The Leaving Part 10

At a low-rise building in a complex full of low-rise buildings, a smiling, youngish black man with a head covered in tight cornrows that led to ponytail dreads greeted Lucas. He wore a white lab coat over a T-shirt that had a drawing of a shark on it, and Lucas imagined that he'd just been surfing; he seemed balanced and invigorated-looking in a way that made Lucas feel a little bit dead inside.

"Doctor Todd Sashor." He shook Lucas's hand with both of his. "Cognitive-science specialist. Welcome home."

"Thanks." Lucas didn't want to release Sashor's warm hands. He was the first person who had seemed genuinely happy to see him.

"Let's get to work, shall we?"

Lucas nodded, let go reluctantly.

They went into the lobby-modern and clean-and up to the third floor, where Sashor pushed open a gla.s.s door that opened up on a large lab: gla.s.s cabinets on the walls and a few desks and filing cabinets and computers. He introduced two a.s.sistants-one male, one female-who then busied themselves around the room.

"I should confess I've never had to try to devise an intake process or test of this kind. So, we're winging it a bit. First we're going to test you on some basic brain functions and skills," Sashor said. "We want to try to figure out what kinds of things you've learned and know and remember. Then we'll sit and talk. Cool?"

Lucas nodded.

He took a math test (so easy), and then a more advanced math test (still easy), and then a test on world history (aced it), and one on general science (likewise). He filled in a blank map of the United States and much of the world. Then played checkers (he won) and chess (he lost) with the female a.s.sistant.

He was shown a series of pictures and asked to say the first word that came to mind. Same with a bunch of black ink blots.

He gave up on a trivia test with questions about pop culture when it was clear he didn't know any answers at all.

Likewise, a test about literature.

It bothered him he could not think of a favorite book.

He did not appear to be able to speak any other languages.

He was generally up to speed on current events-"At least as much as the average teenager, is my guess," Sashor said.

Then he finally sat down face-to-face with Sashor, and the questions began and blurred. Do you remember anything about where you've been? Were there windows? What could you see? Do you know if the person who took you was male or female? Were you allowed to go out? How long were you in the van? Have you ever been made to do something against your will?

Lucas almost laughed, shifted in his seat. "I'm pretty sure we wouldn't be here if I hadn't been taken against my will."

"Good point," Sashor said. "Have you ever been made to do something against your will . . . s.e.xually?"

Lucas turned and looked out the window; across the street, a sign read Cheesecake Factory. "I really don't think so."

"Have you ever had s.e.x?" Sashor asked with some hesitation, and Lucas wondered whether this line of questioning was maybe going off script but then remembered there really was no script.

He didn't mind.

He was curious, too.

"I'm not sure."

"Kissed a girl?"

"No idea."

"Have you ever kissed Kristen?"

"No idea."

"Scarlett? Sarah?"

"Don't know."

Sashor raised his eyebrows. "Have you ever been in love?"

A surprise: "Yes."

"With whom?"

"No idea."

Which was a lie?

"Then why'd you say yes?"

Lucas paused for a second, considering. "Just a feeling."

A feeling about Scarlett.

It felt like protecting her to not name names.

Moving on: "Do you remember anything from the day you were taken?"

"No."

"Anything suspicious in the days leading up to the event?"

"I have no idea."

"Do you remember things from before the abduction?"

SKIDDING SIRENS BLOOD.

"Like kindergarten? Preschool?" Sashor asked.

CUBBIES. RED. SUPERMAN BACKPACK.

Lucas nodded. "I do. My mother died in a car accident. I was there. In the backseat. But I was fine."

Sashor nodded, then sat back in his leather chair. "What's the earliest memory that you can recall?"

Lucas looked back out the window, where a few meaty clouds had appeared. Dark gray and villainous. He closed his eyes and thought hard and had to push away:

CAROUSEL WHITE FIRE TEETH COTTON CANDY.

This time, as he whirled, other images decorated his trips around.

BLUE BIKE. b.l.o.o.d.y KNEE.

SMALL BLACK DOG: WALKER.

BASEBALL MITT. BLEACHERS.

READY OR NOT, HERE I COME!.

Lucas said, "I remember learning how to ride a bike, falling, hurting my knee badly. I remember playing hide-and-seek with my mom. That might be the only real memory I have of her before the accident. I remember the crash scene. I remember my preschool cla.s.sroom, what it looked like. I remember a ball field, like going to watch my brother play? But earliest? I don't know. I remember our dog, Walker."

"Your dog walker?"

"No, the dog was named Walker. Because when you took him out it was like he was walking you instead of the other way around."

Sashor took a note, then looked up and said, "Do you remember a man carrying wrapping paper?"

"A man carrying wrapping paper?" Lucas repeated.

Sashor didn't make eye contact. "Yes, do you remember a man carrying wrapping paper?"

WRAPPING PAPER MAN CARRYING.

"No." Lucas was tiring of not being able to offer up anything useful.

"What kind of wrapping paper was it?" Sashor asked, as if he hadn't heard.

CHRISTMAS WHITE BEARD.

RED HAT.

"Santa Claus."

"You remember the wrapping paper?" Surprise lit Sashor's eyes.

"I don't know. Do I? Or am I just picturing the first random wrapping paper I could think of ?"

"Begs the question." Sashor took another note.

"Why are you asking me about wrapping paper?" Lucas tried to read the note but was too far away.

"Police asked me to."

"How are they ever going to catch who did this if we can't remember?"

"Memory doesn't always cooperate or align with our goals, but we might get lucky." Looking back at his paper. "Do you remember anything else at all about the first few days of kindergarten?"