Saturday, July 12, 2055

The multitude of faces passing me on Rush Street used to overwhelm me, but it was different that sweltering, over- cast July day. It was around noon when I sucked in the identifying details of each passerby: facial hair, eyelashes, number of cracks in upper lips, angles of people’s crooked teeth. Like a camera taking photo bursts.

Each set of details was captured and filed in my brain, instantly accessible. Each file held not only the specific details, but where the person had been seen. It was a memory marvel. I literally craved the minutia. The rush. The urge to absorb more. I felt I couldn’t take it all in fast enough.

As a genetically engineered seventeen-year-old, I had honed my skill.

A sudden cloud burst opened up, and warm mucus-like rain drops splattered onto my head and arms. I was disgusted with the consistency of the polluted drops.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Avery, a half a step behind. Her round face was scrunched up from the rain, as she flipped her sweatshirt hoodie over her head and stuffed her thick, shoulder-length, brown hair into it. “Sienna, you said it wasn’t going to rain! How is it possible? No, no, you are always right! Now I’m gonna have to wash my hair again to get this crap out,” Avery muttered loud enough for me to hear.

We were on our way to meet Greyson, who was finally better, but not yet one hundred percent. But any risky moves could threaten to make him a long hauler, or worse. So, I was carefully dodging people, not wanting to brush against them or feel their breath near my face. The threat of EBEX still lurked in the touch or breath of every stranger.

I focused on a clear path ahead when, out of nowhere, a man slammed into me. I lost my balance before steadying myself against a building wall.

“Hey, watch it, would ya?” I yelled, taking a mental photo of him, noticing his scruffy beard and black, bushy eyebrows. He stepped back, clutching a weathered brown leather book, and then whirled around and kept walking, picking up his pace.

I knew this man.

Imprinted in small letters on the bottom right corner of the book was L Yardley.

“What a jerk!” Avery said, coming to my side.

“Yeah, you know who that was?” I asked, stunned.

She nodded.

I watched as this man began to jog down the street, darting

around people. Then suddenly, he broke into a run. He had a slight limp to his right side.

Just like the man I saw on the train when we were going to the FBI building to file a report on Tyler and Kellen for attempting to spread a deadly virus.

Targeting the man on the move, I jogged down the side- walk after him, laser focused on the back of his head. Avery and I kicked it up a gear and sprinted to reach the corner before the light changed, but the growing crowd slowed us down.

The pedestrian walk sign blinked, counting five, four, three, two...

I launched into a full on run to beat the light. As a varsity lacrosse player, I was a sprinter. I could outrun any opponent on the field. At this moment, though, I was chasing something much more than a ball and player.

In a matter of seconds, I watched the man step off the curb. The light changed. I pumped my arms and pushed ahead. In another second, a mid-sized black car sped into the intersection. The man’s body slammed into the top of the car’s hood, his head bouncing off the windshield. He rolled off, flying across the street to the opposite corner. The car skidded to a screeching stop.

My heart beat out of my chest as a woman nearby stopped and screamed, “Oh my God!”

The sound of metal crushing metal rang in my ears, the tiniest pieces of the cars colliding with one another. Black shards shattered and flew up into the air. Larger pieces skidded into the street.

The driver jumped out and ran to the man lying on the ground. His body was limp, head bleeding.

My legs felt numb, but adrenaline was still rushing through my body as I darted toward the man. Flesh hung from his torn cheeks and blood ran from his distorted nose and mouth.

The intersection was chaos, people yelling, “Call 911!” Crip- pled, the car smoked. Someone said, “Get back! That car may explode!” People scattered.

I looked back and saw Avery standing back from the inter- section, phone in hand taking photos and a video.

The book!

My gut told me there was something important about it.

Dad’s name is on it, and this man keeps showing up.

I stared at him lying on a patch of grass in front of a tall building, his arms splayed out, empty. The driver was a few feet away, looking on the ground, I assumed for the book. “Hey, you! You just hit that man!” I yelled at him, fearing he’d come after me too, but he was more interested in finding the book. In a matter of minutes, an ambulance and cop car sirens would be heard circling around the intersection, and he’d be arrested if he didn’t flee soon. He sprinted away from me, looking around the site of the crash.

I stood and scanned the area, searching for the book. To the right of the body, I noticed a woman on her hands and knees moved frantically across the ground. She was wearing navy blue running shorts, thickly cushioned running shoes, a blue long sleeve shirt, baseball hat with her strawberry blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and wide sunglasses covering her face. But it wasn’t unusual for people to cover their head, faces, and arms to protect themselves from the dangerous UV sunlight. Even while on all fours, she stretched one long leg behind her while she reached to move the branch of a bush to peek underneath it. She was fit with a slight curve to her hips. I kept my eyes on her and the man, ready to leap and grab the book if it was anywhere near them. My dad’s name was on it, so why would they want it? I had to get it first. I noticed a shadow on her neck, a mole or birthmark, that was the shape of America. It seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place why.

There it was, the sun peaked out behind a cloud, and I spotted a glimmer of the shiny brown leather book cover under a bush. I headed to the green yew to the far left of the woman, but before I got there, she saw it too. She was closer and launched toward it, grabbing the edge of the book before I could. She flung it in the drawstring bag on her back before sprinting across the street.

The man was preoccupied with looking in the flower beds at the left of the crash site and didn’t seem to see the woman run off.

I immediately headed toward her at my top speed. She was fast, but I gained ground on her quickly. She ran through a nearby park and under a tunnel. I was closing in on her when I came through the tunnel, about 200 meters long, and saw her swerve around a couple walking, then jump into a white compact car. I was just a few steps away when they sped off.