When Sheridan woke up, the first thing she noticed was a skylight over her bed. A cottony cloud sprawled across a blue patch of sky. That was new. Some fern fronds dangled on top of the window, shifting in the wind. She wasn’t in her cell. She was underground somewhere, looking up.
She blinked and took in her surroundings, remembering what had happened: Reilly, the memory wash room, Echo rescuing her, Lee drugging her in the car. The room she was now in was medium sized and, judging from the computer screen above her bed, was some sort of hospital room.
Echo sat on a chair beside the bed. His face was normal again—that effortless sort of handsome that made her feel self-conscious. His hair was still black, but the Zorro dye was gone. His eyes looked tired and worn, like blue glass that had been chipped.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
She sat up, and a sharp pain flashed through the side of her head, momentarily making her dizzy. “Where am I?” She touched her temple. The skin was numb and had a coating on it that felt like plastic. “What did they do to me?”
“You’re in a DW center,” Echo said. His voice was low, soothing, and tinged with an apology. Even when he didn’t say it, the “I’m sorry” was still there, lingering in between his other words. “A med removed your crystal and the VR chip from your brain.” He leaned closer to her. “Reilly ran programs on you—made you experience things that weren’t real. Did you know that already—that some of the things that happened to you in the detention cell were computer generated?”
“Yes,” she said, eyeing him warily. Chances were, none of this was real. She looked around the room hoping to see some food. None was around. “Where is Taylor?”
“She’ll be here soon. We left the city before she did. We thought it was important to get the chip out of you as soon as possible.”
He was promising Taylor but not delivering her. Typical of Reilly’s programs. She gazed around the room again. The door didn’t look like the sort that locked people in. She checked those sorts of things automatically now, the same way she searched for items to use as weapons. In this room, the best weapon was probably the chair Echo sat on. It looked light enough to throw. “Can I have something to eat?” she asked.
Echo glanced at the time on his comlink. “Not yet. The med said you need to wait until the anesthesia is out of your system or the food will make you sick.”
No food either. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, already angry. Reilly was dangling hope in front of her, dangling freedom, just to snatch it away from her again. “You’re not really Echo,” she said.
He startled, and his eyes widened in surprise. “How did you know?”
“Because it’s never real.” She threw off the blanket, wanting to run, to fight, to do anything besides let this happen again. The sudden movement made her vision spin and tilt. She put her feet on the floor anyway.
She hadn’t seen him leave the chair, but Echo stood in front of her. She wobbled, and he took hold of her arm. “Wait, Sheridan; you don’t understand.”
“It’s not ever real!” She tried to wrench her arm away from him, and when she couldn’t, she pushed at him, hitting him almost. “It’s never real. Just leave me alone.” Her voice cracked, and she took deep breaths to regain her control. She couldn’t break down. She wouldn’t let them do that to her.
“This is real,” Echo told her. “I’m real. Let me explain.”
She kept pulling away from him.
“You and I had a secret,” he said. “I gave you a picture of Santa Claus when we were at the city walls. Do you remember?”
Of course she remembered. She’d had enough free time in her cell to think about every moment she’d spent with Echo. She stopped struggling and looked at him, still suspicious.
“I helped you dye your hair,” he said. “You wanted red so you could be a real redhead. I said you should do red and gold stripes because plain red was no longer in fashion.”
Sheridan stared at him without speaking. Could Reilly know those things?
“I’m not Echo,” he went on. “You thought I was—everyone thought I was–but I’m Joseph. Echo was part of the Dakine, and when they ordered my death, he switched places with me to save my life. I had to pretend to be him so the Dakine wouldn’t kill me.”
Sheridan thought of the things about Echo that hadn’t made sense—how he knew things about the DW that only Joseph had known. How he wouldn’t tell her why he wanted to leave the city. This new information snapped together in Sheridan’s mind like an unexpected puzzle piece. “Joseph,” she said, testing the word. “You were Joseph all along?”
He nodded—Joseph nodded. “You understand why one twin would pretend to be another to save their twin’s life?”
Yes, she understood. She had done it for Taylor. Maybe Reilly had finally realized this. Maybe he wanted a confession from her. She edged away from Joseph. “What did we eat for breakfast the first day Taylor and I came to the Wordlab?”
Joseph gave her an incredulous shrug. “I barely remember what I had for breakfast yesterday. That was a month and a half ago.”
“What was something else we talked about then?”
“You told me about your horses in Tennessee,” he said. “Breeze and Bolt.”
A chill spread down Sheridan’s back and lodged deep inside her. She shook her head and took another step away from him. “I never told you about my horses. How do you know about them?”
He shut his eyes, wincing, then opened them again. “You’re right. You told me that later, in Santa Fe, but when I changed the timestream, it hadn’t happened.” He went on then, telling her a story of how they had escaped and gone with the DW to Santa Fe. He and Taylor had come back to Traventon to destroy the QGPs. Only Joseph didn’t destroy them. He had used them to bring Echo back and by doing so had inadvertently changed time.
If it was a hoax, it was a creative one. Sheridan couldn’t think of any reason Reilly would come up with this story. Unless he was using it to explain away the problems and inconsistencies in the program that he knew would crop up. If a character accidentally gave information he shouldn’t have known—hey, blame it on the change in the timestream.
Joseph took Sheridan’s hand, gently running his thumb across the back of it. “I don’t expect you to forgive me for what I’ve done, for what I’ve put you through. I shouldn’t have risked your life.” His gaze dropped to her hand. He held on to it more tightly. “I’m sorry for all the pain you’ve suffered, and for every single memory you’ve lost.”
Sheridan had a sudden desire to put her arms around Joseph, to relax into a hug and tell him it was all right. She wanted to believe him, to believe this. But she wouldn’t let hope seep through her. Not yet. “What did we do after you gave me the picture of Santa Claus?”
He ought to remember that event.
“This,” Joseph said, and pulled her closer. He slid one arm around her back. He ran his other hand through her hair, tangling his fingers in it. Then he leaned down and kissed her. At first it was gentle, his lips brushing across hers as though whispering something precious. More I’m sorrys.
She leaned in to him, let his arms envelop her. His lips were urgent now. This kiss had gone beyond I’m sorry and had turned into I need you.
It was proof he was real, that all of this was real. Then again, Taylor had known about the kiss. She could have told Reilly. She could have told Reilly any of the things Joseph had just said. Sheridan pulled away from Joseph. “Um . . . yes. I don’t recall our kiss being quite that intense.”
He took hold of her hand again. “That came later in Santa Fe too.”
“Sounds like an interesting place.”
“They have horses there. You volunteer at the stables. Or at least you did.” He gave her a rueful smile. “I guess none of them will remember you when we go back.”
Horses. Another piercing ray of hope.
The door slid open and Sheridan turned, expecting to see a med of some sort. Instead, Taylor came in. Her hair was forest green, her face a patchwork of browns and greens. A guy followed her into the room. He had to be Echo; he looked like Joseph in camouflage.
Taylor let out a sound that was half gasp, half cry, and hurried across the room. She flung her arms around Sheridan and hugged her.
“Are you okay?” Taylor asked, holding Sheridan away for a moment. “You’re skinny. They starved you, didn’t they?”
“No,” Sheridan said. “They just put me through supermodel training.” She never took anything anyone said during a VR program too seriously. It helped her keep her emotions from becoming involved.
Taylor kept staring at her and then burst into tears. Taylor didn’t cry easily. Which meant she was either really emotional or Reilly had gotten her personality wrong again.
Sheridan watched her sister carefully. “What were our brothers’ names?”
Taylor let out a gasp and turned to Joseph. “You told me they didn’t give her a memory wash.”
“I know their names,” Sheridan said. “I’m seeing if you do.”
“Of course, I do,” Taylor said. “Justin and Jake.”
Joseph let out a sigh. “You still don’t believe this is real, do you?”
Sheridan took a step sideways so that she could see everyone better. “I’ve spent most of the last month escaping. I’ve already had the chip removed half a dozen times, and I’ve seen all of you more than once. Well,” she said, gesturing at Echo, “you’re new.”
Echo gave her a half smile. “I would have been around earlier, but apparently I was dead.”
“We’ve all been busy,” Sheridan said.
Taylor put her hand to her chest. “I can prove I’m your sister. Ask me anything.”
Sheridan thought for a moment. “What was the color of my bedspread?”
“White with little pink flowers.”
“Our fourth-grade teacher’s name?”
“We weren’t in fourth grade together.”
“Why did I sprain my ankle last year?”
“Okay,” Taylor said, drawing out the word, “that wasn’t my fault. The other skier distracted me. You should have noticed I was talking to him and not paying attention to you.”
“You ran over me, Taylor.”
“He was really cute.”
Sheridan smiled, then let the smile fall away. “Reilly captured you too. You could have told him all this.”
“Yeah,” Taylor said, tilting her chin in exasperation, “because that’s the sort of thing he asked me about—disastrous flirting experiences while skiing.”
And then the big test. The one that almost hurt to say because it could mean her hope would pop like a bubble. “Are you going to ask me anything about the QGP design?”
“It wouldn’t do me much good,” Taylor said, “since I’m the one who invented it.”
This wasn’t a bubble. This was real. Sheridan let the relief pour over her, let it saturate ever dry corner of her mind. She hugged Taylor, holding on to her with trembling arms. She didn’t want to ever let go.
NOT LONG AFTERWARD, ONE of the nurses brought in tomato soup and sesame-seed crackers for Sheridan. She sat on her bed, taking slow sips while she told Taylor, Joseph, and Echo everything that had happened to her.
“So,” Taylor said, when Sheridan finished with her story. “I was worried you were being tortured, but mostly you were running around with a hot guard?”
Sheridan took another sip of her soup. “Mostly I was stuck in a cell listening to government propaganda. The hot guard was only there some of the time.”
Taylor let out an offending-sounded sniff. “Reilly hit me thirty seconds after he started questioning me and didn’t stop until you told him you invented the QGP. But you—you got wined and dined by some male model?”
Sheridan shrugged. “I can’t help it. You tick people off quickly.”
Taylor normally wouldn’t have left that sort of statement alone, but she didn’t argue it this time. She just let out a long breath. “It’s amazing they can put a chip in your brain that makes you experience a different reality.”
“It’s amazingly awful,” Sheridan said.
Echo was sitting on a chair next to Taylor’s. “People go to VR centers for fun—to explore places, be characters in stories—fly, if you want to. We’ll take you to do a recreation program sometime. You’ll see it isn’t all bad.”
Sheridan shook her head. “I don’t ever want to leave reality again.”
“When you say Tariq kissed you,” Joseph said, still clearly stuck on that part of her story, “what exactly do you mean? Do you mean you kissed him back—that you were”—he rolled his hand, searching for the right phrase—“that you actually liked him?”
“Well, he wasn’t bad as far as guards went,” Sheridan said. “He did give me chocolate.”
“I gave you chocolate too,” Joseph said.
She glanced at him over her spoon. “When?”
“All right, not in this timestream, but I gave you some in the last one.”
Sheridan took a sip of soup. “It doesn’t count if it’s not in this timestream.”
“I’ll give you more as soon as we get to Santa Fe.”
Echo shook his head at his brother and made disappointed tsking sounds.
“What?” Joseph asked him.
“All my lessons on the art of flirting have been completely wasted on you.” Echo waved his hand in Joseph’s direction. “You’re trying to buy her affection like it was a store item. What are you going to do next, offer her jewelry if she agrees to kiss you?”
Joseph raised an eyebrow at Sheridan. “Would that work?”
Sheridan took another sip of her soup. “What sort of jewelry?”
“I’ll let you pick it out,” Joseph said.
Echo looked upward. “Absolutely pathetic.”
Taylor checked the time on her comlink. “Are the meds discharging Sheridan soon?”
Echo and Joseph gave her identical looks of perplexity. “Discharge?” Echo asked. “You mean the nasty stuff that comes out of an infected wound? Sheridan doesn’t have any of that, does she?”
“No,” Joseph said. “In the twenty-first century, discharge meant firing a gun.”
“Well, that’s obviously not it,” Echo said. “Taylor wouldn’t ask if the meds were shooting her sister.”
Taylor leaned toward Sheridan. “This is the sort of scintillating conversation you’ve missed in the last month and a half.” Then to Echo and Joseph she said, “I meant when can we leave?”
“As soon as Sheridan is ready,” Joseph said. He leaned over to see the progress she’d made on her soup. “Are you still hungry?”
“No.” Sheridan couldn’t help it that her voice wavered with emotion. She didn’t do anything to stop the tears forming in her eyes. “I’m full.”