Chapter Fourteen — Winds of the Forgotten

Opel:

Can you keep a secret? Can you bury it so deep it might never see the light of day? Push it so far down that it smothers and dies? Apparently, I can. I remember almost everything from before the attack, except the one little secret that could be our ticket to freedom. Winds of my forgotten memory act like teasers as they race in and out of my vision. There’s a specific memory I seek, one that triggers them all. I try hard to dig it up. It’s there, I know it is, but it’s just out of my reach. I can remember who I am, but I have no visual memory of the place I come from. Or of who sent me after Aecker. I just have the knowledge. Wrapped up in solving the puzzle, I am not focused on the hunt at all. I stare into the gleam of my silver bracelet. Am I encoded with the knowledge? Perhaps I was someone else before?

“Damn it, Opel!”

“What?” I can’t help but roll my eyes.

“You let another one go. Will you just focus! We hunt now or eat rats for the next four months.” He grunts. “You are such a loser.”

He’s right, and I have just started to annoy myself. I hear the rustle of a small animal behind me and to the left. The hunt will help clear my mind, and get some sense of liberation from the anguish.

The anticipation, the game of luring, seeking, and admiration before the kill, does clear my mind of all the twisted thoughts running rampant in there. After a while I’m totally caught up in the exploration, the hide and seek of the hunting game. After the blood sport proves to be a lot easier than I thought, it flows naturally and the predatory side of me awakens. I feel close to alive again.

***

The location and untouched surroundings have presented us with many treats. Noah piles what we’ve caught over the porch railing of the cottage, their limbs loose and slack. Blood drips onto the wooden planks and seeps into the cracks, melding with dust and grime. Again, I gag at the sight and smell. It brings back a memory, one I have a love-hate relationship with.

My body jerks as a loud bang rings through the air, a shot has been fired. The bullet bounces with a ping and a pop off metal pipes.

I remember things after the attack, but I don’t know the why of it, or who my attacker was. I am thankful for my memory loss, because it’s changed me in so many ways. At the same time, though, it leaves me feeling the hollow ache of dread. I wish I knew what everyone was after. It is the one thing I do not remember. What is it, and where did I hide the object ST are after?

“Opel,” Noah calls to me to join him inside. He’s removed his breathing mask.

I find myself still staring at the corpses of the five gangly, red-tailed wild cats. I kind of feel bad that I took them away from their family. My stomach churns with a violent shove from inside, threatening to choke me. I don’t know how to deal with bad feelings. I lunge for the bushes beside the squeaky porch steps. My insides push up and what it has rejected hurls out of me. The stench of my stomach acids make it worse and I heave yet again until I’m empty. My throat burns, and my jaw aches at the force.

Noah moves closer to inspect.

“Don’t!” I shove my hand toward him.

“You need to eat.”

“Just go away, Noah.” I lean against the wooden stilts.

Ryder comes to me, starts sniffing at what I’ve spewed.

“No!” I pull her back by the collar.

“Come girl,” Noah calls to her.

There is a kind of warm affection in his tone that surprises me. It’s confusing at times, but nice to know that even this Inborn has a flaw. As I look up to the sky I think that it is a good flaw to have.

***

“There is something seriously wrong with you, you know that?”

I stare at Noah indifferently from behind the chunk of charred meat. I savagely rip a piece of tough flesh from the bone. Noah is all cleaned up, hair brushed away from his face. His breathing mask resting on his knee while he eats. Somehow, this area has cleaner air, almost breathable for Inborns. The embers of the fire light up one side of his face, and I notice for the first time he has a scar that starts from the crease of his eye right into his hairline.

“If I wasn’t so hungry, I’d complain about your cooking skills.”

“Don’t eat it, then.”

“Told you I was famished.” I wipe my mouth. “You know, you should shave your beard.”

“Why would I do that?”

I shrug. “Just saying.”

“You are strange. I seriously can’t keep up with you. I don’t know how Aecker does it, one minute you are perfect, the next you are comatose. One minute you’re a fierce hunter taking out five wild felines, the next you’re sick to your stomach at the sight of blood.”

“Yeah, well, I have to deal with this thing called guilt all of a sudden.”

“About that. Why are you like you are? Are you broken?”

I laugh. “I think I might be.”

“Figures.”

“Why is that?”

“Aecker is always taking in strays.”

“I am not sure if you are being nice.” I throw the bones to Ryder. I then narrow my eyes on him. “So tell me, what’s so wrong with me, huh? What in your little book makes me broken? Am I just a type to you?”

“I am not having this conversation with you right now.”

“Why not?” I stand and grab another piece of blackened meat rotating on the fire. Red coals reflect off my silver bracelet and I notice a hairline crack. I pull back and realize it is not a crack at all, but it seems to be some kind seam to a panel. I dig my nail in.

“I would not do that if I were you.”

“Why?” Stubbornly, I dig my nail in deeper and it zaps me. I recoil at the bite of electricity that stings my finger. “Yikes!”

“Told you.”

“You know something, Noah, you are a real ass.”

“Why? Because I was right?” He pokes at the fire with a stick.

“I’m going inside. Best you kill that fire; out here it’s like a beacon.” I throw the piece of meat to Ryder.

“Thank you, Your Excellency.”

Grunting, I stop at the foot of the stairs. “I forgave you for trying to kill me, not once but twice. I wouldn’t get on my bad side, Noah.”

He snorts. “Save your tantrums for your fiancé.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Why are you still wearing the ring, then?”

“I have my reasons.” I mimic his snort.

He turns his back. “Goodnight,” he says to me in a sing-song voice, adding a wave.

“The only reason I have not wrung your neck is because I need you.”

“For what?” He turns to me suddenly.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I raise a curious, mocking eyebrow.

Ryder’s ears suddenly stand on end, tail wagging with exuberance. She gets up from her position beside the fire and runs into the house before I can close the door, leaving Noah to take the first shift.

Resting my back on the closed door, I stare at the ring around my finger. It’s a clue to the entire puzzle of why I am still alive, a symbol of our survival.