by Ramona Finn
We came to a junction in the hallway. My parents were no longer in the same room due to Dad’s worsening condition. John slowed, allowing me to decide who to visit first.
I hesitated for only a moment before turning down the corridor toward Dad’s room. He was in the section with those in the later stages of memory loss. We only passed four rooms before we faced another door spanning the width of the hallway. A rebel guard was assigned to be there at all hours. We were told those with this amount of memory loss could become scared when confused and lash out. The rebel guard was trained to handle these situations with the medical staff.
Months ago, I hadn’t needed to worry about Dad wanting to leave the facility, but more than half the time now, he had no idea who he was, never mind who his daughter was. Confusion was no small concern for him.
The guard looked through the Plexiglas window before swiping his key card at the door. They wanted to be sure that there was no risk for an escape by one of the patients.
I turned to Syeth and John. As much as they had been my rocks throughout the months we’d spent in Chicago, I wanted to see Dad on my own. Previous visits with anyone else other than just me had made Dad agitated, and he tended to shut down when that happened. “I’ll meet you in Mom’s room?” I offered.
“We’ll wait,” Syeth said.
John nodded, but threw a wistful glance toward the hallway from where we’d come. “We’ll visit her together.”
I walked through the door then, and was unable to release a breath until it clicked behind me.
When we had first arrived, Mom and Dad had lived at the facility in the same room. The doctors had thought they would help each other remember their lives. As they were still technically married, there hadn’t been a reason for concern. But Dad’s condition worsened much faster than hers. A few times, she had woken with him standing over her bed, furious, asking who she was and what had happened to his wife.
As she’d been in her sound mind at the time, she’d been able to comfort him. But John and I had decided to separate them for both their sakes.
I passed the closed doors on the way to Dad’s room. They were locked from the outside. It was too dangerous to have patients wandering around the common areas without one-on-one supervision. Heat stung my eyes as I counted the doors to Dad’s room. The white tiled floor shimmered as if someone had just cleaned it. There were pictures on the walls displaying lush fields of greenery, as well as some with snow-capped mountains. On the basement level, there weren’t any windows to the outside. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not for those who had no idea where they were to begin with.
A crash against one of the doors alerted a nurse to rush over and scan her way into the room. A woman cried out from the inside, “Who are you? Where am I?”
I hesitated, wanting to help if I could. But the sobs were covered by soothing words from the nurse. “Your name is Tracie Young…”
The repetition of these people’s lives seared through me every time. The nurses knew these people, but not like their families did. The blank stare of non-recognition in the face of someone you loved was not a moment I wanted to retain, but it was a part of the curse of having a perfect memory. While I was helping the cause as much as I could, I wished I could forget some things.
After all that I had been through since Syeth had enlightened me about the rebellion, it was the faces of my parents who haunted my nightmares.
“Lora, good to see you again,” a male nurse said from the small office across from Dad’s room.
“You, too, Lukas.” I hesitated. “How is he today?”
Lukas was in his forties, yet he wore bags under his eyes like someone with years more on their life. I’d never visited without seeing him. Maybe he was as haunted as me. “Same as usual. Sorry to say.”
I took a steadying breath. “We’re close.” I hated to give anyone false hope, but it was all I could offer at the moment.
Lukas stood. He was a foot taller than me and thin, with hollowed-out cheekbones. “That’s good to hear.” He swiped his card at Dad’s door and swung it open.
Inside his room, Dad sat in a patched leather chair in the back corner. The space was just big enough for the armchair, a bed, a dresser, and a small desk and desk chair. He looked up from the book he was reading, and his eyebrows furrowed.
“Hey, Dad.”
He smirked, and for a moment, I thought his humor had returned along with his memory. “Lora, do you know where I am? I keep asking, or at least I think I do, but my memory doesn’t seem to be as sharp as it used to be.”
“You’re at a hospital. In Chicago.”
“Are you taking care of me?”
“The doctors here are great. John and I are close to a cure for what’s holding you here.” Pressure built behind my eyes and my chin started to tremble. Do not cry, Lora.
“That’s great. When can I leave?”
“We’re keeping you here until we find a cure.”
We went down the same line of questioning as we always did. None of it mattered because, after I left, there would be a short amount of time before he forgot that I had even visited. He’d go back and read the same pages of his book over and over again.
His memory was spotty when it came to anything more recent than us arriving in Salt Lake City. John and I had sat with Dad numerous times on occasions where we’d tried to push him to search his memory after that. Which had later resulted in his frustration and our culling the visitor list to only me. His more violent outbursts were difficult to watch, but John reminded me that it wasn’t anything intended out of malice. New Zero changed people, and it was our job to bring them back to their true selves.
Dad cocked his head to the side and offered another smile. “This reminds me of the early days with your mother. Our first studio apartment wasn’t much bigger than this. It wasn’t until I got my plumbing license that I was able to afford our house.” He sighed. “Our house was nice, wasn’t it? I gave you a good childhood, didn’t I?”
“Of course,” I said, reaching for his hand.
He dropped his book and leaned forward, and his fingers brushed mine. “I’m sorry I can’t remember coming here. I know something is wrong, but I… I can’t figure it out.”
“Dad, it’s fine. We’re working on helping you. Just stay as you are, okay?” It wasn’t up to either of us to make that request or promise, but I wasn’t sure what else to say. If, somehow, he could keep trying to remember, then maybe the degeneration of memories wouldn’t be so bad.
Once again, I thought of turning ourselves in to BioPure in trade for the treatment necessary to bring his and Mom’s memories back. But what would happen to us after that? Would Mia fulfill her promise to Sledge to take out Mom and John first, then experiment on me until they had all the information they needed to control the population, and then kill me, too? There wasn’t any guarantee of an opportunity for the survival of my family if I gave myself up to BioPure.
I stayed with Dad for another half hour before he pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. “I’m feeling a bit tired, Lora. I think I should lay down.”
“I’ll come back tomorrow, all right?”
He nodded and stared at me with glossy eyes. Dad wasn’t a crier, which was how I knew how aware he was of what was happening to him. When he stood, I hugged him. His chuckle rumbled against me. “I love you, Lora.”
I sniffed against his shoulder. “Love you, too, Dad.”
There wasn’t much to say after that. Dad closed his book and placed it on the desk. I wasn’t sure if he thought that he’d be able to retain the information inside the pages, but there was nothing else for him to do. At least not until one of the staff came to take him for his daily exercise. It was too risky to take more than one of the patients out from the facility at a time, and they restricted their walks to nighttime when there was less of a chance of the doves spotting them.
As I closed the door, I looked at Dad once more, and I didn’t
miss the tear sliding down his cheek.
I’d composed myself as much as I could by the time I met with John and Syeth. Both stood in the same places where I’d left them.
“How is he?” John asked.
“Same,” I said.
“At least it’s not worse,” Syeth commented.
“Today.” There was no telling what tomorrow would bring.
We made our way back down the hallway and turned left toward Mom’s room. Hers was further into the hospital, in a space where the patients could roam freely in the hallways and common areas. There wasn’t a guard blocking them from moving around, and the air seemed lighter than it was in Dad’s room.
The space was divided into a common area with six round tables in one corner, and two couches close to the hallway faced a flat-screen television mounted to the concrete wall. The staff had tried to spruce up the place with paint, but the purple color almost looked gray against the overhead lights.
A few patients played a card game at one of the smaller tables while several others were watching the BioPure-sanctioned television programming. Since we were all rebels, the ones who were recently afflicted with New Zero were insistent on doing what they could to keep their memories intact. BioPure wanted us to lose our numbers and come groveling to them for treatment. Those who were willing to stick out their lives as rebels suffered for it, knowing that they might end up in the same part of the hospital as Dad.
I spotted Mom. She sat at the edge of one of the couches, staring at the television screen. Her hair was tied back in a braid slung over one shoulder. She was paler than I remembered.
John stiffened when he saw her, but when her eyes drifted to him, they lit up with recognition.
Syeth walked over to the nurse’s station, leaving John and me to talk to Mom.
“Hello, there,” Mom said, batting her eyelashes at John. “Lora, please introduce me to your friend.”
John swallowed hard, but slowly reached his hand out to her, and they shook.
My chest squeezed. She hadn’t recognized him. She’d done this before. Even though they had been together for years, there were times when Mom’s feelings for him rushed to the surface while the memory of their time together was lost entirely.
Mom’s condition was different in that way from Dad’s. She had more lucid moments. Last time we’d been there, she had quoted a story from the television which had happened only days before, while other times when we’d seen her, she’d lost track of most of her life and everything else. Then there were instances when she reverted back to a particular moment in her past and stayed there for minutes or hours at a time.
“How about we go back to your room and talk?” I asked her. I found that, when there were fewer people around, we could focus more on bringing what was left of her non-damaged memories back.
Mom blinked and nodded. “We need to make a plan of attack for tomorrow’s research.”
Mom slipped her arm under mine as I led the way to her room. There were two beds in this room, and hers was neatly made while the other’s blankets were in a heap on top. Since Dad had been transferred, Mom had seen a few roommates come through that bed. Some had their families collect them before going downtown to get treatment. Some, like Dad, had been moved into another section. Her most recent roommate, Thora, was in her early twenties. She had been diagnosed with New Zero a month ago. During daylight hours, she worked with the rebels and was rarely at the facility. A lot of the newly diagnosed were allowed to leave on supervised visits. They departed before the day began, under cover of darkness. I had only met Thora once, but she was one of a myriad of rebels who kept my hope of our success alive even when it seemed everyone around me was doomed to suffer from New Zero.
The room was double the size of Dad’s, but it closed in around me as I focused on Mom. “How are you feeling today?” I asked her.
“I’m fine,” she said, waving her hand at me. “Let’s talk about the research. How far are you two?”
The sudden onslaught of her memories never ceased to surprise me. Her serious expression and crossed arms gave me hope that she had returned to us. I had no idea how long it would last.
“It’s going well,” John said. “I’m reconfiguring the equipment. There’s too much fracturing of the data.”
Mom nodded her head a few times. “I’d like to see the lab.”
I glanced at John. It wasn’t the first time she’d asked, but there was no telling when she’d be lucid. The team at the hospital knew best how to treat patients with New Zero, and we couldn’t risk her getting confused again. There’d been only a few times when she’d had meltdowns, but they’d resulted in a nurse sedating her and the both of us in tears. That couldn’t happen outside of the facility, where there’d be the real possibility of such an episode getting us caught.
“I can speak with the doctor,” John said, hurrying out of the room. I didn’t blame him for wanting to take her out, but I wasn’t sure the doctor would agree. And maybe he just needed to get away from her hopeful eyes.
“Are you two getting along okay?” Mom asked. “I hate that we’re separated like this. There’s no reason for it, really. I can’t do much to help from in here.”
“You need to focus on getting better,” I said.
“There is no getting better, Lora.” Mom’s voice was sharper than I’d heard it in a long time. She touched her fingers to her temples. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t easy.”
“I know it isn’t.” At least, I had an idea that it wasn’t. “But John is working so hard to treat everyone. We’re almost there.” I wanted to give her that hope I held onto when I felt down, but Mom was practical. Even with a spotty memory, without us giving her solid details, nothing we said was going to ease her mind. The evidence I had was John’s dedication. She knew him so much better than I did, so she had to know he wouldn’t stop. “John is so smart. I admire him for everything he’s done.”
“Oh, honey,” Mom said, taking my hand. “I regret the hurt I’ve put on you and Finn, but I can’t apologize for having John in my life. Especially now that we’re all together and working for the cause.”
She cupped my face in her hands and kissed my forehead before gently pulling away. The subtle shake of her head, and her suddenly dropping her hands away from me, felt as if she had reached inside of my chest and ripped out my heart.
“Mom?” I breathed out.
“What nonsense are you speaking?” Mom asked. “Finn and I haven’t even been married yet. You know that.”
“You and Finn…”
“Have you been getting enough sleep? I know these hours are brutal, but you’ll get used to them soon.”
I swallowed. It wasn’t the first time Mom had reverted years in a moment, back to when she’d worked at the BioPure labs.
“Lora,” John said from the doorway. “We can—”
I stood from the bed, waving him off. Confusing Mom even more was only going to hurt all of us.
John cursed under his breath. “I thought we had more time.” His shoulders slumped, but his eyes hardened with determination. “I’ll meet you outside.”
I turned to Mom. She wore a big grin on her face. “Who is that? He’s incredibly handsome.” She winked at me, and my stomach churned. I could have corrected her, but I didn’t want to upset whatever scenario she had pictured in her mind. It would only make her uncomfortable.
“That’s John.”
She clicked her tongue. “If I wasn’t paired, I’d be all over him in a heartbeat.”
Little did she recall that she had been paired and had still been all over him. I left the reminder alone, though. It wasn’t going to help me feel any better.
I patted Mom’s hand, resisting the urge to hug her. “Love you, Mom,” I said as Mom turned and continued a conversation with herself. She stared at the desk in front of her as if she was at a laboratory bench. She gripped the small vase with a single, plastic flower inside, and tilted it as if she were pouring liquid into a te
st tube. The flower flitted to the ground and remained at her feet.
I counted to thirty before knowing that what conversation we’d already had today was the best I would get from her for now.
Syeth and John waited outside the room. The hallways blurred as tears streamed down my cheeks. I wiped them away as quickly as I could. Of course, I was upset about my parents, but I was angrier at BioPure for doing this to them.
Neither John nor Syeth said much as we headed out of the building. There were only a handful of visits with Mom which ended with her knowing who we were by the end of them—even fewer times when she’d recalled both John and me at the same time.
I wasn’t sure why this visit had been different. Why I’d been so upset by it. Maybe I was tired from the scans, or possibly just exhausted from having so much faith and hope in a cure that might not ever come. Though, I knew that, one way or another, the emotion bubbling up was mostly because I was going to watch everyone I loved succumb to this terrible virus while I retained the memories for them. Then we would lose against BioPure. And then what?
By the time we were outside, I wasn’t any closer to figuring out how to make any of this better, but at least the tears had stopped. I wiped my face until it was dry and somewhat clean.
“You’ll figure out the cure,” Syeth said from behind me. “All the hard work will save everyone.”
“We need to go back to the lab,” I said to John.
“Are you sure? I was going to go alone,” he said.
“I’m sure.” I brought up the last memories I had of Mom and Dad. Their confusion fueled me, and I wasn’t going to allow any distractions to get in the way. I would help John as much as I could for as long as possible, and in whatever capacity he needed to get us closer to the cure.
“I’ll come with you,” Syeth said. He took my hand as we headed in the direction of the lab.
We only walked a few steps before a booming sound dropped me to my knees.
Chapter Four
My ears and knees throbbed as I peeled my eyes open while still holding my hands against my head. Syeth and John were on the ground next to me. Syeth helped John up. John tucked his arm against his side.