The Focus Effect

Twenty-five

I'm not sure how long it takes to disassemble the implant from JD's body, but afterward, I finish removing the remaining infection. His golden lights and pale halo look healthy and beautiful. His breathing sounds normal and he is resting peacefully. Lucky dog.

I fall back against a rock, exhausted. The moon has moved to the edge of the gap above us and it's getting darker inside the cavern. I'm not up for sightseeing at the moment anyway; my eyes are tired and heavy so I close them and just think.

I don't understand why Kingshire hasn't sent his men after us. Up until a moment ago, he would have been able to track us using the GPS in JD's implant. That's when I remember that Mara still has hers. Is it possible that the thick rock within the cavern hides us from the satellites? I remember Doctor Sue telling me that she packed a GPS unit inside the pouch with the antidote. Crawling over to where I dumped its contents, I find the GPS, an envelope and a map. I pick up the envelope and can see my name written on it in the dwindling moonlight. I run my finger under the flap and open it. There's a piece of paper inside. I turn on the GPS to give me some more light. As it powers up, the word Garmin appears in blue letters across a white screen before a menu appears. Initially, the brightness of the screen hurts my eyes. In the upper right hand corner of the device it says, NO SIGNAL. Perhaps Kingshire can't get a lock on our position down here either. But that doesn't make any sense. How was the neurotoxin released, almost killing JD? I just don't get it. If Kingshire knew we were here, I think also that his men would be here by now.

I turn the Garmin around to use it like a flashlight so I can read the piece of paper in my other hand. It's a letter from Doctor Sue.

Dear Hannah,

It is my hope that you'll have time to read this sooner rather than later. But later is better than never if you know what I mean. So let's just go ahead and get the hard stuff out of the way first, sweetheart. If you're reading this, I'm probably not alive anymore and I'm really sorry about that.

Tears blur my eyes and I wipe them away angrily before continuing on.

It also doesn't necessarily mean that you're safe. This is what I intend to accomplish above and beyond anything else. Right now, you should be heading east. Watch your step and be weary of wildlife. Poisonous snakes and frogs will probably be your biggest threat on land, piranhas and alligators if you decide to go swimming. That's a joke. Do not go swimming. If you have to cross a...

"Hannah," JD calls.

"I'm here, just a sec."

I need to compose myself. I shouldn't be wasting the battery on the GPS anyway, as much as I want to read Doctor Sue's words. I turn the device off. I'll finish the letter tomorrow in the daylight. I gather the things Doctor Sue gave me and put everything in the Ziploc to protect them from moisture. I even put the empty syringe back in its plastic case and keep it, too. I kneel down next to JD and lay my hand on his arm. "How do you feel?"

"I remember, Hannah," he says.

"Remember what?"

"My mom. I'm...not sure about my dad. I think he may have really died. I remember the house from when-you're shivering."

Of course JD's memory was wiped. Just like mine, just like David's, just like any other person who was experimented on. I'm not sure why this surprises me. My clothes are still damp from the water but I've been so focused on JD that I hadn't noticed how cold I am. "I'm okay." I pull my hand away from his warmth. "I removed your implant," I inform him. "Is that why you're remembering?" If that's the case, why haven't my memories returned?

He doesn't say anything for a moment. "Partly," he allows. "There are yearly injections involved that work in tandem with the implants to maintain the suppression of memories. I don't know how long it will take, but I should eventually remember everything-provided we live long enough," he stipulates.