Unforgotten(72)

Then, climbing into bed next to him, pressing my body as close to him as I can, I cry into the solid, unyielding surface of his cheek.





41

ASSAULT



Water pours into my lungs. Warm and stale. Tasting of flesh and desert dust. I have no choice but to let it in. Let it spread. Replacing air with liquid. Heavy, gasping breaths with silence.

I try. I really try. Thrashing. Kicking. My arms just above the surface, punching the air. But it’s useless. Nothing connects. My attacker is too quick. Too attuned to my limitations.

The fight is over now.

I open my eyes, struggling to see through the lingering ripples. The splashing has stopped. His face becomes clearer as the water settles. But still not clear enough. All I can make out is the determination in his eyes. The rage that contorts his features. The look of a madman.

His large hands continue to press against my shoulders. Pinning me to the hard surface of the bathtub floor. If I could speak I would tell him that he can let go now. I already have.

The light starts to flicker. The blackout is coming. I long for it. I welcome it with open arms. At least it will end this unbearable burning in my chest. This throbbing in my temples. That look in his eyes.

The shadows creep in, like a thick, heavy veil. I feel the pressure lift from my shoulders. His task is complete. My weightless body begins to float upward. Toward the surface. Toward the light.

As I break through, I see his radiant aquamarine eyes piercing the darkness and I know.

I’ve always known.

* * *

I wake tangled in the sheets and drenched in sweat. It would seem my morning routine has not changed since I left the Pattinsons’ farm.

Warming daylight streams through the window, illuminating the guest room of Cody’s town house, reminding me of where I am, of everything that’s happened.

Zen is still sleeping peacefully next to me, seemingly undisturbed by my nightmare and the thrashing that most likely occurred as a result. I wonder if Cody slipped Zen more of whatever drug he used to subdue him last night.

I climb out of the bed and tiptoe into the kitchen. The house is completely deserted. Zen and I appear to be the only ones here. In the kitchen, I find a plate of food sitting on the counter and a digital note typed next to it.

Went to the lab to run some tests.

Be back soon.

—C

I didn’t notice it last night but the countertop appears to double as a giant screen. I spend a few minutes playing around with it, marveling at its functionality. I can drag the note across the large surface with my fingertips, rotate it in any direction I want, make it bigger or smaller by pinching my thumb and forefinger together or moving them apart. I can layer it over photos and documents that are scattered throughout, creating virtual stacks.

One of the digital items catches my eye. It’s an orange-and-white gradient square with a single row of black numbers running across it. On the top it reads Magnum Ball Lotto with a date from last week. Unable to make sense of it, I return it to the pile and scroll through a collection of photos.

After the novelty of the countertop screen wears off, I slide onto one of the stools and start to eat the breakfast Cody left out for me. Once again, it’s delicious. Some kind of fluffy egg dish mixed with various vegetables and cheeses. The covered metal dish it’s served on has somehow kept the meal warm. I’ve nearly devoured all of it when a small blue bubble appears on the screen below the plate.

It’s a message from Cody.

Are you awake?

I click on the button labeled “Reply” and a keyboard appears. I drag it to the right, away from my plate, and type out a response.

Yes.

After pressing Send, I watch the word disappear and rematerialize as a green bubble under Cody’s question. A few seconds pass before Cody’s next message pops up in blue.

Can you come to the lab? There’s something I think you should see.

Panic floods through me.

He’s found something.

Something about Zen.

I haven’t even finished chewing by the time I’ve transessed into Cody’s lab, steadying myself against the wall as the small wave of dizziness fades.

Cody jumps upon seeing me. “Wow. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that.”

“What is it?” I ask, my voice frantic. “What did you find?”

“Were you able to eat the breakfast I left for you?”

He’s stalling. Putting off bad news. “Cody.” My tone is dripping with desperation. Begging him.

Please don’t make me wait for this.

He seems to understand. “Okay,” he agrees, and takes a deep breath. I swear I can feel every particle of carbon dioxide that he exhales hitting my face like a million tiny drops of acid. “Well, I finished running all the tests.”