Jason and I bolted through the rain. I ran until my legs went numb and my heart wanted to burst, but I could've gone forever if I'd needed to. We didn't stop for what seemed like hours. He had no idea where I was taking him, and all I could think of was distance. I kept feeling like I was being followed. It was so different from when I'd run with Henry--he'd been a protector; he'd known what to do. Jason was strong, but he wasn't going to take the lead. He seemed perfectly fine assuming I was in charge, but in reality, I hardly knew what I was doing. The only thing I was sure of was that I couldn't stop running. Whoever had murdered Slim was right on my trail. Whoever wanted us back at Oliphant was behind us. Whoever had tied me down and put that tortuous thing on my neck and the needle in my head--they were after me. They were all after me, barely-glimpsed shadows behind every tree, formless shapes seen only out of the corners of my eyes. And for some ridiculous reason, every time I looked over my shoulder and glimpsed Jason's dark figure, it made me even more afraid, even though I knew it was him.

Whether we were actually followed or not, I couldn't tell. I did my best to cover ground, and we made good time. When dawn began to trickle through the thick blanket of clouds above, I could see the fringe of trees that Henry and I hadn't made it to until the following afternoon. The scrawny, gnarled scrub-oaks twisted up toward the sky, skeletal arms in the misty morning light. By that time, I was running on fumes. I knew we'd have to stop. Our pace had lagged quite a bit, anyway, and besides, now that we were entering some cover, I didn't feel quite as frantic. Daylight was fast approaching, but at least we weren't out in the open fields, obvious to anyone who looked.

When I finally stopped, I gave some attention to Jason. We'd spoken very little, only logistical phrases about watching out for upturned roots or keeping up. His face was flushed, but there was a brightness in it that I hadn't seen before. He bent over and put his hands on his knees, somewhat breathless. "It feels so good to be out of there. I didn't know how much I missed being able to run."

I leaned against a tree, looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

He caught my confusion. "I used to be on my high school track team, before--before I was put in here. There," he quickly corrected himself. "Before I was in there. It's nice to be able to say that."

"I envy you," I found myself saying. "I don't think I went to high school, or any school. I can't remember."

He stared at me for a moment, then frowned. "You really don't remember anything?"

"Nothing." Except a fan, and a sharp object, and frightening moving shapes . . . but he wouldn't have cared about any of that.

Jason kept his eyes on me for an uncomfortable amount of time, then turned toward the ground, kicked at some foliage down there, "Where are we going?"

"There's a cabin out here, in these woods," I replied. "It's a good enough place to hide until we figure out what to do."

"You remember where it is?"

"Yes, I think so. Henry and I came across it the last time. If we keep on in the same direction, we should reach it tomorrow. Or maybe by tonight. I don't know." My sense of where the cabin was did seem uncanny, but I was fairly confident in my ability to get us there.

"That's weird," Jason said.

"What?"

"That there would be a cabin in the woods out here right by Oliphant."

"Well, I wouldn't say it's right by it."

"Within a two-day walk? I don't know. You'd think no one would want to have a place out here. Wouldn't they be afraid of degenerates on the loose? It just doesn't make a lot of sense to me."

"It's there, anyway--who cares why? It's where we're going. there's nothing else around. We can plan what to do next. And there's also food, and extra clothes, so you don't have to look like an escaped convict." I was feeling pretty gross, as well. My clothing was still damp and somehow crisp from the gel at the same time, and I was so dirty. My head was beginning to hurt, too, where the needle had been in my temple. Even standing still made me feel colder, which I hadn't thought about before--we just needed to keep moving, and I didn't need him to contradict me.

It was several hours later when I first began to lose myself. I was ahead of Jason, still, making my way through the scraggled trees, no longer jogging because the ground was too uneven but walking at a good pace. The atmosphere was moist from the misty rain that had trickled on and off all day, the light was pale. I'd begun to wonder whether I was actually headed in the right direction. Once we got into the trees, everything looked the same, and while I did feel a sense of direction, I couldn't help but wonder if I were imagining it.

Jason and I didn't talk. Sometimes I forgot he was even there with me, and when I'd turn and catch sight of him, I'd be startled. All I really focused on was the ground, which was lumpy and covered in little wisps of haze, giving the woods a bizarre, surreal ambience. And I thought about the gunshot, the murder, and what could have possibly happened. The dirt and weeds blended and darkened, and then my reality unexpectedly shifted--one minute I was looking at the earth as I walked it, and then, without any sort of warning, I was standing in a large, dark, marble-floored building. It was as if I'd been transported, and it had happened so fast, in what felt like no time at all. I stopped dead still and looked around. Tall marble pillars were at the end of the building, where there was a long wall of windows that looked out onto a city at night. The floors reflected dim flood lights glowing against the walls. Big, comfortable office desks were in rows at my sides. Three security cameras stared down at me from the corners of the ceiling, and to my left, behind a large, main counter, was an enormous door with a giant wheel—like what you see on ships, except metal. Then I knew where I was: a bank. I was in a bank. And just as I realized that, someone brushed past me—it felt so real—and when the person turned to look at me, I saw the shadowed face of Slim as he whispered, Come on, let's do this. I don't want to be here all night.

"Nadia!"

Jason's shout brought me back into the woods. He was holding my arms, shaking me, but I hadn't even felt him until he called my name. My heart was beating wildly.

"What the hell just happened to you?" Jason's eyes were like holes in his head, and I lost myself in them for a moment as I came back to reality.

"I don't know! It's like one minute, I was here and then--somewhere else . . ." I was too shocked to repeat what I'd seen. And what had I seen? Even standing there with Jason right in front of me, trying to tell me I was hyperventilating or hallucinating, I knew that it had been a memory--an actual memory. It felt so different from anything else I'd experienced, from any dreams. I had been there. I had been in the bank, with Slim. Was the drug Bodie gave me working, again? All it had brought me before was the sound of a gun . . . maybe now the picture itself would form!

Excitement flooded through me. I slipped out of Jason's grip. "It was a memory!"

"About my dad?"

My elation deflated slightly. "No," I replied. "It's really nothing of any help." He sighed, started walking again. Apparently, he didn't think it was a big deal, but I knew it had been. A chip of the black paint covering the windows of my mind had flaked off, and maybe it would be the first of many. Jittery but newly hopeful, I began to walk again, but this time I ended up following Jason, because I was a little caught up in my thoughts and didn't want to lead.

It wasn't more than ten minutes before I had another flash of memory so real that I entirely forgot that I was in a forest, and this one had Henry. I'd been thinking of him, as I always was, and then he was suddenly standing across from me, but where we were I couldn't tell. Everything was haze around us, strange lights, gold and shadow, and the smell--we were somewhere spacious, somewhere closed and spacious at the same time. He was looking right at me, and I had to tilt my head up to meet his gaze. I don't want to do it, he was saying, so sincerely, concern pulling at his lips, the corners of his eyes, his lowered brow. I wanted to reach out and touch him, to see if he were real. Instead, I gave him advice: You have to. You have to do whatever they tell you. But he didn't want to, and he began to argue with me, and I began to cry with frustration, until I said again, You have to do it, Henry! Or they'll know! And I don't want this to happen anymore. He turned nervously, left to right. Four months, they told me. I have to shoot this man in four months.

"Nadia!" It was Jason again, his words surfacing as if from underwater. "What is going on with you? You're freaking out again!"

The trees reappeared. Henry's fragile angular face was replaced with Jason's ruddy cheeks and freckles. I'd been ripped out of the memory as fast as I'd been put into it. My head swam, and I felt a little nauseated, but most of all I wanted to go back to where I'd been. My resentment grew; why was I here with Jason? I wanted to be with Henry! That memory--it'd shown that we'd known each other! I'd felt as if we had, but what had we been to one another? And--and what had been going on? Had I--had I told him to kill Mr. Hines? It certainly sounded that way! But this memory felt distant from the first. How was that possible? I'd thought Bodie had said it was only enough for one . . .

"Another memory?" Jason snapped, his annoyance annoying me (wasn't I the one falling in and out of reality?).

I nodded, not wanting to talk about it, especially because I may very well have told Henry to kill Jason's father.

He looked almost sympathetic for a moment, but then his expression changed to one of disgust. Why? What was wrong with me that he'd be looking at me like that? He lifted a hand toward my face, and I instinctively flinched away from him. Realizing the presumption of his gesture, he lowered the hand, pursed his mouth, and said, "You're bleeding."

Shivering from the shock of the memory I'd just fallen into and out of, I put my own fingers to my right temple and felt something warm and wet there, seeping into my hair above my ear. Withdrawing my hand, I saw red; Jason was right. Whatever the Circuit had done to me with that needle, whatever had been flowing in or out of it, it'd messed me up. Could the drug Bodie have given me be interacting weirdly with what they'd done? Was my brain going to be even more messed up, now? I didn't know what to think, but I did recognize a lightheadedness settling in, and it worried me.

"Maybe it's because your head's sort of, like, working overtime, trying to remember stuff," said Jason, and I was grateful for his suggestion, because it sounded far better than the horrible things I'd started considering.

We continued walking, but we picked up our pace. Maybe Jason thought that if we went faster, I wouldn't do anything else strange. After the first two hallucinations, though, I didn't have any more for a few hours. In fact, I started to think I wouldn't have any more at all. It'd been so strange—they'd come on so quickly, and then, all of a sudden, it was as if I'd never had them. I knew they were memories; I was positive of that. And even though it had been frightening to be sucked into scenes from my past, I was disappointed at the thought of it not happening again, if only because I wanted to see more of Henry. But in addition to that, my concern was growing. I'd been telling myself that Henry couldn't have killed that man, even after Jason's narrative of that night. Jason hadn't actually seen Henry kill his father. I'd been desperate to exploit that loophole. But if my memory were correct, Henry had known for months that he'd have to kill Mr. Hines, and I myself had encouraged him to do it. That was damning evidence. There was still a slim chance that Henry hadn't done it, but I didn't know how much longer I could try to convince myself of that unless I had proof. Even more disturbing--I was already contemplating what I'd do if I found out that Henry had done it, and I was fairly sure I'd still try to find him. Whatever he'd done or not done, there was something that connected us. I wouldn't forget him, whether he were a murderer or not.

We went on into the late afternoon. The sun never did quite make it through the trees, even though they weren't particularly thick. It was a dreary day. The combined atmosphere and mind-fog gave me a sense that I was walking through clouds for most of the time.

My head stopped bleeding a few minutes after Jason had noticed it. The blood became hard and dry, and the hair around my ear felt tight as it plastered on my skin. I didn't feel the need to clean it off. Walking through the woods with only Jason there, I didn't care what I looked like. All I could think about were my memories and what was going to happen to us, now. I had no idea where to go after we reached the cabin in the woods. I knew that it would be good for Jason and me to rest, to have somewhere safe to talk, and I was sure we would be safe there; I doubted anyone even knew that place existed. I didn't think for a minute that whoever owned the cabin would be in it. When Henry and I had gone inside, everything had been layered in dust, as if hadn't been touched for ages. So I figured Jason and I would have some time hidden from Oliphant and the Circuit. What I didn't know was what we could possibly do from there. I'd thought that finding Jason, hearing his story, would somehow exonerate Henry, but I wasn't so sure of that anymore, and I also wasn't sure whether, if I even ever did find Henry again, I wanted Jason anywhere near him.

The only benefit to Jason's presence was his physical strength. If someone did show up and try to hurt us, he could probably do a lot in the way of fighting them off, but truly, if Oliphant and the Circuit combined forces and then brought in the police on top of it--and if they had weapons--there was no way we could do anything. Our enemies were far too many and our friends too few. Who did we have, Miss Pinsky-Waters? Old Lisa? Whoever they were working with? I wasn't very hopeful.

But what could I do if I didn't keep trying to help Henry? Oh, why had I gone back to Oliphant? I hadn't learned anything useful. I should've stayed nearer to the Circuit; at least I would've been closer to Henry. And maybe Slim wouldn't be dead. I had no clue if I could find that entrance into the Circuit again, let alone get into it. But there was nothing for me--Henry seemed the only thing worth fighting for. I hadn't yet remembered a family, or where I'd come from, or any friends--there was just . . . nothing.

I was so tired, emotionally and physically and mentally and every other possible way. I was just pushing myself through the trees, recalling the first time I'd come through them with Henry, wishing I could go backward and tell him we shouldn't look for answers, we shouldn't go into San Judo; we should just run. I didn't want to be here with Jason anymore.

Wait--Jason--where had he gone? All of a sudden, I realized that I was alone, and the forest had darkened considerably—darkened to night! In a matter of minutes? How had I not noticed night approach? Where was Jason? I stopped moving, absolutely froze. The darkness seemed to deepen even as I stood there, the trees resembling shrouded, malformed limbs reaching for freedom. The scrub brush seemed to grab at my legs. Night bugs droned and chirped, but otherwise the woods were silent. Was Jason playing some sort of trick? A scuffling sounded behind me, to my right. Someone was there! She's here, somewhere, whispered a loud voice, one that was definitely not Jason's. I clamped my hands over my mouth to quiet my breathing. What could I do? If I ran or moved, they'd hear me! The trees here weren't thick enough to offer any hiding places. Who was it? It had to be someone from the Circuit. They'd found us! Maybe they'd already grabbed Jason. And then all at once, two obscured figures emerged from the bushes beside me, two large, dark people whose faces I couldn't see at all. There she is! cried one of them, and they leapt at me. I uprooted myself and turned, bolting off into the trees in front of me. All I knew to do was run, run, run--run to the cabin hidden somewhere in those woods, but even if I reached it, what could I do? No, best not think. Just run! They chased me, stomping through the brush and neglecting any attempt at stealth. It had come down to this. they'd catch me for sure--I couldn't escape them! I couldn't do this--this blind running--

My foot came into contact with an upturned rock, and I fell hard to the ground, narrowly missing a tree that would've done me some damage if I'd smashed into it.

When I lifted my head, surprised that my pursuers hadn't yet taken hold of me, the forest had lightened considerably. It was still a bit dim, but it was the dimness of dusk, not night.

"Hey! Are you all right?!"

"Jason?"

He was hurrying toward me, watching his footing. When he caught up, I'd already picked myself up off the ground and was examining a hole I'd torn in my knee. "Why'd you just take off like that?" he asked. "If you wanted to start running again, you should've just said something."

I shook my head, so thankful that it'd been another memory and not reality. I felt like crying. It was all getting to be too much, and I couldn't talk to him about it. He wouldn't understand, and I didn't, either. Had I been in these woods alone, before? Without Henry, someone hunting me down? Before I'd ever even been in Oliphant? But why? And in my memory, I'd wanted to run to the cabin. Was that the influence of my present situation, or had I known about it, before? I'd had feelings about that cabin . . . when we'd been in it. Some discomfiting sense of familiarity.

I didn't want to go to it, anymore. There was something ominous about that cabin, something I couldn't recall before but now felt so clearly. What else was there to do, though? As troubled as I was, there was something drawing me forward, pulling me toward my destination. I had to follow the pull . . . as much as I'd felt ill leaving San Judo, leaving Henry behind, that strange void was filling in the longer I walked, the closer I drew toward the cabin. Maybe it was Henry--maybe it was something sinister. All I could do was find out.