Escape from Memory (16 page)

“It’s reversible,” Alexei said soothingly. “She’ll know how. We’ll give her the knowledge, and she can pick out what she wants to keep.”

Toria pushed the final key on the computer, and that was the last memory she copied.

I felt bereft, realizing I’d come to the end of my mother’s memories, even though she’d given me twenty-four years’ worth before that one. It was almost like witnessing her death.

But Toria hadn’t died then.

From Alexei’s perspective, I could still see her, moving the computer closer to where I lay, pulling out more computer wire. She seemed very businesslike and efficient now that I couldn’t see into the turmoil of her mind. But Alexei saw the tears in her eyes as she bent over me, feeling for the port on my brain that my parents had implanted only hours before, when they’d anesthetized me for a particularly long afternoon nap. They’d designed mine differently from their own: My port would soon be covered over with skin, disappearing as I grew. Theirs were meant to stay accessible for the rest of their lives.

Finally, Toria straightened up.

“Done,” she said. “Your turn now.”

Alexei frowned.

“Shouldn’t Sophia be here by now?” he asked. “The longer we wait, the more dangerous—”

“She’ll come,” Toria answered. Alexei heard the challenge in her voice: Didn’t he trust his sister-in-law? He had nothing against Sophia; it was just that he trusted no one anymore, no one except Toria. After all, he had once trusted Rona Cummins….

Alexei was reaching for the laptop when he heard the dull thud below. He saw his wife stiffen, saw the fear grow in her eyes.

“I’ll go check,” he said, trying to sound brave. His legs felt rubbery as he descended the stairs; he had to remind himself to breathe. He did not expect to live much longer, but that didn’t mean he was eager to die. And his daughter was still up in the room behind him—he couldn’t die until she was safe.

“We’ve made a mess of everything,” he muttered.

He reached the door to the street and put his ear to it. The fighting sounded far away, but how could he tell through such thick wood? Gently, he eased the door open. The sound of the scraping hinges echoed in the empty alley. Alexei winced, terrified that someone would hear and come investigate. Cautiously, he peeked out. Nothing.

Then a hand grabbed his ankle.

“Alexei,” a woman’s voice croaked.

It was his sister-in-law, Sophia. She was lying on the ground. Alexei might have mistaken her body for a pile of filthy rags if she hadn’t spoken.

“Save my … memories,” she murmured.

Alexei risked shining the flashlight on her, and he instantly wished he hadn’t. She was lying in a pool of blood. He couldn’t tell if her wounds were from knives or bullets, but there was one fact he couldn’t ignore: She was dying.

“They got me,” she managed to say. “I’m … sorry. Should have been here for … Kira. So … sorry. Just … save my memories. Please. Please save my memories.”

Alexei could admire her determination to get to the room, to him and her sister, but at the same time, heartlessly, he
worried that she’d left a trail—a trail of blood to lead their enemies directly to them.

“Lets’ get you inside,” he said grimly. “Maybe we can find a bandage.”

His suggestion was so ludicrous that Sophia actually laughed.

Alexei pulled Sophia up the stairs, leaving a stream of blood behind them, a zigzag of drops on every step. She wouldn’t last much longer.

“My memories,” she was still insisting. “Save—”

They reached the room. Toria was standing in the corner with the laptop held high over her head, ready to whack any unwanted intruder. When she saw Sophia, her arms sagged; even her backbone seemed to melt.

“No,” she whispered. Her voice rose to a scream. “No! Not her!”

And Alexei understood suddenly that Toria had suggested her sister take Kira for two reasons: so that Kira would be safe, and so that Sophia would be too. And now Sophia was about to die, and it was, once again, Toria and Alexei’s fault.

Toria bent beside her sister, pulling off clothing, feeling for wounds. In seconds, her hands were as bloody as her sister’s shirt.

“Save …,” Sophia managed to say.

“We can’t, baby sister,” Toria whispered. “Oh, I’m so sorry. We can’t.”

“In there. My memories.” Sophia somehow managed to point to the computer Toria had dropped by her side.

Toria and Alexei looked at each other, hopelessly. Of all the Crythians, Sophia had had the greatest faith in them and their
discoveries. He knew it wasn’t fair, but Alexei had always regarded his sister-in-law as somewhat simpleminded. Sure, she could memorize anything she was given, from the periodic table to the Los Angeles phone book. But she had none of her sister’s flashes of brilliance, none of her sister’s insight. Sophia liked flowers and trees. She liked to look at the sky.

What’s the point?
he wanted to scream at Sophia.
A computer disk is not eternal life
.
You’ll still be dead
. And even more heartless:
Who would ever want your memories but you?

He said nothing. He bit his lip.
I am shutting down already
, he thought.
I am losing my humanity
.

Toria leaned closer to her sister, gently brushed the hair back from Sophia’s face.

“Of course. Of course,” she crooned. “That is how we will keep you. Forever.”

Numbly, Alexei watched as Toria’s fingers raced across the keyboard, deftly copying Sophia’s mind into digital memory.

Alexei chafed at the waste of time—why tend to the dying when Kira was still in danger? But at last Toria straightened up.

“She’s gone,” she said. “I don’t think I got it all.” Her voice broke. Alexei forgot that he had given up on his own humanity; he rushed to his wife’s side and held her in his arms. Over her shoulder he could see me, Kira, still sleeping soundly on the floor.

“You must go, then,” he said. “Take the child and go quickly. Before it is too late.”

But Toria was still reaching for the computer, fumbling with wires.

“What are you doing?” Alexei demanded.

Toria had the computer linked to her brain once more. Her fingers flew over the keyboard.

“I can’t just
leave
Sophia in there,” she said. “The computer is so cold…. Her memories will be safer in my mind. Like we’re putting our memories in Kira’s mind.” Her hands shook as she reached back to make the final connection. So many tears streamed from her eyes that Alexei wondered if she could see at all.

“Toria, this is madness,” Alexei protested, but his wife didn’t seem to hear. He watched helplessly as she made the transfer. Grief had clearly swept away the last traces of her reason. What good would it do to store Sophia’s memories in Toria’s mind when Toria was about to die too? He wondered, suddenly, if all of Crythe was crazy, thinking memory mattered. Mattered enough to die for.

Alexei was ready to forget.

Down below, the door scraped open and shut. Alexei froze. Toria stiffened as well—this sound, at least, had broken through her trance of grief. Both of them looked around frantically. There was no place to hide. Except for the baby sleeping on a blanket on the floor, the room might as well have been a tomb. It might well become their tomb, as it had already become Sophia’s.

But the baby was sleeping on the floor. Alexei could not allow her to die.

“Quick! I’ve got a plan!” Toria hissed. Alexei was relieved to see the gleam of reason in her eyes again. “Shut off that flashlight. No—wait—don’t. Hand it to me. And lie over there beside Kira.”

Baffled, Alexei huddled beside his daughter. He heard footsteps on the stairs—whoever had opened the door was climbing the stairs now. He dared to hope that it was someone who
sympathized with Alexei and Toria, but that wasn’t likely. Most of their compatriots were dead.

“Don’t wake Kira!” Toria ordered. She was tugging on her sister’s body straining and pulling until it was right in front of Alexei and the sleeping child. Then she spread out Sophia’s skirt and her hair until Alexei and Kira were hidden behind the corpse.

“It’s just her body. It’s not her. I’ts not her memories,” Toria said again and again, like a mantra. Through the tangle of hair, Alexei saw Toria pull the kerchief from Sophia’s head and tie it under her own chin. Then she fell, face first onto her sister’s chest, sobbing.

“Toria? Alexei?” a voice called, and Alexei’s heart sank. It was Rona.

From his hiding place, Alexei saw a beam of light flash crazily about the room. He saw Toria turn and throw something toward the door. There was a crash, and then the room went dark. Alexei suddenly understood: Toria had used their flashlight to knock Rona’s flashlight out of her hand.

He had to admire his wife’s aim. But what was she going to do next?

Rona was cursing Toria. “Give me back my flashlight,” she demanded. “Give it to me. Now!”

Alexei could hear someone groping around on the floor. He hoped that Toria found the flashlight before Rona did. Or, at the very least, he hoped both flashlights were broken.

“You killed my sister! You killed Toria!” a voice wailed, and it sounded so much like Sophia that Alexei was spooked. In the darkness he poked one finger against the body in front of him—it was already cold with death.

“Oh, well, there’s still Alexei to help me,” Rona said carelessly. “Where is he?”

Toria’s sobbing intensified.

“He—He saw that she was dead and he ran away,” she blubbered.

Rona swore. “Why don’t they make this easy for me?” she asked. “They’ve lost. Why keep fighting?”

“Maybe he was looking for you. I don’t know,” Toria said through her sobs, barely coherent. “Oh, oh—my sister is dead!”

“Oh, shut up,” Rona said. “I should kill you, too.”

Alexei couldn’t believe Rona’s callousness. No—he could. He knew what she was capable of. He braced himself to spring up and defend his wife, if he had to. But it was so dark, he didn’t know which way to spring. Toria’s keening made her easy to locate, but Rona was moving about the room, still groping for a light.

“Go ahead,” Toria challenged. “Kill me. I don’t want to go on living without my sister.” She sounded so convincing, Alexei worried. Was that what she really believed?

“No. You’re not worth my time,” Rona countered. “Ugh. Get away from me, you filthy piece of vermin. I mean it. You’re getting blood on me.”

There were sounds of a struggle. As best as Alexei could tell, Toria must have thrown herself against Rona. A body hit the floor. Alexei dared to hope—

“Serves you right,” Rona said. Her footsteps drew closer to the spot where Alexei and Kira lay behind the corpse. Then she paused. “Oh, forget the flashlight.”

The footsteps echoed down the stairs.

As soon as he heard the door below, Alexei shoved Sophia’s body aside.

“Toria?” he whispered.

She moaned, and that led him to her. On the way he stumbled over a flashlight. He scooped it up, switched it on.

“Are you all right?” he asked, bending at his wife’s side.

“I think I … hit my head,” she mumbled. “Hurts.”

Alexei gently turned her head to the side, felt for a wound at the back. The skin wasn’t broken, but a small lump was growing right beside the computer port.

“It doesn’t look too bad,” he assured her. “Oh, Toria, you were incredible. You really fooled her! If I hadn’t known, even I would have believed—”

“Toria?” She furrowed her brow in confusion. “What’s wrong with you, Alexei? Can’t you tell the difference between your wife and your sister-in-law?”

“Come on, Toria, Rona’s gone. You don’t have to pretend anymore,” Alexei said.

“Pretend?” Toria looked even more puzzled. “Who’s pretending? I’m not Toria. I’m Sophia.”

“No, no, you just bumped your head. You’re confused,” Alexei insisted.

But even as he spoke the words, he knew. He could recall exact passages from psychology texts that he and Toria had pored over, planning their inventions. It had been dangerous for Toria to bring Sophia’s memories into her own mind. The bump on her head was all she needed to lose track of which identity was really hers.

“Sophia?” he said tentatively.

“Yes, of course. Who else?” Toria replied. She struggled to sit up. “You were really scaring me there, Alexei. Where is Toria, anyway? And Kira, I came to get Kira….” She rubbed her
forehead. “That’s funny. I don’t remember coming here. What’s wrong with me?”

“You just bumped your head,” Alexei repeated, trying to hide his own fear.

“Toria will know—I have to see Toria—”

“She already left. She couldn’t bear to say good-bye,” Alexei lied frantically. Anything to keep Toria calm.

Toria shook her head, her expression blank—as blank as Sophia’s would have been.

“I was in my room, getting ready. And then I was here. How could I forget everything in between? And Toria.” Her voice arced toward hysteria.

“Don’t worry” Alexei said soothingly. But his mind was running like a rat in a maze. He had to cure his wife—He had to divert Rona before she came back and discovered the truth—He had to protect his daughter—” You’ll remember everything again, soon,” he murmured. But he didn’t believe it.

And did he want her to remember Sophia’s death?

Toria was turning her head. In a second she would see the corpse of the real Sophia, lying on the floor only a few feet away.

Alexei snapped the flashlight off.

“Alexei!” Toria protested. “I can’t see!” And, again, in the darkness, she sounded so completely like Sophia that Alexei doubted his own memory. Toria
was
alive, though she wouldn’t be for much longer.

Grimly, Alexei pictured the inevitable future: Either he and Toria would have to reveal their secrets to Rona, or the other Crythians would kill them. And without Sophia to rescue her, Kira would die too.

But Toria could take the baby. She thought she was Sophia anyhow—why not let her go like that?

Alexei saw everything fitting together. It was
good
that Toria was confused. This way he could save his wife and his child both. And if he was wrong, if he survived too, he could go after them, restore Toria’s true memory have his family back safe and sound….