by Pintip Dunn
Now, the only stories he will ever tell are in other people’s memories.
When I wrench open my eyes, I’m looking right at Olivia. This is her chance to run, but she’s just as transfixed as I am. She reaches out a hand and touches Zed’s wrist.
He snaps up his head, and the whip shakes in his hand. “You will give us the vision.” His face deepens to the color of a bruise, and a pulse throbs at his temple. “You’ll show us, or you’ll be sorry that you are alive.”
He grabs her hair and yanks, and I see the long, slim column of her throat.
Zed, stop! I say in my head.
But my mouth doesn’t move. I feel the hand of Fate pushing against me, clamping my lips closed. What in space? I take a step forward, and it’s like I’m moving through a medium denser than mud. What’s happening?
And then I get it. This is Zed’s future memory. The one that sent him to Harmony fifteen years ago, the one that’s haunted him every day—every minute—since the moment he received it. The one where he beats a woman to a bloody pulp.
This is the moment Zed’s memory comes true.
26
The hand of Fate is strong. So strong that it captures anyone who comes within her reach, compelling us to live our futures.
That’s why it’s so hard for me to move. That’s why the words are stuck in my throat. Because this moment is Zed’s future, not mine. Only he can change it.
Doesn’t mean I can’t help him.
I fight, kick, and claw against the current of time. My limbs remain frozen. I grit my teeth and dig my nails into my palms. Nothing.
Fate can go to Limbo and back. She sent an entire community into the wilderness. She makes Angela wake up every morning, terrified. She killed a little boy.
With every last bit of strength, I wrench out of Fate’s grasp and regain control of my body.
“Zed, no!” I grab his arm. He shrugs me off but lets go of Olivia’s hair. She scuttles backward like a beetle.
“It won’t bring him back,” I say, so that his attention will stay on me—and not the girl cowering on the floor. “You can do whatever you want to Olivia. It won’t make what happened un-happen. It won’t even punish the right people. Olivia had nothing to do with the mob. She wasn’t even there.”
“This isn’t about punishing Olivia. It’s about stopping Dresden,” he spits out. “We need to show Olivia’s vision of genocide to the world, so the people won’t follow Dresden. We need to take down this madwoman before she…kills…anyone else.” His voice cracks, and I threaten to crack along with him.
But I can’t fall apart. Not yet. “This is your future memory. Don’t you recognize it? This is why you ran to Harmony. Because you saw a vision of your future self beating up a girl.” I breathe shallowly, repeating back to him the words he told me over a pot of peppermint tea, while baby Eli napped in a nearby bassinet. “We’re here, Zed. The future. The moment you would’ve done anything to avoid.”
“No. This isn’t my memory.” He shakes his head violently. “The girl in my memory was naked. She’s wearing pajamas.”
“Because I gave them to her.” I shift so that I’m standing right in front of him. “Don’t you see? The decisions of the people around you can make small changes in your memory. Minor details like clothes and hair. But you’re the only one who can stop your future from occurring.”
He tries to push past me, but I step to the left, blocking him once again. “Think of Callie. She changed her future. Maybe, like her, your future self sent you this memory so that you would make a different decision.”
His shoulders droop. The hand holding the electro-whip falls. When I’m sure he’s not going to rush Olivia, I move to the side. “Look into her eyes, Zed. Tell me that’s not her. Your future. Your nightmare. Your opportunity.”
“I…I didn’t recognize her. What I remember most about my future memory is my own rage. She was just a girl, battered and covered in bruises.” He drops his face into his hands, the electro-whip jabbing his forehead. “What have I done?” he moans.
“Nothing yet,” I whisper. “This is your choice. You can live your fate or you can change it.”
His breathing slows, and he lowers his hands. “You’re right.” He looks at Olivia, his eyes traveling over every bruise and every mark, many of them made by his own hands. He winces, and I know the image will be seared into his soul forever.
“Forgive me,” he says, his voice thick. He hands me the electro-whip. “I’ll…tell Brayden. We’ll get the stealth copter ready. It should be charged by now. We’ll take Olivia home. I’m sorry.”
And then he runs out of the room.
Seconds pass. I take a shuddering breath. The world just changed in ways I can’t fathom. Zed stopped his future. Like Callie, he picked our world off its trajectory and moved it onto a different path. Shouldn’t we hear something? The sky breaking, tectonic plates moving? Maybe the heavens themselves cracking open?
But no. Time marches on, as steady and unceasing as before, and if I hadn’t witnessed Zed’s decision, I never would’ve known anything was different.
Is this what will happen when I defy the vision to be Dresden’s assistant? Will the world continue to spin, none the wiser?
I walk toward Olivia. She huddles in the corner, and a part of me breaks. I was too late. I said I wouldn’t let them hurt her, and here she is, traumatized with the prospect of torture. She’s been secluded for years, never interacting with others, but never harmed, either. Who knows how she’ll respond to this brutality?
When I touch her shoulder, however, she looks up, expression fierce. “Will he do as he says?”
“I think so.” I flip the switch on the handle, and the electro-whip hums to life. Shuddering, I turn it off again. “He wouldn’t have given me this weapon if he still intends to hurt us.”
She sags against the wall. “You give me a headache, Jessa Stone.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
Her eyes flash. They are as black as space, with a few scattered specks. A reflection of the stars—or maybe time itself. “Literally, you make my head ache. You have so many paths laid open before you, so many paths you could choose to take. Every single one of your futures flickers before my eyes.” She presses her fingers against her forehead.
“I don’t understand.”
“You see, when each of us is born, we have an infinite number of paths we could potentially take,” she says. “With every decision we make, the number of paths narrows. Until, at the end of our lives, there is only one path left. Usually, by the time a person reaches sixteen, only a handful of major arteries remain. But you—you still have dozens. Maybe even hundreds. It could be a sign of power—or it might mean nothing at all.”
“You see all my futures just by looking at me?” I ask, awed. “How do you live like that?”
Her expression clears. “It’s hard. That’s why my mother had me secluded. Not only to protect her—because Fates know, her enemies would use my powers against her if they could—but also to protect me. If I had to live out there, interacting with all those people on a daily basis, their potential decisions, their potential worlds would crush me.
“I’ve learned to build walls,” she continues. “So I don’t see into the future unless I want to. But when I look at you, the pressure is so intense, I can’t help but let your futures in. You have so much potential, so much power. You’ve already altered the course of the future with Zed. You could change it even more. You could bring back your sister. Or not. It all depends on the choices you make.”
My heart thumps against my chest, so hard I can almost feel my bones splinter. “You know how I can revive Callie? Tell me.”
“Oh, I can’t. Not because I’m being coy or evasive but because these futures are tricky things. The various paths flip through my head so rapidly. It wouldn’t be fair to pick out a single one.”
“Who cares about fair?” I grip her forearm, my fingernails digging into her skin. “She’s been ly
ing in a coma for ten years, Olivia. When she could’ve been here. With us.”
Her face is pinched, her neck stiff. She holds herself tightly, as though her body might fall apart if she relaxes. “You’re right. I don’t care about fair.”
“Then tell me.”
“I’ve seen what a single word, a single action can do.” She wraps her arms around herself. “I’ve seen how a single decision can lock us onto a certain path. Knowing the future is a large burden to bear, Jessa. I learned long ago that I can’t try to influence it.”
She stares over my shoulder, not at the room but at memories only she can see. “When I was a kid, I used to try and stop the bad things. But I couldn’t. Over and over again, the action I took to prevent the future was the very thing that caused it.” She moves her shoulders. “Do you get it, Jessa? I see the future, but I’m powerless to change it. I know too much. My knowledge influences my decisions so that I can’t possibly make the right one. But you can. That’s why I came here today. That’s why I let them kidnap me. I knew you were in this future, and I had to talk to you.”
I shiver. This isn’t about Callie, but something bigger, something outside the small circle of people I care about. Again. First, it was Mikey, then the chairwoman. And now Olivia. They all want me to care about a larger political agenda, and I just don’t.
Then, I remember something Tanner said. “When we were kids, you told Tanner that you and I were going to rule the world. That wasn’t just talk, was it? You actually saw us. You saw a vision where it actually comes true.”
“One of many possible futures,” she says. “How you choose is up to you.”
I shake my head. “Is this about the vision your mother showed me? If this is a trick to get me to become her assistant, it’s not going to work. Like you said—I make my own decisions. I’ll never take her side. Never.”
“This isn’t a trick,” she says simply. “I’m not my mother.”
At that moment, I hear voices from the hallway. Zed’s, Brayden’s, and Tanner’s. Any minute now, they’ll come inside. Any second now, they’ll take Olivia back from where they stole her.
“You can’t leave me like this,” I plead. “What if it were your sister lying there? I know you don’t have a sister, but you can imagine it. I know you’ve seen enough futures to know how it feels. Please, Olivia. Tell me. How do I bring Callie back?”
She shifts her eyes, focusing them on my face.
“Do you remember the nursery rhyme we used to sing in the T-minus eleven class, during the Outdoor Core?” she asks. “How do you stop the beast? Take away his food, he’ll feed off the air. Cut off his head, he grows another one with hair. How do you stop the beast, Jessa?”
I wrinkle my forehead. “I don’t remember the punch line. Is this supposed to tell me what to do?”
Something flickers in her eyes. She opens her mouth, and I lean forward, determined to catch every word. But the door bangs open, and Zed strides into the room. My shoulders droop. It’s too late; he’s come for her.
And then, her words float out, so softly they might be from my imagination.
“Ask yourself why they have Callie. Think about why they’ve kept her alive all these years.”
27
The blades of the stealth copter whirl, emitting that low, almost soundless hum. The resulting wind blows in our faces, knocking around Olivia’s hair and making her look younger than she is. Someone I’d want to protect.
In a couple of minutes, Olivia will get in the copter. I haven’t seen her for the last ten years, and I may not see her for the next ten.
“I used to be so jealous of Callie and you,” she says. “Every day, she’d come to the T-minus eleven classroom to pick you up, and every day, she’d hold open her arms, and you’d fly right into them. I thought if I had a sister, maybe somebody would hug me, too.”
“Your mother didn’t hug you?” I ask, but I already know the answer. We’re talking about Chairwoman Dresden here. The icicle queen herself.
“We didn’t have that kind of relationship.”
What kind? The mother-daughter kind?
But of all people, I should know that blood doesn’t necessarily mean love. Being a mother doesn’t mean you won’t abandon your child when she has to run off to the wilderness.
I wrap my arms around Olivia, and her shoulder blades jab into my hands. “Take care of yourself, Olivia.”
“Come with me,” she says impulsively.
I laugh, but the sound dies in my throat. “Where? To your hideout? Or your mother’s house? I’m not sure either would be appropriate.”
Brayden and Tanner hop out of the cockpit and approach us. I haven’t seen Zed since he ran from Olivia’s room. I hope he’s with Laurel. I hope they’re able to find comfort in each other.
“Are you ready, Olivia?” Brayden asks. Everything about him appears sheepish, from the cap he holds against his chest to the freckles sprinkled across his face.
She nods, giving me one last searing look. A look that says so much—I just wish I could understand what. She climbs into the copter. Moments later, the sleek black machine rises into the air, as nimble as a bird. And then, it is gone.
The sky is streaked with color that is both intense and soft, like a tangerine smeared across a painter’s canvas. The sun glows near the horizon but has yet to make an appearance. So peaceful, so calm. Not at all indicative of the bloodcurdling violence that roils underneath. Even now, I can hear distant shouts. Close my eyes, and I can see the body of a frail little boy, marked by too many footprints, destroyed by too little thought.
I shiver, and Tanner puts his hand lightly, carefully on my shoulder. “We need to get off the compound. The rioters will be awake soon. They might be feeling more reasonable this morning, but I’m not betting my life on it.”
I nod. The grate that leads back to the metal pipe lies a dozen yards away, in the middle of the copter landing pad. I have on clean clothes now. They don’t fit—my pants are rolled twice at the waist; my shirt’s tied in a knot—but they’re clean. I’d hate to get them filthy again, but little Eli no longer has that choice, does he?
Little Eli would probably give anything to be crawling around in the muck.
I blink back tears. Even all-knowing, not-fazed-by-anything Tanner squares his shoulders. And we descend into the sewer once again.
Later, we emerge free, if not clean. The pipe empties into a river, and we wade from the exit toward the shore. I take my time, dunking my head under the water, scrubbing at my hair and face. The Harmony compound—and the rioters inside—are far away, separated by a sturdy wall. For the first time in the last twelve hours, I feel like I can breathe again.
Still, we crawl behind a bush, into a little clearing blocked by oversize tree trunks and shrubbery, and stretch on the ground. The air is warm; the hard, packed dirt is even warmer. If we’re going to be stuck outside, at least for the next few hours, at least the weather is nice.
My stomach sloshes around. The next few hours? How long do I have to wait before I go home, anyhow?
Tanner won’t be returning to the Harmony compound, that much is clear. But what about me? Has my association with him tainted me so badly I’ll never be able to go back?
Of course not. The mob will settle down. They won’t be as prone to violence. They’ll understand that I’m not to blame—that neither of us is responsible for the invention of future memory.
Even as I think the words, I remember a rock with a bloody rat pinned to it. I picture Eli’s body, at the bottom of an uncaring stampede.
I know, deep at the core of my being, that even if I go back, the compound will never be “home” again.
I turn toward Tanner, my cheek against the dirt. He’s already looking at me. Something in his expression makes me feel like he knows what I’m thinking—has always known what I’m thinking—even though he doesn’t have telepathy.
If only I could read him so clearly. His eyes are opaque, his expression closed.
Sure, he told me about the torture from his childhood. But when it comes right down to it, how well do I really know him? I’m past holding his status as a scientist against him, but he has secrets he’s keeping from me. Information he’s learned by being one of Dresden’s underlings.
He wants my sister to wake up. That much is clear. Is that enough for me to trust him?
Olivia’s words float through my mind. Ask yourself why they have Callie.
I swallow hard. “Why has TechRA been keeping Callie alive?” My words are slow and halting, as I try to work it out in my head. “It can’t be cheap. They had to maintain her muscles, supply her body with oxygen and nutrients, when there’s very little hope of her ever coming back. Why would they do that?”
“You know why,” he says, his eyes fixed on my forehead. “They were desperate to discover future memory, and the link between the two of you was the best chance they had for an answer.”
He’s lying. After all this time, I’m finally able to pick up on his tells. That bored, eyes-glazed-over look I assumed meant he was too good for me? Really, it’s because he can’t—or won’t—meet my eyes.
“That’s not why. Up until I held her hand and sent her that memory, you thought the Sender-Receiver bond between us was severed. Come on, Tanner. Be straight with me.”
He sighs, and his features waver in and out of the sun’s rays, which are broken up by the jagged leaves. “You’re right. That’s the line I’ve been taught to say. Dresden swore all of us to secrecy, and if you know her at all, you know she can be quite convincing. But I’m sick of keeping secrets. Sick of being under Dresden’s control. You deserve to know about your sister, and I’m going to tell you. No matter what she does to me.”
My skin tingles; my breath catches. The energy in the air around us swirls, concentrating on this boy, this moment. I have the feeling I’m about to learn something big, something huge. Something that will push my world off its orbit, and life will never be the same again.
“Your sister has another ability,” he says slowly. “Her Receiver ability—the one she shared with you—was just her preliminary ability. She has a main one, as well.”