Erased

2

WHEN I WOKE A FEW HOURS LATER, I could hear Cas singing a Celine Dion song in the shower down the hall. "My Heart Will Go On," from the sound of it.

I threw on a baggy sweater over a tank top and black leggings and headed downstairs. Sam sat at the small table tucked in the back corner of the kitchen, and Nick stood at the stove, scrambling up some eggs.

"Is there enough for me?" I asked.

"Yes," Sam answered before Nick could comment.

After fixing myself a cup of coffee, I sat beside Sam. He was on the laptop, presumably reading over the files we had procured from the Branch. Many of them spanned our entire involvement, from the time we entered the program to right before we left the farmhouse lab. It was going to take us more than a few months to read everything inside, but we were making good progress. Not that we'd found anything substantial yet. Sam's files were bigger than anyone else's. He'd been with the Branch the longest, sold into it by his mother. They started experimenting on genetic alterations with him and expanded from there.

"Anything new?" I asked, squashing the urge to read over his shoulder.

"Not really."

Nick sat across from me a minute later, his plate overflowing with eggs, two pieces of toasted bread beside the pile. He dug in without a word.

"I'll grab our plates," I said to Sam while shooting Nick a scowl. When I got to the stove, I found the pan nearly empty, so I divided what was left into three equal parts, leaving enough for Cas when he came down.

"We're out of eggs," Nick said. "Who's on grocery duty this week?"

"Me," I answered. "And you."

"Great."

I would have gone alone if Sam would have allowed it, but we'd agreed a long time ago that it was best if we traveled in pairs. Grocery shopping was always done with someone else, and we tried to stick to a constant rotation.

Sam downed the rest of his black coffee. "I'll go."

"No." I shook my head. "It's my turn. You and Cas went last week." I took a bite of eggs, silently hoping he'd insist he go in my place.

But he didn't. I'd asked him to treat me like an equal. Apparently, I was now getting my wish.

"We'll go this afternoon," I said to Nick. "So don't disappear on me."

He tossed his empty plate in the sink and left.

My day was looking up already.

It'd been over two months since we'd escaped the Branch and encountered any of its agents, but that didn't mean we could lower our guard. Everything we did was calculated and thoroughly planned out. Like who went grocery shopping and when. Who checked the perimeter and when.

But it couldn't be too planned out, because then the Branch would be able to predict our movements.

Sometimes just taking a shower seemed like far too much work. At Sam's insistence, I always locked the bathroom door behind me, made sure the window was unlocked for a quick alternate exit should I need it. And my gun stayed loaded on the vanity.

Living a normal life didn't seem possible, not with the Branch still out there. It was why we were always on edge. We couldn't relax. Ever. And the longer we went without seeing a Branch agent, the more we felt like our time was running out.

After breakfast, Sam and I got dressed for a perimeter check. He wore a thick black coat with a flannel shirt underneath, jeans, and black leather boots. I had bought a heavier coat a few weeks ago when winter settled in. It was graded for below zero temps. With it, I wore cold-weather leggings tucked into boots.

In the woods, we made our way from one checkpoint to another. I ducked beneath a pine branch and squinted as the sun appeared, the blinding rays reflecting off the snow-covered ground. I had sunglasses on, but they didn't help much.

If an agent attacked me right now, I'd be caught off guard, unable to see. I often found myself thinking about little things like that. And about how many weapons I had on me. Whether or not they were loaded or easy to grab. Right now I had a gun on my back and a knife sheathed in my boot. I could remember a time when one gun seemed like one weapon too many. Now I wished I had more.

Sam trailed behind me by a foot, his steps quiet despite the ice that'd formed on the snow overnight. Every step I took made a loud and annoying crunch.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," Sam said as we rounded a mammoth oak tree. "I think it's time we move again."

I glanced over my shoulder, pausing for a second as he caught up. "Already?"

He stopped beside me. "It's been four weeks."

We'd moved twice since we'd escaped the Branch. I understood why, but I was tired of settling into new places.

I wanted to have the opportunity to rebuild the life that had been stolen from me, and I knew that started with piecing together my past and learning more about my family. I couldn't do that if we kept moving, especially when it seemed like we were heading farther and farther away from Port Cadia, the town where I'd grown up. It was the place where my life and Sam's had been altered completely when he and I lost my sister.

I wanted to know how Dani died and what had happened to her body. I wanted to know why the Branch had killed my parents. I knew the Branch had put me in the farmhouse lab, in the Altered program, because I'd already had a connection to the boys, especially Sam. They'd used that connection and twisted it into something scientific, something they could reproduce and later sell.

But I still wasn't sure if they'd killed my parents so that I wouldn't have a family searching for me, or if there was another reason. We already knew they had the ability to wipe people's memories. So why not spare my parents and alter their memories instead?

We didn't know the endings to any of the important mysteries, and I desperately wanted to.

I needed to.

"Anna?" Sam called out.

I stopped walking. I hadn't even realized I'd moved. "Yeah?"

"You're two steps away from hitting that bear trap." He gestured at a lump in the ground.

"Oh. Thanks."

"You okay?" he asked.

"Fine." I bent over to inspect the trap, looking for any clues that it'd been tampered with or set off. The cold bit through my leather gloves, numbing my fingers as I worked. "So, where are we going this time?" I asked.

"I was thinking Indiana."

"Maybe we should move north."

Even when I wasn't looking directly at Sam, I could still feel the full weight of his gaze. It lifted the hair at the base of my neck.

"No" was all he said.

I sighed and kept walking. I wasn't sure how I'd convince him that learning more about our past was a good idea, because when Sam set his mind on something, he generally didn't budge. His number one priority was to keep us away from the Branch and keep us safe. Obviously I valued my life, but it didn't feel like much of a life with so many of the pieces still missing.

And hadn't Sam been the one to finally break free of the lab, only to risk his safety and freedom again when it was his past he was trying to figure out?

Of course, there was one common denominator in all of this. The whole reason Sam had gone to so much trouble before the farmhouse, the whole reason he'd had clues to retrace in the first place.

Dani.

The sister who had been stolen from me.

Sam's old girlfriend.

Dani was a huge part of Sam's past. I knew he was curious to fill in the blanks surrounding her death, even if he wouldn't admit to it. And finding out more information about her would also give me more information about my family and my past.

It didn't escape me, though, that I was in love with my sister's old boyfriend, and that if she were alive, Sam and I probably wouldn't be together.

What if digging into our pasts reminded Sam of what he'd lost with Dani? What if it brought on the guilt that was already creeping into my thoughts?

And what would that mean for us?

I wasn't sure if I was willing to take that risk.

3

NICK BACKED INTO A PARKING SPOT in the grocery store lot, facing the SUV toward the exit so we could escape quickly if we needed to. Out of habit, I scanned the lot and the street beyond, pausing on anyone who looked suspicious.

There was a woman hurrying a child down the sidewalk, both of them hunched against the wind.

A gray-haired man got out of his sedan in front of the paper goods store and raced inside. A small black truck with tinted windows crawled past the grocery store. It might have been suspicious, but the streets were slick with snow and salt, making traveling over thirty miles an hour almost impossible. Regardless, Nick and I watched as it rounded the next corner.

"Are we good?" I asked.

Nick checked his rearview mirror one more time before pulling the keys out of the ignition. "We're good."

I hurried toward the store, arms clasped tightly in front of me, trying to ward off the wind. Inside, I grabbed a cart as Nick sauntered up behind me.

Without saying a word, we started down the first aisle, where all the discounted items were, and started picking things off our list. While Sam still had cash on reserve, we were trying to be smart with the money we had left, and food generally came in second behind weapons. Food could be stolen if it came down to it, but guns were harder to come by. You couldn't pluck a gun off a gas station shelf while someone distracted the store clerk.

At the end of the sale aisle, I paused to look at a display of winter gear. I'd been running every day but was finding it more difficult in the colder air. My throat tightened up too quickly, and my lungs burned. I couldn't make it a full 5k without having to walk.

I grabbed something called a neck gaiter and held it out in front of me. It was really nothing more than a tube of fleece meant to cover half your face. That'd help keep my throat and lungs warm.

Nick nodded at the gear when I tossed it in the cart. "What are you getting that for?"

"To help me run better."

He snatched it from the cart and hung it back up. "Don't train yourself into a crutch. You think the Branch is going to wait for you to"—he read the tag—"put your neck gaiter on before chasing you down?"

I gave the fleece a wistful look. Nick was right, of course, and that only annoyed me more.

Halfway through the store, Nick disappeared, but I didn't bother looking for him. I was happier shopping alone anyway. I filled the cart with the necessities, making good time. Sam liked us to be in and out of the store in less than thirty minutes. As I headed into the condiments aisle, I checked my list, tossing ketchup and mustard into the cart before crossing them off. I started for the peanut butter and grumbled when I found my favorite brand gone.

"Is there something I can help you find?"

I whirled around. A boy wearing one of the store's green uniforms stood behind me. His name tag read BRAD in crinkled sticker letters.

"Umm…" I pointed at the shelf over my shoulder. "Do you guys hold stock in the back? I'm looking for Mountain Valley peanut butter, and the shelf's empty."

The boy smiled, showing a crooked front tooth. "I can check. Hold on just a sec." He pulled a walkie-talkie from his belt, pressed a button, and said, "Lori, can you look up a UPC for me?"

The handheld crackled with static, and then a woman said, "Read me the numbers."

"You don't have to go to this much trouble," I said, and started backing up.

We were running out of time, and I still had to find Nick and check out. Who knew what Sam would do if we were gone longer than an hour.

"It'll just take a second," Brad said, and started rattling off a series of numbers into the walkie.

I checked both ends of the aisle. Sam had been teaching me surveillance techniques, and one of his biggest points was Know your surroundings.

The woman's voice sounded a second later. "Out of that product until the truck comes in."

"All right. Thanks." Brad turned to me. "I suppose you heard that."

I smiled. "I did. I appreciate you checking."

I pushed the cart forward, but Brad followed. "Are you new around here? I don't think I've seen you before. Do you go to Bramwell High?"

"No. I mean, yes, I'm new here, but I'm homeschooled. Or was. I'm done." That was a lie. I still had a few months left.

"Cool," Brad said as he clipped his walkie-talkie onto his belt. He shoved his hands in his pants pockets, causing him to hunch forward. He was quite a few inches taller than me, maybe six feet even. The same height as Sam.

"Do you live close to town?"

That question caught me off guard, and immediately all my senses went on alert. Was he asking because he was being friendly or because he was part of the Branch?

Fortunately, Nick appeared and answered for me. "She doesn't live anywhere close by. Come on, Frannie. We have to go."

Frannie? I frowned. That was the best alias he could come up with?

"Right. I'm coming, Gabriel," I said.

Nick narrowed his eyes. Gabriel was an alias he'd used before the farmhouse lab. We'd found mention of it in one of his old files. He detested that name. "Sounds like the kind of guy I'd hate," he'd said.

Brad looked between Nick and me.

Cas once described Nick as a shark masquerading as a panther, which pretty much summed it up. Even strangers could pick up on Nick's terrible personality, or lack thereof, if he wasn't trying to hide it.

And right now, he wasn't.

Brad straightened his shoulders. Whether consciously or unconsciously, he was going into defense mode.

I could tell that Brad thought Nick was my boyfriend, which made me want to deny it quickly and vehemently. But then Nick put his arm around me and pulled me closer. The denial got stuck in my throat.

"Umm… thanks for your help," I said as Nick steered us away.

"No problem," Brad said quietly, still rooted in place.

When we were out of the aisle and on to the next, I shrank away from Nick. "Was that really necessary?"

He plucked a box of cereal off the shelf and tossed it in the cart. "Was what necessary?"

I sighed. "Sometimes I hate you."

"Yeah, well, the feeling is mutual." He grabbed a canister of rolled oats. "What were you doing, anyway? Chatting up the stock boy? You know better, Frannie."

"I'm not a child, Gabriel." I blew out an exasperated breath. "All I wanted was some peanut butter." I crossed cereal and oats off the list. "And I was handling it just fine before you showed up. I'm smarter than you seem to think."

"Maybe so, but you're not as prepared for any of this as the rest of us."

True. But I was learning. And I was willing to do whatever it took to be prepared.

We finished filling the cart and chose the only checkout lane that was open. It was run by a girl a few years older than me, with black hair and one stripe of cherry red in her bangs. A hoop pierced her lower lip and another hung from her left eyebrow.

When she saw Nick, she smiled, showing off a steel ball in the center of her tongue. "How are you today?" she asked him, totally ignoring me.

Nick might be surly around me, but he knew when and how to turn on the charm, and apparently now was one of those times.

He leaned a hip into the counter and crossed his arms over his chest, making his biceps bigger. He grinned. "I'm good. You?"

The girl shrugged. "It's been slow today. This place is so boring."

Nick laughed, the sound hoarse and deep. "This town is boring."

"Totally." The girl rolled her eyes, commiserating with him. "My friends and I go to the city almost every weekend just to escape."

Nick leaned in closer. "Where do you go?"

"Usually a club called DuVo. It's pretty rad."

Rad? Who uses that word?

I watched the register screen for the total and handed over enough cash to cover it.

"Maybe I'll check it out," Nick said.

"You totally should." The girl gave me the change and the receipt. "We'll be there tomorrow night for sure."

"What's your name?" Nick asked, using the excuse to check out the girl's chest, like he meant to find a name tag.

"Teresa," she said.

Nick smiled. "I'll see you later, Teresa."

She smiled back as I scooped up the shopping bags, twice as annoyed as I had been five minutes ago. If that was even possible.

In the parking lot, I threw the bags in the back of the SUV and slid into the passenger seat. "How do you do that, anyway?"

Nick stuck the key in the ignition, and the engine cranked to life. "Do what?"

"Act normal and fake."

"It's a learned skill."

"Are you really going to that club?" The question came out holding more weight than I meant it to. As much as Nick and I disliked each other, I still cared where he went and how long he was gone. Our relationship might have been dysfunctional, but it was safer to stick together. No one else could possibly understand what we'd gone through or what we still had to deal with every day.

I set an elbow on the door's arm rest and looked out the window, trying not to care what Nick's answer was.

"Maybe," he said as he pulled out of the parking lot. "Not that it's any of your business."

"Yes, it is. Because we have rules, and the rules are we don't separate."

He frowned at me briefly before turning his attention back to the road. "That's bullshit and you know it. I can manage just fine on my own."

"At the risk of dying."

He grunted. "Dying would be preferable to this conversation."

I sighed. Of course, we all had the right to leave the group whenever we wanted.

I hadn't thought any of us would actually do it, though.

4

I PULLED A QUILT OVER MY LAP AND propped myself up against the headboard of my bed, setting my journal on my knees. I flipped through the pages, my fingers coming away covered in graphite dust.

I stopped at a sketch of a boy with amber eyes, and my stomach clenched.

Trev.