Unremembered (Unremembered #1)(23)

‘I know, I know,’ Cody continues, waving his hand in the air. ‘You’ve been given strict orders by your supervisor to keep quiet and not talk about—’

‘I mean,’ she interrupts again, her voice barely audible, ‘I can’t confirm that you were on the plane.’

‘What?’ Cody blurts out.

‘Shh, please,’ she urges, glancing nervously at a group of travellers who are hurrying past. ‘I’m . . . I could get in serious trouble for talking to you. I haven’t told anyone about this because it doesn’t make any sense. I know that. So I’ve been trying to forget about it. But then I saw you there at the ticket counter. I heard what you were asking . . .’

A knot forms in my stomach.

‘I don’t remember you,’ she says heavily. ‘I’ve tried to remember you, I swear. Every night I think about it. I play back the whole day in my mind. Over and over again. But you’re just not there.’ She pauses to suck in a juddering breath. ‘I’m sorry but I – I don’t remember seeing you board the plane.’

‘Well, yeah,’ Cody argues, clearly unconvinced. ‘But there were probably like two hundred people on that plane. Not to mention all the other flights you board every day. You can’t be expected to remember everyone.’

Brittany shifts her weight. She reaches up to touch her hair again and I now notice that her hands are shaking. ‘Yes, but when they showed your photo on the news, you were so . . . beautiful . . . I mean, simply breathtaking. And your eyes . . . I – I . . .’ Her voice trails off as her gaze flickers nervously to mine. The longer she waits in silence, the more I worry she won’t ever finish her sentence.

But then, finally, she bites her lip and leans towards me. Her eyes are watery and full of fear when she whispers, ‘I just know I would have remembered a face like that.’





PART 2


THE RETURN





15


RATIONALIZATIONS


Cody has not stopped talking since we left the airport. I think the gate agent upset him. Or rather, what she said. His speech has changed. It’s faster. His voice is higher. He’s using his hands a lot more than he normally does. His eyes are dilated.

‘There are probably five hundred reasons why that woman doesn’t remember you,’ he says as we ride the bus back to the station. ‘All of which, might I add, are a thousand times more believable than the completely implausible idea that you weren’t on the plane.’

I’m feeling just as anxious and confused as Cody is but I keep my reaction on the inside. Along with my thoughts. So I can try to sort through them and make sense of this.

‘For instance,’ Cody continues passionately, ‘she could have been called away for a moment while the plane was boarding. And another gate agent stepped in. And that’s when you boarded the plane. You could have been wearing another hat.’ He flicks the one on my head. ‘Like this. You could have been looking down when you boarded. I mean, really, who looks the gate agent right in the eye when they get on a plane? I certainly don’t. And she’s been through a lot this past week. One of the flights she boarded crashed into the Pacific Ocean. And everyone died!’ He glances briefly at me. ‘Sorry. I mean, almost everyone. But that has to affect a person’s memory a little. I mean, she’s not exactly the most reliable witness.’

Cody is right. Just because that gate agent never saw me get on the plane doesn’t mean I wasn’t on it.

It doesn’t mean the boy in the parking lot was right.

Although that would certainly explain a lot.

Why I survived when no one else did.

Why I wasn’t on the passenger manifest.

If it’s true that I was never on the plane, then that would mean there was no glitch. Except the one that still holds my memories captive.

‘Here’s another plausible explanation,’ Cody says, oblivious to my silence. ‘You’re actually a terrorist. You snuck into the baggage compartment and were planning to blow up the plane. She never saw you board the plane because you never did. You were a stowaway. And the airline is blaming a computer glitch to keep the whole thing hush-hush.’

The baggage compartment?

Is that where I was? Did I sneak on to the plane? Am I a terrorist?

My mind struggles to process the barrage of new questions piling up on top of all the still-unanswered ones that have already amassed in my brain.

Did the boy at the supermarket know that the gate agent wouldn’t remember me? Does he work for the airline? Is that who he claims is looking for me?

‘Seriously, what is she implying?’ Cody asks. ‘That you just happened to be floating in the middle of the ocean in the exact same spot that a plane crashed down? Or that maybe the plane crashed right on top of a boat – or raft – that you just happened to have been riding on.’

I can tell from the scornful quality of his voice that he’s doing that sarcasm thing again.

‘Oh! Oh! I’ve got it!’ Cody says, clapping his hands together. A few other passengers on the bus look up. I glimpse nervously behind me and take notice of a tall, thin, middle-aged man with fiery red hair and a matching beard. He gazes at me intensely with his head cocked to one side. It’s making me nervous. I pull my cap further down, bow my head and turn back around.