Unremembered (Unremembered #1)(33)

Diotech, compound, technology conglomerate, research project, Seraphina, Zen

These are my exact search terms. Word for word. In the same order I entered them into the search box. As though whoever wrote this knew exactly what I would search for.

As though whoever wrote this . . . wrote this for me.

The thought makes me shudder.

I hastily close the lid of the laptop and push it aside. I return to lying on my back and close my eyes. One storey below me, Scott and Heather are still arguing in hushed tones.

Scott exhales a heavy sigh. ‘We knew when we signed up to do this that it would be difficult. But we need to try to be supportive. We’re all she has right now.’

‘I am trying,’ Heather insists. ‘I really am. Sometimes she’s sweet. And I can see a normal human being in there. Then other times, she opens her mouth and it’s like she’s a . . . she’s a –’ her voice gets very quiet – ‘a robot.’

I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling.

I’m not angry. I don’t blame Heather for feeling the way she does. For being afraid of me. I’m afraid of me too right now.

With all the surprises and strange discoveries, no one ever knows what will surface next . . . including me.

I think about the car door lying on the ground and how it got there. Regardless of the more realistic explanations Scott tries to come up with, I know the truth. That door was on the ground because of me. Because I kicked it. I kicked it so hard it tore right off the hinges.

Without even trying.

And I also know that, like so many things about me, the ability to kick car doors off hinges is not normal.

Which leaves me with only one solid conclusion: whoever I am, I’m not safe.

I’m volatile and unpredictable. Something came over me when I saw that redheaded man. Something I can’t explain. Nor could I control it. It was . . . instinctual. An impulsive reaction.

Not to mention, if there are people out there looking for me, I can’t lead them here. I have to go. I can’t risk something happening to Heather or Cody or Scott.

I stand up and walk over to the dresser, opening the top drawer and retrieving the only two possessions I have. My locket and the yellowed piece of paper with my handwriting on it.

Trust him.

I walk back to the computer, flip open the lid, and enter a new search term:

1952 Bradbury Drive

‘Meet me there and I will explain it all to you.’

I hit Enter. Then I chew on my fingernail. Just like I saw Brittany, the gate agent, do. And now I know why. It has a sort of calming effect.

The search results begin to generate, but before the page can fully load, I slam the laptop shut again.

It’s better that I don’t know. It’s not like I’m ever going to go there anyway.

Come to think of it, maybe it was that boy who posted the thing on the Internet about Diotech. Using some fake picture and some fake name. Because he knew that I’d look for it. Maybe he did it to try to prove his crazy lies. To gain my trust.

But it won’t work.

I crumple up the note and toss it in the trash in the bathroom. As soon as I do, I feel a pang in my chest and my forehead starts to heat up again. I turn on the faucet and splash cold water on my face until the sensation goes away.

I change out of my purple dress and pull a tank top and a pair of pants from one of the shopping bags Heather and I brought home from the mall. The top is white with blue trim and the pants are sort of a light brownish colour with lots of pockets down the legs. Very functional. I like them.

I fasten the locket around my neck, then sit on the edge of the bed and wait.

As the minutes tick by on the clock, the house finally begins to go to sleep. Heather and Scott finish their discussion and soon I hear the gentle sound of their steady, rhythmic breathing. Cody’s pattering fingertips silence. The light underneath the bathroom door is extinguished. I wait for his soft snores.

Then I tiptoe down the stairs, carefully ease open the front door and exit into the night.





21


BROKE


I don’t know where to go so I just start down the road that Cody and I took to the bus station yesterday morning and Heather drove to get to the supermarket and to the mall. As far as I can tell, it’s the only way into town. Wells Creek is completely shut down except for a diner at the end of the main street. I didn’t eat much at dinner and it’s only now I realize how hungry I am so I step inside.

The place is mostly deserted apart from a few customers who sip coffee at a counter. A woman in a blue apron sees me come in and shuffles over.

‘Well, aren’t you a pretty thing?’ she says. It’s evidently loud enough for all the customers to hear because they glance up to confirm her assessment.

I flash a quick smile and bow my head, scolding myself for not taking Scott’s hat with me when I left.

‘Just one?’ she asks, glancing behind me.

I nod. ‘Yes.’

‘Counter or table?’

I peer once again at the people lining the counter. All of them are still giving me a once-over. The man closest to us is doing a more thorough job than the others. ‘Table,’ I decide.

She nods, grabs a menu and beckons for me to follow her. I do. But it’s not until we reach my designated table at the back of the diner that I notice the man sitting at the other end of the counter.