Unforgotten(63)

“Of course I remember!” he snaps, his ridicule replaced with simmering rage. “It’s kind of hard to forget someone who implies that you somehow ended up in a crashed plane without ever having boarded the plane.”

“And she was right. I wasn’t in the middle of that ocean because of a plane crash…”

I let the thought drift, hoping Cody can finish it on his own. And I know he can. Now it’s only a matter of whether or not he can believe it.

He blinks. “You’re saying that you didn’t crash there. That you time traveled there?”

I sigh, grateful that he seems to finally be coming around to the idea. “The official term is transession, but yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying. I came from the year 2115. Somehow I accidentally landed in 2013 surrounded by plane wreckage. I don’t know why. I only know I was supposed to be going somewhere else and—”

I think about what Zen told me back in 1609.

“You let go.”

I quickly shake off a shudder.

“—well, something went wrong,” I continue. “That’s why I had no family, no friends, no one who came to claim me. That’s why my DNA wasn’t in any database. I wasn’t even alive yet!”

“You honestly expect me to believe that?” he barks. “You think just because I used to read science fiction as a kid that I’m going to go all la, la, la, oooh, time travel! Whooooooaaaah! Hey, cool! You’re from the future! Are you here to terminate the mother of the rebellion leader? Can I ride in your DeLorean?”

I don’t recognize his voice. It’s turned very high-pitched and almost breathy. I don’t think it’s sarcasm anymore. It’s something else. Something crazy. And I’m pretty sure he’s not even speaking sense. Plus his eyes have grown wide and a little bit scary.

I take a step back. “Cody?”

“You’re crazy!” he roars. “Get out of my lab!”

I sigh. I should have known he wouldn’t believe me. I should have known it would come to this.

“Okay, fine,” I say, raising my hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’ll prove it to you. Is that what it’s going to take?”

Cody doesn’t respond. He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at me from across the room.

I peer at Zen out of the corner of my eye, still resting on Cody’s counter. “I’m going to transesse one minute into the future. You will see me disappear from right here and in exactly one minute, I will reappear.”

Cody’s eyes narrow. I take that as a sign I have his attention.

I flash him a hurried smile that he does not return.

“Okay,” I say again. “Watch carefully.”

I glance at the clock on the wall: 4:52. I close my eyes and prepare my mind, directing all my thoughts to this exact place, only one minute later.

I feel the air start to swish around me, the hum of the molecules of the space vibrating to release me. My body clenches. Pressure builds in my head.

And the last thing I hear before I completely vanish is the hushed sound of Cody’s blue paper mask fluttering to the ground.

When I arrive as planned, the clock reads 4:53 and I see that Cody is still staring openmouthed at the space where I just rematerialized. His blinking patterns have increased in velocity. And a strange gurgling sound is coming from the back of his throat. He sways slightly before finally plunking down into a nearby chair.

I kneel in front of him. “Cody, look at me.”

But he won’t. Or he can’t. His eyes are lost and unfocused, wandering aimlessly. As though he’s trying to follow a million dust particles traveling every which way.

I grab his hand and give it a firm tug. “Cody.”

His gaze snaps toward me and for a brief moment I have his attention. “Now,” I say with finality, “will you please help me?”





37

TRANSPLANT



Cody packs the last of the supplies he’s gathered into the van and slams the door shut. I climb in the back with Zen and sit on the floor next to a box of syringes and test tubes, and hold his head in my lap. He drifts in and out of consciousness as Cody steers the large vehicle with the name GENZONE emblazoned on the side through the streets of Brooklyn. I stare down at Zen’s face, stroking his cheek and his hair, occasionally whispering into his ear, assuring him that everything will be okay.

Of course, I don’t know that.

Of course, it’s possible Cody won’t be able to figure out what’s wrong with him. But for the first time in a while, I feel safe again. I feel like I’m moving toward a solution, instead of away from it. I feel like I can take a deep breath without my chest caving in on me.