REND

Earlier this morning, the lobby receptionist at the condo handed me an envelope as we were about to leave for the police station. Inside were two pieces of paper—the first was a flyer for a cruise ship, and the second was a note from Imani. She wrote that she wanted to talk face-to-face about something.

Did it cross my mind that this could be a trap?

Yeah. But I had Deen around. Traps were so passé nowadays that bad guys should come up with something new.

And what was up with the cruise ship promotion? Did the receptionist slip the flyer into Imani’s envelope? Rude much. I doubted Imani was inviting me for a cruise to forget the traumatic—for her—incident we survived.

Myra parked her car across the street from the meeting place Imani had set—a small decrepit park in a much less crowded section of Vegas, long left behind by the city’s progress. Might be too late to be cautious, but whatever.

I stopped in front of the vine-covered arches by the park’s entrance. Myra and Deep were behind me.

With my back turned to them, I pretended to be the main character in an action movie’s finale and said, “Before going any further, I want to make sure everyone is on board. We’ll risk the normalcy of lives—what little is left—and might never return to it. Actually, we’re risking our lives. Period.”

“Erind…” Deen started to say.

I pressed on, “I’m going to be honest here. If I could back out and hide and just forget about everything, I would. But that’s not possible. I’m in the center of this. A lot of people are after me or will be after me. And I’m going after them first.” I slowly turned around, picturing myself sitting on a swivel chair. “What about you? Are you really, really sure you want to help me?”

“I’m going to get my sister back no matter what it takes.” Myra shook a determined fist. Her hair, dyed metallic blue, shimmered under the sun. “The way to do that is by joining forces with you guys.”

Deen said, “I’m also with you, Erind.”

“But you don’t need to be,” I replied. “You don’t have a personal stake in this.” We’d had this conversation a bajillion times. But like a pretty girl constantly saying they were ugly to farm compliments, I wanted to hear someone was ready to sacrifice their life for me.

“I’m willing to put my life on the line for my best friend,” she replied.

“Thank you very much, Deen,” I said. That’s my fix for the day. “Thanks for the help too, Myra, though you also have your own quest. It means a lot that you delivered the Suppressors. Anyway, let’s go in and see what we’ll find.”

We found exactly what we saw outside—a park masquerading as ancient ruins, partly reclaimed by nature. No Imani or anyone else around. It would’ve been quite a scenic place were it not for the rampant vandalism.  

“Nothing, Deen?” I asked while trying to read graffiti scrawled on the butt of a headless cherub atop a fountain that had seen better days. I tried to distract myself from picking at my new glove or flexing my right palm with the crystalline growths on it—the Suppressor had just worn off.

“Gabe is silent,” she replied. “It’s not a trap.”

“For now,” Myra grimly added.

“Gabe will say something at the first sign of trouble,” Deen said.

“We’ll find out soon,” I said. “Let’s do some, I don’t know, sightseeing while waiting for Imani.”

“The ugly side of Vegas.” Myra followed my gaze. She kicked an empty beer bottle, one of the many littering the ground, into the dried-up pond surrounding the fountain. “Very different from what tourists expect when they come here.”

“After what happened to us,” I said, tilting my head to Deen, “I can say that Vegas can only be described as a horrible tourist destination.”

“Erind, can I read the note again?” Deen asked, not joining my joke as required of a best friend. She was in all-serious mode as if this was an important matter. I handed the paper slip to her. “I don’t doubt you,” she clarified. “But I want to double-check if we’re at the right place.”

“Yeah, why’s your girl, Imani, not here yet?” Myra looked around. “I’m gonna stand close to Deen in case this turns out to be an ambush.”

“This should be our meeting spot,” I said, glancing at the note after Deen returned it. The writing was in insanely neat block letters that one could mistake as typewritten. “This is the angel missing its head. Unless this is supposed to be a code or something.”

“Any guesses what she wants?” Myra asked.

“We’re survivors of such a harrowing experience,” Deen said. “It’s a normal human reaction for Imani to seek fellow survivors.”

That sounded like nonsense. I wracked my brain about what Imani’s game could be. Her note didn’t say much other than she feared something terrible had happened—that could encompass a lot of stuff—and she wasn’t sure who to trust. Imani decided that it was us.

I reread the end of the note, focusing on the last word. Trust.

At first, I found it funny that Imani came to me looking for someone trustworthy. But after a bit more thought, I realized that Imani unknowingly stumbled on the correct choice. What did the Professor and Jubjub plan for Imani’s future? The other test subjects too?

Something no good, for sure. But if Imani went with our mini-revolution, she might save herself.

That was why I wanted to try inviting her.

I’m such a good person.

Deen continued her theory, “Imani wants comfort, especially after… um… losing her two friends.” She hesitantly glanced at me.

I stared back blankly. What was up with that look? I killed Boojum so Deen couldn’t do her usual morally tormented heroine shtick. Was she moping about losing that opportunity?

Deen shook her head. “I won’t be surprised if Imani just wants a shoulder to cry on.”

“We can ask her ourselves.” Myra gazed at something behind me. “That her?”

A slender figure wrapped in a black jacket appeared behind an overgrown hedge. Taking off the hood, she revealed herself to be Imani. Part of me was surprised it was her, not some Tea Party dregs out for revenge. But that didn’t mean this wasn’t a trap.

Imani timidly approached us but stopped upon seeing Myra. Imani probably assumed I’d come alone—she might be okay with Deen, but Myra was a new face.

I walked toward Imani, holding my hands up. The two other Bs—Blonde and Blue—followed. I hissed like a cat and shooed them away.

“Imani?” I softly said, stepping closer. Let’s start with a stupid question. “Imani, are you alright?”

Reddish sunken eyes peered through a thin curtain of stray hairs. It was as if Imani had cried until no more tears came out. I couldn’t remember the last time I cried—fake cried. Real tears probably last dropped from my eyes when I was a kid. I wasn’t even sure if my tears during Dad’s ‘funeral’ were genuine.

“I… I’m not,” Imani said.

I kept silent, encouraging her to continue talking.

She bowed, staring at the unkempt grass. “My mother always says whenever I complain about bad things happening to me… that we can’t undo the past, only continue forward.”

I nodded but didn’t say anything.

“But I don’t want to continue forward,” Imani whispered, nearly inaudible.

Oh, I get it. Was this what Imani wanted to discuss? Boring. I should’ve gone with Mom instead of dealing with this crap.

“Are they okay?” I asked. “Boojum and Snark?” Congratulations to me for remembering their names.

Imani shook her head. Her hands by her sides balled into fists. They trembled.

I moved even closer, approximating Deen-like behavior appropriate for this situation. “What happened? Tell me.” I reached for Imani’s right hand and cupped it between mine. Not much issue if I was initiating physical contact, though a hug might be too big a leap for me.

“I haven’t heard from them. They’re not among the survivors. The-they might’ve been eat—no! I don’t want to think that! But if they’re alive, they should’ve shown up by now, right? Tell me I’m wrong!”

Right? Wrong? Can you repeat the question? “Don’t lose hope,” I said, trying to keep down my puke. “I’ve heard from Deen of hostages mysteriously disappearing. Something like that. She mentioned there were no signs they were eaten. Just vanishing without a trace.”

“Are you saying the same thing happened to Marco and Ronan?” Imani’s face twisted into absolute fright. “Then they’re really gone!”

“No, I’m not saying that,” I said. Deen was better at this than me. “Think about it.” I gave Imani’s hand a squeeze with my right hand.

She jolted a bit, feeling the bumps on my palm.

“If the Tea Party had an Adumbrae that could make people disappear,” I continued, “then why bother segregating us into rooms? What was the point of taking hostages if their goal was to kill? It’s not. The Tea Party had transported the missing people elsewhere. That might be where an Adumbrae’s power comes in.”

“Are you sure?”

“Not sure,” I said, though I was. “I slept through the latter half of what happened,” I reminded Imani. “Thanks for being by my side throughout, by the way. But I can certainly say to wait before jumping to conclusions.” I already threw Imani an opening there if she wanted to admit she had discovered my secret.

“Marco’s mom called me this morning,” Imani said. “I told her I didn’t know where her son was. What should I say if she calls again?”

“Tell her that you don’t know. Because that’s the truth. From what I’ve heard of them from Deen, I know that they’re tough people. Don’t write them off just yet, okay?”

“Okay…”

I patted her hand. “You’re going to be okay. They’re going to be okay.” I was waiting for anyone to give me a medal for being such a great comforter. “Are you worried about anything else?”

“Ye-yeah.” She grasped my right hand, feeling what was under the glove. “I know about…”

I smiled. “I know that you know.”

“Was this on your hand yesterday?” she asked, running her fingers over the bumps under the cloth.

“Yes. But they were far smaller then. They grow each time I use my power.” Actually, I wasn’t sure what affected them.

“Using your power?” Imani’s eyes widened. “Thanks for saving us. I’m sorry that it caused, uh… that, to expand.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I took off my glove.

Deen stepped forward. I glared at her, nudging my head to hint that she should wait. She backed off.

I presented my hand to Imani. “There. It wasn’t like this yesterday. I covered it with flesh-tone bandaids and makeup. Now, I just went with a glove. Too conspicuous. I’ll think of something better.”

“You have an artificial Core like Deen.”

I nodded, putting my hand on my chest. I hoped she wouldn’t ask to see it.

Imani gingerly touched the crystals. “They’re so beautiful.”

“I’d rather it’s not there.” If I could get rid of them but keep my powers, that’d be great. I could tell Imani interpreted what I said differently.

“You have a visible side effect?” Imani frowned. “Jubilee… Jubjub told me there’d be no mark other than the artificial Core itself that’d be attached to the chest, out of sight.” With gritted teeth and blazing eyes that pushed back the sadness, she growled, “She lied to me. Again.”

What was this reaction? I should take my advice about jumping to conclusions. I had thought that Imani set this meeting to admit she had discovered my secret. That didn’t seem to be it.

Something to do with Jubjub.

“I’m sorry that we kept it a secret from you.” I motioned for Deen to come closer. Imani didn’t protest. “Deen’s powers are known to our team,” I explained to our Imani. “But most of them don’t know I have an artificial Core too.”

“I didn’t tell Jubjub,” Imani said. “Your wound. You were shot, and I saw you regenerate. Sorry I couldn’t protect you. But Jubjub doesn’t know about it. The Professor wanted to keep it a secret, so I did.”

“Is this what you wanted to tell me?”

Imani shook her head. “It’s about something else that happened after I escaped from—” Her eyes flicked to Myra. “Who is she, if I may ask?”

“A fellow artificial Core holder,” I replied. “Myra is a teammate from La Esperanza who came here when she heard the news of Adumbrae at the Tech Fair.”

“Is she… is she the leader of your group?”

Another clue as to Imani’s problem. “Our leader’s name is Dario. He doesn’t know that Myra came here.” I beckoned for Myra to come closer. “Well, Dario’s not supposed to know, the same way he shouldn’t know Deen and I are in Vegas. But we know what happened to that.”

“Are you trying to hide from your leader?” Imani warily eyed Myra. “Why?”

“Not exactly hide,” I slowly said. “But we didn’t want him to know our whereabouts because we have some… suspicions.”

Imani’s eyes danced, her brain running fast.

“Suspicion that something’s not right about this whole thing,” I added. “The Professor, our teams fighting the Adumbrae. Don’t you feel the same way?”

“Ye-yes. Knowing that there were other teams relieved me. Made me happy we’re not alone. But it is suspicious that there seemed to be multiple groups scattered in cities. There are also other things… Jubjub, she did—” Imani stopped herself and shook her head.

“To show you can trust us,” I said. “How about Myra tell you about some stuff about Dario and the Professor that you’ll find interesting.”

“Hi, there!” Myra cheerily waved, coming on a bit too strong.

“Tell her about Kelsey,” I said.

“Okay then. I’m not sure how to begin my story, but here goes.”

Myra started with Kelsey becoming an Adumbrae which led to joining Dario’s team in return for help from the Professor—the Suppressors. Blah, blah, blah. Deen listened intently; this was her first time hearing about this.

We reached the part where Kelsey transformed at the law school cafeteria, jumped out the window, and disappeared without a trace. “There was no body, blood, nothing at all,” Myra said. “If—a very big if—my sister died, the waves would’ve washed her to shore. But she didn’t die! She’s an Adumbrae—a stupid fall wouldn’t get her. Someone took her, and I think Dario and the Professor had something to do with it.”

“The man who attacked us at Sanders,” Deen butted in, looking at me. “The Professor could’ve sent him to kill witnesses of Kelsey’s transformation? We might be wrong that he’s an Adumbrae… he could be someone with an artificial Core!”

Hey, that’s a good, wrong theory. Why didn’t I think of that?

I glanced at Myra—she was concentrating on the angel sculpture—before picking up the story and tacking how Deen and I joined the Professor. “That’s a gist of our part. Back to Kelsey and why Myra thinks the Professor has her.”

“This may sound crazy, but just keep an open mind.” Myra laid out the bases for her suspicions, from the special Suppressor Kelsey took that should’ve worked for hours, to the surprising resources of allegedly one rogue scientist, to the Professor’s mind-boggling reach in erasing our traces.

“And managing multiple groups,” I added, a fact we only knew yesterday.

Myra then highlighted the insane implications of the artificial Core and the Suppressors. Not only did the Professor give them out like candy, but the world’s governments weren’t focusing their resources on almost miracle inventions like these. It was apparent that those with artificial Cores were test subjects of a sinister project.

“Again, with the multiple groups,” I said. “Makes it easier to see there’s some experimenting stuff going on.”

“What you’re saying is that Jubilee told me is a lie,” Imani said after Myra was done with her sales talk.

“Not everything,” Myra said.

“Most things,” I chimed in. “I’m sure this is hard for you to believe, but we—”

“I believe it,” Imani said. “Parts of it. Erasing evidence of us—I know about that.”

Myra, Deen, and I looked at each other. “Can you tell us more about it?” I asked Imani.

“The people with me when we escaped…” Imani looked into my eyes with despair. “They’re all gone.”

“Gone? You mean the Tea Party got to them?”

“No, that’s not it.” Imani narrated how they escaped the Greaves convention center through an underground passage—a large sewer pipe or something—and that they did reach safety. “Jubjub was supposed to take them to the police. She separated me from them. I didn’t understand why—I’m human and had nothing to fear from the authorities—but I still followed her.”

Imani swallowed and closed her eyes. A couple of teardrops rolled down her cheeks. Deen, being Deen, patted Imani’s shoulder.

“They’re dead, aren’t they?” I softly said. That was the only conclusion for how Imani acted. “They didn’t make it to the police?”

Imani nodded. “The police published names and pictures of recorded survivors for the public to easily find friends and relatives. I checked and checked all night long. Until the morning, I checked. I didn’t sleep. Every time there’s an update—”

“Tesh and Kiera?” Deen asked.

“They’re not there!” Imani cried out. “I remember all of their faces!” Deen hugged Imani. “None of the-them. No one.” Imani broke down and sobbed while talking. “I checked again before coming here…”

My brain didn’t bother understanding her blathering nonsense.

I gave Myra a sidelong glance, closed my eyes briefly, and shook my head once. It’s not time for our recruitment drive, I was trying to tell Myra.

We had to do this carefully. This needed time, but we also couldn’t take too long, or Imani might try to meet Jubjub and get herself erased as well. With Boojum and Snark gone, and Imani, just a human, Jubjub might restart her team.

After a few minutes, Imani calmed down.

Deen led her to a bench, or what was left of it, the iron backrest mostly stripped away, and sat beside her.

“There’s a voice in my heart that I should talk to you, Erind.” Imani looked up at me. “I continuously prayed to the Mother Core while waiting for the police bulleting to update. This morning… something prodded me to write a note to you. Thank the Mother Core that it reached you. I wasn’t sure if you were still staying in that building or if you maybe left the city.”

“The receptionist gave me your envelope,” I said.

“Envelope?” Imani tilted her head.

“This one.” I fished the envelope from my pocket. “Did you put a flyer here too?” I unfolded the red paper with golden borders. It was for a cruise to Mexico on a ship called Islas de Sangre.