Monochrome (28 page)

She saw nothing, but she heard the boss’ final command, “She is to go nowhere near Eric or Ishmael. Bring her to Geoff, Rhonda. Tell him to extract her memories, and theirs. Only then can she be brought to Ishmael’s cell. Eric can deal with them from there. He’ll make her regret this.”

The demented pride in his voice echoed through the halls, and bounced around in her brain. She felt long hair brush her arms, and noticed the woman called Rhonda smelled like soap and leather.

“Go to sleep. I’ve got you now.” Rhonda’s voice was tired but almost affectionate. It was the last thing she registered before falling into blackness.

ABIGAIL WOKE
UP
on a cot. She couldn’t be sure how long she was out. The memories she soaked up played again and again in her sleeping mind. They made her feel a mixture of happiness and wonder. But she was also aware they were not her own, she wasn’t Eric or Ishmael, and she now held something very private.

She lay with her eyes closed for a few minutes, until she was startled by a rustling sound from the corner of the room. She shot up in bed, aware she wasn’t safe. Unfortunately, she forgot about the glass in her side and arms. Pain paralyzed her. Movement was unbearable. She yelled out in pain, lying back down.

“Careful. You’re hurt,” a deep voice in the corner said.

Abigail recognized who it was without sitting up. “I remember now.”

She heard Geoff get up. He picked up his folding chair and set it next to the cot she was laying on. She shifted, sucking in painful breaths. He was staring at the glass in her arms.

“I was told no medical attention will be given to you until you gave me the memories you stole.” Geoff didn’t sound like he had before. His voice was even, but not unkind.

She noticed he rubbed his arms uncomfortably when he looked at hers. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was empathetic.

She winced as she spoke. “What will he do if I refuse to give the memories up?”

He rubbed his face, tiredly. “He’ll kill you
and
Ishmael. Or, rather, he’ll have Eric kill you both. He won’t let you leave with those memories. With their memories returned, they may not want to stick around, and they are of no use to him gone. Though, honestly, Eric might stay. He loves it here.”

She felt tears in her eyes. “What about my memories? You’re going to take them too?”

“I was told to take ten gold memories from you, yes. It was five before you did what you did. He told me to say so.”

She didn’t need to hear him say who ‘he’ was. She’d acted stupidly, but knew she’d do it again, if given the chance. She said none of this to Geoff, who sat staring at her wounds in obvious discomfort.

A tear ran down her face. “Did you like the ocean?”

Abigail didn’t know why she said it, except to postpone the inevitable, but Geoff’s reaction stunned her. He put his face in his hands and sobbed. She didn’t know what to do, so she bit her lip, fought the pain and reached out to pat him on the back.

He lifted his head. “The ocean was beautiful. I wish I’d made the effort to see it before I decided life was shit. There’s no ocean here. Nothingness and more nothingness. There’s a terrible river, too dangerous to cross, but it feels like fear and smells like death.”

His voice was low and strained. “Until recently, I thought there was
nothing
beautiful here. The boss despises beauty. What you did for me, though, that was beautiful. You could’ve killed me. Maybe you should have, but you gave me rest and peace. I haven’t rested in a long time. And now I either take from you your happiness or I suffer.”

She was shocked, speechless, at first, but a sudden idea came to her. “Geoff?”

He stared at her with black, tearful eyes. “Yeah?”

“You have to do this. I won’t fight you, but please do me a favor.”

Geoff sat up, interested. “I’ll try.”

“Don’t take any memories of my baby. I need them. She’s just a baby. I don’t have many. ”

Geoff pressed his lips together, holding back tears. “I won’t. I know what that feels like.”

“One other thing.”

He frowned and she knew she was pressing her luck. “Leave me two memories from both Eric and Ishmael.”

He frowned, and lowered his voice. “I don’t know…”

She pleaded. “He can’t know how many memories he has from them. Believe me, it’s a lot. He won’t miss four.”

He still seemed hesitant, so she reached out to him. “What if they were your memories? You’d want them, right?”

He shook his head, still talking just loud enough to be heard. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. Alright. Because you were kind to me.”

“Thank you. Which do you want first?” He stood slowly and walked to the corner of the room.

He brought back two tall jars. “Eric’s, then Ishmael’s. Afterwards, your arm can be treated. Then I’ll take yours.”

“Don’t worry about my arm. Just take the memories.”

Geoff didn’t argue. He just sat next to Abigail and opened the first jar. “Think of the memories. I’ll collect them as you think of them.”

He lowered his voice again, “Keep the two you wish to keep. Don’t think of them. Do it again with Ishmael’s.”

She closed her eyes and thought of Eric. His memories flooded her head, more than thirty. She scanned them and held back two she thought Eric felt most strongly about.

Geoff brought the jar close to her to keep her from pushing the glass deeper into her skin by moving. As the last memory left her, she felt weary but not as morose as when she gave her memories. Eric’s memories were confusing because they weren’t hers. She was tired from giving them, but not badly hurt by it.

She knew Ishmael’s would be harder, though. Geoff closed the lid to Eric’s jar. “How do you feel? Can you keep going? That was a lot of memories.”

She yawned. “Tired, but it’s not as bad when they aren’t yours.”

He opened Ishmael’s jar. “Okay, then. Let’s get this over with.”

Abigail reserved the two memories of Ishmael’s she was sure he most treasured, and let her hand drift to the jar. She gave about twenty back. Ishmael’s memories were sweeter and dearer to her, she found, than Eric’s. When she was done giving them, her hand dropped, lifeless, to her side and tears streamed down her face.

Geoff replaced the lid and twisted away from her as she sobbed. It wasn’t just that her momentary happiness was taken from her or that she now felt like she knew Ishmael less, both of those things were terrible, but she would’ve given almost anything to give him all of his memories. Every memory leaving her was akin to pouring water on a drowning man.

Geoff left her side and shuffled to the other end of the room. “You sure you don’t want me to take out the glass first?” In his hands he grasped tweezers, a bowl and vodka. “I got these from the supply closet while you were sleeping.”

Geoff felt terrible for what he must to do to her, so she nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”

He worked efficiently. He was careful not to hurt her and always paused when she made a pained sound. He poured vodka on the wounds when he was done then handed her the bottle. She took a long, grateful gulp, and coughed as she handed it back. Vodka was vile on its own. Might as well drink rubbing alcohol. He stopped for a second and stared at her awkwardly.

“What is it?” she asked him, puzzled.

He motioned to her torso. “Sorry. You’ll need to remove the dress from your side, for me to get the glass out.”

Her dress was torn just below the wounds, which were high on her side. She remembered hearing it rip when she fought to get free of Kent’s grasp. “Rip it. It’s fine. It’s already ripped anyway.”

Geoff nodded, as if he planned to do so but was waiting for her permission. He pulled carefully at the ripped seam, exposing her side to the chilled air. She winced as the glass shifted in her wounds.

He knelt by the cot and took a few pieces out at a time, pouring vodka over it when he was done. “Not as bad as your arms and not as deep. They should heal fine. Trust me. I was a nurse at one time.”

“Thank you. I feel better. You must’ve been a good nurse.”

He shrugged, put the bowl and tweezers to the side and poured vodka on his hands. He wiped them on his worn jeans and sat back down. “You can rest for a bit if you want.”

Abigail shook her head. “No. We might as well get it over with. Your boss will want the collection, and your stalling will only get you in trouble.”

Geoff stood and collected the last jar. “I know. I just…I’m sorry. This will hurt. Not physically, but
one
gold memory is tough. I’m not sure what ten will do to you.” His voice was frightened.

She closed her eyes. “Are you supposed to choose the memories or can I?”

He spoke in a sad whisper, “I’m supposed to. I know which ones he wants most. I’m not sure he thinks you’ll care as much about your baby. Though, as a parent, I know that’s not true. He wants memories of your husband and your biological father. Don’t ask how he knows which memories you have. This is his domain. He just knows.”

She wanted to feel sad, but she just felt angry. “What will he do with them?”

“It depends. He’ll keep them if you decide to stay and take employment. He’ll use them as energy to power Monochrome and to pay his employees if you’re able to leave. Actually…”

He kept his voice low, as he answered, “I was told to give your memories to a Plant Runner, Malachi, so yours won’t be staying here. Don’t go lurking around this place to find them. When I’m done, and they let you go, leave. Your memories won’t be here.” He seemed to have read her mind.

She wasn’t about to let her memories go without a fight.
They’re taking them to the power plant.
“How do you use memories for power?”

Geoff stared at her, stymied. “I’m not sure exactly how it works. I know he has a power plant outside of Steamtown. He collects memories from all over Monochrome and they’re taken to this plant or one of the smaller ones, and the plant produces energy. I’m not sure anyone knows how it works except for him, and the Powers, the workers who run the thing. It’s a job that doesn’t come up often because it’s top secret and because they have to work with memories without taking them for their own good.”

His forehead crinkled in suspicion. “Why do you ask?”

Abigail shrugged. The less he knew about her plans the better. Her memories wouldn’t be staying in Monochrome. She was leaving with her husband and father intact. He seemed to think it best not to ask any more questions, anyway.

He breathed unevenly and opened the jar. “Okay, I need you to think of your husband and father, the best memories you have. I’ll know if you’re holding back.”

She clenched her eyes and relived the best memories she shared with her husband and father. These glowing, gold moments were fewer than the other memories she was asked for, and she knew that was because these were life-altering moments. The first memory he took from her was one of her most precious:

Jason’s Malibu rolled into her driveway right on time. She checked herself one last time in the mirror, and was satisfied she wore the right outfit. She was wearing a red plunge top, tight fitting jeans, and short boots. If he didn’t get the message her clothes were sending, being in love with him was hopeless. When she opened the door she knew all was not lost. Not only was he wearing a button-up shirt, which he rarely did, but he was wearing cologne, which he never did.

His long black hair fell free upon his shoulders and back, his dark brown eyes wandered over her body indiscriminately. She blushed.

“Wow. I’m not sure I look good enough to go to the concert with you.”

She took his arm and stepped out of the house. “Believe me, you do.”

His mouth lifted in a half grin. “Thanks for coming last minute.”

This comment reminded her that his first choice, Jessica, bailed on him. Abigail said nothing, but dropped his arm and walked to the car. “Not a problem. It’s one of my favorite bands.”

He didn’t rush to open her door, which she appreciated. She thought it was a stupid, outdated custom. She was born with working hands. He was kind and respectful and that’s what truly mattered.

Once at the concert, it was apparent they were sitting in a whole section of couples. Fantastic. Couples stood and held hands, kissed and swayed around them. “How do you do it? Make me feel like I do?” The lead singer wailed, and she sighed. Indeed. She observed Jason, expecting him to be watching the band, but he wasn’t.

His eyes were locked on her and in them was the unmistakable fire of longing. He didn’t turn away when she noticed him watching her. Instead, he leaned in. “I think we look out of place.” She nodded, too scared to make the first move.

“It’s a shame to bring such a beautiful date and not get to hold her.”

Abigail’s hands shook and she found she was speechless. He scooted closer to her and put his arm around her waist. “That’s better.” He leaned his head on her head, his hair falling over hers. She heard the intake of breath as he smelled her hair.

The rest of the concert was a blur. She vaguely remembered the band finishing. She mostly remembered Jason wanted to walk back to the ferry, rather than take a taxi. She remembered him holding her hand all the way to the terminal, his long fingers nervous and shaking.

She remembered sneaking shy peeks at him and noticing desire in his eyes. She remembered they never ran out of subjects to discuss, but not the specifics of what was said. She remembered him sitting on her bench on the ferry and running his fingers over her arm, laughing when she shivered. But the most beautiful part of her memory was in the car in front of her house.

Her dad was asleep. He liked Jason and trusted him to get her home safe. Jason put the car in park and shut it off.

He reached out and put his hand on hers. “Thanks for coming tonight. I don’t think I’ve ever had a better night.”

Abigail bit her lip. “Me, too. I’m sorry to say I don’t regret Jessica canceled on you.”

Jason leaned towards her and lifted her chin. “I never asked her. I just used her as an excuse because I didn’t know if you were interested.”

Her heart seemed to float free of her body. “Really?”

“Sorry. It was stupid. It probably made you think you were my second choice, but I don’t have a lot of experience in this area, so hopefully you’ll forgive me. I haven’t thought of anyone but you for a long time.”

She laughed. “You’re forgiven.”