkward time with Cole, I take advantage of the fact that Malone rescinded his earlier order. I pass the afternoon doing the usual routine with my unit, and am relieved to see little of Fitzpatrick during it.
My head’s not in my training though. Malone might have been onto something when he said I’d been concentrating my recall effort on X. Now that I’ve retrieved the information, it’s like a blockage has been removed in my chip, or perhaps a circuit is reconnected. The speed with which my memories return increases. When I estimate the chunks of my life that are still unaccounted for, I decide I might be back to normal by late tomorrow morning.
This is distracting because it’s hard to focus on anything else. But this is good because some of those gaping holes can’t be closed fast enough. Unfortunately, the remaining memories continue to return randomly. Or what appears random to me. I suspect what’s happening is that each memory triggers another memory, and these triggers spread out like a web in my brain. There’s a pattern, but I’m not consciously aware of it.
I make a note of this theory for Malone. Finally, something that makes sense.
Nothing else does, but I have to trust the rest of my confusion will clear. So I turn my worrying to a new question: what will Kyle say when he learns the truth about me?
I want to see him so badly and make sure he’s okay, yet this new fear is almost as bad as the old. It would have been easier if he was the enemy. Then we’d be even. I was lying; he was lying. Even if we worked for opposing sides, he’d understand what I’d done and the reasons why. He couldn’t look down on me for using AnChlor at RTC, or breaking into his room, or any hundred other things that were legally dubious but ethically right because if he were the enemy, then he would have been working on a mission that was ethically wrong.
My choices were the right ones, weren’t they?
I can’t help but think that if I truly believed that, then I wouldn’t feel so anxious about Kyle’s opinion.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sunday Evening: Present
I need to talk to Jordan, but my afternoon consists of music practice and cultural studies, and those split us up. I don’t see her again until our last session of the day. That’s security systems, and it’s not the sort of class that allows for private discussions. As a bonus, my three-month absence is painfully noticeable. We’re in the middle of some lesson about a top-secret cyber-defense system the Chinese are working on, and I’m lost.
It’s not until dinner that I can finally talk to her. I’m starving because I felt too sick to eat lunch, and unfortunately, my feelings haven’t changed much.
I drag my fork around the pile of salty white goo on my plate, euphemistically dubbed creamed chicken over rice. Gross as it looks, I don’t actually hate it. Something about the neural implants affects our sodium levels, so I like pretty much anything that has salt in it.
“What is it?” Jordan says. “You’re acting mopey. One told us you successfully completed your mission. You should be celebrating.”
The mess is not the best place for this conversation, but I don’t foresee a better one. With all the chaos around us—the HY2s and 3s are a noisy bunch—this might be my best shot.
I begin carefully, keeping my voice low. “I
know it’s stupid, but the more memories I get back, the more I miss Boston. Not the actual college, I mean. The people. It’s weird to think I’ll never see them again. Some of them were really nice.”
Jordan and Summer lean forward. “So tell us more,” Jordan says. “We’ve been dying for details. You can tell us what it was like without revealing the secret stuff, can’t you?”
I can, easily. It’s not what I want to talk about, but telling them about Audrey and Yen—and to a limited degree, Kyle—allows me to gauge how closely the others are listening. So I go on about the boring classes, the Games, exploring the city, the food, art class and the aquarium, and every funny, non-revealing anecdote I can think of.
My stomach relaxes enough for me to eat, but my food’s cold now. Salty it might be, but that doesn’t improve the flavor.
“What was the dance like?” Summer asks as I cram congealing chicken goop in my mouth.
The dance. Damn it. What did I bring that up for?
I chew slowly, but we have ten more minutes until dinner ends. Although I might have to talk my way around this, it’s the opening I need, if I can take advantage of it.
Gabe sits next to Summer, and Cole sits next to me, but they’re both paying more attention to Eva, who’s outlining the method she used to crack some code earlier. I think I’m free to talk.
I hope I am because here I go. “I don’t remember much about the dance. There was music, and I was wearing some dress, and it was way too hot. They decorated the tables with flashy lights and fake snow. Malone had asked me to do something there, and I really want to remember if I did it, but I can’t.”
During the afternoon, it had occurred to me that this might be the missing piece. Perhaps I planned to do something drastic—hopefully not bomb the hotel, but something less crude and more clever—and the mysterious enemy who was after Kyle discovered me.
It could be why I dragged Kyle away.
It does not explain why I delayed informing Malone, but I can think of reasons for that too. Maybe they came for me that night, captured me, and I couldn’t call. Maybe they tried forcing me to give up the information on Kyle, and by the morning I escaped. Then I threw together a few items, got Kyle and ran with him to somewhere I thought we’d be safe. Then I planned to call, but my implant failed first.
It’s the best theory I have.
Jordan soaks a piece of broccoli in her leftover sauce. “If it was something for your mission, you must have done it because you got the info.”
“I don’t think I did, or not exactly what Malone suggested anyway.” I lower my voice further and lean over my tray. “His suggestion horrified me. I couldn’t go through with it. At least I don’t think I could have. I found out what I needed by accident.”
There’s an irony here that occurs to me as I confess my anxiety. If I were at RTC, this information would be easy enough to discover. A gas explosion at a hotel? That would make the news. But here at the camp, our Internet access is heavily restricted and monitored. A story like that wouldn’t make the news sites we have available.
Jordan raises an eyebrow, and I know she’s silently asking what Malone wanted me to do. With my fork, I write into my leftover sauce: BOMB THE DANCE. The sauce swallows up each letter after it’s formed.
Summer winces, and Jordan mouths a few interesting swears.
Cole must catch her from the corner of his eye. “Language, Nine. You make some of the older men here sound like saints.” He lobs a balled-up napkin at her.
“Of course I do.” She tosses her braids. “We’re supposed to be better at everything. I take my cursing seriously.”
“Yeah, she works hard at it,” I add. “Even I remember that.”
If Cole was paying attention to our conversation, I want to derail him and fast.
I might have more luck derailing a freight train.
He puts a hand on my arm. “Sev, whatever Malone suggested might have been drastic, but under the circumstances—”
“I know.” I slump back in my chair.
“It’s inevitable that people are going to get hurt occasionally given what we do. But more people would get hurt if we didn’t do unpleasant things.”
I want Cole to remove his hand, which he leaves on my lower arm like he’s pacifying me. I say nothing about it though. Already I’ve said too much. “It’s got to be better to be a CY sometimes. This is what happens when you’re emotionally flawed.”
Cole removes the hand and flicks me on the shoulder. “No, it’s what happens when you lose sight of the bigger picture. It can happen to anyone. You were there too long, that’s all. You lost your focus and got caught up living your assignment.”
“It’s what happens when you value human life over objectives,” Jordan says.
Cole narrows his eyes at her. “We do what we do to save human lives. It’s not always going to be sunshine and puppies.”
I kick Jordan under the table. She doesn’t need to get herself in trouble over my big mouth.
Jordan takes the hint and casts her eyes down to the mess on her tray. “Yeah, I know. The ends will justify the means, but sometimes the means leave me uneasy. I can’t help it.”
“They make me uneasy too sometimes,” Cole says. “If they didn’t, we’d be CYs.”
Would we? I wonder. Pure humans can do plenty of evil to achieve their ends. Holy wars and genocides and those terrorists who created a virus that put two innocent kids in a coma so they could use them as bargaining chips.
Humanity is a flexible thing. The proportion of brain tissue to implants in a person’s head doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with it. And isn’t that not exactly comforting.
When we leave the mess hall, Jordan drapes an arm around my shoulders and brings her head close to my ear. “I know your brain is busy retrieving old memories, but don’t forget what I told you earlier, especially if you have any criticism of Malone. Did you know Cole has weekly briefings with him now?”
“Since when?”
“Started around the time you left. And he’s got his own phone.”
I wrap my arms around myself, not bothering to ignore the chill. I’m chilled mentally. Seems I should feel it. “I saw that.”
Jordan pats my back then removes her arm. “He still likes you, and I mean, he’s still Cole. But be careful.”
“Yeah, I know. Thanks.”
I rub my eyes. My unit is family, and we stick together. It’s more than unit cohesion. We grew up together. But it seems as if the divisions among us—divisions I was only faintly aware of before my mission—have gotten wider. Jordan and Summer and Gabe always resented Fitzpatrick and the way we were treated more strongly than the others. Cole, Sky, Eva, and the other boys were always faster to shake off that treatment and accept our so-called duty. I floundered about in the middle, loathing Fitzpatrick but parroting the duty line because I believed in it. And I believed in Cole.
As a result, Cole and Malone believed in me. I got chosen to go to RTC.
I’m not sure what I believe now. In Cole still, yes. But this dedication to duty makes my insides heave like I ate bad chicken for dinner. The Seven who left for RTC is not the Sophia who returned, and I’m happy about that.
Bad people are coming. They will destroy you.
Maybe the “bad people” I’d been thinking of was Fitzpatrick. She was the one who said RedZone would erase my memories. Malone promised they wouldn’t, but even that’s no guarantee. He’d change his mind if he knew how much my mind had changed. Jordan’s right; I have to be careful. I do not want to go back to be being Seven again.
It’s like I told Kyle, after all—I’m trapped, as surely as those sharks in the New England Aquarium. That had to be one of the most honest conversations we ever had.
The camp’s bright outdoor lights reflect off the flat cloud cover above, creating a depressing ceiling. I
t’s a cage. Even the skies aren’t open. Even birds can’t fly forever.
No wonder Kyle told me his wings were clipped. He was being deceptively honest too. He’s wild but not free, not thanks to whatever his mother did to him. She saved his life, but limited it. Gave him an amazing power, but required him to hide. It’s not fair to either of them, although since Sarah Fisher is dead, it doesn’t make any difference to her. But Kyle will never truly be free so long as the people who want to get their evil hands on him exist.
I hope he’s safe now. I hope I’m not accidentally responsible for outing him to those people. I fear it, yet am impatient for those memories to return.
When I think about what Cole said at dinner and put it together with Kyle’s situation, it’s easier to see Cole’s and Malone’s perspectives on duty. Logically, I know better—it shouldn’t matter. Innocent people are innocent people. Kyle’s life shouldn’t be worth more to me than a hundred nameless strangers.
Yet it is. And if I’d thought setting off AnChlor or a bomb at the dance would keep him safe, would I have done it? Would I purposely hurt Audrey and the others? Hard to say. Their lives are innocent too.
These questions make me sick. Bad chicken, indeed.
Lost in my gloom, I trail along behind my unit, and they don’t bother me. Cole must have said something to them, or they assume I’m cataloguing memories. I’m glad to be left alone.
As we near our quarters, the sound of an engine disrupts the hum of voices. A black SUV with tinted windows and Massachusetts plates drives by the row of buildings. I watch it, my heartbeat quickening.
Massachusetts. Boston. Kyle. It’s been six hours since I gave Malone my intel. Plenty of time for his team to extract Kyle if they worked efficiently and he wasn’t being held captive somewhere. So could that be him? Could he be here already?
I take off after the car, desperate to know.
“Sev, where are you going?” Jordan yells.
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