Chapter 9: In Memory of Memory
May 29, 10:16 A.M.
Three years ago.
Kairi walked into the Secret Place, ducking her head to avoid the rocky ceiling. She still faintly remembered a time when she could enter without any problems. Those times were long gone, though. Her friends were missing, she had only recently regained her own heart, and her world had been reborn from darkness only moments earlier. If she hadn't been in such a euphoric state from finally being home, she would have been an emotional wreck. The events of the past while were absolutely draining. A weak-hearted person would have been lost to the darkness ages ago.
She looked at the drawings on the cavern walls, reliving the memories associated with each one. That one had been drawn after Sora's first swordfight victory over Riku. The one on the weirdly-shaped rock over there was a picture of the monster they had thought inhabited this place. The big one near the root was the first one drawn after they had discovered this place.
She walked around the damp chamber, remembering all the good times spent on the island with her friends. When she reached the portraits Sora and Kairi had drawn of each other, she dropped to her knees and reached out towards it, her arm trembling.
In between the pictures of the two young teens, Sora had drawn himself offering a Paopu fruit to Kairi. He probably didn't even intend for Kairi to see it. He had drawn it on an impulse; his feelings had been thinking for him. He had "won" the privilege of sharing a Paopu fruit with her the day before. It had gone to his head.
None of these thoughts were going through Kairi's mind as she gently touched the drawing. Tears of joy and sorrow fell down her cheeks. He had braved the greatest darkness in the universe for her. He had stared death in the face – and won – for her. Sora had fought his way across the universe, straight to the End of the World, to save her. And now she was safe on the islands and he was nowhere to be seen.
She didn't know what to do. Tears streamed down her face as she laughed at the simple innocence of it. She picked up a nearby rock and began to scratch another drawing into the rock. When she finally set the rock down, her portrait was offering a Paopu fruit back to Sora. It was a poor substitute for the real thing, but she was too overcome with emotion to care.
In the years that followed, she had difficulty describing that moment. The best parallel she could think of was finding a beautiful poem written about you by a deceased friend. The beauty and love in the words filled you with a warm feeling; the feeling you got when you knew someone loved you more deeply than simple language could describe.
But then you remembered that they were gone, never to be seen again. The poem was no longer a collection of words put together in meter. They were a final memory of a loved one, to be cherished forever. It filled you with the most painful sorrow a mind could feel.
The mixture of the polar opposites, love and anguish, created a whole new feeling. It was debilitating. The outside world ceased to exist. You were swept away by this new emotion, laughing in mirth and wallowing in grief.
Kairi experienced this emotion many times over the next year as she slowly came to the conclusion that if Sora wasn't dead, he was trapped in the Dark Realm with no hope of escape. She had withdrawn into her emotions until her memory of Sora began to fade as Naminé took apart the memories in Sora's heart. By the time she remembered him again, the emotion had subsided to a degree that was tolerable. That was the first day she had returned to the island in months.
July 16, 5:03 A.M.
Now, as then, the past was long gone. A new threat had emerged, one that seemed so small, so insignificant, yet had the potential to tear the tightly-knit group of friends apart forever. Kairi felt her old emotions rising to the top again. But now she could look out of her hotel room window and see the prison cell to which Sora had been confined.
This time, however, there was a new variable. Kairi's heart was weakened by the events of the past week and a half. Her newfound feelings for Riku were threatening to destroy everything that Sora had worked for. She couldn't fight a two-front war like this. It was hopeless. She would keep giving ground until she had to make a painful and destructive choice: would she succumb to her attraction to Riku or would she resist it and risk the utter destruction of her own heart?
Kairi awoke to these thoughts early that morning. The eastern horizon was not yet light and the morning stars shone brightly in the black sky. She slid out of bed and walked to the window, staring at the stars. A sudden sound behind her caused her to whip around, ready to face a dangerous intruder.
She relaxed as she saw the sound was caused by Riku tossing in his sleep, which had knocked the comforter off of his bed. It had fallen to the ground with a quiet ruffling. Satisfied that she was in danger, she returned to the window, accidentally stepping on one of her pairs of shorts. It made an unusual crinkling noise as her foot pressed down on it.
She looked at the article of clothing with confusion. She bent over to examine the pockets for unusual items. In one of the pockets, she found a piece of folded notebook paper. As she unfolded it, recognition dawned over her. It was the drawing of her and Sora on the island that he had received during the parade. It had drops of his blood staining the white paper, smudging some of the beautiful artwork.
She sat on the foot of her bed, staring at the paper until sunrise. How could she let herself become so vulnerable? How had she let Riku get so close? He obviously didn't mean to cause her so much pain, but it hurt all the same. She couldn't understand what was happening to her. She looked over at Riku's sleeping form, his chest peacefully rising and falling with each breath. It would be a challenge living with herself for the next few days.
6:30 A.M.
Sora didn't move his hands to shield his ears from the sound of the inner door being opened. He didn't have the strength. Even with Kairi's news of progress on the investigation, he felt himself falling into a detached stupor. His solitary confinement was choking the life out of his spirit. If he had been able to summon the energy, he would have cursed Dylan Maxwell, Donner Security Consultants, and the King, but he couldn't. He only stared at the wall with unfocused eyes as Anton brought him his breakfast.
Anton had been trained as a field medic, and his experience told him the stare was a symptom of shock. However, his logic told him that if Sora was going to go into shock, he would have done it days ago. He set down the tray of food and knelt next to Sora's bed, trying to bring him back to reality.
"Sora! Sora, can you hear me?" He waved his hand in front of Sora's face. His spiky hair was rustled by the movement of air, but his eyes remained unfocused and detached. Anton reached for his radio.
"Hey, I need a doctor in Sora's room!"
The radio fizzled a bit before someone's voice came through the tiny speaker. "What? What's going on, Anton?"
"Sora's completely nonresponsive. He's got a stare indicative of shock, but that doesn't seem likely. We need a doctor here, fast."
There was no delay this time. They were taking no chances with their most important charge ever. "Help is on the way. Hold tight."
Sora heard the exchange, but lacked the energy to respond to it. Within minutes, a doctor had arrived at his room, accompanied by three more mercenaries pushing carts laden with everything from adrenaline syringes to antidotes to environment suits. The doctor conducted the most comprehensive checkup possible before standing to face Anton.
"Well, I can't find a thing wrong with him. He's in perfectly good health as far as I can tell. He's just completely nonresponsive. The only hints of consciousness I have are his pulse and his eyes blinking. Other than that, he may as well be dead."
Anton looked at Sora with fatherly concern. "But he's not, right?"
The doctor removed his stethoscope and placed it on a cart. "Right. It's almost like he's in a coma, yet he's conscious at the same time. I've never seen anything like it. We'll pump him with some adrenaline; see if that brings him around. Other than that, though…" His voice trailed off into silence.
A mercenary took a syringe of adrenaline from the cart, but the doctor stopped him. "We'll see how he does for the next hour. If he's still nonresponsive, we'll give him something."
Sora was laid on his back. The mercenaries and the doctor stood at the foot of his bed, discussing potential ailments and their corresponding treatments. Many of the diseases mentioned were unfamiliar to Sora, who continued to stare into the distance. These new developments were still part of the system. There must be a flaw somewhere. Maybe it was here.
Sora mentally reviewed the contents of the cart. There were syringes full of liquid, bottles of pills, extra blankets, bags of ice, full-body padded suits, environment suits, IV bags, clipboards…
Environment suits.
Sora thought about the light-blue airtight suits. If he stole one, he'd be unrecognizable; save for someone looking directly at his face. Security cameras would be fooled, people would stay away from him, and only the most alert guards would pose any questions. It was his ticket out. It was perfect.
Now all he needed was the ability to stand up.
7:44 A.M.
Harris was tired of sitting in this hotel room. He had been here for ten days now. Everyone was on pins and needles by now, so the cafeteria was filled with a silent tension during every meal, only broken by two people getting in an agitated argument every so often. His main source of entertainment was listening to rumors of failed escape attempts. Every person who had tried to escape had been caught and taken into police custody.
That gave Harris some consolation. Everyone who tried to get past the police lockdown was another prime suspect to distract attention from the Special Forces sniper shacked up on the eighth floor. The guest list provided to the police must not have been read very carefully.
The only thing that kept him from trying to climb to the street some night was the thought of getting his daughter back. If he tried to escape now, he'd be on the lam forever. Sure, he'd get the satisfaction of knowing his ex-wife would have to get a job, but what good was that in prison?
He looked out his window down 37th Street, wishing the shot hadn't gone off target. If it had just flown true, he could have packed his bag and left long before the police could set up a quarantine of the hotel. He'd be on a tropical island by now, probably finalizing the sale of a huge mansion on the beach. Shelby would have her own floor. He smiled at the thought of his daughter's joyful face when she saw the paradise in which she'd be living.
But then, just as every other time he had wished that, he wondered if he could have lived with the guilt of killing the great Sora. Maybe it was all for the best that the shot had gone wide. He wasn't in jail, Sora was alive, and there was a considerable sum of money in his accounts. All things considered, maybe this was the better course.
Harris flopped onto his bed, frustrated at the situation he was stuck in. He found himself wishing there was a magical liquid to erase bad feelings.
Oh, wait.
He trudged to his mini-fridge and pulled out a bottle of liquor, smiling to himself. This was 120-proof magic. So what if it wasn't even eight in the morning? He adopted a French accent as he opened the bottle.
"Oho, Captain Bourbon. Ve meet again. But zis time, I shall be ze veector."
He took a swig directly from the bottle. It burned his throat all the way down, but he liked the taste. After fifteen minutes, he capped the bottle again, feeling much better about himself. This wasn't such a big deal. He'd just get out… later. Yeah. Sooner was better, of course, but later was likelier. More likely? More likelier? Ugh. He hated English, ever since Mrs. Perry in fourth grade. Oh my gawd. He hated her.
Harris flopped on his bed again, his head pleasantly buzzing. He was asleep in five minutes.
10:25 A.M.
Sora felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins. The artificial hormone set him on fire as he lay in his bed, unmoving. It was incredibly difficult to maintain his façade of sickness with his newfound reserves of energy. Not only did the adrenaline give him a sensation of power unlike any other, the possibility of escape loomed just ahead. He could see it. He could smell it. He could almost touch it; almost taste it.
His whole plan would be for naught if the doctor didn't quarantine this room, though. He needed to appear sick enough to prompt the doctor to panic and order environment suits for everyone. When that happened, he'd fight his way through the guards and stow their unconscious bodies in his room. A bit of poetic justice went a long way. Once he had knocked out all the guards, he'd get as far as he could without raising suspicion.
When he felt the clean suit would help him no more, he would ditch it and stealthily make his way to the outer fence, which shouldn't be much of an obstacle to him. Then he could surprise Kairi and Riku by showing up at their hotel window. The climb up would be strenuous and dangerous, but it would totally be worth it. All he needed to do was jump from windowsill to windowsill.
The doctor came back into the room with another syringe. He injected the clear liquid into Sora's arm after removing the air bubbles from the needle. Sora waited for a few seconds, then stirred slightly. One of the mercenaries saw his movement and ran to his side.
Sora feigned disorientation. "Riku? What are you doing here? You can't be here," he mumbled weakly. The doctor propped him up against the headboard with another pillow. "I'm not Riku. You've been unresponsive for the last few hours. Do you know where you are?"
Sora's eyes were half open during his response. "I'm in a hospital… I was in a parade, but then…" He groaned and his head lolled down, asleep. Anton, who had entered recently, tapped the doctor on the shoulder.
"Could this be African Sleeping Sickness? It matches the symptoms so far."
"Don't think so. He hasn't been to a rainforest recently. I've seen his travel dossier. The only tropical place he's been is the Destiny Islands, and there hasn't been a case of sleeping sickness there in forty years. It's out."
Anton pressed his case. "His girlfriend recently returned from the Deep Jungle. Most of that world's covered in rainforest, save for a couple of cities. It's not too rare to have cases of sleeping sickness there." He paused for emphasis. "Without treatment, it's got a one hundred percent fatality rate. We need to get him some treatment, and fast."
The doctor slowly considered the possibility. "We'll have to send a blood sample to an off-world testing site. We simply don't have the equipment to test him here. The results won't show up for another forty-eight hours. Besides, sleeping sickness is transmitted via bodily fluid. How would they-"
The two men slowly looked at Sora, then back at each other. They were thinking the same thing.
"Oh, hell."
12:12 P.M.
Lunch had gone smoothly for Kairi. She and Riku had gotten cheeseburgers and eaten on the beach. The ocean seemed so inviting once she was finished eating, but she had to resist. She'd cramp up if she went swimming so soon after eating. Instead, Riku had offered to go to a movie for a while. There were some new releases Kairi had been looking forward to, so she readily accepted.
They had walked to the theater, which was fairly empty for a Saturday. When they got to the ticket booth, they had a brief argument as to what movie they'd see. Riku wanted to see the big summer action release; Kairi wanted to see a new comedy. They compromised by picking a war flick with a romance side story. The cashier, who had witnessed the whole spectacle, stared at them with her mouth open. Riku's voice snapped her out of her trance. Kairi wondered why their argument had commanded such an odd look.
Oh. She thinks we're on a date. Oh, no! The gossip magazines are gonna get a hold of this! It'll be disastrous! What'll Sora think?
The two teens walked to the proper theater and took a pair of seats near the top. The previews had just begun. Kairi's brief lightheartedness at their good timing was interrupted when the movie started. She had promised to see this movie with Sora. It was a month and a half ago. They had gone to see a romantic comedy when the preview played. Kairi could see how enthralled Sora was with it, so she promised to see it with him once it came out. Luckily enough, it came out the day after she returned from her trip to the Deep Jungle.
Unfortunately, Sora had been too busy that day. She was going to take him during the evening of the next day, but those plans were interrupted by a bullet to the shoulder. She had seen him twice since then, both times in less than forty-eight hours.
The knowledge that she should have seen this movie with Sora reopened her wounds. Being in the theater with Riku served to pack them with salt. Nothing good had come of the past few days.
The movie began with a group of muddy GIs running from one bombed-out building to another. Gunshots could be heard all around, and an enemy tank rolled by their position. Occasionally, an explosion rocked the ground and sent geysers of dirt and mud shooting out of the ground. One soldier shouldered a bazooka and fired at the tank, which was consumed in flames.
There was another explosion, and the screen turned white. A sepia-tone flashback settled in, showing the main character's tearful departure from his girlfriend. They embraced each other as they were enveloped in steam from an old-fashioned locomotive. He boarded the train and found a compartment on the same side of the tracks as his girlfriend. As the train departed, he leaned out the window for a last look at his beloved.
Kairi uncomfortably watched the movie unfold. The main character was stranded behind enemy lines. Occasionally, there would be another sepia-tone flashback to his life before the war. Kairi looked away during every kiss shared onscreen. It made her think of Sora, who was fighting his own fight in the Doghouse. But his fight was not against a clearly defined enemy. The only known enemy was still hiding in the shadows, avoiding the police at every turn.
When the movie finally ended, the lights came up and brought Riku into sight. She again felt an inexplicable attraction to him, the same attraction she dreaded day and night. They walked out of the theater in silence. Riku must have sensed that something was wrong with her, as they didn't return to the beach. He hailed a taxi and they rode back to the hotel.
When she returned to the room, she sat on her bed and looked out the window at the Doghouse and sighed. Sora wasn't the only one losing his mind.
April 2, 3:24 P.M.
Two and a half months ago.
Harris was in his Zen sniper zone. The world around him was an insignificant blur. The only things that mattered were his rifle and the target at the end of the range. His breathing was slow and controlled; his heart rate had fallen far below rest level. The staccato bursts of other shooters had long since faded to him. He lightly rested his finger on the trigger.
The crosshairs were trained on the bull's-eye, steady as a rock. He took a deep breath, held it, and squeezed the trigger. A hole appeared dead center in the target. He exhaled and loaded another bullet. He repeated that methodical process for hours. Every waking moment he wasn't at work, he could be found at the local shooting range, keeping his marksmanship on the razor's edge of perfection. He couldn't afford to screw this job up. He had burned too many bridges.
Finally, he expended every last round of ammunition he had brought. As he packed his rifle away, the door to the range opened and a group of his friends entered. Laughing and shouting, they pushed a smiling young man towards him.
"Hey Harris! This little punk thinks he's a better shot than you! Why don't you teach him a lesson?"
Harris slung his rifle case and walked towards the rowdy group. "Some other time, guys. I just used the last of my ammo." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
The young man held up a hand to stop him. "Don't worry. We bought twenty rounds for each of us. I'll challenge you to a marksmanship contest. Most bull's-eyes out of those twenty wins." He held out his hand. "The wager is two hundred thousand Munny. You in?"
Harris unslung his rifle from his shoulder. The kid didn't know who he was dealing with. Oh well. It'd be an easy two hundred grand in his pocket. Maybe a really nice HDTV or something.
"All right. Twenty shots. Last chance to back down."
He walked out five minutes later and two hundred thousand Munny richer.
8:13 P.M.
Dennison walked into the tech room at the Fourth Precinct. The facial search hadn't turned up any results, but he couldn't do anything without the name it would hopefully provide. He sipped his coffee and sat in a rolling chair in front of a display that showed the progress of the search. Apparently, the computer had only searched 24% of all the faces in the known universe. If the killer had escaped the Hotel Regal, he'd be long gone by now.
After twenty minutes and no visible progress, he went back to his office to get ahead on some paperwork that would otherwise pile up on him. The coffeemaker in the corner bubbled happily, droplets of what Dennison occasionally called "the lifeblood of the police" splashed in the half-full pot. He searched for a pencil in the jumble of papers and miscellaneous items covering his desk.
When he finally uncovered a sharp pencil, he got to work on the official forms. There was an invoice for more sets of body armor for his normal unit. There had recently been a drug bust in which one of his officers had taken a twelve-gauge shotgun shell to his body armor. The armor had held and the shooter was hit with a stun gun. The officer picked himself up, dusted himself off, and kicked the shooter in the face. Dennison was bound by protocol to give him an official rebuke. Privately, however, he had bought the offending cop a drink.
As he worked his way through a Request to Transfer Units form, his assistant burst into his office brandishing a piece of paper. Dennison was about to give him a piece of his mind when the dimwitted officer held up the paper, wide-eyed in excitement. Dennison couldn't believe his ears as his assistant spoke.
"Sir, we've got him!"
A/N: I might write a separate one-shot in between chapters, leaving you folks with a nice little cliffhanger right there. Then again, this story is a lot of fun to write. Tell me what you think. That green button down there is lonely. He just wants a friend.
