Someone to Remember Me: The Anniversary Edition (17 page)

Seven would leave as long as Eight left, she was certain, because she would only agree to leave if he did. Together they could go to some new land, call it their home, and live their lives to the fullest. Tethering themselves to the fate of Haven when the one thing she knew she wanted was tangible and real–and standing in front of her–was stupid.

But Eight, along with the others, wanted answers. Those answers were more appealing to her than physical desire. Why had five people, out of millions, survived the AdvISOR’s thorough and exhaustive purge? Why were they awake five hundred years after the fact?

And why did they not remember?

“There it is!” Ninety-Nine exclaimed. She pointed to an empty park by the water. Behind it was the city. Ahead of it lay the ocean. Their road pulled behind the park, now an empty and barren piece of land, as it wound its way back towards Haven. The group parted with it.

Rustling.

The noise in Eight’s ears sounded like leaves were being stirred by a nonexistent wind but she knew that was impossible. Leaves didn’t exist in Haven. Not anymore, not after five centuries of death, dust, and dirt. She turned to face the skyscrapers of Haven and found an orchard of dead trees.

Rising along the deadened trunks, curling across the lifeless branches, alive with a menacing shimmer and a loud buzzing, was a great cloud of golden and brown dust. Eight’s mind went blank as the monster congealed into one sizable mass of glowing particles. She opened her mouth to scream but in that same instant the monster roared at Eight, silencing her, and sprung towards the survivors.

Seven appeared in front of her, stepping between Eight and the monster, with his hand extended. Blinded by its own ravenous brutality, the monster barreled into his palm. The noise, so deep and heavy, rang through the air. The monster released an agonized shriek, its amorphous shape curving around the group, in its mortified desperation to escape. Unwilling to touch any of the survivors, the cloud of golden-brown dust fled away through the decomposed orchard until it vanished into the city streets of Haven.

Seven lowered his arm but stared at his hand. It was the one that had healed overnight.

“It doesn’t like me,” he mumbled.

Eight threw her arms around him.

“You saved us!” she gasped. Twenty, Null, and Ninety-Nine offered mortified platitudes that failed to hide the fear in their eyes. Something else was there too. Distrust? Suspicion?

“Can we get in the boat before that thing decides to come back?” Twenty spat, ready enough to forget Seven’s heroism. Eight hurried the group after Twenty, who zealously led them towards the ferry pier where an ancient sign notified the travelers of their arrival at the Pala Ferry. The dilapidated pier was nefarious and threatening after being faded black by age and abandonment. Gaping holes rotted through some of the planks and, in some places, whole strips were missing from the dock.

A small boat was tied to the pier roughly midway down its length. Someone had left it here in expectation of their arrival, but who? Twenty hopped aboard the craft with careless abandon, his gaze traveling back to the city often. Like Eight, he feared the monster’s imminent return and chose to take the inherent risk that the boat represented rather than gamble with the monster.

The boat had a small rectangular cabin at the helm and an empty space behind it for passengers. Its body was rusted and only just barely seaworthy as it lethargically bobbed in the dark water.

“Our chariot awaits,” Twenty declared as he helped Ninety-Nine, Null, and Eight aboard the craft. Twenty moved to the helm, the boat rocking beneath him, where he spent the next few minutes studying the boat’s controls. “Finally something goes my way! The buttons are labeled!” he shouted ecstatically. “Blessedly simple,” he commented. It didn’t look that way to Eight but she was preoccupied with Seven. He stumbled aboard the boat, hanging on to the waking world, while Twenty started the boat’s motor.

“You’ll be safe with me. I swear,” she whispered, pulling him closer to her as terror threatened to overtake her senses. Seven nodded and Eight wiped the sweat from his forehead before yelling at Twenty. “Get us over there already!”

Something was wrong with Seven. That encounter with the monster had sapped him of his final reserves of energy and he shifted in and out of consciousness. The others were aware of it too and Null reached out to squeeze Seven’s shoulder.

“Stay with us.”

Eight marveled at Null’s certainty; the absolute conviction that reinforced her words. Her assurance anchored Seven into the waking world and he steadied noticeably. Twenty revved the boat to life and it carried them away from the pier as it raced towards one of the small islands in the distance.

Ahead of their boat, spread across a large area of ocean, was the island chain the Unimatrix had spoken of. They were small and unremarkable but the nearest, which supposedly housed Rose Garden, displayed no extraordinary qualities.

“I touched the Sphere,” Seven groaned. “It was cursed. I should’ve listened…”

“You let him touch that thing?” Eight shouted at Twenty.

“You’re surprised that I’m incapable of stopping either of you from doing stupid things?” Twenty yelled back at her, his uncanny knack for steering the boat managing to spare her from the brunt of his furious sarcasm. “We just have to get to Rose Garden. We’ll be fine there…” he reassured himself.

The next ten minutes were excruciating. Seven’s modest reinvigoration persisted but Eight didn’t know if it was the Sphere and its fabled curse or the encounter with the monster that was to blame. When the boat finally motored alongside the pier at the island closest to Haven’s northern shore, Twenty killed the engine and an eerie silence swept over the survivors. He tethered the boat to the pier, masterfully recreating the knot he had seen at the Pala Ferry, and one by one the travelers filed off the vessel. Beyond the pier lay a dirt path that went in a straight line up a steep hillside.

Eight realized, belatedly, that the hillside was green.

“Color!” Ninety-Nine gasped. “There’s color here!” she cried hysterically.

The discovery contributed to the weight of Rose Garden’s merit. After the work it took to get here, this place had to be special; there must be a worthy revelation contained within it. That small blades of grass grew alongside the dirt path was a worthwhile start.

Their combined breathing became labored as they fought against the steep slope. Eight took the lead and dragged Seven along at her side. At the top of the path the survivors found that the trail dipped into a basin, a wide bowl. Eight gasped.

A field of roses occupied the crater stretching ahead of them. Heavily scented air assaulted Eight’s nostrils and her eyes watered from the air’s sting. Red, white, yellow, and pink complimented the green of the basin’s encircling hillside.

“Life,” Ninety-Nine whispered.

If she were to die here Eight would not complain. In contrast to the hell of Haven this place was paradise. Temporarily dissolved, the group splintered and disseminated across the beautiful rose fields. Eight wandered through the flowers alone, captured by the grandeur and exceedingly careful not to trample them.

Being without a direction suited her. Getting lost in the flowers felt like a dream. What had they come here for? The thought escaped her. What had they been looking for? It didn’t bother her. Eight’s fingertips touched the petals, trembling from the fear that the roses would disappear after prolonged contact. When they did not disappear, Eight thought that they pushed back against her hands.

And so it was that the survivors discovered Rose Garden.

“Over here!” Null shouted. “Come look at this,” her panicked voice cried out across the Garden. Eight converged with the others at the center of Rose Garden where Null stood adjacent to a squarish structure covered by roses.

Gently, Null brushed away the curtain of roses to reveal a metal door. On the door was a familiar mark.

“That’s the same symbol from the crates,” said Twenty.

Ninety-Nine, standing to the side of the door, pushed a clump of foliage out of the way. Doing so revealed a silver panel mounted on a glass wall beside the door. “This whole structure is made of glass with the exception of this door and the panel,” she concluded and fearlessly placed her hands on the smooth plate. She shivered as the doors parted. “Elevator,” Ninety-Nine concluded when the metal door revealed the chamber’s empty interior.

“Rose Garden must be an underground facility,” Null concluded, surveying the basin with a renewed awe and comprehension. “They hollowed out the island, built the facility, buried it in dirt and planted the bed of roses on top.”

“Why build such an elaborate complex out here?” Ninety-Nine wondered.

“Probably so they could make something worse than the AdvISOR,” Twenty guessed.

“There’s only one way to find out,” said Eight.

“Why aren’t you listening?”

Eight didn’t recognize the voice at first. It was fearful, panicked, and almost childishly high-pitched. The soft, almost indiscernible, patter of water dropping against the dirt reached her ears. Out of curiosity Eight turned away from the entrance to Rose Garden. She saw that Seven must have been the one to speak.

Seven fell to his knees.

“Seven!” she screamed, running to his side.

Two wide trails of blood dribbled out of his nose. The sides of his face and his cheeks were smeared with blood draining out of his ears. He was choking, his breath catching in his throat, oblivious to the bloody mess on his face. Seven’s eyes twitched up at the sky.

He fell backwards and convulsed violently. Staring blindly at Eight he asked: “Don’t you remember me?” Eight lowered him against the ground and tried to wipe away the blood. Nothing in particular came to her, except the terror of knowing that he was in danger.

“Yes! I remember you!”

It was obvious that Seven’s mind was firing off random, unconnected thoughts. “I should have told you sooner,” he babbled. Twenty ripped open his bag. Unwinding a roll of gauze, he realized that he had no idea where to place it or what to do.

The only option left for Eight was to hold him. Tightly. Feeling Seven writhe and spasm in her arms, as his eyes focused in and out on her face, caused her tears to flow readily. His blood smeared against her hands, her fingers, her arms, her clothes. Whatever Seven was experiencing, it was nothing short of a living nightmare.

“Seven,” she cried. “What’s wrong?”

Seven’s eyes frantically searched everything he could see and it occurred to Eight that he wasn’t with her anymore. He was somewhere else within his mind, lost and desperate to return. “Come back!” she shrieked, louder and more urgent than she thought herself capable of.

Seven’s eyes swiveled back into focus. They were the only unbloodied feature of his face and they locked onto Eight. Slowly, the convulsions lessened and his breathing steadied. A familiar sadness overwhelmed his wrecked expression. He opened his mouth to speak.

“Come back,” he repeated hopelessly.

And then One-Six-Two-Seven died in Eight’s arms, his empty eyes staring into the ones he thought so highly of.

Part Two: Rapture

Chapter Six:

In Memoriam

On the night of the art exhibition at the Imperial Galleria, Seven knew that the evening’s events would decide Haven’s future. Its citizens, soldiers, and rebels depended on Seven and his companions. Still, an intense anxiety threatened to isolate Seven from the night’s fanfare but Twenty’s persistent badgering bought his compliance. Three days since delivering his requests to the others outside of the Great Library, Seven felt himself slipping into a dangerous lethargy. Maybe the others would fail? Maybe they would refuse his outrageous requests?

What if none of the others wanted the War of the Begotten to end? What if they wanted the status quo to endure, preferring that to actual change? He wasn’t sure that he wanted to escape it himself, not anymore, not when he understood what would be required of him. Seven pressed his forehead against the window of the car and watched the lights of Haven’s commercial districts danced against the glass, losing himself in their beauty.

Years later and they could still mesmerize him. Sometimes, on the shores of Rose Garden, Seven would sit in the sand and watch the lights shimmer across the towers on the mainland. That seemed to be Haven’s boundless gift to the world: light. It was fitting given that the city had brought an unthinkable darkness into the world as well.