Waters of Lethe, Book 2

6. Drawing Blanks

Enzo and I talked some more on the flight while nearly everyone else had drifted off to sleep, including Scott. Scott made sure to eye us a few times before he went to sleep, as if he were making sure that we hadn't found parachutes and were about to jump overboard to escape. We made sure to stop talking, appearing as if we were asleep or bored out of our minds when he turned around to peek at us. Shortly after deciding that he could do it, he drifted off, evident by his breathing pattern.

For the better part of an hour and a half, Enzo and I threw random things in the air to see if something jogged our memory. We talked about relevant things, such as food and sports, right down to odd things like the textures of different objects and clothes and animals. I learned that he was a very introspective person, but, unfortunately, could not remember anything concrete. Neither could I, but I was more interested in what he could recollect.

"What about pie?" I asked him.

"I think I might like pecan... What does pumpkin pie taste like again?"

"Sweet. Pumpkin pie is sweet. What about candy?"

"Candy... That name sounds terribly familiar. Like it's a woman's name, one I know. But I like Hershey's Kisses. I think."

"Ever been to Hershey, Pennsylvania?"

He chuckled quietly. "Now you're just grasping at straws."

I nodded, smiling. It was true, however. I was trying anything and everything to get something to come back to us. "Do you remember where you're from?"

"Not entirely. Although my accent suggests I'm from the UK. Well, that and the fact that Scott told me that's where I lived before the British got all power hungry and decided to create an army of me. What about you?"

"I'm not one hundred percent sure, though my accent suggests I'm from the states."

"I'd say your accent drops you in Texas. Howdy, y'all," Enzo said, mimicking my accent.

I rolled my eyes. "Alright. Somewhere in the southern US. That and the fact that Scott also told me that I lived in the states before the US government decided to get all tyrannical as well. Had the same intentions as your people, apparently."

"Coincidence?"

"Who the hell knows?"

"Hell..." Enzo echoed. "Do you believe in it?"

"Do I believe in what?"

"Heaven and hell," Enzo half asked, half pondered.

I paused to think. I dug and dug and dug for the better part of three minutes before I answered him. I laid my head back and closed my eyes. Enzo knew that I was thinking, knew that was something that I didn't particularly want to dismiss for some reason. And in that, he had his answer before I said anything.

"Yes. I think I do, at least. I mean, I believe in a higher power," I told him. "You?"

"I think so," he said slowly. I nodded. It made sense. Maybe he didn't think he could harm anyone because he had a suppressed faith that his subconscious remembered.

Even though I knew I believed in something, that something didn't make much of a difference. I knew I was not one to lay down and take something because I believed I was going to hell if I fought back and accidentally stepped on someone's toes, or life, in the process.

We were silent for another thirty minutes. We both tried to close our eyes and go to sleep, but we were both too strung out.

After that thirty minutes, Enzo's quiet voice filled my ears again.