Chapter 12: Pawn
The following week drags as I struggle to sort through all the conflicting information around me. I know Daniel is the key to something, but I don’t know what. I know he’s more important than anything else in my life, but I don’t know why.
Having not seen him since the basement encounter, I’m even more concerned when a crew of staff members invades our suite to clear out his room.
“So they finally decided enough is enough,” Ben says, joining me as I watch anxiously from the common area. “Honestly, I’m surprised they didn’t do this sooner.”
“I wonder what he’s going to do now,” Laura says behind him.
“He’ll probably end up dead under a bridge somewhere.” They both snicker at that.
I can’t look at them and continue to study the men tossing Daniel’s few belongings into storage bins. Slivers of fear radiate through me, triggered by a sense that something’s very wrong. Is he still imprisoned downstairs? What did they do to him after I left? Even worse is this strange twinge of guilt I don’t understand. I can’t shake the feeling that a large part of this mess is my fault, and yet, without memories I have no basis to reason or act. I’d be a blind warrior, fighting an unknown enemy for an unknown reason.
Still, my nonstop analysis has succeeded in teasing out a few useful facts over the last few days. First, there’s the vision. The more I consider the chemistry and connection between those two people, the less I care about his motives. The passion was real, the bond. There was nothing more important to them in that moment than each other. That has to count for something.
Second, there’s the controversial Senator Albertson. How could Daniel possibly eliminate every memory of a father, and why hadn’t a connected man like that come to my aid before now? Even the few memories Daniel admitted to erasing had been so obvious they triggered a firestorm the next day.
Then again, why would Clausen lie to me? He’s our benefactor, our protector. He’s supposed to be the father figure who actually understands us.
None of it makes sense, but as the workers drag the last box away, it’s becoming clear that I’m a pawn in a dangerous game.
Even as they usher me into the locked room, I still can’t believe they allowed this interview. I waited for the dust to settle after they moved Daniel’s belongings to request a second attempt to regain clues about my missing past. I’d been prepared to fight, to dig in for a long campaign to wear them down. Instead, they seemed eager for the meeting, as though they’d been hoping I’d ask. They even gave me full, unsupervised access to the prisoner who seems just as surprised to see me standing in the doorway. I’m grateful for the visit but it also makes me uneasy as if I’m somehow playing into their hands.
“We’ll be back in a half hour, unless you call us,” the security guard says.
“I’ll be fine. Won’t I?” I direct to Daniel who watches them with a wary stare from his place on the tile floor.
“You better be,” the guard mutters, locking the door behind him.
I approach him slowly, glancing around for cameras or some sign of surveillance.
“They can’t see us or hear us,” he says. “This is just an emptied storage closet they’re using as a temporary holding cell.”
“How do you know?”
He shrugs with a weak smile. “Intuition.”
Right. There’s a lot he knows. From what they said the other day: pretty much everything.
“This is where they’re keeping you?” I ask, my stomach constricting at the cramped, dingy closet. He doesn’t respond this time, only studies me with an unreadable expression. “This is all my fault, isn’t it,” I say, lowering myself beside him. “If not for me, you’d still be upstairs with your friends.”
Is he smiling?
“You really don’t remember anything do you.” It’s not a question, and I glance over at the hint of amusement in his voice.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Do you think this is what I wanted?” His wry smile hurts for some reason.
“Why did you do it then?”
“Because it was either take you down with me or let you go. I don’t know how I missed the fact that they’d use even that against me. They’re desperate.”
“Can you give me my memories back?”
He lowers his eyes. “No. I’m sorry. I wish I could.”
“Your wounds, are those because of me, too?”
