“Good evening passengers. We are about 10 minutes from the San Ayula station. Please make sure to take any belongings you brought aboard and ensure you have your ticket stub to retrieve any checked baggage below the bus. Also please make sure you pick up any trash in or around your seat to make it easier for our staff to clean. Lastly, thank you all for choosing Verobos Bus Lines for you travels.” The old bus driver said sweetly as the bus curved along the freeway leading toward the city.
I watched the skyscrapers and buildings intently, their lights taking over as the sunk sank below the horizon. Despite the calamity in the last 12 hours, I knew I had to figure out my next step. I turned on the dim overhead light and looked through the bag a man had shoved into my arms before I left. In my bag, a wallet sat nestled between a bundled up map, several papers with hastily written instructions, a envelope of money, a phone and a pocket knife.
According to the name on my ID card, I was Danielle Ibanez. On the crumpled notebook papers, it said to make my way to San Ayula and that he would come to get me. Whoever he was. Along with those instructions, it said not to speak to anyone I don’t have to, to stay under the radar and not draw too much attention, and to keep my phone with me at all times. Lastly, it said if I don’t hear anything from him in 24 hours to get as far away from here as possible. I was not given his name or a description of his appearance, but I was told I should recognize him when I see him.
Slowly I felt the bus come to a stop alongside the others, and I saw the various passengers getting up with their belongings. I checked around to make sure I hadn’t left anything valuable, and I slid out of the seat and into the aisle. My anxiety was growing as I slowly inched towards the door. Once I got off, where would I go first? Should I look for whoever is helping me?
Question after question bounced in my mind as I stepped off the bus into the crisp night air. I shivered slightly, and looked at my outfit. I had on blue shorts and a simple black tank top. Wherever I had been, it was definitely warmer to say the least. Firstly, I had to try to get warmer clothes. As I started to look for my way around the terminal, the phone in my bag buzzed violently against the knife. Promptly I retrieved it, and the voicemail left caused me to go pale.
“I’m glad you’re safe,” a female’s warm voice said calmly. “Listen, I don’t have much time to talk. The important thing right now is getting you to safety. After we hang up, destroy this phone, and get yourself to a hotel or somewhere nearby, and call 842 on a telephone and tell the person who answers you’d like to order pepperoni pizza. We’ll know where you are and we’ll send you help. Lastly, under no circumstances are you to approach or talk to a man with a blue pocket flower. He is extremely dangerous to you. Now go.” The voice concluded and the line clicked off.
I could feel the sweat beginning to form as I sat on a bench and quickly pulled out the map. Frantically I looked through the legend and found a nearby hotel a few blocks away and a clothing store just on the way. I felt relief rush over me for a moment and I stowed everything back into my bag. As I exited the terminal into the street, I was overwhelmed by the sounds and sights despite the building mental pressure. Groups of people were laughing and talking on both sides of the street, eating dinner outside of restaurants, listening to street musicians play, and overall enjoying their peaceful Friday night. I smiled and began making my way down the street quickly, finally coming to a nearby shopping center after a few minutes. After a few more indecisive minutes, I found a maroon sweater and a pair of black jeans.
“Will this be all for you? If you want you can sign up for our rewards program and save 20%.” The young cashier said happily, but I declined politely. As I handed her the cash, I saw the news coming from a TV overhead. I took my shopping bag filled with my old belongings and walked over to the screen and listened intently.
“It was confirmed earlier that Parliament approved the advancement of Dr. McKinney’s research project aimed at helping to treat PTSD and mental trauma through memory manipulation and suppression. It’s said that the final aim of the project is to be able to harness full control of a person’s memory in order to address past trauma and help those who are suffering finally heal,” the reporter said carefully.
I shook my head and started to walk away until I saw a woman’s face pop up at the corner of the screen. Her gaze was cold and menacing, and she wore a tan army beret
“Military and police forces are widening the search for Alisa Myers.” The reporter said in a serious tone. “A former intelligence officer with the Strategic Intelligence Service, the Ministry of Defense has determined that she currently poses a grave threat to national security, and is considered to be extremely dangerous, and has given permission for government officials to shoot on sight. We will continue to report on this story more as it develops.”
The girl on the TV, she looked just like me. Different hair and eye color, but same facial features. She seemed so familiar, but I couldn’t recall who she truly was. Looks like we’re both on the run.
Before I could head towards the door, I froze in my tracks. Across the store, I saw a man frantically looking between his phone and the other shoppers. He wore a plain black suit, and in the pocket was a blue flower. I slowly began to panic inside. He had to have followed me here. While his back was turned I carefully made my way to the door and ran down the sidewalk towards a well lit hotel next to a fancy boutique. As I entered the warmth of the lobby hit me, as well as the glares of the more privileged patrons staying there. With my head low and eyes alert, I made my way to the counter.
“I need a room, now.”
Immediately upon getting into the dark room I slammed the door shut and locked it and cut on the lights. Tossing my bags onto the bed, I made my way to the phone and frantically dialed.
“Hello?” A man’s voice said deeply.
“Hi, I’d like to order a pizza...a pepperoni pizza,” I stumbled over my words. “Yes a pepperoni pizza, sorry.”
“What is your current location?” He asked, and I searched for the address and gave it to him.
“Room 317.” I concluded.
“Perfect, we have a delivery driver nearby. He’ll be there shortly.” He said calmly, and the line clicked off.
Relief came over me again as I laid back on the bed. I would be safe soon, and someone would be able to explain all this to me. I looked through my bag again to make sure I didn’t lose anything running through the streets.
“Shit.” I said as I looked at the phone I should have destroyed. I shrugged and held it between my hands. Before I could snap it in half, I heard a knock at the door.
“Pizza delivery.” I heard a man’s voice say.
I peeked through the door, and sure enough it was a man holding a pizza box.
Carefully I opened the door, and he entered slowly, eyeing the room for possible intruders.
“You’re alone correct?” He asked quietly, and I nodded.
I nodded with a quick smile and pulled out a device.
“I just need to make sure you are who you say you are before we proceed. It’s just protocol.” He said, motioning for me to place my finger on the screen.
I nodded and placed my index finger. After a moment, the device beeped and a green light blinked.
“Perfect.” He smoked happily and closed the door behind him.
Before I could ask what would happen next, he lunged on top of me and his hands wrapped around my throat. His grip tightened as I tried to push him off.
“It’s nothing personal Lieutenant Myers. Dr. McKinney’s explicit instructions were to eliminate all loose ends.” He said as he strained to tighten his hands more.
I kicked and pounded on his arms, but to no avail. I could feel myself growing weak and my vision began to fade. Before everything went black, I saw a dark figure approach the man from behind.
As I regained consciousness, I coughed and heaved hoarsely and rose to my knees. As I turned around, I saw the same man with the blue flower sitting at the edge of the bed, and the attacker lying in a pool of blood. Slowly, I crawled back against the wall, unsure of what was to come next.
“I thought I lost you, but I’m glad you’re still just as forgetful as you always were or else I wouldn’t have made it in time,” He said quietly as he looked over to me. “They told you not to trust me right?”
I hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
“I figured. Let me start by saying my name is Jackson, and I know you better than you know yourself Alisa. Once I figured out what they were really doing, their true goal and how they were going about it, I had to get you out of there. Once they found out you escaped, McKinney practically ordered the Defense Ministry to put a kill order on us.” He explained as he handed me a folder.
I looked through some of the papers and photos. It had been me, but I could recall anything. Apparently, I had been part of a program called Eden. Falsely displayed as an attempt to treat PTSD, it was actually meant to remove the mental and emotional barriers that trigger our moral judgment. They wanted inhumane soldiers that would kill and act on any orders given without any mental reservation. According to the files, when I found out about the true purpose and refused to assist, I was forced to be the test subject. Once I got to the point of starving myself, they had plans to wipe my memory and eliminate me. Jackson found me and broke me out, and we fled.
It was so much to process, and nothing could assure me that this was all true. Before he showed up, the man I thought was here to rescue me tried to kill me. How could I believe anything he or anyone was saying?
“How can I know you’re really telling the truth? I mean I don’t know any of this or remember any of it.” I said, growing frustrated trying to process everything.
He sighed, and pulled the flower from his jacket.
“Smell.” He demanded.
I took the flower and smelled it carefully, and the memories flowed back to me. Childhood, my time in the army, everything. I remember the missions to Africa and South America, the assignments, the awards. I recalled all the gunfire, the friends I’d lost in combat and during intelligence missions. I remembered Jackson. I remembered Dr. McKinney helping work through my stress and asking if I could help with his project. I remember the experiments and the torture. Everything.
A tear slid down my face and I jumped into Jackson’s arms and hugged him tightly.
“Let’s get that fucker Jackson.”
