Remember Yesterday

50

Déjà vu hits me the moment we turn onto the right corridor, and it’s no gentle stream. It’s an ocean wave crashing into my legs, almost knocking me down.

The same linoleum tile. The same stinging scent of alcohol. Those IV stands jumbled in the corner, that diamond niche cut into the wall. Even the third panel of lights in the ceiling blinks on and off.

Just like I remember. Just like yesterday.

My palms go slick with sweat. My heart beats in my throat like an extra tonsil. Every muscle in my body screams, Run!

This is where my darkest fears formed. Where I relived memories that weren’t mine. Where they shaped me into the person that I am, for better or for worse. Definitely worse.

Helpless. Worthless. Every “-less” that ever existed.

I sway, and Tanner wraps his arm around my waist, holding me up. Our eyes meet, and I don’t have to say a single word. He knows. Perhaps more than anyone else, he knows exactly what I’m feeling right now.

“They tried to…persuade you here?” he asks gently. Ha. That was their word for it. Persuasion. As if calling it by another name could disguise the torture they were actually performing.

“Yes.” The word is faint, so faint that it fades away into the silence, and I can’t be sure if I’ve actually said it.

“They tried to defeat you back then. But you won’t let them win now.”

It’s the exact right thing to say to bring me back to myself. I’m not six years old anymore. They don’t have control over me the way they used to.

“Okay. Let’s do this.” Squaring my shoulders, I push him into a relief room. “Ten years before our present, a few months before this time, the Underground strategically placed spiders all over the building, which gave them secret access through the air vents. That was how Logan broke Callie out of Limbo.”

“And how you broke into my lab.”

Fike. I hoped he wouldn’t remember. “Well, lucky for us, I have the location of every spider memorized. So my vandalism days were good for something.” I crouch by the toilet and try not to touch anything, even though the entire room is sanitized after every use. “See the panel behind the toilet? That’s our access point.”

He sighs. “Why do all my adventures with you involve crawling through sludge?”

“We won’t go near the sludge. I hope. I’ll go first.” I take a deep breath and crawl straight into a seemingly solid wall, emerging in an air duct on the other side.

I wriggle forward to make room for Tanner, who appears a few seconds later.

“You’re not claustrophobic, are you?” Fates, I should’ve asked earlier. They tortured him for six months. Who knows what other phobias those nightmare memories induced?

I sense, rather than see, the shake of his head. The only illumination comes from the light filtering through the air vents. “Nah. They didn’t get a strong enough reaction the first time, so they stopped giving me the memory of being buried alive.”

I grimace. “How efficient of them.”

“You’re telling me.” He taps his wrist com, and a blueprint of the building—identical to the one we’ve been studying—is projected in front of us. “According to this, we go up the ladder, crawl straight for thirty feet and then left for another thirty. Her room should be right below us then.”

I nod. Since he’s in front, he climbs the ladder first and enters the horizontal air shaft. It’s wide enough for both of us, but we crawl single file. For the next few minutes, my only visual is the soles of his hovershoes.

Before the last turn, he pauses. “Remember.” His voice floats back to me. “If we get separated, meet me at the cabin where the time machine is housed. Doesn’t matter how long it takes. I’ll wait for you.”

“Why would we be separated?”

He starts crawling again. “You never know. I just want to be prepared.”

Before I can formulate my next question, he stops at an open air vent and scoots to the side. I crawl up next to him, wedging my shoulders against his, and we both look through the slats into the room below.

A little girl lies in a narrow hospital bed.

Me. Jessa. When I was six years old.