The Last Memory Visit

By Jenny Lynn Lambert

In a battle for a better existence, Rain Shattuck once again uses her special ability of changing the events of history through her memories. The stakes are higher now. Not only must she use Memory Visits to rescue her boyfriend and her twin brother in the past, but she must also join forces with a band of outcasts in a war to end corporate corruption in the present.

Unfortunately, combat on all timelines comes at a cost. Whether in the past or the present, each attempt Rain makes at securing justice pushes her further away from the people she cares about. Can Rain find a way to save her world without losing everything she holds dear within it?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Teen
• Release date: May 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9780369503466

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Published by Evernight Teen ® at Smashwords

www.evernightteen.com

Copyright© 2021 Jenny Lynn Lambert

ISBN: 978-0-3695-0346-6

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Audrey Bobak

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

For all my readers who asked for a sequel and for Patrick who, with his encouragement, made it happen.

THE LAST MEMORY VISIT

Jenny Lynn Lambert

Copyright © 2021

Chapter One

The dreams were always the same. His strong jaw blurred at the edges. His broad shoulders faded into the darkness around him. His gray eyes muddied as they gazed into my own. But his touch. His hands were warm and strong and held me close as we floated above all the chaos below. Above the unending poverty and gun-toting LEOs of NorCoast. Above the swirling dust storms and torturing thirst in the drylands. Above the desiccating corpses of our friends and enemies. Nothing else could touch me in these dreams—only Evin.

I never wanted these dreams to end, so I held on to them. Even when I was awake, I could feel his warm hands, hear his calming words. His strength seemed to penetrate me, keep me going when I felt like I would collapse under the weight of this messed-up world, under the weight of his death. When all I wanted to do was lie in bed, hoping to dream of him, I’d hear the sound of his voice and be soothed. When all I wanted to do was rage and howl, I’d feel the heat of his body and be at peace. And today, I would need the memories of Evin’s touch, his words, his love more than ever.

I sat in yet another beige dentist chair, waiting for a weasely old man to place yet another pronged helmet on my head. Three times before, a machine had taken me back to my memories, allowing me to use my remarkable talent, allowing me to change the events of the past. This was my fourth Memory Visit, so you’d think I’d be used to them by now. You’d think I’d be used to being a Mark. The problem was, the more Visits I took, the more I realized how horrible the results could be.

Only twice had I met with success—once when I saved my twin brother from drowning in our backyard pool and again when I saved him from a WaterPure re-Mark who had killed him on the street. But with that last success came a horrific failure. When I pulled Dal away from the assassin’s car that had once crushed him, Evin was hit and killed instead. This was a failure I could barely live with, a failure I was here now to correct.

With tensed muscles, I watched as the old man readied the computer equipment. Soon, it would generate an electric pulse that would travel from the helmet, through my skull, to just the right spot on my hippocampus to stimulate the last memory I shared with Evin before he died three days ago. Once I entered the memory, I would do everything I could to bring him back. I also had two more lives depending on me, Dal’s and my own. My body trembled at the thought. What if I couldn’t save Evin? What if I lost Dal as well? What if I couldn’t even save myself?

I wished Haruhi were doing the procedure. I longed for her frank speech and flamboyant style. She would make up some silly name to call me, like Marsha, and adopt some outrageous persona, like a sexy cowgirl, and say something like, You’ve only got fifteen minutes, partner, so make it count! Her eccentricities would distract me from my fears. This old guy was nothing like Haruhi. His wheezy voice and slinky walk creeped me out. It also didn’t help that the room we were in looked more like a dungeon cell than a Memory Visit clinic.

I was more nervous than I’d ever been, and I didn’t even have WaterPure’s re-Marks on my tail. Along with the Law Enforcement Officers, or LEOs, the re-Marks were probably too busy chasing Dal’s girlfriend, Ori, to bother with me. They believed she was the one responsible for destroying their water monopoly. She was their new target instead of Dal, and he felt horrible about it.

Poor Dal. I turned back from the old weasel-man to face my twin brother who sat directly in front of me in an identical beige dentist chair with an identical pronged helmet. My pale-blue eyes stared into his, and he gave me a gentle smile. We had decided to do this together. Dal had never taken a Memory Visit, so we weren’t sure if he was a Mark like me. Even if he couldn’t change the past, he wanted to go back with me and observe what happened when I tried. A part of me loved the idea of having my brother there when I would succeed in saving Evin. But another part of me felt the pressure of having a witness to my potential failure.

Not only could I fail at saving Evin, but I could easily lose Dal, too. It was nearly impossible to save Dal the last time I Visited the scene of the crime. He could once again be crushed by the re-Mark’s car. And, if Dal died again during the Memory Visit, what happened to him here, sitting across from me in this sketchy back-alley brain probe? Would he simply disappear? Would I? I didn’t want to think about it. I couldn’t.

I’d expressed my fears to Dal when we first started talking about our strategy to save Evin and protect Ori. He dismissed them, of course, which didn’t surprise me. Other than our glacier-blue eyes, he and I never looked alike—he with his pale complexion and wispy blond hair and I with my olive skin and thick dark hair—but we did think alike. If I were in his place, I would be doing the same thing, sitting right across from him, offering a smile of reassurance.

It took a while for us to come to this decision to try to save Evin in a Memory Visit. At first, we wanted to chase after Ori—Dal more than I since I never really liked his manipulative girlfriend. LEOs, corrupted by WaterPure, were after her, and it seemed urgent that we find her. But we realized that if Dal joined up with Ori, he would immediately be a target for WaterPure once again. WaterPure’s LEOs and re-Marks would be relentless in their pursuit of him.

Moreover, we knew Ori was a crafty fighter and could take care of herself. She was already far into the desolate drylands, reuniting with her people who were skilled warriors. The chances of WaterPure finding and recruiting a re-Mark to kill her in the drylands were slim to none. And the chances of LEOs overwhelming Ori’s people were slim, too. Ori’s band knew how to fight, but better yet, they knew how to disappear.

Are you ready? I asked Dal, hoping he didn’t hear the slight tremble in my voice.

I’m ready, Rain, he said. I couldn’t believe how calm he looked. Maybe it was easier when you’d never done it before. I thought back to my first time in Haruhi’s den with her henchmen-like lab assistants and outdated equipment. My friend, Rio, had held my hand and worn a smile similar to my brother’s. Rio didn’t take the Visit with me—we didn’t even know about tandem Visits back then—but I remembered that he looked more nervous than my brother did now.

Glad you’re both ready, wheezed the weasel-man. Now, focus in on that one specific detail that you both can remember while I do the calibrations.

We had agreed to focus on a playful moment when Dal and I were shoving each other around on the sidewalk behind Evin just minutes before the re-Mark’s car sped down the street on its deadly path. We thought of a plan where I would take off running between two houses and then scream like I was being attacked. Dal was sure he and Evin would run after me on a chivalric rescue mission. The space between the houses was too narrow for any car to fit through. If all went as planned, the re-Mark wouldn’t see us and zoom on by. Or, if he did, we would only have to avoid him until his Memory Visit ended, which would be just a few minutes later. Fifteen minutes of laser was all the human brain could stand.

Okay, Dal, I said. Think about that first hard shove I gave you.

Dal’s smile faded. His brow furrowed. What are you talking about?

Remember? When I shoved you the first time on the sidewalk? Focus on that because we have to be in synch for this to work.

What sidewalk? When did you shove me? Dal looked at me like I’d lost it. My stomach sank as a new memory started to emerge in my mind. This often happened to me when a change was made to the timeline by another Mark. As far as I knew, only I and one other Mark could sense changes made by others. Those others were always WaterPure recruits messing with my life.

As the old memory faded, I remembered that Dal and I had never shoved each other. We never left the house. There was never any car. In this new memory, Evin didn’t die in a horrific car accident. He died of a gunshot wound by our neighbor, Mrs. Munroe. She walked over with a cake as we were leaving our house. Standing six meters away, she dropped the cake on the ground, raised her husband’s pistol out in front of her, and shot Evin in the heart. He died instantly. In the shock of the moment, before the reality of Evin’s death hit me, I thought she had great aim for being half-blind. She didn’t have great aim. She had meant to kill Dal.

With WaterPure’s failed assassination attempt, they altered the timeline, and since I was aware of the change, I knew that they were hunting Dal again. The question was why? He no longer associated with Ori. She was the one they wanted. What had changed?

I’m confused, Dal said in a low, urgent voice. Aren’t we supposed to focus on our conversation in the family room? Dal couldn’t remember the old timeline. He definitely didn’t share my special talent. I had doubts that he was even a Mark.

Yes, I said, a little too loudly. I lowered my voice. We couldn’t have Weasel-Man suspecting that we were up to something. Marks like me brought unwanted attention to places like this. Focus on that.

Dal’s uncertainty caused his face to flush. It was time for me to do the reassuring now. I recounted the new plan. I’ll lead us to the front door, open it, and then slam it shut. I’ll act like I hurt my finger in the door. I’ll ask for ice, and by the time you and Evin get me all taken care of, Mrs. Munroe’s Memory Visit will be over. She’ll wait outside on that sidewalk for her target that never comes.

Okay, he said tentatively. I thought I missed something when you started talking about shoving on the sidewalk.

No, no. I was just making sure you were paying attention. I gave him a big teasing smile which seemed to do the trick.

That’s the plan, right, Rain? Dal said with an adorable grin.

That’s the plan, I said. This new plan seemed like it would work. But they always did.

Until they didn’t.

Ready? said Weasel-Man from the controls.

We’re ready, I shouted. I wasn’t sure that he was hard of hearing, but it looked like nothing really worked well in his withered old body.

Dal closed his eyes first. Then I closed mine and fixed my concentration on a vision of the bay window in our mother’s house. Dal and I had lived there since she left to work at WaterPure’s NorCoast desalination plant about a year ago.

Then, here we go, Weasel-Man said like he was operating a rollercoaster. You’d think I’d feel something when my mind jolted back in time, but I never did. It was like being painlessly knocked unconscious and waking into a dream so vivid it had to be real.

****

A stream of morning light from the bay window illuminates dust particles floating in the air. A cool breeze lifts the sheer curtains, sending goosebumps along my arms. On the couch next to my recliner, Dal’s and Evin’s voices rise in an intense conversation about their latest virtual reality simulation, some sort of modern spin on the classic Dungeons and Dragons game. Evin glances over at me just as I check my watch.

Is it time to go already? he says.

Evin’s voice resonates in my ears, filling my body with his energy. It’s all I can do to keep myself from gazing into his deep, gray eyes. I want to run to him. I want to press hard against him, nuzzle into his neck, and breathe him in.

I have to control myself. Almost, I say, avoiding eye contact by busily folding the thin blanket that I had draped over my bare legs. If Evin notices the blank stare of my Visited self, he could react, changing the course of events.

I’ll get us some waters, Dal says. It’s going to be hot today. He jumps up and heads to the fridge. I wish I had started the Visit later in the memory. I don’t want to be left alone with Evin. It’s too tempting to join him on the couch and wrap myself around him. But, then again, why not? What can it possibly hurt to forget the stupid door trick and convince the boys to just stay inside today to watch a movie or something? Maybe this new plan will work better. Evin and I can snuggle together safely until the Memory Visit is over. I just can’t let him notice my lifeless eyes.

Dal returns with the waters and hands one to me and one to Evin. My brother’s eyes are brightly expressive, which proves my suspicion. While the Dal in the beige dentist chair is somewhere inside this Dal, observing from a deep recess of memory, he is not a Mark.

It’s going to be too hot walking back home from Rosie’s. How about we have breakfast here instead? I suggest.

No way, Evin says, rising from the couch. Dal owes me a stack of Rosie’s pancakes, and I’m cashing in.

Yeah, yeah, Dal says. Rub it in, why don’t you? I really thought I had you in that last round.

Evin crosses to me and reaches out for my hands. Come on, Lazy Bones. Let’s go. Don’t you want that strawberry waffle you’ve been talking about?

It’s too hard to change the plan. I’ll have to go with it. I grab his hands and let him pull me up to my feet. Instead of embracing Evin like my body wants, I brush past him to beat Dal to the door. Even that brief contact with Evin makes me catch my breath.

The brass doorknob feels cold to the touch. Through the small opaque window centered in the golden oak, bright blurred colors glow in the mid-morning sun. Evin is so close behind me I can feel the warmth of his body. For a second, my right hand, following messages from my heart instead of my head, loosens its grip on the doorknob. I take a deep breath, remembering what I’m here to do. I unlock the deadbolt with my left hand and turn the handle with my right.

As I yank open the door, it bounces off my strategically placed foot and slams shut again. I grab my left thumb and yelp in feigned pain. My yell stops short when the front door opens again, this time to Mrs. Munroe’s round puffy face. Her pin-cushion eyes emit a blank stare. I know that stare. Mrs. Munroe is not in control of her actions. At least, this Mrs. Munroe isn’t. Sometime in the future, WaterPure agents get ahold of Mrs. Munroe, bribe her or blackmail her, maybe even torture her like they are known to do, and make her a killer. I don’t have time to think about how WaterPure knows our plan because the gun is already firing.

I slam my shoulder into the door and pin half her body against the door jam. Her right arm is still free, firing at odd angles like her elbow is on some sort of swivel. Bullets pierce couch cushions, puncture walls, and shatter the living room window. With my right shoulder braced against the door, I bring my left arm up over my head and slam it down on her elbow. The gun clatters to the floor and slides into a pool of blood that is growing around Evin’s motionless body.

I can’t move. I can’t believe what I’m seeing, and I can’t move. Next to Evin, Dal struggles to his feet, holding his side. He’s been shot, too, but I don’t know how badly. He’s looking at me with fear in his eyes. No, he’s not looking at me. He’s looking past me. A formless shadow creeps alongside my own on the hardwood floor, stretching toward Evin. I fall to my knees in front of Evin’s prone body. I am reaching for the gun when I hear Dal’s scream.

Or is it my own? Mrs. Monroe’s foot on my spine flattens me onto the floor. The shadow of her hand holding a knife, the perfect size for cutting cake, takes shape on the hardwood beside me. I reach for the gun again, but it’s gone. As the shadow knife drops to its target, me, a single gunshot rings out. I look up just as the smoking revolver slips from Dal’s hand.

Chapter Two

I had to get out of Oasis. I found truth in the saying that misery loves company. No one was miserable in Oasis, the land of milk and honey, or should I say water and honey? True misery could only be found in the drylands outside of NorCoast, which was where I headed after Evin was killed by the re-Mark’s car in the original timeline. I went there with Dal to grieve among friends and to listen to the wise words of a special friend, Segura, who managed their encampment. The drylands were, once again, where I headed the day after Evin died at the hands of Mrs. Munroe, which also happened to be the day Dal was arrested for murdering her. I went there with more purpose than tears on this timeline, though, and I went there without my imprisoned brother.

I sat at a window seat on the train, watching the lush Oasis landscape zoom by and thinking about how I could find Ori. I needed her to know that Dal had been arrested for murder. She was the only person who could help me. I didn’t trust her as a friend, but I did trust her to love my brother enough to help me break him out of jail.

At one of the last stops before crossing the border, a group of NorCoast WaterPure managers clambered aboard, probably on their way home from visiting the Oasis plant. I scooted over, making room for a young man in a dark suit and tie engrossed in his HT. No one on the train ever made conversation, so when he chuckled at something on his screen, I suppressed the urge to ask him what was so funny. I sneaked a look, though, and noticed that he was laughing at video footage of an encampment raid.

I recognized