Every Missing Piece

Chapter Three

Alexa's heavy hand touches mine again as the blood drip drip drips and her last breath leaves her poor, murdered body. "They're coming," she rasps. "Coming for you."

I jolt awake. It's morning, still early enough that the generators haven't yet come roaring to life in the moments before the lights blink on, but late enough that the sun shines through our curtainless windows so strongly that the frost on them sparkles. Across the room, Taryn is still asleep, her breathing deep and even as I try to sort my thoughts. It was just a dream.

Except it wasn't. Alexa's warning was as real as anything I've seen in my life, remembered or otherwise.  It was just yesterday, wasn't it, when she died in front of me. I can see it all now; I can feel the medics pulling me away even as I lie here in bed with a pillow squeezed between my hands. It's real, it happened.

But that was yesterday. I should be free of it now. That's how it works.

I freeze in horror, a terrible but oh-so-possible explanation monopolizing my thoughts with the urgency of a thousand warning bells. At some point yesterday during my blocking assignment, I must have missed a trigger.

It makes sense, doesn't it? Because aren't triggers supposed to bring abandoned memories back to the forefront of the mind? Don't they turn our entire, natural process of forgetting and moving on upside down? That has to be the answer.

And if it isn't the answer, the only other explanation is...no. I can't even think it.

I hurry out of bed, my feet landing on the floor with a boom like a cannon blast but still not enough to wake Taryn. If I waste no time, there's a chance I can fix this before people realize my mistake. The blocker's department is so close to our unit; I can be there in minutes. I can remove the triggers. I can be normal again.

I can finally, finally, finally forget.

No one notices as I stuff my feet into boots and pull on my coat. I can only hope this isn't the only place I've gone unnoticed. My meeting with the Assembly, the meeting all eighteen-year-olds have for the evaluation of their work, is soon. I don't want to have to explain away any mistakes, and missing a trigger is the biggest mistake a blocker can make. There've been rumors about the Assembly's harshness, how one critical misstep can be enough for you to join Gotten's drudgery...

No. I'll block the trigger before they ever know.

The snow crunches with every step as I run to the blocker's department. It settles in drifts around me, footprints from yesterday smoothed into the gentlest of depressions after hours of wind. Today, I ignore the cold. While I run, I make a mental checklist of my body's condition.

No cough. No chills. No dizziness. No aches.

No virus.

I decide to marvel at that later, how I could have gone without the cure last night yet show no signs of illness. We were always told the virus was a swift and deadly fate, silently invading until it was too late. They must have been wrong, or maybe I'm just lucky. But if the virus doesn't get me, the Assembly will unless I hurry up.

With feet slipping on coats of ice, I arrive at the blocker's department. I slip inside unnoticed. There's no one to notice me, anyway. It's still too early for most people to be reporting to their assignments and there's little need for guards at this peaceful time of day. All the same, I take a moment to make sure no one's watching because the last thing I want is someone asking me difficult questions about what I'm doing.

The streets are empty. I've pulled it off.

I pass glass door after glass door on my way through the building. Some of them are windows into lit offices, but most lead to rooms that are still dark and empty. I have no idea what lies behind them. We share this building with many other departments, but they don't concern me, so I never asked. That's the way things work around here.