Unremembered (Unremembered #1)(57)

‘Run!’





33


DESERTED


I heed his advice. But I don’t run away. I run straight to him, bounding out of the car and crossing the long parking lot in a matter of seconds. The men stalk after me, but their limited speed gives me a considerable lead.

‘You need to get out of here,’ Zen tells me urgently. ‘Get as far away as you can.’

I shake my head, eyeing their ominous approaching figures. ‘I can’t leave you here alone.’

‘Sera.’ Zen’s voice is dark and grave. ‘They don’t want me. They want you. And I’ll only slow you down. You can outrun them. I can’t.’ He looks towards the car. ‘I’m going to make a move for the gun in the centre console to try to divert them. Get at least two miles away so they can’t track you.’

‘But—’

‘I will find you. I promise.’ Zen places his hand on my hip for a brief moment. Then he gives me a shove. ‘Now GO!’

I bow my head and sprint forward, surrendering my thoughts, my doubts, my fear to the power of my legs. My fast, perfect, questionably human legs.

They don’t fail me.

The scenery whizzes by in a blur as I manoeuvre behind the gas station and head for the vast plains in the distance. The wooded mountain landscape is slowly morphing into desert. The early-afternoon sun is hot, beating down on my face and bare shoulders, but it doesn’t slow me.

I take a moment to glance behind me. One of the men is chasing after me. But he’s not fast enough. For every second that passes by, I put another fifty feet between us. The other man is . . .

I don’t see him.

Then I hear the loudest bang! I’ve ever heard in my life. It startles me and I let out a quiet whimper.

With a sick feeling in my stomach and a foreboding sense of darkness, I slow to a stop and turn back towards the gas station, squinting against the bright sun. I can just make out the second man, staggering around the side of the building. He moves with difficulty, and upon closer inspection I can see that he’s dragging something.

He dips in and out of view as he weaves around a series of large black dumpsters. When he clears the last one, I can finally see what he’s towing behind him.

And despite the blazing heat, my whole body turns to ice.

No.

It can’t be.

I take a step forward, hoping the minor shift will somehow drastically alter my point of view. Transform what I’m seeing into something less horrific.

But it doesn’t.

Just like with the memories on that tiny silver cube, I can’t change anything. I can only see what is there. I am powerless to do anything about it.

I watch as the man hoists the unconscious body and tucks his hands under its armpits, before continuing to heave it across the asphalt parking lot.

From this great distance – nearly a mile away – the body is tiny. Not much bigger than an insect. But there’s no denying who it belongs to.

‘Zen!’ I cry out, and then quickly cover my mouth.

Is he dead? Or only deactivated? Did they use the same device on him that they used on me? Or was that loud noise I heard Zen’s gun going off?

Oh, please don’t let him be dead.

I’ll never be able to survive knowing they killed him. Because of me. The guilt will surely kill me too.

I have to go back for him. I have to do something. I can’t just stand here and watch.

I shift my weight, preparing to dart back towards the gas station. But I feel a sizzle on my wrist, freezing me in place. My tattoo. It’s pulsating again.

I hear heavy footsteps approaching. Accompanied by strained, ragged breathing. My pursuer has identified my location and now he’s closing in on me.

I take one last longing look in the direction of Zen’s lifeless body and tear myself away. Heading for the sprawling crimson desert before me. Tears stinging my eyes as I go.

The ground is uneven – a jumble of rocks, mounds and small holes. My ankles swivel smoothly in every direction to keep my body stabilized as I navigate the rough terrain. Once again, I’m astonished at how easy it is. How little effort it takes on my part. After running for twenty minutes at top speed, my breathing is steady and even. My muscles still feel strong and agile. I feel like I could run for days and never tire.

I don’t move in a straight line. I make sure to zigzag, changing my direction randomly and frequently so that I can’t be followed.

Once I’m sure he’s no longer behind me, I come to a stop.

I’m in the middle of nowhere. A stretch of open silent space. Without a soul around for miles. The wind blows, whipping my hair and spraying small pebbles against my bare arms and legs. The air is dry out here. And laced with dust. It burns my throat.

I fall to my knees and rest my forehead against the scalding-hot sand.

The tears gush out in a torrential downpour, plunging directly from my eyes into the dirt, creating small muddy pools beneath me. As hard as I try to pull myself together and think straight, I can’t stop crying.

I can’t stop picturing Zen’s body being dragged across the parking lot.

I could have done something. I could have stayed behind and fought. I already know I’m stronger than they are. So why did I run? Why did I listen to Zen?

Why did I choose to save myself when I could have saved us both?