Ten minutes later, we were on the sidewalk heading back to the car. There seemed to be only one word the kid was capable of saying, and he was saying it a lot.
'Amazing,' he shook his head. 'Amazing.'
'You'll get used to it,' I said. 'Brodie's like Bruce Lee. Only better. And faster. And—'
'Amazing,' he repeated.
'All in a day's work,' Brodie said, flashing a smile. 'Now, let's start with introductions. What's your name?'
His face fell. 'I wish I could tell you, but—'
'Amnesia?' I asked.
'How'd you know?'
'It's going around,' I said. 'But there's a cure.'
'There is?'
I checked the back of his jeans.
'I christen you Dan,' I said, glancing at the label. 'A last name is extra. Now, tell us what you remember.'
It turned out his story was more similar to Brodie's than mine. He'd awoken the previous day in an abandoned shop on the West side of Manhattan with no memory of his identity or his life. After wandering around aimlessly for a while, he found a piece of paper in his pocket. It was blank except for a letterhead.
Cygnus Industries.
He would have gone to the police, but there was something that stopped him. Dan pulled out a folding knife and showed it to us. The blade had blood on it.
'You think you used it on someone?' I said.
Dan shrugged. 'I don't know. It's not my blood, so whose is it? Did I stab someone? Did I kill them?' He stopped. 'Anyway, I decided to lay low until I had some answers.'
'I know you don't remember anything much,' Brodie said. 'But you can obviously speak English. What about other languages?'
He frowned. 'I'm not sure.'
'Say my name is Dan in Japanese,' Brodie told him.
He shook his head. 'I can't.'
'Vietnamese.'
'No.'
'Chinese?'
He lets out a string of words.
'Wow,' he said, his eyes wide. 'I speak Chinese!'
It wasn't so much his Chinese that impressed me, but his English. It was good. Almost perfect except for a slight singsong inflection.
'You know,' he mused. 'I can remember streets too. Streets that aren't from around here.'
'Are they in China?' I asked.
'I think so.'
As he started talking about distant places, my own mind began to drift. An image came to me: a golden-brown field of wheat, blue sky, a farmhouse.
The image faded.
It was the first time something had come back from my past life, from the time pre-now. I tried to bring more of it back, but there was nothing.
I began. 'You've made me recall—'
That's when the shot rang out. It pinged off a pole to the left. Uh oh. The two guys that Brodie had knocked out back at Cygnus Industries were charging down the street after us.
We ran as another bullet whistled past. I spotted stairs leading down to a subway. Pointing towards them, we took the stairs two at a time, pushed through the turnstiles at the bottom, and raced down another flight.
A train had pulled into the platform. We sprinted towards the first carriage just as the doors began to close. We squeezed in between them as the train started to pull away from the station.
Yes!
Exchanging glances, we burst out laughing.
'We did it,' Brodie said. 'Next time I'm hitting those guys even harder—'
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gunfire raked the side of the carriage. I shoved Brodie and Dan to the floor as I caught a glimpse of the men on the platform. They're firing machine guns at the carriage. Glass exploded as people dived to the floor. The train picked up speed and disappeared into the tunnel.
We got lucky; the carriage was sparsely populated. The few people it contained, although stunned, had miraculously not been injured. I turned my attention to the driver's cabin. The cabin door had a small glass panel through which I could see inside. He was slumped backward over his seat.
Oh no.
'What is it?' Dan asked.
'The driver's dead,' I said.
The train continued to pick up speed as one of the passengers joined us. An older man, he had gray hair and mustache.
'What's happening, son?' he asked.
'It looks like the driver's dead,' I told him.
'But we're still picking up speed,' the man said, confused.
Brodie peered into the glass window, wincing at the sight of the dead man. 'Shouldn't there be a failsafe switch?'
'Maybe it was damaged by the gunfire,' Dan said.
Brodie tried the door. 'We can't get in,' Brodie said. 'We better move everyone towards the back of the train.'
The man nodded and started directing passengers towards the next carriage as the train accelerated. It started rocking from side to side.
'We'd better join them,' Brodie said. 'We can't do anything here.'
We started back, but Dan stayed at the tiny square of glass, his eyes fixed on the driver. I gripped his arm gently.
'We can't do anything for him,' I said.
'I know.' Dan glanced up at me. 'But I think I can help.'
The train emerged from the tunnel and barreled along an elevated track, apartment blocks flying past on both sides. I was afraid. Even with the people taking refuge in the rear, this would be an almighty accident when it crashed. We wouldn't just slide sedately off the tracks. We'd fly off the elevated line at high speed.
'You can help?' Brodie said. 'How?'
Dan stood back from the door and held out his hands like a magician doing a magic trick. For a moment, I wondered if he'd lost his mind. Then I saw the door shuddering. It wasn't just the movement of the train. It was more than that. It was Dan. He was doing it with his mind.