Chapter Eighteen
“Let me see what you’ve got.” Cora Newfield grabs the petition from my hand and waving me into her apartment. “Come in, come in.”
I could swear I’ve bruised my knuckles from all the knocking I’ve done in the last three hours. The list Ray gave me has been invaluable, and I’ve made good headway. If someone is home, they always agree.
“What a great idea,” Cora states, reading over the document I whipped up to carry around. What began as a prop to see if anyone remembered me has turned into a movement. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this.”
“This petition calls for an end to the debriefings and their side effects,” I explain, meeting her vacant gaze. “The headaches, nausea, fatigue—it’s not right. We shouldn’t suffer like this in the name of‘national security.’This has to stop.”
I keep my voice steady and sincere, hiding my frustration.
Cora just blinks at me blankly. She doesn’t remember the debriefing. Only how awful she feels now.
But I remember. And I’ll make sure everyone else does too. The military can’t keep treating us like lab rats, no matter what their secret agenda is. I have to find more women who weren’t completely debriefed. Someone else has to know the truth.
Cora’s eyes narrow in concentration as she listens to my explanation, her brow furrowing. She glances down at the petition, then back up at my face. I can see the gears turning in her mind as she tries to piece together hazy fragments of memory.
“I think...I remember feeling sick after,” she says slowly. “My head was pounding when I woke up yesterday. But I can’t remember coming home. Or anything about my deployment.”
She rubs her temples as if trying to massage the memories to the surface.
I nod encouragingly, hoping she’ll recall more.
“But why would they do that to us?” Cora asks, her voice tinged with fear and confusion. “What really happens in those debriefings?”
“I wish I knew,” I reply gently. “But that’s what we’re trying to find out. This petition will force them to explain the side effects and to be transparent about what they’re putting us through.”
I grasp her hand reassuringly. “You’re not alone, Cora. By standing together, we can get answers. We can make them stop hurting us like this.”
Cora squeezes my hand tightly, her eyes glistening with tears. Then she straightens up, holding her head high.
“You’re damn right we can,” she declares, slapping the paper onto her counter. “Just tell me where to sign.”
I hand her a pen and my heart speeds with hope. If we keep finding voices like Cora’s, the military won’t be able to ignore us any longer. Piece by piece, we’ll uncover the truth.
I study the dark circles under her eyes. They stand out against her pale skin, and I watch as she drops the pen before gripping it tightly and scribbling her name next to the eight others I’ve collected. She looks terrible—exhausted and frail.
“I haven’t been sleeping,” she says, voice raspy. “Only nightmares.”
I nod, trying to appear sympathetic. “Me too. It’s awful.”
She doesn’t need to know my nightmares are because I remember.
I can’t let her know my debriefing was stopped by Ray. Just thinking about him makes my heart clench, wondering if he’s alright.
“Well, this petition should help.” Cora hands it back. “Those debriefings have to end. We shouldn’t be treated this way.”
I wish I was as optimistic. “You’re absolutely right.” I fold the paper and tuck it securely in my bag. “Thanks for your support. It means a lot.”
“Wait. I have a question.”
I pause in the doorway, taking in Cora’s disheveled appearance and haunted eyes. She looks lost, like a shell of herself. The debriefing must have wiped her memory completely.
“What’s that?”
“Maybe I should start a support group?” Cora sinks onto the couch next to the entry where I’m hovering. “We could document our side effects and help each other out.”She looks on the verge of falling asleep with her puffy eyes and drooping shoulders.
“That’s… a nice idea.” It could work, I guess. And maybe if they talked, they’d start to remember some of what they’ve forgotten.
Cora leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “It’s just…” her voice drops. “… my roommate already thought I was wimpy. The way I feel now has taken me to a whole new level.” She laughs, but it’s jaded and sad.
“Well, I don’t. I know exactly what you’re going through.”
Kind of.
“Do you think you could get me a copy of everyone’s name, and I could reach out to them? Where did you get your list?” Cora’s head tilts back and her eyes flutter over my face. “I don’t remember you. Do you remember me?”
Fuck. This is getting a little complicated. “My source is confidential.”
“I bet.”
“Okay.” I nod, wondering if I’m making a bad decision.
Opening my bag, I pull out the list. “Take a picture of this and if you’re cool with it, I’ll start telling everyone I get in contact with, that you’re starting a support group and give them your contact information.”
There’s a flash as her phone captures the names and information I’ve collected. I’m tempted to send her screenshots from the list Ray sent, but I just can’t do it. What if they can trace it back to me… and him?
I leave her apartment determined to keep gathering names. It doesn’t matter that she was another dead end. I was hoping she’d remember something useful, something to help prove what the military is doing to us. But finding real allies will be harder than I thought.
“Well, thanks again for signing,” I say with a small smile. Cora nods weakly as she shuts her door behind me.
Clutching the petition tighter, I head down the stairs. I’m tired but can’t stop. Not when the answers I need are still out there. I just have to keep looking.
My feet ache and my eyelids droop, but I soldier on towards Shayla’s apartment. She’s one of the strongest women I know - her fierce spirit and resilience saw her through our shared trauma in that awful cage. If she only remembers me like I do her, it’ll be a huge boost for my dragging feet.
But when I knock on her door, there’s no answer. Again.
I stopped by her and Jamie’s place first. It made sense. I know them the best. We spent days together in a traumatic situation. It’s so hard to believe they won’t remember me.
I press my ear against the cold metal, listening for any signs of movement, but hear nothing. Shayla must still be out.
I debate waiting, but a wave of fatigue washes over me. I’m running on fumes. As much as I want to talk to her tonight, it’ll have to wait.
Dragging my weary body home, I’m gripped by equal parts hope and frustration.
I take comfort in knowing the fight continues tomorrow. For now, I’ll gather my strength and keep chipping away, one woman at a time. Piece by piece, we’re dismantling their mind control.
As I step into my apartment, I quickly lock the door behind me and turn around. To my shock, Shayla is sitting on my couch watching me with an inscrutable expression.
“Shayla!” I gasp, clutching my chest. “How did you get in here?”
Shayla pats the cushion next to her. “Come. Sit. We need to talk.”