The Immune

12. New and Old Faces

Stephen smiles without looking up. "Watch it, girl. You're not a match for me."

Ollie moves on quickly, shrugging off the comment. "This is Belle. I believe you met her dog, Zeus, outside."

Sitting on a couch across from Stephen and his son is a girl who looks to be ten. Her black hair is pulled into tight pigtails, and a pistol rests in her hands. She's cleaning it with a greasy rag. She looks up at us for half a second before going back to work, and I swear, her eyes are so familiar that they give me goosebumps. Her paisley skirt over torn black leggings reminds me of the girl I saved.

Or rather tried to save.

"That's Clare and Justin." Ollie continues on, oblivious to my episode of dejavu. She points at a couple sitting together on a couch beside Belle. Clare's head is half-shaved with a nasty scar stretching the length of her skull— starting at the bottom of her chin, through her eye, and to the base of her head. Honestly, it looks like she was attacked by a bear. The man sitting beside her, Justin I assume, whittles away at a piece of wood. Neither of them bother to look up at us at first.

"Let me finish, and I'll get her attention," Justin mumbles.

Why would he need to get her attention? Clare stares at the wood in Justin's hands, eyes following his precise, smooth movements. When he comes to a stopping point, he puts the wood down and takes Clare's hand. She looks up at him, and then, she looks at us.

No smile, no words. Just a wave. That's all I'm worth, apparently.

"Nice to finally meet you, Jaelyn," Justin says, smirking as he goes back to work.

With a sigh, Ollie moves on. As curious as I am about what's going on between these two, it isn't worth digging into right now.

"And that... Well, that is..."

The falter in Ollie's voice catches my attention. I look up from Justin, eyebrows furrowing as I follow my guide's direction. At the front of the room, there's a second table. Like the first, papers are scattered across it. I recognize maps before the rest.

My eyes fall on a woman standing behind the table holding a ragged piece of paper. She has wavy, blonde hair, and her mouth sits slightly open. As our eyes meet, I notice the tears brimming hers.

A moment passes in my mind. Have I seen this woman before? In a dream, maybe? Or a vision? She looks so familiar, but I just can't place it.

"Jaelyn," she whispers. The piece of paper flutters out of her hand. Even her voice is familiar.

Isaac pulls up closer behind me, grabbing my arm. "Do you know her?" he whispers into my ear. Goosebumps race down my back; I hate people breathing in my ear.

"I don't think so."

"Are you positive?"

"Yes," I hiss back.

"She looks like she could be your twin, Jay."

My eyes go wide as I realize he's right. I'm looking at a mirror image of myself. Same soft blue eyes, thick eyelashes, and light eyebrows. Same strong cheekbones and collarbone that stands out against the collar of her shirt. She's a bit taller than me, but our figures are the same— little muscle, mostly bone.

"No," I whisper, backing into Isaac. "Absolutely not." He grabs the other arm, too, in an effort to hold me in place. "No."

"Jay, calm down," the woman blurts out. The sound her chair makes as she moves it back startles Isaac, and he drops my arms. I seize the opportunity and shove away from him.

"What's your name?" I ask, voice fading. My hands tremble at my side; fingernails dig painfully into my palms.

Thundering footsteps race up behind me, and I glance back to see Stephen looming over my shoulder. My body is almost shaking. If he tried to stop me right now, we would have another Farrah situation on our hands. I don't care how massive he is.

"What is your name?" I repeat, putting emphasis on each word as I push them through clenched teeth.

"Calm down." She holds her hands up in front of her— a weak defense. "Please."

"Tell— Me— Your— Name!" My voice rises to a scream. I'm panting now, knees shaking and teeth rattling. The ground under me dips and spins, threatening me to drag me down there with it.

The woman stops walking and takes a deep breath. Her hands fall to her sides, and her shoulders slump.

"It's me, Jay." Her voice is calming, pleasing almost. "Mandy Price."

The room tilts.

This cannot be happening. No. Absolutely not.

It's my mom.

"I'm so sorry," she continues. Yet, her voice is more distant now. I'm hearing her through glass. Isaac wraps his arms around me, but even he can't hold me still.

The tile floor slams into my knees, and pain erupts across my legs. Everything around me goes black. The only thing left to feel is the cold tile on my back.