Alternative

| Chapter Seven

As Joe's call closes on his end, I stare at the video file in front of me. The image is back to Elizabeth on the beach with her mystery lover. Both of their hands are too far down, too close, seductive. Yet, I accept the file with a quick tap of my enter key.

In one smooth motion, my laptop's program latches on the secured file Joe emailed to me. That file replaces the video in front of me and replays the data from beginning to end. All recognizable faces are replaced with blank spaces. This will allow Emery's brain to fill it in on her own, the same way an Alt-Life client's mind would place itself within a memory file.

Joe was always good at erasing key points, names, secure information. I know in his file he would have left the good, the perfect; everything Em's brain needed to be real.

Biting my lip, I look back at the couch, at Emery. The sphere's on her temple turn white, then blue, brightening against the couch cushions. She sighs, peacefully accepting the data. A smile graces her beautiful face. A gentle giggle leaves her lips. But when her brows press together and her mouth parts, my curiosity takes me back to my laptop, back to the images I know I shouldn't see.

Common sense tells me to expect nudity, to anticipate a memory that screams Elizabeth's nightlife personality. I expected to see the rest of the beach memory, to see Elizabeth in ecstasy. I thought I'd see flushed skin, kissing lips; a love scene.

Instead, as I glance back, I see a sunset; a different memory on the beach. Waves crash against warm sands. A child runs by. Elizabeth's presence isn't my focus at that moment; the beauty of the changing sky is, as day shifts into night.

Stars, even new and barely visible, always take my breath away. Even in sights that aren't mine.

"The night sky is always so beautiful. I wish you can see this, Em," I whisper, taking in the sights from the memory one more time before I let the file continue. "Like, really see this. I promise I'll take you somewhere, so you can have memories like this on your own."

Immediately, my mind goes into overdrive. I plan our vacations, beach trips, all with future dates after Emery's hopeful recovery. I can already see her smiling face in my mind. Her laughter fills my ears as I close my eyes.

Our weekends away from city life were always my favorite time. To just have Em with me and the outdoors, to have her lay with me under the stars. The warmth of her skin under my fingertips is a feeling I missed but will never forget.

Thinking of it makes me happy. That excitement causes me to open my eyes, look back at the couch, at my wife. But when I do, I find she isn't there.

I sit, frozen. "Em?" I glance around the dark living room. My finger accidentally starts the loop once more. The moving images cast a different light against the shadows. Moving, like foggy dreams. The laughter I hear isn't Emery's. It's Elizabeth.

That's a voice I didn't want to hear.

I stand and step away from the table. "Em, where are you?" I call out.

The room is empty. Quiet. Like it is every other night. But this night is supposed to be different.

Memories are circulating through Emery's head, like waves of new energy in an old city. Turning, I search for her. I stare at the corners of the room, at the spaces beside the couch. My gaze darts for the stairs and I pray to see her there, standing, waiting. But no, she isn't.

When I can't find her, I sigh, frustrated. My hands form fists at my sides. "Em!"

"I can't live without you, baby."

"Em, where are you?" I look through our kitchen and bathroom. Nothing. I stop and listen to the house, but I can't even find a sound. No movement, no rushing feet, or breaths. As I glance back at the stairs, I watch the shadows at the top steps. There isn't a light on, not in any room.