Suzanne Young - The Treatment

I hear the gear shift and for a wild second I think the van is going to leave us behind, but I feel someone take hold of the back of my shirt and launch me forward. I’m completely off balance as I stumble, slamming gut-first into the running board of the van. There’s a commotion all around me, a flurry of grabbing hands making it impossible to tell what’s happening. And then I’m moving. Gravity rolls me inside the van and the door slams shut, locking me inside.

Realm collapses next to me, and we’re shoulder to shoulder. The van tires squeal, spinning out as we fishtail and shoot forward. My lungs burn and my side aches. I may be injured internally, but my adrenaline is rushing too hard for me to properly analyze my condition.

“Thanks, man,” James says, his cheeks flushed and his hair matted down with sweat. I turn and see he’s looking at Realm. Realm gasps for breath next to me but lifts his hand in a halfhearted salute. Realm is the one who pushed me into the van. I turn away from him, unable to look at his face—even though he just saved my life.

“Sloane?”

I smile, recognizing the voice, and I force myself up, groaning at the severe pain in my side. I push Realm’s hand away when he tries to help me. Dallas is in the back, a seat belt across the chest of her gray scrubs. She’s not wearing a patch, and I can’t contain my relieved laughter. She hasn’t been lobotomized.

I want to get to my feet and hug her, but the van is racing forward at a breakneck speed and I can’t get my bearings. James has moved to the passenger seat, talking with Asa and giving him directions. The handler, my friend, is now a fugitive, and I can tell by the lack of color in his cheeks that he knows that.

There’s another sharp pain in my side, and I lift the corner of my gray scrubs to check for an injury. There’s a dark purple fist-size bruise with dark magenta in the middle. I swallow hard and quickly cover it, trying to remember which vital organs are on my right side.

“Realm, help her onto the seat,” James calls from the front, drawing my gaze. When he sees my expression, he furrows his brow. “You okay?” He checks with Asa before coming to gather me from the floor, using the seat to hold him up. I don’t answer and let James move me, biting down hard on my lip to keep from screaming at the pain of being jostled. Realm skirts around us, taking James’s spot in the front.

I’m folding in on myself and slide in next to Dallas. James is concerned, but he’s also checking out the window to look for cops—or worse, handlers. I catch the reflection in Asa’s driver’s-side mirror and immediately freak.

“They’re following us!” There’s a black car close behind, racing through the traffic. When we turn, it turns with us. Overwhelming fear bubbles up.

James quickly follows my gaze to the black car behind us and then takes my hands to calm me. “It’s Kellan,” he says. “It’s okay. It’s just Kellan.” I meet James’s eyes, surprised. Certainly confused. “I had his business card,” James adds. “He helped us break you out.”

I check the car again, but the windows are too tinted for me to see the driver. There’s so much happening, I’m not sure what to ask first. I rest my head against James’s chest, happy to have him back, happier to be free. I can’t help but wonder for how long, though.

“Where are we going?” I ask, wrapping my arms around James, sighing after his hand brushes along my hair. I tense when Realm is the one who answers.

“We’re going to Oregon,” he says quietly. I force myself up, glaring toward the front. Is he crazy?

“They’ll be waiting for us there. I can’t just show up at my front door. My parents turned me in to The Program!”

“It’s our only choice.”

“Oh, now I’m supposed to trust you? You’re a handler—you’ve always been a handler. You let them take me!” Tears threaten to spill, betrayal attacking me all over again. Even if I forgave everything Realm did before, he didn’t get us out of that farmhouse. He found us for The Program—and he disappeared when I needed him most.

Realm lowers his head, not daring to look back at me. “I didn’t let them take you. I just didn’t have the power to stop it. Cas told me about his deal, but all of us would have been screwed if I didn’t leave when I did. I got James.” He turns to me, his jaw set hard. “I got him for you, so yes, you should trust me.”

James pulls me closer, murmuring that Realm is right. But it’s not enough for me. I’m angrier than I thought possible—about Realm being a handler, about the farmhouse. . . . But that’s not all. There’s a touch of a memory in the back of my head, and I turn to Dallas, sure it has to do with her. But nothing surfaces. I look back at Realm. They erased it. The Program erased part of the reason why I’m angry with him; I can feel it. What more could he have possibly done? I refuse to forgive him for crimes I can’t even remember—I’m not that kind.

“So we go back to Oregon,” I say, agitated that The Program got to any of my memories at all. “And then what? How long before they come for us again?”

Asa glances at Realm, obviously having the same concerns. I realize how shitty this must be for him. Whatever debt he had to Realm is paid off, but now his life is ruined. He’s on the run with a group of half-crazed rebels.

“I don’t know,” Realm says solemnly. “But you’re not going home. We’re going to Oregon to meet someone—a friend. Probably the only one we have left.”

“Who?” At this point, I can’t imagine anyone would want to fight with us, not even for him.

Realm smiles sadly and turns to face front again. “We’re going to see Dr. Evelyn Valentine.”

THE FARMHOUSES IN THE OREGON countryside still look the same, and nostalgia builds the closer we get to town. I’ve spent my life driving through these pastures, grown up hiking and camping with my family—my brother. Even though I can’t remember, I’ve spent them with James, too.

My eyelids are heavy as I battle against sleep, but my side is stiffening, pain radiating from the bruise. James is in the back of the van talking to Dallas, but her one-word responses do little to placate our fears. She’s unwell—severely unwell. There’s an unspoken agreement between all of us to keep watch over her. And to make sure she doesn’t leap from the moving van.

Realm has been talking on the phone with Kellan, but he’s not offering much information. The conversations sound grim though, all ending in “We’ll see.” I would have thought our faces would be all over the news and scanners, but The Program must be trying to cover this up. There’s not even an Amber Alert issued for us.

The seat shifts as James grabs the corner and climbs up to sit next to me. The movement renews my pain, and I grind my teeth to fight back a cry. I’m not quick enough to hide it, and James leans in close, turning my face to his.

“What’s wrong?” he asks seriously. He notices how I’m favoring my right side, and his eyes flip accusingly to mine. “You’re hurt?” Realm immediately turns from the front, and I know a spectacle is about to begin.

“I banged the side of the van pretty hard,” I say through dry lips. “I’m not going to lie, it fucking hurts. Asa,” I call to the front with a weak smile, “happen to have anything to fix that?”

My handler glances in the rearview mirror. “Some shots of Thorazine. You can expect to sleep if I hit you with one though.”

I shake my head. We may have to outrun the threat for right now, but if I fall asleep, I’ll be helpless. I can’t take the risk. I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again.

“Let him give you the shot,” James whispers, leaning in closer. He slides his palm gently over my bruise to check it, and I wince. “I can’t kiss the pain better.”