Free False Memory by Dan Krokos

right arm held back and Olive is blocking my legs with hers. “I don’t know who I am!” I scream, and it feels good. The tightness in my chest is still there, but I’ve said it out loud now. The elevator doors open, revealing a cop. He has a radio at his lips. He sees me red-faced and huffing, the others restraining my arms. He lowers the radio.
    “What’s going on here?” the cop says.
    Just a little family dysfunction. Last time I told a cop I couldn’t remember who I was, I accidentally incited mass panic and got people hurt. Killed .
    I’m thinking of what to say when Peter darts out from behind me and grabs the cop’s shoulder. The cop tries to pull away but freezes, as the rose scent returns.
    “Come on, it won’t last,” Peter says.
    Noah is still grumpy. Olive looks tired. Peter leads us to the bikes parked in the corner.
    Noah gets on his first and backs it out of the space. It hums to life.
    “I miss you guys, I really do. And I’m sorry. And maybe you’re right about all this.” He pushes his left foot down, putting the bike into gear. “But I’m not going back yet. Not until I find the rogue.” He twists the throttle, pops the clutch, and rockets toward the exit, the front tire coming off the ground slightly.
    “Son of a bitch...” Peter says as I start my bike. I put it in gear, vision turning red. If he thinks he can do what he did and keep running away, he’s wrong. I tear after him, wind filling my ears and tugging at my hair. I fly onto the street, and lean hard to my right, almost touching my knee to the blacktop. A car blows its horn but I barely hear it. Noah is up ahead. He sees me over his shoulder, and turns left down an
    alley, cutting in front of some cars heading the opposite way. The cars pass; more horns blare. I turn down his alley, twisting the throttle until the engine screams under me, deafening as it echoes off the tight alley walls. I guess I should be surprised by how natural and unafraid I am on the bike, but it feels just that—natural. My tires crush wet cardboard and newspaper. Zipping around a Dumpster, I manage to catch up to Noah, who has to slow down before the next street. A final twist of the gas and I leap forward, knocking his back tire with my front one. His bike wobbles, tires chirping as they struggle for traction, and he rams into the left wall and goes down. The bike slides past him a good ten feet, throwing up a trail of orange sparks as he skids after it. 
    My back tire rises when I squeeze the brake, tilting me forward. The black, pebbled ground rushes under me. The rear tire falls with a bang. I put my kickstand down and jump off my bike and run toward Noah as he begins to stand up.
    He has one leg under him, but I send him back down with a punch to the face. He falls against the alley wall, holding his cheek, looking up at me with hurt eyes. At the other end of the alley, I hear the twin buzz of Peter and Olive catching up. “Jesus, Miranda...”
    I grab a handful of his shirt and lift him up, staring into his eyes. My words come out in a hissing whisper. “You did this to me, to us. And now you’re going to own it. You’re coming back with us, end of story. Maybe you’re right about finding the rogue, maybe you’re right about everything, I don’t know. But I do know that Tycast has the answers, and we know where he is. So let’s not waste any more time in getting them.”
    “Tycast won’t let us leave if we go back,” Noah says flatly. “Like anything could stop us, ”I reply with more verve than I feel. I might not have the confidence by myself, but I bet the four of us together is a different matter. If we want to leave, we will find a way to leave. I have to believe that, otherwise Noah would be right, and we would be the foolish ones. Peter and Olive stop behind where I left my bike. Maybe the three of us can convince Noah to cooperate, or at least not flee.
    He smiles as the bruise grows