My mind felt fuzzy. My body felt weak. There was this heavy feeling crushing over my body, and it felt as if I couldn't move, even if I tried.
Looking to my right, I see that Naomi is wearing a surgical mask around her mouth and nose, holding a syringe. As she moves towards me, I remember. Her mannerisms. The way that she was moving as she puts the syringe next to my arm, pushing the needle inside my flesh.
As I look into her eyes, studying her features one by one; that's when the realization hits me like a truck.
Naomi.
Naomi was my nanny. She used to take care of me as a child. That's why the way she moved, the way she talked, her mannerisms; it used to make no sense at all but now I understand everything.
"All done," Naomi says, probably not aware of the fact that I had already recognized her. "For a normal person, everything would come back in a few days or so. But your brainwaves are enhanced, so I reckon that everything might come back in a few hours. The mission is in a few hours. I suggest you go back to your room and rest for a bit."
"Go back to your room, Jennie."
"Jennie," I mumble, now realizing why no one cared to call me by my full name and why I woke up in the Maze thinking that my real name was Nini. I hated being called Jennie. I hated it so much that I never told my friends what my real name was.
But if Naomi already knew me... why did she call me Nini?
"You used to call me Jennie," I breathed out, my memories with her flashing up in my brain extremely fast. "When you came here... why did you call me Nini?"
"You hated being called Jennie."
I raised a brow. But that didn't stop you before, did it?
Then another rush of information enters my brain and spreads like a wildfire.
Cord compression, coma, and confusion are each presented well, and there are good overviews of common (and rare) neurological conditions pitched at just the right level for the readership. Chapters on raised intracranial pressure, cerebrovascular disease, epilepsy, infection, spinal disease, and many other topics guide the neurological novice confidently through diagnosis and management are published by your mother. In the library. The books are in the library.
So much information is rushing into my brain that I had to take a step back and lean against my chair to grasp each and every single thing. It was like my brain was extremely hungry and thirsty for knowledge, and now that it was being fed with a lot of it, my brain is now in a food coma.
I knew that I was smart— but oh boy, I was smart.
As I sat upright on my chair, the surge of information still coming back to me, I couldn't help but be grateful for my brain at the fact that it chose to retain information before all the emotional baggage that I was nowhere near ready for.
"The Swipe wasn't the only procedure WICKED had at first, you know?" Naomi mumbles. "I remember Ava telling us something about this other machine that could manipulate memories. But it seemed more of a torture device than a tool for an experiment so she said they threw the machine out."
I ignore her. The information was still rushing in my brain and every word she said came out slurred.
Looking to my right, I cannot help but notice the unreadable expression on Naomi's face. Her eyebrows were scrunched together as if deep in thought- but when her eyes flicker over to my leg; that's when I realize what must have happened.
"Don't worry," I assure her with a soft smile. "I'm immune."
"I know that. The Flare attacks the brain, but I saw no signs when I studied yours." hearing this officially, I let out a sigh of relief. So it was official, I was immune.
I was immune. I'm safe. I'm immune.
-
We're late. Six months on this plan and we screwed it up by being late.
"Step on it!" I told Vince who was driving. If you told me six months ago that I would be hanging off the edge of a vehicle going nearly a hundred miles per hour, I would have laughed at you.
But here I was, my hair flying behind my face as I gripped into the car with arms of steel, nothing but the plan and the train on my mind.
It wasn't supposed to be me, actually. It was supposed to be Xio— but ever since Vince found out that one of the benefits of being calculated and smart was having impeccable aim, he decided that I was the person who should cover him and Thomas while they did their part.
"Brenda, I'm coming up behind. Keep them busy," Thomas said into his walkie-talkie. As I looked infront of us, I finally got a peak of the car that Xio, Brenda, and Jorge were in— and I let out a sigh of relief while I sack back down on the back-seat. It was working so far.
They managed to make our three minute mistake work.
Gripping onto the car seat as Vince jumped on the track and drove behind the train, I grab the shit ton of guns that were given to me. Vince and Thomas only had one each— while Naomi made me this makeshift belt so that I'd put the three loaded pistols on it, while a sash of bullets for the sniper was at my shoulder.
"This is crazy, guys!" Vince screamed once we had stopped jerking around. We got a little closer and I leaned forward, climbing on the roof with a balance I was sure that I didn't have till three months ago, while Thomas quickly unbuckled himself and climbed his way onto the front hood of the car.
"Closer, Vince! Closer!" I scream from the roof of the car, slightly closing my eyes when dust particles enter them. I could feel the car trying to give out since we were pushing it to hard, but I just needed a little more time.
Thomas stabbed the hook onto the back of the train, and I leaned further out, jumping to to the ladder on the back of the train before Thomas did. Then, I moved to the right side to give him some room.
I gripped the bars of the ladder, looking back at Vince to give him a thumbs-up, a signal that he needs to jump and follow us.
Getting what I was trying to say, he put the car in neutral and slunk onto the hood. My breath hitched as my eyes trailed onto the car wheels. The pressure on them were too much.
They were going to pop.
"VINCE! JUMP NOW!"
As he was about to do it, the tire blew— just like I had predicted. Vince toppled, nearly getting his face caught in the rim of the tire still spinning and giving off sparks.
This was not a part of the plan. This was not a part of the plan. I didn't make a back up for this scenario— and if Vince died, who knows if the plan would still work?
"Vince!" Thomas called out, voice shaky from nervousness. "Jump! Now!"
He was farther than we had been, but he took the risk. Vince grabbed onto the bottom of the train, his feet scraping the track, and the hook snapped off the train.
If he jumped a second later, he'd be dead.
The car hit a bump and flew off the track, smashing into pieces. Vince pulled himself up, and I did what I could to help, but he was a muscular man which made him heavy— and even though I was physically trained for months he was absolutely no match for me.
I eyed the car wearily. I left my bite medicine in there.
"Holy shit!" Vince said, dusting his boots away. Rolling my eyes at him, I tapped his shoulder and frantically looked up. "Yeah, Vince. Holy shit. Now let's go!"
