CHAPTER Ten
IT’S LATE BY THE TIME EVELYN FINISHES TALKING, and she tells us we can stay in her room to rest while she checks on Dallas and the others. It feels sort of creepy to be lying in her bed, but at the same time, with James next to me, I just want to sleep for a few hours. We don’t say much, just a few relieved murmurs about being back together. I have so much to ask him, but with all I’ve learned in the past few hours, I don’t think I can contain another thought.
I’m not sure how much time passes when James moves next to me, saying I slept like the dead, and I’m stirred awake. It’s dark, but he clicks on the light, flooding me in unflattering hues. I glance down at the pink T-shirt and gray scrub pants I’m wearing, and take a moment to familiarize myself with where we are.
It comes in a wave, and I’m quickly out of bed, wincing when I put pressure on my side. I check the bruise again, and James sticks out his bottom lip, seeing the colors. He comes to hug me gently. I promise I’m okay—even though it hurts like hell—and kiss his lips before leading us from the room.
We don’t have to go far. I stumble to a stop, putting my arm out to stop James from passing me. Evelyn is at her round kitchen table with a bright light pointed at her. Kellan sits close by with his cameraman, recording their interview. Realm and Asa are standing off to the side, and Realm meets my eyes before looking away. James and I stand and listen as Evelyn Valentine tells the world about The Program. She’s matter of fact, and at times maybe even a little cold, but she’s believable.
When they take five to reset the camera, I slip past them in search of Dallas and find her alone in the living room, staring at a blank television screen. Evelyn has gotten her out of the gray scrubs too, and Dallas sits in oversize Seattle Seahawks T-shirt, more out of place than I’ve ever seen her. She glances over when I sit next to her.
We don’t say anything. Her lip quivers before she smiles widely, flashing the gap in her teeth. I put my arm around her and she leans into me, sniffling back a cry as we both stare at the blank television—we’re bonded but too damaged to talk about what we went through.
“Sloane,” James calls softly. I look over to see him in the doorway, perfect—at least for me. I kiss Dallas on the cheek, making her laugh, and then get up to meet James. Dallas’s laugh isn’t a sound I thought I’d hear again, and it gives me a small sense of home. I take James’s hand and lead him back into the kitchen.
Evelyn is done with her interview, exhausted as she mumbles about making tea. I go to help her, turning the stove knob until the burner catches fire, and I set the kettle on top. There’s a touch on my elbow, startling me, and I turn to see Asa.
“I wanted to say good-bye,” he says in his quiet manner. In regular clothes I think he looks just like anybody else—average and normal. There is nothing sinister about this handler, not when his eyes are so kind.
“Good-bye?” I repeat. “But we’ve hardly had a chance to talk. I know nothing about you.”
Asa smiles, looking around sheepishly. “No offense”—he motions to the cameraman—“but I want to keep it that way.
There’s a girl back in San Diego I’d like to go check on. Then I plan to lie low while this shit hits the fan. I truly hope you all make it. I really do.”
“I know.” I lean in and hug him, careful of my injured side.
I can’t blame Asa for not wanting to get involved. If anything, it proves how smart he is. My former handler makes his rounds, carefully avoiding the reporter, and slaps hands with James and hugs Realm. And just as quickly as Asa slipped into my life—
he’s gone, having played his part in my rescue.
The night is long, and James and I opt out of a filmed interview in exchange for a written statement—mostly because we don’t want our faces out there any more than we have to.
Realm refuses to talk at all, and Kellan doesn’t even approach Dallas. He got everything he needed from us and Evelyn. The doctor isn’t kind when he thanks her, ready to leave. I see her anxiety continue to ratchet up, her expectant looks at the door, the wringing of her hands. But she doesn’t ask any of us to go—not yet.
I offer to walk Kellan out, and it’s just the two of us when we get to his car. It’s close to midnight—the stars blotted out behind the canopies of the trees. There are crickets and frogs and so many noises around us, we could never feel alone.
“I’m sorry,” Kellan says. Surprised, I look up to meet his eyes, noting again how they’re not the dark black I saw the first time I met him at the Suicide Club.
“For what?”
“Not coming sooner. James told me how close you came to—”
I swallow hard and look away, stopping his statement. “But you came,” I say, pressing my lips into a smile. “In the end, all that matters is I’m not there now.”
“We have them, you know,” he says earnestly. “I’m going to find the studies, and those combined with Evelyn’s statements, the eye witness accounts—The Program can never survive this PR mess. I assure you, Sloane. They’ll never take anything from you again.”
I hope Kellan is right, and at this point I believe in him. He chased me around the country, helped save my life—I have to believe he’s a good reporter if he can do all that. The cameraman comes out from Evelyn’s house with his gear, nodding a good-bye to me, and Kellan and I exchange one last hug. I watch as he climbs into his vehicle, ready to finish his big story. Before he pulls away, he rolls down his window.
“Sloane?” he asks. “If The Treatment was still around—if Evelyn made more . . . would you take it?” I digest his words, rocking back on my feet. The pain of my time in The Program is still so raw, and yet, I think it’s just the tip of the pain I’ve endured in the last few months. What could getting it all back bring me?
“I don’t think so,” I tell him sincerely. “Sometimes, Kellan . . .
I think the only real thing is now.”
He smiles at my answer, although his brows pull together like he’s a little confused. I wave to him and he drives away, leaving the rebels behind. Leaving us to each other.
The house is quiet when I go inside. James is curled up on the living room floor, talking quietly with Dallas while she lies on the couch above him. I like the picture—him being sweet to her, protecting her. James is different since he took The Treatment. More thoughtful in a way that proves we belonged together all along.
There’s a clink of a cup and I follow the sound into the kitchen, uneasy when I find Realm at the table all alone. Evelyn’s bedroom door is closed, and Realm glances over his shoulder when I walk in the room. Despite my urge to walk right back out, I take a seat across from him, daring to look him in the eyes.
“I told you once that I wish you hated me,” he says. “Is it too late to take it back?”
I don’t want him to be funny; it only makes it hurt more.
I bring my hands into my lap, squeezing them into fists in an attempt to control the emotions threatening to burst through.
“Why?” I ask. “If you were a handler in The Program—if you were the one who erased my memories—why pretend to be my friend? Why continue even after I returned?” Realm swallows, his eyes watering and downcast as my words hit him. “I was doing my job. I fell in love.” He looks up. “I did what I could to keep you. But the simple answer: I’m selfish. I thought I could make you love me back—that without James you would. I thought I could wear you down.”
“I did love you.”
Realm smiles sadly. “Not like that. Never like him.” Realm’s gaze drifts past me to the living room. “He’s not bad, you know.
I kinda like him. And I was wrong: I could never love you the way he does. That kid is absolutely nuts about you.” I laugh, bringing my hands to the table as the anger fades.
There’s more between Realm and me, instances I’m sure I can’t remember. I don’t want to. I want to leave us here—make a truce. I say good night, even though his eyes plead for more time.
James grins when he sees me, patting the carpet and telling me he saved me a spot. We plan to leave first thing in the morning. Evelyn is lending us a car so we can hide out somewhere in town, and Realm is taking Dallas to Corvallis where she says she has a cousin who’d be willing to help her out for a while.
We don’t know if Evelyn and Kellan have done enough to free us, but for the first time, we’re close to an ending. And there’s solace in that.
“We have to leave.”
The voice cuts through the room, and I’m on my feet, still blurry with sleep. I find Realm in the doorway, reddish-brown smears on the sleeves of his shirt. I let out a horrified cry, and both Dallas and James jump up, disoriented and confused.
“Oh my God! Are you okay?” My first thought is that Realm is hurt, and I search for a source of his injury. But when I find none, I look past him toward the bedroom. The blood belongs to someone.
Realm is detached, licking the corner of his mouth as if he’s not exactly clear what he’s going to say. “Evelyn killed herself last night. She . . . uh, she didn’t want to go back to The Program. She left a note.” He takes a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket. He doesn’t even look at it though; he stares through it. “She didn’t want them to ever get their hands on The Treatment. And she didn’t want them to get us. She . . . she said she was protecting her brain from the scientists.”
I stumble backward, and James catches me around the waist and eases me back onto the couch. I want to run in and check on her, but I know Realm would never leave her side if there was hope of reviving her. I see the devastation and guilt in his eyes. Next to me Dallas begins to weep, and James quickly takes her arm.
He sniffles back his own tears. “Realm’s right. We have to go.”
“We should call an ambulance,” I say. “Something!”
“No,” Realm says with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry, but it’s too late. I’ve called Kellan and told him already; he’ll send someone when we’re clear. Now, James, grab the keys hanging by the door; car’s through the garage. I’ll meet you out front.”
“Realm . . . ,” I start to say, but he’s already disappeared back into the kitchen. I hear cupboards opening and closing, the sliding of drawers as Realm gathers supplies. Evelyn Valentine is dead. She didn’t have to kill herself; she could have come with us. But ultimately her fear was too great. She was right—
The Program has become the epidemic.
The next moments take on a dreamlike quality; Dallas cries, and James pulls her along while he shouts for me to hurry. We load the car and wait for Realm. He walks out the front door, pausing to lock it. He stands there, his back to us, staring at the house. I choke up, thinking Evelyn was probably the closest thing he had to a mother other than his sister. He doesn’t talk to us when he gets inside the car, only sits at the window, staring out, carrying a brown leather case.
I never asked what he took from Evelyn’s house that day.
But I imagine Evelyn Valentine was a piece of his past he wasn’t willing to forget.
THE FALL OF THE PROGRAM
Once cloaked in secrecy, The Program project has been suspended indefinitely by the US
government. Reacting to an interview confirming a system-wide cover-up, Congress moved swiftly to shut down all facilities until further notice.
As more details emerge about the procedures used in The Program, public outrage grows. One handler, Roger Coleman, was arrested on several counts of statutory rape and is awaiting trial.
Coleman is accused of soliciting sex from underage patients in exchange for memories, and is facing up to sixty years in prison if convicted.
The scandal originally broke after a taped interview with the late Dr. Evelyn Valentine (a former employee) was leaked. She confirmed The Program’s knowledge of a study indicating their role in the epidemic, substantiating claims of a cover-up.
Since the closure, all patients have returned home and will be provided with follow-up care.
But, as of now, the long-term effects of The Program remain to be seen.
—Reported by Kellan Thomas