The Red Ledger: 7 by Meredith Wild

Author:Meredith Wild [Wild, Meredith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781642630923
Publisher: Waterhouse Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIVE

Tristan

My blood floods the tube, filling it in seconds. My normally steady, patient heart is racing. No amount of mental fortitude will slow it down being this close to the man who designed, or at least manipulated, the drug that wiped my memory. He seems harmless enough. So detached from the gravity of what he produces that he can hardly be blamed for the results. At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself since we walked into this sad excuse for a lab.

“You say you get flashbacks?” Mushenko flickers his gaze up to mine a moment before removing the needle and capping the tube. “Here you go.” He hands me a patch of gauze to hold against the pricked skin.

“Every once in a while. Nightmares usually. Except for one time, several of them hit me all at once. Back to back over a couple of days.”

He frowns thoughtfully. “Was there something you did to trigger such a rush of them?”

“I was injected with a heavy dose of SP-131 after getting shot by a tranquilizer dart. Got me telling the truth. Also unlocked a shit ton of my memories.”

He lowers onto a nearby stool. It squeaks under his weight. I can faintly hear the murmur of Townsend and Isabel in the other part of the lab, but I’m too eager to hear Mushenko’s theories to let them distract me.

His gaze pings around the room, like he’s connecting a series of invisible dots. When a long time goes by this way, I clear my throat, breaking his concentration. An irrational fear grips me as I work up the nerve to ask him what I truly need to know.

“Can you reverse it? Will enough SP-131 unlock the rest of my memories?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not sure. I don’t usually”—he waves his palm in the air—“undo things. I work with a set of test results, usually tests that have gone wrong, admittedly, and then I use the data and alter the serums to satisfy other needs.”

“Like forced amnesia.”

For the first time since I’ve been in his presence, Mushenko has the decency to look tentative.

“I—I’m contracted to explore the possibilities. I’ve done important work.”

“I don’t care about your accolades. I need you to undo it. I need my memories back. How much is it going to take?”

The prospect of having them back is making my chest tight. It’s irrational how much I crave them. I’ve survived so long without my past. My life can go on just fine, but none of that seems possible right now.

Mushenko rises, arms crossed, and begins to pace around the room. “I’m contracted by my employer. I don’t really take on these kinds of assignments.”

“You take Townsend’s money.”

He pauses and gives me a guilty stare. “Those are small exchanges. We have military contracts. I have important work—”

“I don’t care if the Pope wants you to cure the blind.” I stand. My next words are quiet, threatening, and precise. “You’re going to reverse it. I can tell you get off on this shit.

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