George Martin - Busted flush

"Mr. Thomas, you're aware of your medical condition, are you not?" The doctor leaned forward and adjusted his glasses.

Drake shook his head. "No, no one's told me anything."

The BICC man, wearing a badge that said "Smitty," opened a folder. "Well, it's time you learned why you're here. Let's start with exactly what you remember?"

"Nothing," Drake said defensively. This was going to be just like the army hospital, nothing but questions. "Why don't you tell me something for a change. Like where my family is or why I can't see them, for instance."

"Well, there is a bit of information I can provide you with about your medical condition." The doctor had a really nasty look on his face, reminding Drake of his fourth-grade math teacher. His badge read "Dr. Pendergast," which sounded like something made-up. "You've been infected with xenovirus Takis-A, the wild card. As for your family, they're all presumed dead."

"Doctor," Justice said, a serious look on his face, "are you sure…"

"Yes," Pendergast interrupted. "This young man needs to come to grips with the situation he's in. It might help overcome his memory suppression."

Drake went numb. "You're lying about my folks." He had a feeling, deep down, that it was true. "Tell me you're lying." He'd been afraid they were dead, but until someone said it Drake wasn't going to believe it. Now, someone had said it.

"What did you think happened to them, Drake?" Smitty asked. "Did you think they survived a nuclear explosion?"

"I didn't even know there was an explosion." Drake was holding back the tears with everything he had. "How did it happen?"

"That's what your government wants to know, Drake." Smitty gave Drake a cold stare that momentarily replaced his grief with fear. "It's possible that your parents were part of a terrorist plot, and something went wrong."

"My mom and dad terrorists?" Drake shook his head in disbelief. How could these people be such morons? "That's stupid. They sat outside almost every night watching the sky for aliens as part of the 'Watch the Skies' volunteers. They would never hurt anyone." Drake was telling them the truth. His folks had joined the volunteer program after the Swarm invasion, which happened before he was even born.

"Try to see things from our point of view, Drake." Smitty looked like he was trying to force his face into something like a sympathetic look. It was ugly. "There's a small nuclear detonation in a largely unpopulated area. The size of the explosion is consistent with a suitcase nuke, something a terrorist might use. The location suggests it was an accident, except for the fact that there was a little boy in the middle of it. An ace who survived the blast and is immune to radiation. Does that seem like a coincidence to you?"

It was too much for Drake to take in all at once, but these asshats wanted answers, and they expected them from him. "I can't tell you what I don't know," Drake said. Skeptical stares greeted his response. "Maybe the explosion did something to my memory. I'll try."

"It would be worth your while to do so," Smitty said. He nodded to Justice. "Take him back to his room. Keep him on the medication."

Drake felt his chair sliding backward and he quickly stood. "I'm doing the best I can."

During the short walk back to his prison, Drake's fear gave way to despair. His family was dead. Even the few people who cared about him, like his aunt Tammy in Austin, must think he was dead, too.

Once alone in his room, Drake fell on the bed and pulled the pillow over his face. He could hear Justice's footfalls echoing away down the hall. Only then did the tears come, and he couldn't stop them for a long time.

He wasn't sure what time it was when Justice showed up again, knocking at his locked door. "What do you say we take a walk and get some exercise?" Justice stepped out into the hall and gave Drake a look that made him understand this was not a suggestion.

"whatever you say." Drake popped up from the bed. He'd never been very big on exercise, but stretching his legs beat the hell out of rotting in his crappy little room.

"Excellent." Justice led him down the corridor and into the central area. The vast room was still mostly deserted except for the guards at the kiosk, who were talking and laughing about something. "We're cleared for green section today," Justice told the men.

Along the way Drake paid attention to where the surveillance cameras were. He'd counted at least five. Once inside, though, Drake almost felt relieved. He hadn't had any idea what to expect from "green section," but the first room they came to was a big one with couches and a couple of TVs, one of which was turned on. It wasn't like a real living room, but was still lots nicer than anything Drake had seen here so far. His eyes tracked like radar to the TV set. A couple of people were watching American Hero, and it was the end of the show where the contestants had the cards in front of them and someone got voted off.

Justice quickly guided him away from the TV and into another hallway. Only then did Drake notice the walls were like classroom green, only brighter and friendlier.

"Maybe we'll stop back here on the way back," Justice said, grabbing Drake more gingerly than usual by the shoulder and ushering him out. "Right now, I've got something else in mind."

They continued down a long hallway. Most of the doors here were closed, although one that was open led to a room with Ping-Pong tables and an old quarter-gobbling arcade game, as well as candy and drink machines. Two young women were going at each other in Ping-Pong.

"Keep moving, Drake," Justice said. "We're almost there."

The next door opened into a cafeteria, which was even bigger than the one at his school. It was mostly empty, although a few tables had two or three people sitting at them.

"This is where your meals come from, just in case you wondered."

Drake's enthusiasm level dipped a bit. He wasn't wild about the bland food he'd gotten, but maybe they had something good he hadn't seen yet.

Justice pointed to a woman standing behind a glassed-in corner counter. "Interest you in some ice cream, son?"

Drake hustled over as fast as his heavy, out-of-shape legs would carry him. There were over a dozen flavors, some of which were dangerously low in their containers. He walked around behind the counter and looked up at the middle-aged woman. "Can I get a free taste or two?"

She shook her head, then smiled. If she was surprised to see a kid in the cafeteria, she didn't show it. "Sure, son. Just show me what you want to try."

Drake quickly pointed out a couple of chocolates, French vanilla, and some rainbow sherbet. "Let's start with those." When the woman bent over, he noticed the badge attached to her pocket. Justice was directly on the other side, but wasn't looking his way. Before he could do anything she turned around with a spoonful of ice cream.

"Here you go."

Drake took the sherbet into his mouth but couldn't focus on how it tasted. "Mmmm," he said. "Vanilla next, please."

The vanilla was in the front row of the ice cream display and the woman had to bend over for it. The chain holding the badge must have broken at some point and was now held on with tape. Drake leaned into the woman, as if trying to get a better look at the ice cream, and tugged the badge free. He held his breath and tucked it into the front of his pants.

"Our French vanilla is a big favorite." She offered him a heaping spoonful.

Drake exhaled heavily and downed the ice cream. It was actually great, for vanilla. More important, neither the woman nor Justice had noticed him sneak the badge. "Oh, yeah, that's what I want."

The woman handed Drake a couple of small paper napkins and sent him on his way. He felt the cool plastic of the card against his belly and hoped it didn't show under his clothing. Drake sat down across the table from Justice and gobbled his ice cream down so fast he got the cold thing in his forehead.