Government agents have finally located the president's son and attempt memory reintegration, which is only partially successful. Can they help him escape his kidnappers with only partial recall?

Partial Recall
Copyright 2011 by Heather Rose Brown
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The spastic psychedelic colors swimming in front of my eyes, combined with whirring sounds that kept shifting from one ear to the other, was making me dizzy, and a little sick. Just when it seemed like my stomach was about to climb up through my throat, something slid up my face and over my head.

The lights were replaced by a darkness deeper than I could have ever imagined. When the ringing in my ears faded, I noticed the faint sound of someone breathing nearby. It took a little longer before my eyes adjusted enough to see I was in a dark room, and someone was crouched in front of me,

"What's going on?" I asked.

A soft finger covered my lips as a feminine voice whispered, "Shhh, not so loud."

I reached up and pushed the hand away from my face, then asked in a quieter voice, "Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

"My name is Linda Fuentes. Before I answer your second question, can you tell me who you are?"

"I'm ..." Just as I was about to say Ellen Turner, a memory floated up from somewhere, and I said, "I'm Jake Emerson."

"I can't tell you how relieved I am to hear that, Jake. Can you tell me the last thing you remember?"

Memories floated around my head like bits of ice in a melting slushie. I waded through the mess until I found something solid. "I remember arguing with Dad about going to visit a friend, and him saying it was too dangerous."

"It can be tough sometimes being the son of the president."

At first, it felt weird thinking of being related to the president. But, as I thought about, a few memories slid together, and I realized he really was my dad.

"Sometimes, yeah," I said as I started remembering all the security stuff my family had to deal with during and after the election.

"Can you tell me what happened next?"

"Well, he eventually gave in a little and said I could go if someone from the security staff went me. I remember riding over there, and then ..." I tried reaching for what happened next, but a low hum at the back of my head was making it hard to think. "I'm not sure what happened after that."

"That's okay. It may take a while before your real memories reassert themselves."

"My real memories?"

"Yes. Your kidnappers had used a device, similar to the one I just used on you, to overlay your real memories with artificial memories of a fictional life."

"My kidnappers?"

I could hear an edge of frustration when she said, "Hon, I'm sure you have a lot of questions, but we really need to get you out of here before-"

A faint breeze brushed across my arms, and Linda was suddenly not there. A moment later, a door creaked opened and a stranger who felt vaguely familiar walked in. "Ellie," she said, "what are you doing out of bed?"

I looked down and saw by the light coming through the doorway the frilly bed I was sitting on, as well as the flimsy nightgown barely covering my thighs. "I ... I'd just woken up from a weird dream."

The stranger sat beside me and put an arm around my waist. Even though it felt a little odd having someone I didn't know being so close, it also felt nice. "That explains why I heard voices in here. You must have been talking in your sleep."

The silky sleeves of my nightgown slid across my shoulders as I shrugged and said, "I guess so."

"I'll tell you what. Why don't we get you down to the treatment room so we can take care of these dreams before they get any worse?"

Even though I didn't know exactly what the treatment room was, icy fingers of fear crawled up my back when she mentioned it. "I'm pretty tired," I said while trying to keep my voice steady. "I've also completely forgotten what the dream was about. Can't I just go back to sleep?"

"Well, your next treatment isn't supposed to be until tomorrow afternoon, so I suppose we can put it off until then," she said as she stood up and kissed the top of my head.

Even though I was too pumped up with adrenaline to be sleepy, I managed a decent yawn before pulling the covers aside. As I started climbing into bed, the woman said, "What's that?"

I stood back up, looked where she was pointing, and saw what looked like headphones and goggles, connected to a tiny box by a bunch of wires. Before I could figure out what it was, let alone answer her, I heard a wispy thup come from a shadowy corner. A moment later, the woman was lying on the floor.

"Mom!" I shouted. Even though I didn't recall ever meeting her before, a part of me knew this was my mom. I knelt down beside her and propped her head in my lap.

I felt movement behind me, then heard Linda's voice. "Jake, she's not your mother. She one of your kidnappers."

"I don't care! You didn't have to hurt her."

"Not so loud. You don't want to wake the other kidnapper."

I took a few deep breaths as I wiped at my face, then said more quietly, "Why'd you have to shoot her?"

"She saw the memory reintegration hardware when you moved the covers. I had to use the tranquilizer dart to keep her from alerting her partner."

A weight seemed to lift from my chest when I realized the woman I'd just called Mom was only sleeping. Even though a part of me still felt guilty, I carefully slid out from under her, then turned to Linda and said, "How do we get out of here?"

My rescuer pointed to the single window at the far end of the bedroom, and said, "Same way I came in."
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I let out my breath and opened my eyes when I felt the cool, damp grass under my feet. Before I was able to climb out of the harness and pull the hem of my nightgown back down, Linda was standing beside me in the back yard. As she stuffed the ropes and other equipment in a bag, she whispered, "You ready to go?"

There was an ominous click as a deep voice behind us said, "You're not going anywhere."

Something about that voice sounded familiar. Even though I couldn't be sure, I had good idea who it was and how to distract him. My heart thumped wildly behind my ribs as I slowly turned around and said, "Daddy?"

A middle-aged man wearing nothing but pajama bottoms stepped out from behind a tree and said. "Ellen, is that still you?"

In the girliest voice I could manage, I said, "Of course it's me. Why would you think I'm not me?"

"I just thought they might have gotten to you."

"They? They who?"

"I mean that woman who ... where'd she go?"

As if on queue, a soft whooshing sound came from somewhere nearby. The man who had been posing as my father for the past few weeks ducked to the side, then nearly squeezed all the breath out of me as he wrapped one of his arms around my ribs. I didn't have to guess what he was doing with the other arm, because I felt something cold pressed against my temple.

"Show yourself," he shouted, "or the president is going to be short one son."

"Daddy," I said as I tried to wriggle out if his grip, "what are you doing?"

"Shut up," he growled in my ear as something hard smacked into the other side of my head.

My heart nearly broke at the harsh sound of his voice. Could this really have been the same man who had kissed me goodnight and wished me sweet dreams only a few hours ago? As I stood there, shivering from fear and cold, I felt something bump against my toes.

I looked down and saw a small ball at my feet, which burst open with a loud pop. Soon, thick smoke was billowing all around me. There was a sharp, meaty smack behind me and my kidnapper's grip loosened.

I scrambled to my feet and began running blindly through the smoke. I screamed when I felt someone grab my hand and tried desperately to shake free before I heard Linda say, "Relax, Jake. It's me. Just hold onto my hand, and I'll get you out of here."

Once we made it to the side of the house, my rescuer, pulled the mask from her face and said, "Sorry about the smoke bomb. Things were escalating too quickly and my dart gun decided to jam just then, so I had to switch tactics."

Just as we were creeping up to the tall wooden gate leading out of the back yard, a sharp crack echoed around me and splinters exploded a few inches from my head. Linda slammed into my side at almost the same moment, and we both crashed through the hedges lining the side of the house.

After listening for any hint of movement for nearly a minute, and hearing nothing but crickets chirping, I finally whispered, "Did he just try to shoot me?"

Linda was silent for a few seconds. I could feel her breath on my ear as she quietly answered, "I don't think so. You're too valuable to them to shoot. He probably couldn't see very well because of the smoke and thought he was shooting at me."

"Oh," I said as my jangled nerves started settling. "So, what do we do now?"

There was a brief jingle before Linda opened my hand and dropped something in my palm, then said, "These are the keys to a white minivan I have parked at the end of the street. When I jump out to get his attention, I want you to run like hell, and don't stop until you reach the car."

"But he'll shoot at you."

"That's why I'm wearing a bullet-proof vest."

While I was trying to think of what to say to that, I felt a tug at my collar, then got a faceful of musty leaves and scratchy twigs as I was dragged out of the hedges, before finding myself nose to nose with my kidnapper.

Although it was hard to tell for sure by the light of the faint moonlight, there seemed to be a hint of regret in his eyes as he said, "Dammit, it wasn't supposed to happen like this." The pressure against my cheek disappeared as he added, "we just wanted the president to speak out publicly against domestic terrorism."

I just stared at him for a moment, then said, "What are you talking about?"

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but never answered my question. Instead, his eyes rolled up in his head, and he just stood there for a second before tumbling to the ground.

Linda was beside me again, and grabbed me by the elbow as she said, "Come on, we've got to get out of here."

I stumbles behind her as she dragged me through the gate. "Why are we rushing? Didn't you get both of my kidnappers?"

"Yes, but they were in regular radio communication with some others, who may have been alerted by the man who'd been posing as your father. I haven't heard back from my partner yet, so I don't know if his team has managed to capture the others, which means we might have some unwanted visitors soon."

The gravel lining the driveway bit into my bare feet as I picked up speed and raced behind my rescuer. A block and a half later, I was wheezing and the blood was thumping in my ears, when Linda suddenly stopped and grabbed the keys from me. The car next to us chirped and she yanked open the door.

I barely realized it was the same car she had described earlier before she picked me up and dumped me in the passenger seat. She then climbed over me and revved the engine as she buckled into the driver's seat. I barely managed to slam my door closed before the tires screeched and we flew down the street.

It wasn't until maybe ten minutes later that Linda slowed down and glanced at me. "You doing okay there, kid?"

"I dunno," I said. "I guess, considering everything that's happened recently, I'm doing okay."

She reached over and patted one of the hands I had unconsciously folded in my lap. "Don't worry, once we do a proper engram repair, you won't even remember all this mess."

"You mean, I won't remember anything from when I'd been living as Ellen?"

"Well, the past few weeks won't be completely removed, but it will be very vague, like a half forgotten dream."

"Tonight will feel like a dream?"

"Actually, you probably won't remember any of tonight at all."

Something cold and heavy seemed to fill my stomach as I thought about that. "Why will I forget tonight?"

Linda sighed and gave my hand a squeeze, then said, "It's a side effect of the engram rewriting procedure. It's why you couldn't remember what happened after you rode over with the security staff member to your friend's house."

I stared at the shredded hem of my nightgown as I thought about how my real father had looked through Ellen's eyes, and then what the man who had been pretending to be my father said. Eventually, I looked back up and said, "Would it be possible for me to talk to my dad before they remove the fake memories?"

My rescuer looked at me a couple of times before she said, "I suppose that's possible, but why do you want to talk to him before the procedure is completed?"

"There's just a couple of things I'd like to ask him about while I still have partial recall."