Ilyan Read online

  "In here?" I asked for clarification, my voice having taken on the same dark quality that hers had.

  "In the hospital." She finally looked away from the television, her eyes boring into me for one thunderous moment before they were gone, leaving me imprinted with her terror and panic.

  In that moment I think I truly saw her. Not this bubbly go lucky girl - but this terrified teenager that knew her life was in danger.

  That knew her life could end if one of those swarms of black winged beasts decided to plunge from the sky, right to her.

  She said nothing else, she just stared at the television where the news reporter was talking about the ruins in the city.

  "A year ago I was in school." Kaye continued, still looking at the TV, a bitterness invading her voice as she wrinkled her nose and folded her arms over her chest. "I wanted to be a nurse like my mom. A year ago everything was different."

  "I wish I understood." My own bitterness and anger had infected my tone, but for reasons that I myself didn't fully understand.

  "What do you mean?"

  "It wasn't different for me," I supplied, the tension in my chest growing as one of her fluffy eyebrows arched high into her hairline. “It wasn't anything.”

  "If you were there," she said, gesturing toward the TV, "It's probably better you don't remember."

  I could see her looking at me out of the corner of my eye, but I didn't turn. I stared straight ahead as a reporter gave a tour of what looked like the remains of a church in Prague.

  Beds and tents were littered over the space making it clear it had been some kind of camp for those who had been trapped there. Everything was burned and destroyed, the few things that were left behind telling a haunted story. You could still see the shadow of what I was sure was a steeple in the background.

  "What do you know about my case?" I pulled my focus away from the TV to stare at her, not enjoying the way the images were making me feel.

  Kaye did the same, heaving a big sigh as she flopped back in her chair again, the old metal and melamine giving a grunt at the motion.

  "I only know what my mother knows..."

  "And I know nothing," I interrupted with a slight smile, "so between us you know more."

  "All the more reason for me to share, I suppose?" The light was back in her eyes in an instant, glowing and vibrant and hungry. Eager, even.

  I had to admit, the girl was sharp, I could already tell by the excitement that was rippling off her that she was ready for what was to come. She already knew, she expected it. She wanted it.

  "If I have any hope of figuring out who I am, then yes." I looked at her, trying to make my intent clear without saying it.

  I needed an ally, and even though I knew nothing of this girl. Even though I wasn't sure I could trust her. There was something about her that made me want to.

  Something that needed to.

  "You want me to solve the mystery of the girl? Of Joclyn?" She was practically bouncing in her chair.

  "I want you to help. I need to find her. I need to know if she's alive."

  "Or if you killed her?"

  “That too.” I sighed. “First, I need you to tell me what you know.”

  4

  They had found me in an alley not far from the hospital, covered in blood. It was dried to my long blonde hair and plastered to my chest. I was covered in a layer of the dried fluid, but more - much more - of it was wet. It glistened as it dripped from my skin, as it ran through my hair, saturating my pants. It absolutely covered me.

  Someone, a woman, had screamed for help from within the alley, and luckily a police officer had been passing.

  'Most people ignore screaming.' Kaye had said, 'They run from it... just in case it’s the Chrlič.'

  Even though the officer had heard the woman scream, by the time he had gotten to where I was, the screaming woman was nowhere to be found.

  The blood that I was covered in was not mine, at least, not most of it. My own blood was what was dried and caked against my skin, that layer covered by the fresh blood of another, a woman. Tests had shown she was ‘a close relation’.

  Why my own blood was plastered against my body, however, made little sense. I had no wounds when I had arrived here, and although my nose, jaw, and left arm bore signs of having been recently broken, there was no cut, no wound - nothing that would have released that much blood.

  I did have quite a few scars on my chest, large raised crisscrossed brands that I had told the doctor hurt on occasion. They had been healed for some time, however, and therefore not the culprit.

  The injury on my hand was another possibility, the skin raised like a burn that covered my entire palm, extending up my wrist. The injury was very similar to the scars on my chest, although it looked somewhat fresh and was scabbed and marred in places, as though it had healed in unclean circumstances. Even if the wound was fresh, there was no way that so much blood could come from it.

  So the blood remained a mystery.

  I remained a mystery.

  An unsolvable mystery.

  Everything about me was an enigma.

  The way I had arrived, the symptoms I displayed, the fact that any dental records could not be found despite the straightness of my teeth promising a past of dental work.

  There was nothing.

  I was no one.

  Kaye sat back in her chair with a deep sigh, all information seemingly relayed.

  Mission accomplished.

  Too bad it was only the beginning.

  Kaye barely knew anything more than I did, but it didn’t matter. When combined with the information I had, it was precious. When you add it in with the possible murder, and the accusation of having been in Prague, little pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together.

  First, there was a woman. Her image came to me without a moment's thought, dark hair framing her pale face, eyes so bright and clear that they were almost nothing. The shimmer of a pearl against silverlight. I didn't think that such a color could exist. Yet, they were here, trapped in my mind; glistening above a smile so shy that it melted my heart. Through all that heart-aching beauty was one thing that made my stomach twist in agony: one of those marks hidden behind her ear.

  The moment I had mentioned a woman the police had assumed it was her blood that covered me, that I had killed her. However, if the blood was a close relation as they had said, then I was going to need a serious psychological evaluation.

  My memories, the way my heart swelled at the very thought of her, these were not the emotions one should have for a sister.

  So the blood remained a mystery, one more thing I did not know.

  What I did know, however, was that the girl and I had been together in Prague. I didn't know when, and I didn't know for how long. I didn't know if we had been rescue workers, or if we had been trapped there - but everything I had seen on the news had felt familiar somehow.

  "So what do you know?" Kaye said, her tone slightly accusatory as she grew impatient.

  She tapped her toe against the hard floor in a tempo that I was sure was meant to get my attention, her eyebrow arching as she waited for my response.

  I sighed. The dread of having to release this precious information took control of me for the briefest moment before I pounded it into submission.

  "I know more now than I did before," I said, careful to keep my voice even. "I do, however, think you are right."

  She perked up, a smile twitching around the corner of her mouth.

  "Oh, am I?" She beamed, obviously pleased with the fact that she was correct at something.

  "Or rather, I think your mother is right," I clarified, her smile faded instantly. "I think I came from Prague. I think I was there."

  Her momentary disappointment was sapped at the admission, a new kind of eagerness taking over the light in her eyes. I moved away instinctively, handcuffs clanging against the metal, unsure if I should be afraid of her reaction or excited along with her.

  "Do you think
they wiped your memory, then?" She said, the loss of recognition forgotten over the eagerness of something I truly didn't understand.

  "They? You mean those flying things?" I was careful how I chose my words.

  "Yes, or the aliens. One or the other..."

  "The aliens?" I interrupted, struggling to keep the scoff at bay.

  A small chuckle escaped on its own, however, and she shot me a glare. The sour look was mixed with so much animosity I fought the need to move back. I obviously wasn't the first to respond to her hypothesis in such a way.

  I may not remember much, and the concept of aliens was one I did not fully grasp. But I could feel the ridiculousness of it.

  "You saw on the news about that dome thing that covered the city, right? The Czech sun?" She plowed on, although slightly ruffled she sure wasn't going to let that get in her way. "They say they don't know what it is, but most of us know it was the aliens. And those flying things, those creatures... whatever they are. They were sent by the aliens to destroy us. Maybe they are aliens."

  She grew more excited with each hypothesis she presented, the ridiculousness of them making me uncomfortable. I swallowed, careful to keep my eyes locked with hers and my lips locked up tight.

  "That seems a little bit excessive, don't you think?"

  "No," she said without hesitation. "It seems like what it is."

  I tried to understand what she meant, tried to find some sort of truth of sanity in what she was saying. Who was I to judge sanity, though?

  “I don’t…”

  “So did they wipe your memory, or are you one of them?” She continued to chatter, her focus back on the TV as if that settled it. “Maybe Detective Bondar thinks you are one of the aliens. It would make sense why you are here, why you still have all those wires.”

  She turned back to me with a jump, exhilaration flooding off her as a new idea took hold.

  “That’s it, you are the alien, and they are doing their own experiments on you!”

  The heart rate monitor jumped in confusion and shock, my chest constricting in the blanket of real emotion.

  “No,” my confusion rushed out of me in a flood of air, jaw working as I looked at the girl. As if she would have the answers.

  I couldn't be an alien. The entire notion was ridiculous, yet I knew I was there. I knew…

  My focus drifted away to the before and after images that were now flashing over the television screen. There was something familiar...

  “We are just starting to understand the destruction Prague has seen... “ The reporters quick Ukrainian cut through the silence as more images made their debut.

  A once ancient bridge now plunged into a river that was stained red. A tall building of white stone now nothing more than a heap of rubble. A clock that had been built into the face of a building generations before was ripped and twisted to the ground.

  One after another I saw them, and one after another they peaked in the back of my mind, they pulled and they tugged.

  It was familiar.

  It was all familiar.

  Just like those tents that I had seen.

  Although I already knew that I was in the city, these little familiarities that flew into my mind made it all the more clear.

  And what was more, I knew she was right.

  These little flying monsters were sent to kill everyone. Except I didn't know by who, and I didn't know why.

  But something told me it wasn't the aliens.

  "So," she said, turning back to me, the matter settled somehow. "Should we start looking for Joclyn?"

  I stared at her, knowing it was the logical first step, but having no idea how this was going to be possible.

  “She could be dead…” The words physically hurt to say, each one burning against my chest as I forced the probability out.

  Kaye stared at me, her hand wrapping around the heavy handcuff on my wrist, as if the action was a comfort.

  “If she was… There is normally a body.”

  The statement stabbed deep and I turned toward her, hair swinging in shock.

  “There wasn’t a body.” She continued, cutting off the outburst that was brewing. “There wasn’t anyone but you in the alley.”

  I wish that was it. I wish that could settle it. But there was so much I hadn’t told Kaye. So much I wasn’t ready to. Like about the mark behind Joclyn’s ear. I didn’t know what it meant other than that she was surely dead.

  I swallowed again.

  Kaye couldn’t know that. I didn’t know enough about the world, I didn’t know enough about her, and I had to protect them. Both of them.

  “I suggest we look online first," she said as she pulled a thin box out of her pocket, pressing the flat surface as if she was controlling it. A phone, my memory provided although it didn't seem right. "There are message boards set up for survivors to contact loved ones. Although, it's a long shot with only one name. Do you know her last name?"

  This time I couldn't help but laugh, the light chuckle out of place against the pain of loss. I knew nothing about myself. Nothing at all. How in the world could I know her last name?

  “I’m not even sure how to spell it..”

  I expected Kaye’s face to fall at the admission, my hope at finding anything did. She only shrugged, however, shifting in her seat as she settled in, thumbs moving on the screen that was now only inches from her face.

  The rhythmic tapping of skin and nails against glass blended into the beeping and hissing of the machines I was hooked up to, leaving us both sitting in sterile silence.

  “The Government of the United States has released images from their troop's body cams,”

  the report on the television shifted as the voice did, a male speaking fast as the images of the city faded to a news desk. “The images, while not clear, are being evaluated as a worldwide search has begun...”

  Pulling my focus, I leaned back, handcuff clanging as I twisted my wrist to turn up the volume ever so slightly.

  I had no interest in alerting the guard again.

  “I heard about this,” Kaye whispered from beside me, pulled from the 4x5 inch world and back into reality. “Your detective’s partner was talking to Dr. Sirko about it last night. The first images from inside the Czech Sun or something.”

  The conversation was obviously one that she hadn’t been invited to, but it didn’t matter. I had heard about it, too. One sentence before everyone had rushed out of my room in panic.

  “A single blurred image means nothing,” I repeated Dr. Sirko’s words in a mumbled haze, my focus now absorbed in the gallery of images they had filled the screen with.

  They were fuzzy, obviously pulled from a video or a bigger image they weren’t interested in sharing. Even through the hazy lines and faded colors you could still make out people.

  “The Americans have released a report along with these images saying that the five people shown were inside of Prague prior to the implosion of the Czech Sun and were then found in the Svarov ruins moments later…”

  The reporters semi-monotone reading of his scripts was interrupted by quick tapping from Kaye, the sound of thumbs against glass joined by her toe snapping against linoleum.

  “Jan,” She said as she scraped her chair towards me, the sound pulling my focus as I jumped. “It kind of looks like you.”

  I could feel my heart rattle against my ribcage as she turned her phone toward me, one of the blurred images the news was showing expanded to cover the entire surface of the screen.

  The image was pixelated, the colors light enough that they were blending together - but even through the washed out grain of the image I could see it. There, in the middle of a few filthy tents, was a man with long blonde hair that trailed behind him as he ran. Some of it appeared to be tangled in a yellow string that was trailing behind him, disappearing in the pixilated tents. Although most of his facial features were washed out, you could clearly make out the blue of his eyes, the color bright as he looked behind him for something. />
  She was right, it did look like me. It had been a shock to stare at myself in the bathroom mirror the first time, and this was no less shocking. From the hair to my lanky frame, right down to the faded color of my eyes it was familiar.

  I stared at it, wishing I could grab the phone to get a better look. Before I could even try she snatched the phone away, leaving me trapped against the bed, heart thundering in my chest, the image burned into my mind.

  “No wonder Detective Bondar is so determined,” I said in a whisper. “He thinks I was there, too.”

  Kaye nodded once in agreement, but she had already gone back to her phone, mumbling about how she thought there was another one with me in it. Anything she said was washed out by my quickly growing anxiety.

  My chest was growing tight as I looked back to the television, the screen now cycling slowly through the whole set of images as the reporter dissected each one.

  “This man,” he began, a wide red circle drawn on screen to encapsulate what I was sure was me, “is seen in quite a few of the images. The French Embassy has reported his supposed capture as of just a few days ago, but no evidence to back that up has been provided. He is still sought after as well as many others seen in the photographs…”

  “Here it is,” Kaye interrupted, her fingers tapping faster as she sat back in her chair.

  I didn’t even turn to her, I was glued to the screen, everything tense in preparation for what was going to come next.

  For what I knew had to come next.

  “Called ‘The Oheň’ by many countries, his female companion…”

  Kaye turned her phone to me, just as the television zoomed in on the exact image she was trying to show me.

  The same lanky blonde man ran through the tents, his image a blur as he reached behind him, his hand wrapped around that of a woman much smaller than him.

  She stood only to his shoulder, her dark hair bound in a tight braid, the same string of fuzzy yellow trailing from her. I only saw her profile, the image so distorted that she could have been anyone.

  They could have been anyone.

  Except it was her.

  I could see her; see her determination as she ran through those tents, sparks of fire similar to what I had seen in my dream popping in the air around her.