Thirteen
Rural Virginia
Last night, without the nodes, dreams had indeed visited her. But they weren’t the same ones that Nadiya had come to expect
after so many years: the flash of pistols in the dark, the rippling of strange shadows, and, of course, the blood.
These dreams were different. They were of strawberry-blond hair and soft blue eyes and that quick, half-clever, half-innocent
laugh. Nadiya had woken in a daze, time unfolding languidly around her, the morning light a heady gold. She had squeezed her
eyes shut and tried to dispel the dreams—or maybe to preserve them.
Now, as she stepped into Professor Blanchard’s classroom, the dream met reality. Giselle, who was seated at one of the desks,
looked up with an expression of both hope and terror. Nadiya hated the way it made her heart thump.
Professor Blanchard closed the door firmly behind her. “I’m very grateful for your help,” he said, guiding her to the desk
beside Giselle’s. “Your presence here is necessary for the continuation of our vital work. Isn’t that right, Ms. Buckley?”
Giselle said nothing. Her face was flushed.
“And what is your work, exactly?” Nadiya asked as she lowered herself into the seat. She didn’t like the flicker of panic in Giselle’s eyes.
“You’ll see.” Professor Blanchard held out a familiar-looking plastic case. “Put these on, please.”
Inside was a pair of nodes, just like the ones Nadiya wore to sleep. She hesitated.
“Go on,” Professor Blanchard said.
Nadiya cast another glance at Giselle. She was worrying her lower lip with her teeth. A sense of wrongness began to pervade Nadiya, but then she thought of Dr. Iver. He would never do anything to endanger her.
So she placed the nodes on her temples. Giselle was already wearing a pair. Her skin was red and raised around them, almost
as if infected.
Professor Blanchard looked pleased at Nadiya’s acquiescence. “As I’m sure you’ve heard by now, Giselle has the singular ability
of total recall. Eidetic memory. Anything she sees, even for the briefest moment, she will be able to remember in perfect
detail. Isn’t that right?”
He turned expectantly toward Giselle, whose gaze had dropped to the ground. She nodded.
“For the rest of us, most of our memories are elusive,” Professor Blanchard went on. “Strange flashes of color, odd slants
of light. Or perhaps there’s one that plays over and over again, against our will. The brain is such a mysterious organ. We
know more about the depths of the ocean than we do about what makes us tick.” He touched his own left temple, and then gave
a brief but shrill laugh.
Nadiya flinched. “Can you get to the point?”
Professor Blanchard tapped his tablet. “Now that we have proven beyond all doubt that Giselle’s talents are . . . encompassing,
it is time to make proper use of them.”
Before Nadiya could speak, she felt the familiar static hum of her nodes coming online. It was the same thing she felt each
night when she slid into bed. Only now there was no darkness, no oblivious slumber.
There was only the blood.
The classroom slipped away from her. She was in the house again—her first house, her real house. The midnight shadows mingled with the white gleam of flashlights. The sudden noise had drawn her out of bed, bare feet against the carpet, mind still fuzzy with sleep.
She was at the top of the stairs when she heard the first shot ring out.
No. At first it was only a thought, and then Nadiya managed to vocalize.
“No,” she gasped. “Stop—whatever you’re doing—stop.”
When she blinked, she was able to fade the memory, though only slightly. A shuddery film of it remained. Through the film
she could glimpse Giselle, her face a mask of horror.
“Stop it!” Giselle cried. “You’re hurting her. . . .”
“I’m not hurting her,” said Professor Blanchard. “She is in no physical pain. I am replaying one of her own memories. I have
not placed anything in her head that didn’t already exist. It is a distressing memory, I grant, but that’s why you’re here.”
“Me?” Giselle’s voice cracked. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Your brains are linked through the nodes. All you have to do is replace her memory with one of your own.”
Nadiya choked. The vision was resurrecting itself; she couldn’t hold it back. She was in the house again, stumbling down the
stairs. . . .
The blood was so thick in the air that it labored her breath. She had never smelled anything like it before, heavy and metallic.
She came to the living room, almost tripping over the lip of the carpet.
“Please,” Nadiya whispered. “Please don’t do this, please, I can’t—”
Her father was on the floor, one arm splayed to the side, the other clutching his chest. Blood poured between his fingers.
Help me, he said, his voice weak, broken. Help me, Nadiya. . . .
I will . . . I will, Daddy.
She felt herself stumble backward. Fall. A bullet cracked the air and she was turning, scrabbling for balance, catching herself
on the banister, crawling up the stairs—
And then the memory began to fade, blurring to blackness. But instead of the classroom coming back into focus, she saw something else.
It was the blinding, neon brightness of . . . sequins? A parade of girls in bikinis, turned into living baubles under the
searing stage lights. A voice peaked through a microphone. Please welcome our lovely contestants—
Not her memory. Nothing Nadiya had ever seen before. There were flashes, the abrasive clicking of cameras. The clash of ebullient,
patriotic music, funneled through crackling speakers.
And then that scene faded. The classroom returned in shuddery increments. Giselle was bent over in her chair, head in her hands, shoulders
rising and falling with exertion. She was trembling.
“Good girl,” Professor Blanchard said, sounding very faint and distant. “Keep going.”
Another scene, stealing Nadiya away from reality once more. She saw another girl, very pretty, with a freckled face and a
halo of bouncy curls. She was lying down in the grass, propped up on her elbows. The sun glanced off her white teeth and made
the green tones in her eyes shine.
You’re beautiful. It was Giselle’s voice.
I’m no pageant queen, the girl said teasingly.
You’re better. I really like you, Bonnie.
“Stop it!” The words shattered the vision like a bullet through glass. “That’s enough!”
Giselle. Nadiya had never heard her so loud before. So angry.
“Very well.” Professor Blanchard’s tone was even in response. “We’re finished now.”
With one final tap on his tablet, everything faded to black.
For an unknown amount of time, Nadiya drifted. When at last the light broke through, she found herself slumped over, head down on the desk. Her hair spilled over her shoulders and a few strands stuck to her cheeks. She tasted salt on her tongue.
Salt? She had been crying.
Nadiya sat up and hurriedly wiped her cheeks. Giselle was standing over her.
She was very pale and there was a haunted look in her eyes. “Are you all right?”
Nadiya found the question impossible to answer. It took a moment before she was able to nod.
“I’m sorry.” Giselle’s voice was thick. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know Professor Blanchard was going to do that. I swear.”
“Is this what you do with him every day?”
“No. He’s made me wear the nodes, but . . .” Giselle looked down at the floor. “He’s never asked me to put my memory into
someone else’s head. I didn’t know that I could.”
“I didn’t know it was possible,” Nadiya said. Her chest felt very tight. “Dr. Iver gives me the nodes to help me sleep. To
put the nightmares out of my mind. Not to . . .”
Not to put something else in. But that wasn’t entirely true, was it? He had always been replacing her bad memories with oblivion.
The notion made her stomach churn. Nadiya tried to push herself up, but her limbs seemed impossibly heavy.
Giselle reached out and offered her hand. It surprised Nadiya how easy it was to take it.
She felt the softness of Giselle’s palm, the faint flutter of her pulse through the tips of her fingers. Nadiya held on a
moment too long. When she did drop it, she flexed her fingers, and then drew her arm behind her back.
“I’m sorry,” Giselle said again. “I should have been able to stop it. I didn’t know what Professor Blanchard was planning. If I had known—”
But Nadiya’s mind was running on a different track entirely. “Who’s Bonnie?”
Instantly a flush rose to Giselle’s face.
“It was one of the memories I saw,” Nadiya went on. Her own skin was prickling, though in a not entirely unpleasant fashion.
“Oh.” Giselle’s cheeks were positively blazing now. “I didn’t mean to put that memory in your head. She’s . . . she’s just someone I knew from back home.”
“It seems like you knew her pretty well,” Nadiya ventured.
“I guess. In a way. But it doesn’t matter now.” Giselle lifted her gaze to meet Nadiya’s. “She’s not important anymore.”
Nadiya tried to keep her tone casual. “If you say so.”
“I do.”
Silence stretched between them, but it was not an uncomfortable silence. In fact, it was strangely soothing. Nadiya felt her
breathing steady as she looked into Giselle’s eyes—clear, soft blue.
“Where’s Professor Blanchard?”
“He left.” Giselle glanced toward the door. “Mumbling something mysterious, as usual. I’ll see him again here tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Panic clawed its way up Nadiya’s throat. “He wants us to do this again . . . tomorrow?”
“Not us. Just me. He said he didn’t need you here anymore.”
Her vision fully clear now, Nadiya scrutinized Giselle. There were red marks on her temples where the nodes had been, her
veins slightly raised. Nadiya touched her own temples and felt matching bumps there. That had never happened before.
And the thought of Giselle being subjected to that again—or worse—made Nadiya’s stomach clench. She cast her gaze around the room and saw a plastic case of nodes on the teacher’s desk. Professor Blanchard must have left them behind.
At the same time that Nadiya spotted them, her tablet pinged. It was a message from Dr. Iver.
Professor Blanchard told me about your session. I’m worried about you. Please come to the residence.
Nadiya’s heart thumped as she rose from her seat. She walked over to the desk and picked up the plastic case and, with the
nauseous, vague feeling that she was disobeying orders, held them out to Giselle.
“Here,” she said hurriedly. “I know this sounds strange, but wear them tonight when you sleep. Okay?”
Giselle’s brow furrowed.
“Just try it? Please.”
With a slow nod, Giselle reached out and took the case. When her fingers brushed Nadiya’s palm, Nadiya felt a faint current
of electricity.
She was definitely disobeying some sort of order, though she didn’t know exactly what—only that a sense of danger was pulsing
under her skin. Without another word, Nadiya turned and fled the classroom.