The Fifty-Seven Lives of Alex Wayfare (19 page)

Porter scrubs a frustrated hand over his face. “He can't find you, Alex. If he finds you, it'll ruin everything.”

“Why?”

“Because you're a Transcender.” Porter says it like I'm stupid. Like that should mean something to me. “You're more powerful than all of us, all of the Descenders combined, which makes you dangerous. You're the only one who can bring Gesh down, and he knows it. So he wants you contained. If he finds you, he'll break you. Make it so you can't fight back, can't do anything except follow his orders. He did it to you once before. He'll do it again. It's his specialty.”

A memory flashes before me. I'm that little girl with braids again, the same little girl playing Polygon, but this time I'm strapped to a chair in the middle of a sterile medical room. The lights above are harsh and bright. The boy with the wire-rimmed glasses watches me from the doorway. He looks worried for me, his dark eyes round and wide. A tall man in a white lab coat shines a blinding light in my right eye. It's Gesh, I know it is, I remember it being him, but I can't see his face past the light.

“Kan du huske hvem du er?” he says. Do you remember who you are?

I shake my head no.

He slaps me, hard. So hard I almost pass out.

“Husker du nu?” he says. Do you remember now?

Tears spill down my cheeks and lips. My whole body trembles. I rub my bare forearms and wrists, my palms sliding over rashes and scars and burns and bruises.

I cower as he raises his hand to strike me again.

That's all I can remember. The memory is gone. Out of reach. But I can still feel the sting of his hand on my cheek. I can still feel the painful scars on my wrists.

I let go of my sleeves, which I'd been gripping this whole time. I push them up to expose the bare skin underneath. I run my fingers over my wrists. They're pink and perfect. No scars. But I remember them now. Burning cigarettes pressed into my flesh. Ropes tied tight, rubbing my skin raw. Serrated knives slicing patterns in blood.

My nails bite into the palms of my fists. I squeeze my eyes shut. That memory of Gesh awakens a mixture of fear and hatred I hadn't known was inside me. I don't remember anything else about him, or my last life, but I have a feeling Porter was right to keep me hidden.

My teeth chatter, and I start to shiver, suddenly feeling cold and bitter. Porter notices my discomfort and motions for me to follow him inside. We climb painted stairs to the top floor. Porter's apartment is sparse, to say the least. A tiny kitchenette in the corner looks out over the street, and a futon and over-stuffed armchair take up all the space in the living room. It smells like burnt toast, coffee, and cigar smoke. It's hard to believe Porter has lived like this, without anything to his name, for so many years.

All because of me.

Porter fills an electric teapot with water from the tap. I fall onto the cushions of the armchair, feeling bad for treating him the way I have. He'd only been doing what was best for me. This whole time. “I remember him,” I say. “I remember Gesh.”

Porter turns off the tap and looks at me.

I rub a hand over one of my forearms. “He tortured me, didn't he?”

Porter's eyes close for a moment, like my words pain him. Then he plugs the teapot in and flips the switch. “Gesh is a very troubled man.”

“That's why I didn't agree with his methods at AIDA.” I swallow a knot in my throat and hug my arms across my chest. “He hurt me. Hurt others too, I guess.”

Porter gives me this grave, solemn look. “I won't let him hurt you ever again. Or your family. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

Somehow I know he's telling the truth. “Is that why you hacked in and deleted Dr Farrow's files? So there'd be no trace of my abilities?”

Porter pulls two mugs out of a cabinet and sets them on the counter. “I have to erase any trail that might lead Gesh to you. He has spies everywhere, especially at AIDA. Imagine one of them stumbling across Dr Farrow's files – all her notes about a seventeen year-old girl plagued with realistic visions of the past. That would've led him straight to your doorstep.”

I bury my face in the crook of my arm, feeling like such an idiot. If Porter hadn't been there to cover my tracks...

“Incidentally,” he says, “I heard Dr Farrow accepted a very lucrative job offer in San Diego. She boarded a plane this morning. We won't be seeing her again anytime soon.”

I peek up at Porter from behind my arm. “You made that happen?”

He drops a teabag into each mug. “Couldn't risk her being interrogated too heavily about the security breach.”

I watch him pour hot water over the teabags, the steam curling past his face and up to the ceiling. “You must be a pretty good hacker to break into AIDA's database.”

“I should be.” He hands me a mug and sits down on the futon with his own. “I designed the system.”

 

 

I sip my tea slowly, so it doesn't burn my tongue, and Porter tells me all about Gesh.

“In the beginning, Gesh and Flemming lived by a strict code of ethics. Descending would be used for the good of humanity, nothing more. But Gesh lost sight of the code somewhere along the way. Once AIDA became large enough, and Gesh had trained enough recruits to do his cancer research for him, he took a step back to explore his own passions and greed. Descending was no longer a means to saving the world. It became a vehicle for conquering the world.” Porter leans against the back of the futon and props an ankle on his knee. “Imagine if I wasn't there to chaperone your descent to Chicago. Imagine if you could get away with anything. What would you have done?”

I know exactly what I would've done. It involves Blue's bedroom, his biceps, and a lot more kissing. But I don't dare say that to Porter.

“You see,” Porter says, dunking his teabag up and down, “you were upset that I made you erase your first kiss. But you only erased it in that boy's past. In your past life's past. Not in your present. That kiss will still be your first, forever and always. You feel sick about it because the boy you shared it with won't remember. That your night together may have prevented his unfortunate fate. But what if you didn't care about that? What if you only cared about your own experience and nothing more?

“When Gesh discovered he could experience all the pleasures of the world – all the pleasures of a lifetime – in no more than a blink of an eye, he was hooked. He descended into bodies and used them however he saw fit. Gambling, drugs, sex, murder. He could live as wretchedly as he wanted – he could push life to the limit in those other bodies – and never sully his present day reputation as the revered founder of AIDA. The saint who dedicated his life to saving the world, one person at a time.” Porter makes a sound in his throat like he's disgusted.

“For a while, when he was younger, sex was his main conquest. He took what he couldn't have in Base Life. An enemy's wife. A rabbi's daughter. An actor or actress he fancied. It was all a game to him, seeing how far he could go. He could make all the impact he wanted, and all he had to do was go back and erase it, like you did your first kiss. Poof. It never happened. He did the same with drugs. With gambling. He pushed everything to the limit, even going so far as assassinating half a dozen US presidents, simply because he could get away with it. He used the past as his own personal playground. He stopped searching for cures long ago. Now the only things he searches for are lost treasures and unclaimed inheritances, just to line his own pockets.”

Porter places his soggy teabag on a saucer on his lap. “Remember I mentioned moving documents and other things to hidden locations to recover in Base Life? Like a time capsule? It's just as easily done with treasure. And a lot more profitable. Within a few years, Gesh was the richest man on earth. Only no one knew it. They still don't know it. He started companies and organizations all over the world to cover his tracks and launder the money he makes from his discoveries. Under the banner of AIDA, he bought out museums, universities, gave grants to private archeological teams – all so he could keep his personal name in the clear. He wanted AIDA to be recognized for every major historical breakthrough, not himself. Did you hear about that recent lost artifacts discovery in Scotland?”

I nod, remembering how it was all over the news. The largest and most priceless archeological find in history. Gold, silver, rubies, coins, armor, weapons – all sleeping peacefully in the highlands since the Dark Ages. My eighth grade history teacher made us write a report on it. “A team from a Scotland museum dug it all up. It was worth millions.”

“That's the one. It took Gesh years to discover it. He sent dozens of Descenders back to the Dark Ages and the time of the Crusades, sending them into bodies of soldiers, of civilians. Each time he gathered more clues about the location of the lost hoard, until finally, he got the tip he was looking for. He bought the land using a phony identity that couldn't be traced back to AIDA. Then when the time was right, he sent anonymous tips to the museum. His museum, mind you. When his team dug it up, the news spread fast. The museum took in donations from philanthropists to purchase the hoard from the landowner, which was Gesh. No one knew the massive amount of money they donated to Gesh went straight into Gesh's pockets. Gesh walked away with millions and got to keep the treasure. It belongs to the museum now, which belongs to AIDA, which belongs to him. He's playing God with the world, and no one's the wiser.”

“What a brilliant, sick, twisted bastard,” I say, shaking my head.

Porter nods. “I thought the novelty of it – if you can forgive me for using such an innocent term – would eventually wear off, but it hasn't. He won't stop until he has everything. Until the world is his.”

I grip my mug so hard it's in danger of cracking in two. Of course he won't stop. Not the kind of man who'd smack and cut and burn a little girl who didn't perform the way he wanted. The feeling of fear and hatred inside me that awoke when I remembered my past life with Gesh is now a solid knot of disgust lodged in my chest. I know what it's like to feel that lure of addiction. The feeling of Base Life slipping away. The thrill of attaching myself to another existence, one where I'm not the Fix-it Freak. Wrapping my arm around Blue's. Looking up into his blue-green eyes. Letting it all go for the chance to be someone else just a little while longer.

It was so easily done. I can see why he was hooked.

But I'd never let myself go as far as Gesh. That was his weakness.

Not mine.

“At least some good comes out of all this,” I say. “AIDA truly is saving the world. They've saved countless people. Audrey's still alive because of AIDA. They've paid for all of her treatments. And Mom and Dad have always had all the money they need for their research.”

“No thanks to Gesh,” Porter says. “AIDA's a non-profit. It's one of his most brilliant schemes. All that funding your parents get? It comes from donations, not from Gesh. But you're right. There are plenty of people who work for AIDA who still care. Your parents are a perfect example. Most of the employees have no idea what goes on at the top of the corporate ladder. In the smoke-filled back rooms.”

Porter was right. Mom and Dad had no idea who they truly worked for.

“It's unethical for Gesh to use other people's bodies for his own gain,” Porter says. “Especially when they can't remember what he makes them do or how he uses them. That's partly why Flemming started doing research on reincarnating souls. A reincarnated soul descending over and over via its own soulmarks wouldn't have to violate a stranger's body. And Gesh was on board with the idea at first. Not because he cared about ethics, but because your soulmarks would be reusable. No more burning up soulmarks never to be used again. And he hoped you'd be able to remember your past lives. That way, when you descended, you'd fit into those lives seamlessly. You'd remember your mission and have all the memories of your host body. You could go back to any time period and find any lost document or artifact with ease. No years of research required. You'd know right where to look. But it didn't turn out the way he hoped. You didn't remember your past lives. You remembered the mission and your Base Life, but nothing else. Just like when you were in 1927 – you didn't know who you were, who your family was, or what the money in your pocket was for. Gesh considered it a defect in your memory. You had other defects too, ones neither Gesh nor Flemming anticipated. Gesh thought a reincarnated Descender would make things easier, but your defects only presented more obstacles for him and the Descension Project. That's why Gesh experimented on you. He tortured you for years, using all sorts of indecent methods, trying to get you to remember your past lives, fix your defects, turn you into the ultimate Descender. The ultimate Transcender. But something backfired. I don't know what happened exactly, but you turned on him. Became his enemy.”

“And then I escaped?”

Porter nods. “I'm not sure how. I remember hearing gunshots, and then the facility alarms went off. You disappeared and went into hiding. I tracked you down a few months later, but you were dying. You made me promise to reincarnate you. To help you continue AIDA's original mission and stop Gesh. I hid your soulmarks so Gesh couldn't find them. I made sure you were reincarnated into a good family. I chose your mom and dad, even though they work at AIDA, because I figured Gesh would assume I'd take you as far away from him as possible. He'd never suspect I'd hide you right under his nose. Then I changed my name and went underground until you were grown and ready to travel again.”