9: THE LOCKER

CLAIRE STARED AT the closed door, unable to move or speak. Her cheek swelled where the baseball bat had struck. Hanna’s face was worse, with multiple cuts and a smear of blood.

“Come on,” Hanna said. “We have to keep moving.”

Claire pulled her eyes from the door and turned around. “Why didn’t she come?”

“I tried to tell you. It’s something I should have explained earlier. That was a memory from Eileen’s childhood. That girl wasn’t experiencing the memory like we were. She is the memory. She can’t leave. We can interact with memories, but we can’t affect their outcome. Eileen’s father beat her as a child. That’s how that memory must end. Even if we killed her father. Cut off his head. He would just reappear unharmed and continue as if nothing happened.”

“So, there’s nothing we can do to save her?”

“There’s no one to save. You have to understand that she’s not real. What is real is that bat hitting your face.”

Claire touched the bump on her cheek and flinched.

“It hurts, doesn’t it? Just like the thorn and just like Dracula. The pain is real. The signals in your brain are real. If you get seriously hurt or die in here, it will affect you in the real world. So, we need to be more careful. We can’t afford to get into another fight like that. Do you understand?”

Claire nodded. “I do.”

“And if you ever feel like your life is at risk, remember your extraction sequence. Russell will pull you out right away.”

Again, Claire nodded.

“Good. Now, where did that door bring us?”

The room was expansive, with high ceilings and large windows. The ceiling lights were flickering on and off, illuminating parts of the room and leaving others in darkness. There were round gray tables lined up in rows, each with nine seats alternating between navy blue, yellow, and white. The floor had black and white tiles arranged in a checker formation. The letters NHS were painted on the far wall in big bold letters.

“It looks like a school,” Claire said.

Hanna examined a piece of paper that was taped to the wall. Neverhill High School November Lunch Menu. Below the header, there was a calendar displaying various meals for November. On the side, there was a note that read: Pizza and chicken nuggets are available every day for $3. Milk and other beverages are available for an additional $1.

Down lower, there was a drawing of a turkey with a note that read: Get into the Thanksgiving season with our special turkey dinner, offered every Thursday this month. Includes white meat turkey breast, creamy mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and a mini apple pie.

“Is this another memory?” Claire asked, peering out the window at the dense fog.

“I think so.”

Claire spun around to explore the room. “Where is everyone? Where is Eileen? How can it be a memory if she isn’t here?”

“I don’t think this is a memory of a specific event in her life. It’s more of a passive memory. You can recall a location without linking it to a specific incident. This is how she remembers her high school. I don’t know why, but it feels…sad.”

“She dropped out. I wouldn’t expect her to have fond memories of this place.”

“I guess not.”

“It’s a good spot to rest up after that fight, but I doubt we’ll find anything useful here. Where do we go next?”

Hanna pointed to the other side of the cafeteria. Amidst the flickering lights, there was one continuously lit path leading out to the main hallway. “When in doubt, follow the lights.”

They weaved through the rows of tables and followed the path into the hallway. The walls were lined with two layers of lockers, one stacked on top of the other. Scattered areas of blue paint were peeling off, exposing the rusted metal underneath. Halfway down the hall, there was one locker left wide open.

The clop of their shoes echoed off the bare walls, amplified by the total silence of everything else. At the center of each locker door, there was a small aluminum plaque that displayed a three-digit number. The numbers climbed as they walked forward. 478. 479. 480.

When they reached the open locker, 481, they stopped to look inside. The bottom was cluttered with binders and stacks of paper. At the top, there was a shelf with various knickknacks. Earrings, lipstick, and a small collection of miniature horse figurines. Below the shelf, there was a backpack hanging from a metal hook. The front of the bag had E. Warner printed in white letters. Hanna grabbed the bag and rummaged through the contents inside. She found more school supplies, but nothing that grabbed her attention.

Claire plucked a sheet of paper that was taped to the inside of the door. “Look. It’s her report card. She was a decent student. Lots of B’s. She even got an A in her writing class. She was doing so well. Why would she drop out?”

Hanna tossed the bag back into the locker, letting it fall to the bottom instead of hanging it on the hook. “Who knows? Maybe she just didn’t like it. You can be good at something and not enjoy it.”

“Most kids don’t enjoy school. She was a bright student for at least part of high school. That kind of thing doesn’t just disappear for no reason. Something must have happened.”

“I’m sure her relationship with her father didn’t help.”

“Maybe that’s why she did so well in school. She could either stay late and study, or go home to her father. It sounds like an easy choice to me.”

Hanna shut the locker door to reveal red writing on the outside. Someone had used lipstick to vandalize her locker. Slut and whore were written in sloppy handwriting with a crude drawing of two stick figures having sex. Below the drawing, there was a cutout of a newspaper article. The headline read, 15-Year-Old Girl Survives Suicide Attempt, with a photo of Eileen.

Claire leaned closer to read the article, shaking her head in disgust. “Bullies, man. They really get into your head. It was a problem back when I was in high school, and it’s still just as bad now. Maybe even worse.”

Hanna recalled her own time in high school. She had also dealt with bullies. They used to call her nerd and teacher’s pet. She was always able to shake it off, but she never had to tolerate vandalism, and nerd was decidedly less hurtful than slut. Given her lack of self-confidence at that age, something like that would have devastated her.

“There will always be bullies,” Hanna said. “The best we can do is to spread awareness.”

“You’re right. That’s really all we can do. But technology is advancing so fast. It’s enabling these kids to do horrible things. Soon enough, kids will be using this thought-hopping tech to bully other kids.”

“I sure hope not, but it might be inevitable. I don’t plan on integrating this tech with the internet, but someone is bound to do it. When that happens, cyber-bullies will be at their worst.”

Claire stepped away from the locker. “I’m just glad I’m not a teenager anymore.”

“You and me both. Let’s keep moving. There’s nothing else here.” She pointed to the door at the end of the hall. A green exit sign was blinking above the door. They walked over and pushed through to whatever memory was next.