Chapter Eight

Aiden

According to Elena, I’ll need a cheap ComPad, a change of clothes, light snacks, and a backpack to carry everything in. And apparently there is nothing you can’t find at Walmart. Walking through the store is overwhelming. All the smells, like burned rubber and grease. Some of them I can’t even name, like whatever you’d call the smell lingering around a couple of guys we pass. Like body odor and grass clippings.

“Yeah, I can’t stand the smell of marijuana, either,” Elena says, seeing my reaction.

I eye her. “I always imagined it would smell…fresh.”

She laughs and guides us down an aisle full of personal care items. Twenty minutes later, I have everything I need, aside from a ComPad.

While Elena looks through the options, I try not to stare at her. There’s something about her that wrecks my insides. I can’t pinpoint what it is, but every time she smiles, I wonder what she’s thinking. How different am I to other people she knows? At AIR, I always felt different. Like a specimen to be studied, not an eighteen-year-old who nearly died in a car crash. Would other people be as accepting and understanding as Elena? Something in my gut tells me that she isn’t indicative of the general population. The average person would’ve called the cops. Every time she laughs, I wonder if it’s just for my benefit, and the doubt causes my soul to bleed.

This is what everyone else experiences—all these people and cars and stores and buildings—but really, those things only scratch the surface. After a year spent being tracked and studied, casual human interaction is something I don’t get. Something I might never fully understand. Having only doctors for friends and a broken memory can’t be good for my social skills. Elena is someone I might never understand. What’s it like to own a car, knowing you could just pick up and leave any time you want? How does it feel to have a father and a sister, like she does? I want to ask her everything, learn whatever about her. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why it’s so important that I do.

Billions of people in the world and the opportunities are limitless. Suddenly, my existence is boiled down to life in a fishbowl. All I can remember of life, anyway. Always the same environment with the occasional person peering through the glass. My life has been so sheltered and bizarre, can it even be considered living? Sure, I’ve seen an infinitesimal number of things on a screen while at AIR. Read hundreds of books. But nothing can compare to actually being a part of the real world. My head grows foggy, so I stop thinking about all the things I know jack shit about. Instead, I follow Elena toward the back of the store and say, “Are you always this nice to strangers?”

“Only the ones I hit with my car.”

I laugh, and she laughs with me, her eyes brightening.

Something in my chest twists—a tingling I can’t explain—and I’m struck with how beautiful she is.

We stop when we reach the prepaid ComPads hanging on display. She pulls one down and turns the package around, then pulls her long hair completely to one side. “Why don’t you tell me something about you?”

“What do you want to know?” Unlike the conversation with Carter, her question is genuine curiosity. It doesn’t give me the spine-stiffening, pins-and-needles feeling.

“Anything. Everything.” She shrugs, putting the ComPad in her hand back on the wall. “What’s your favorite color? Favorite movie? Okay…I guess I want to know everything you’re willing to tell me.” She giggles, and it’s the nicest sound I’ve heard since leaving AIR. “I’m sorry, you probably don’t want me asking all these questions. It’s in my nature to be overly curious.”

“I don’t mind.”

While she looks through the various options laid out in front of us, I tell her about my piano playing and why I love it. The feel of the keys beneath my fingers. The sounds that echo in response to my touch. She explains her love of cars. The colors. The smells. The history.

Her lips quirk when she glances at me. “Maybe we’re not as different as I originally thought.”

I tip my head and grin.

In our short time together, I’ve picked up on more of her expressions and what they mean. But it’s not the way she looks that’s different… It’s the way that look makes me feel. A fluttering in my chest. A prickling along my skin. An increase in my heart rate. It’s as though I’m any other person. There’s no expectation. She wants to talk, get to know me, even though a friendship with me isn’t going to do her any favors.

I don’t deserve her interest.

Back in the car, Elena pulls out my new ComPad and a bag of chips. After ripping the bag open, she hands a triangle shaped chip to me. “Here,” she says. “You ever have a Dorito before?”

“Not that I can remember.” I shove the whole thing into my mouth and chew. It’s cheesy, crunchy, and a bit spicy. My eyes go wide. “Holy shit, those are good.”

The smile she gives me is dazzling. “They’re my favorite. But before your hands get too powdery, use this ComPad to see if you can find anything on that doctor.”

I type in her full name: Zoe Miller. When that gives me too many search results, I add psychologist, and after a few minutes, I’ve found a number and an address for her private practice outside of Columbus. With privacy not being much of a concern anymore these days, nearly everyone’s basic information is easily accessible.

“How do you think she’ll be able to help?” Elena asks softly, interrupting the silence between us.

“I’m not sure yet, but if anyone is willing to help me, it would be Melanie or Dr. Niels. Hopefully Melanie’s doctor friend would be willing, too.”

“Speaking of, why don’t you tell me more about this Dr. Niels?”

Something spins in my gut, not unlike nausea. “He’s…the closest thing I have to a father.”

She shifts, brushing long red-brown strands away from her cheek. “Why look up this Zoe Miller and not him?”

“They’ll expect him to help.” I try not to imagine what’s going on inside AIR right now, or what Dr. Niels might be doing. Would Carter harm him? Lock him up? As a government-owned facility, it’s not out of the question. “No one will expect me to contact a doctor a couple hours outside of Dayton. If this address leads us to her, hopefully she can tell us what’s happened since I escaped. We’ll be prepared for whatever comes after.”

Elena wrinkles her nose, thinking. “If you don’t think anyone would suspect her, why not find her number first? You do have a ComPad some generous girl bought for you.” Her lips quirk into a ghost of a smile.

“Yeah, but we shouldn’t risk it.”

“Okay.” She grabs the phone from where it’s resting on my knee. A few taps later, she adds, “Her office is about forty-five minutes from here. Let’s go.” But when Elena turns the key, the car doesn’t make a sound. Not even a click-click. “No.” She tries again. “No, no, no, please don’t do this to me.” With a groan, she twists the keys one more time. Nothing.

“Step out for a minute. I’ll take a look at the clutch pedal position sensor.” I do just that but find it still plugged in tightly. Eliminating that as a possibility, I look under the hood, hoping for an easy fix. I make an adjustment and say, “Try starting the car again.” She does, and I realize the starter relay isn’t clicking.

This is going to be a problem.