Before more could be said, we were running from bad men out a door marked with a bright red sign. EXIT. Into the thick of trees, down a hill, over a small creek.
Dots of light pierced the darkness behind us as they followed. I should have had questions, or concerns, or fears. But I don’t remember any. I was just following a stranger I had met moments earlier because she told me to.
Because her hands were warm and her face kind. She told me to run west, and without question I did. I would again. I have no other recollection of her. Not now, not then, but still I feel connected to her. Sometimes I think maybe I remember the way she laughed. I get whiffs of what she must have smelled like. I imagine her in a doctor’s coat, because now I have context about who she was. Stories I’ve been told, facts given. Am I actually remembering, or is my mind producing memories that never happened?
How will I know the difference? Hunting deer with Seeley in the woods, throwing knives at the ready, feels as real as seeing Olivia walk toward me in a white lab coat. But they can’t both be real. Can they?
These were the thoughts that pulled me from sleep before the sun was up. I couldn’t help but glance back at Zoe for a moment, before it felt like I was spying. She was the first person in my life who wasn’t a stranger.
She knew me. Even though there wasn’t much to know, she had been there from the start. Before I could express I was afraid or worried, she seemed to sense it. She’d taken steps to be closer to me. It gave me courage, offered a sense of stability. Maybe it would all be alright in the end.
Last night, after we decided to give Dr. Loveless’s plan a try, I enjoyed watching the sunset with Zoe. For a moment the world seemed open, not seconds from crashing down around us. We walked back to the large red barn together. I was ready to start right away.
But according to Dr. Loveless, my mind needed to be sharp and stable so we’d have the best chance of success. She suggested starting first thing in the morning, after a night of rest. I wanted it to work, so I’d waited.
Now I was up.
I slipped out of bed and made my way downstairs. I waited for a while, but soon the rest of the house rose as well. Seeley, McCoy, Zoe, and Dr. Loveless. Thirty minutes passed mostly in silence as people cleared sleep from their minds, got coffee, and agreed it was time.
Within the hour I was lying on a cold, inclined table. Dr. Loveless was attaching DOT to my head, and I tried not to wince each time she yanked my hair.
“Sorry,” she said. “Almost done.”
I’d been instructed to keep my chin still, but I could still see Zoe standing to my right, only a couple feet off, her face worried, her body tensed for action. She was ready to yank me from this table if anything went wrong. I was glad she was here.
Seeley stood at the entrance to the strange sheeted room, just inside the open curtain. One hand in his pocket, the other holding a mug. He was watching carefully but not nearly as concerned or rigid as Zoe. I found myself caught up in the single memory I had of him. Again. The moment was fragmented, more flashes and feelings than a line of occurring motions.
It had been a brisk morning, maybe early afternoon. I could feel the chill on my cheeks, the mountainous terrain underneath my feet, thick forest all around as I moved with speed. Quick and precise. Seeley close. I could smell his aftershave, the same way I could smell it now.
I’d come upon my prey. A beautiful buck, thick and tall, with horns jutting out on either side to punctuate his majesty. I could hear the beast’s heart, steady and then thundering as he sensed us. My weapon at the ready. Aim, perfect, and release. I could hear the knife stick with a soft thud but couldn’t see it in the darkness of my mind. What came before that moment, and after, was nothing. It was a single moment that stood on an island in the middle of an endless sea.
Was it foolish to hope that I would soon see land? Salvation? Afterward, would I wish for the empty expanse? I had the strange thought that currently I could be whatever I decided. I had no history that told me who I was, so couldn’t I just make my own? Maybe the forgetting was a gift?
But what if I created new ideas of the person I could be and then the old memories returned? Wouldn’t it be better to start off with the truth rather than construct something that could be broken later? Round and round, the questions plagued me as I waited.
“There,” Dr. Loveless said. “Finished.”
She walked around the end of the table and to the rolling cart that sat near its corner. I turned my head to follow her and felt DOT’s weight press into my shoulders.
“Please try to remain still,” she said.
“Okay,” I said, forcing myself not to nod.
She opened the top drawer and pulled out something small, then picked up a cup with a straw. She walked back to me and opened her hand, and I could see three small blue capsules resting in her palm.
Amobarbital, Zoe had called it. It had hypnotic properties and was called blue heaven on the streets. It could be very dangerous, even lethal in large doses, but the perfect trip with the right amount. It was meant to open the mind. Provide a gateway to the subconscious, Zoe had explained.
I felt my nerves rising and disconnected from them, turned them off, and focused on the task at hand. The nerves vanished as if I’d flipped off the light. My mind went cold. I saw my emotions but wasn’t connected to them. They were unnecessary for what was coming, so I tossed them out.
“Don’t worry,” Dr. Loveless said. “This will be painless.”
“I’m not worried,” I said truthfully.
She smiled at me. “Good. Open your mouth.”
I did, and she placed the pills on my tongue one at a time, offering me a drink after each one. They slid down my throat easily.
“These will take effect quickly. As they do, I will ask you to close your eyes and listen only to my voice,” Dr. Loveless said. “Can you do that?”
“Yes.” I already felt my bones becoming lighter as what felt like exhaustion seeped through my blood and into my skin.
She took a deep breath and glanced at the others around the room, as if she suddenly needed a reassuring push. “Shall we begin?”
I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly. Not because I wanted to but because slow was the only function I had. I answered yes, I think. Or maybe I just thought I’d answered. My mouth felt swollen and my tongue made of foam. I thought to ask if this was how I was supposed to be feeling, but I had lost the ability to connect my mind with my speech.
I could hear her voice. “I want you to focus on the sound of my voice. As we begin, I want you to let your body sink into the place where you sit. Anchor yourself to it. Anchor yourself to my voice.”
Then the light from the world beyond my closed lids started to fade.
LUCY. CAN YOU hear me?
Dr. Loveless’s familiar voice filled my brain. It was like an echo coming from within. A faint whisper, clear and near, but not directly beside me.
I remembered then what was happening to me. I was exploring my memory, searching for things misplaced. I opened my eyes, and a city street filled my view. I was sitting on a bench along a two-lane road with moving traffic, bordered by sidewalks occupied by pedestrians. To my right, small, simple homes sat in rows on both sides of the street. Fenced lawns, manicured bushes, children playing, their laughter bubbling up and through the air.