The Memory Thief Read Online Free PDF Page A

the headache away. When he speaks again, he sounds sad but determined. “You never gave up, A. J., and neither will I. I’m going to take care of your family. I swear I won’t let you down.”
    He closes his eyes again. The dream scatters into air, and I go with it, seeded with doubt, riddled with certainty.
    The next time I collect myself, I am in Gabe’s room. He’s awake, his soft blue blanket pulled up to his chin, his white teddy bear lying on his pillow. His surfer night light, the one with the devil on it that I brought back from Tasmania, gives the room a dim glow. In it I move toward him, sit down on the bed.
    Gabe’s head turns toward me. His eyes go wide, and he shivers, like he’s cold. “Daddy?” he says, like maybe he thinks I’m someone else. I try to answer him, but although I feel my mouth move, no sound comes out.
    â€œDaddy!” he says again. “How come you’re home from Alaska? Why do you still have your mountain clothes on? Are you all done climbing?”
    Alaska, I think. The McKinley expedition. Of course.
    I look down at myself and he’s right. I’m wearing my black Marmot soft shell and my alpine pants. My gear’s clipped around my waist, and when I look at my hands, I see my gloves. Snow coats the fabric. I look farther down and there are my mountain boots, complete with crampons. The bed is cold and wet where I’m sitting.
    â€œThe heat is broken, Daddy,” Gabe says. “I was going to fix it if you didn’t come home.”
    I think about that one for a second. It’s June. It should be warm, no need for the heat. Gabe’s right, though: It’s not exactly cozy in here. Of course, that could be because I’m coated in ice and snow. Which brings me back to Gabe’s question: Why am I sitting here on his bed, in full-on climbing regalia, in the middle of the night? How did I get here?
    I have no answer for this question, which disturbs me mightily. Last thing I can remember, I was on McKinley, getting ready to lead that epic pitch. Then I was sitting in J. C.’s tent, listening to him talk to himself. But that was a dream, right? Surely it was a dream.
    Maybe I am dreaming now. It’s the only way to make sense of things. Unless—no. Oh, no. Surely not.
    Here I am in Gabe’s room, dressed like I was for the McKinley expedition.
    J. C. couldn’t see me, couldn’t hear me. But I could hear him, apologizing, telling someone he’d miss them. He’d been crying. I’ve never seen him cry, not even when Ellis died.
    I promised her I would come back. I swore it. I promised I’d never let her down.
    I lied.
    Gabe throws the covers off and crawls to the end of the bed. His teeth chatter as he throws his arms around me, Teddy clasped in one small fist. I try to hug him back, but my arms close on nothing. I am gone, falling alone into the dark and the ice and the cold. I rail against the darkness, I scream, I pray. It makes no difference.
    It is June, but I am freezing.

Four
Madeleine
    Someone is shaking me, hard, their small fingers digging into my arms. “Mommy, wake up,” I hear Gabe say. “Wake up.”
    I blink my eyes open, pushing my hair away from my face. “Gabe? What’s wrong, honey? Are you okay?” I switch on the bedside lamp and see him standing there in his Batman PJs, hugging Teddy to his chest. His face is all screwed up, like he’s trying not to cry.
    Out of habit I glance over at Aidan’s side of the bed, but it’s empty; he’s more than three thousand miles away, most likely leaving high camp right about now, if the itinerary he left for me and Gabe to follow has held true. With an expedition like this one, of course, you never know. So much depends on the wind, the visibility, the condition of the snow, on luck.
    Or on whether the mountain will have you, I think, then shiver into the warmth of the room. J. C.’s