Free False Memory by Dan Krokos Page B

afraid of what we’ll find at home.

11
    Home is not as we left it. I smell the smoke from a mile away. Not normal smoke, either. A chemical smell rides the surface. Peter signals us, and we pull off
    the road, still a ways from the forest entrance.
    “Is that what I think it is?” Noah says.
    Peter sniffs the air. “Smells like H9. A lot of it.” 
    “H9?” I say. My vision flashes—a white brick, melting before my eyes, bubbling and popping, glowing orange.
    Spreading into an all-consuming fire.
    Peter inhales again. “You remember?”
    “Yeah. Like plastic explosives that...” I recall the image again, see another flash of orange. “It burns through anything.”
    Peter nods. He seems happy I remember something, even something as awful as H9.
    Noah climbs off his bike and interlaces his fingers behind his neck. “I don’t like this.”
    Olive shakes her head. “You think any of us do?”
    Noah kicks a rock into the tree line, but says nothing.
    Peter starts his bike, twisting the throttle a few times. My blood quickens. This little pill of dread hit my stomach when I first smelled smoke; now I feel drugged. Like my life is about to turn upside down again.
    “We still need more shots,” Olive says. “We have to go home no matter what.”
    “That’s definitely H9,” Peter says. “Let’s get in and get out. If we find Tycast, great. Agreed?”
    “Agreed,” Olive and I say together.
    “Finally, a decent plan,” Noah says, swinging a leg over his bike.
    Peter pulls away and we follow him, Noah hurrying to catch up.
    We turn down our narrow green road. The smell thickens. I see the tension in Peter’s body; he’s scared, which makes me scared. We stop just outside the clearing and climb off and drop into crouches.
    A fire burns where the garage used to be. Only it’s burning from under the ground, the flames licking up a few feet. Like the garage disappeared. We step closer and see melted metal and concrete in the hole.
    “Tell me there’s another way out . . .” I say.
    Peter breathes heavily. “There isn’t.” He pushes against his forehead with his hand. Noah bursts into the clearing alongside Olive. Peter and I follow, walking to the massive collapsed rectangle. The fire bakes my face until I have to step back.
    Noah cups his hands around his mouth. “TYCAST!”
    Peter lunges at him, but not before Noah screams “DOCTOR TYCAST!” again. Noah pushes him away and Peter’s feet slide in the dirt.
    Olive grabs Peter’s arm to hold him back. “Let him yell, Pete. Everyone’s dead.” Her eyes shimmer with tears.
    “What do you care?” Peter says.
    “Peter,” I say. We can’t point fingers now. This changes everything.
    He shakes his head. “I didn’t mean that.”
    Olive says, “I know.”
    Noah calls out again, this time for Phil. He takes a big breath and bellows “ SIFU PHIL! PHILLIP!”
    Olive is silent, head bowed. I can’t tell if she’s crying. I can’t tell if I’m supposed to be crying.
    The family moment in the elevator is gone. Whatever training I have didn’t include the right way to handle this. Danger could still be near.
    I can’t take my eyes off the flames. The hole looks like it leads straight to hell. “No one thinks this is strange timing?”
    Noah turns around. “What is?”
    I swallow and drag my fingers over my cheek, wiping away a cold tear. I’m crying after all. Feeling something besides emptiness and anger is new. “That this happens while we’re gone? I know I’m new to the group, but no one thinks that’s odd? We could’ve been inside.”
    Peter looks at Olive. “Do we have weapons?”
    Olive nods and slinks away to the trees.
    I try to imagine a reason someone would do this, and can only think of one.
    “Don’t you see?” I say, and now Peter is watching me intently. “What if Doctor Tycast decided not to go along with the voice in his office. He sounded upset, right?”
    “He was crying,” Noah says.
    “Were the men here loyal