This Mind of Theirs

I tossed and turned uncomfortably inside my head, waiting for the day when my mind would no longer be my own. It would still contain my memories and the little knowledge I know of the world, but it would be forced below the surface by memories that don't belong to me. I always wondered if being a conduit for our ancestors' memories affected my father at all? Questions like that kept me awake on countless occasions because I knew one day, I'd have the answers. Inevitably, my father would perish, and he will leave behind his entire legacy and the legacy of those who came before. His mind and everything that fills it will transfer to the next in line, me.

As if the thought weren't scary enough, my twenty-second birthday approached like lightning, and still, I didn't have a child of my own. My dad said it was vital that I did so that our family's legacy and history would have someone to inhabit instead of disappearing like breath in the wind. I understood the urgency, along with the rest of the population's obsession to have children early, but no one knows when they're going to die. It was better to be safe by securing the rich history of your ancestors in the minds of those who came after than to cease to exist altogether.

In the pale sunrise, I could hear the wind whispering, asking me to allow it through my window. It was akin to the wind that danced outside every night, the same one that always wanted to play. I denied its wanton desire to chill my bones to the depths of what remained of my soul. The window wore the sweat of the humid day, a stark contrast to the icy hell that usually withered away at one's will to continue.

"Let's go," My dad peeked into my room, signaling that it's about time for breakfast. He always started at the crack of dawn, and when he did, so did we. I rubbed my mother's heart-shaped locket, a ritual I repeated every morning. It brought me closer to the woman who sacrificed herself for Dean, my brother, when he was born. She couldn't go to a hospital to give birth given the strict law of only having one child, one successor for The Transfer. My father tried his best to deliver Dean with little to no medical experience. They watched an endless array of birthing videos and even used the knowledge of their ancestors to aid in a safe delivery.

Unfortunately, it wasn't enough, and mom's memories went to dad as their marriage ceremony bonded them in case of an untimely death. I was too young at the time to receive her memories, and I would have proved too unstable to keep them. Since that day, I held on to her locket, hoping that one day I would never face the same fate as my mother— as selfish as it may sound.

Much like my father, I awoke when the sun began to peek over the horizon. I rolled out of bed, the world on my mind, and joined my father and brother in the kitchen. Pity grew in my stomach as my eyes rested on my brother, sitting at the kitchen island. Every day I wondered what life would have been like had he been born in a better time. He would have been better off in a world where there wasn't a limit on how many children you could have and where we didn't ration our goods in efforts to keep him alive. He was thin as paper, though he grew into a strong man all the same.

"Are they still alive in your head?" My brother asked our father, mirroring the thoughts I had every night. Depending on the time of day, my dad would answer them. But, more often than not, he kept the mystery alive as the rest of the world did.

"In their own way, they're still with us," He replied. His response could have been the answer to a million different questions, which answered none at all.

Dean grew accustomed to dad's evasiveness. He used his imagination for the answers our dad gave and proved satisfied with what he came up with.

I accompanied the otherwise lonely boy at the island countertop. I watched as my father cracked a few eggs over a pan with ease. Our breakfast was the same each day. Wondering what kind of meal would come next would prove frivolous if dad were responsible.

"Good thing you don't have to worry about that since it'll go straight to me," I patted Dean on his shoulder, attempting to provide some form of comfort and security for him. Though legally I was supposed to be the only child, he still had nothing to worry about when it came to The Transfer. Dean had bigger things to worry about as he continued growing like, how to live a life without an identity? It was something we never spoke about, only figuring things out one day at a time. But having so much time was a double-edged sword because the more we had, the older Dean got. Eventually, he would need answers and an average direction of life. As long as we ended the night with Dean still alive and uncaptured, we could breathe for at least another day. Dad moseyed over, plopping freshly scrambled eggs on our plate.

"That's right," He smiled, doubling back to prepare toast. My eyes lingered on Dean's side profile, wondering what types of horrors raced through his head. He seemed tense but still down to laugh and joke with dad and me. "You're going to be just fine, Alexis," My dad called over his shoulder, but in a tone that meant he didn't want to hear any more about it. My heart ached for Dean, but I was also under scrutiny. Today was the day we would speak about my problem of not yet conceiving. It was a conversation I'd been dreading all week, but I wasn't getting any younger and could die soon, with no one to give my mind to, losing my entire family history. There hasn't been a second child in generations that we know of, so no one knows how The Transfer works if it isn't a firstborn, the one connected to each parent mentally the most. The firstborn shares such an intimate moment with each parent, priming them to be the perfect subject for The Transfer when the time came.

A knock at the door scared us all. My eyes widened, looking straight at Dean. As if my attention were a signal, he quickly but quietly vacated his seat at the table, snuck to the back, and disappeared into the trap wall inside the closet. Dad always shared breakfast with Dean in case of any unexpected guests. If anyone uninvited came in, they would only notice two plates and two cups. My father wiped in his hands, moving cautiously toward the door. It was essential to give Dean enough time to get entirely into the secret room before letting anyone in.

"How may I help you, boys?" Dad asked after opening the door. My feet took over, carrying me to my father's side. He put his hand out in front of me, almost shielding me from the two heavily armed men at the door.

"Neighbor’s downstairs reported hearing too many footsteps up here; they just wanted us to check out the scene for safe measure." One of the men replied, causing my brow to raise.

"Yes, sir, I know I'm a slim man, but I watch my figure," My dad tried to explain, but before he could finish creating his webs, both men vigorously invited themselves inside. I was surprised they even knocked at all. We've heard horror stories about officers busting down doors and arresting suspicious families. My father still guarded me while stepping out of their way. He didn't want any unnecessary trouble with the law, other than the execution level offense we've already committed.

The officers presented draped in an all-black uniform paired with bulletproof vests. We watched while keeping our distance as they searched the house, tossing everything we owned over on its head. I stood in disbelief because the searches we've had in the past proved less aggressive and more routine. Of course, they never had a lead like this, one that rigidly accused us of breaking the law.

"Clear," The tallest officer called after checking the front of the apartment. My father stayed silent as they searched, attempting to hold on to his life a little longer. Dean was in the back where the other officer roamed. My heart picked up the pace as I stood sheltered behind my father. Silence ensued for a second while no one moved, not even the officer that stayed with us. It was so quiet we could hear the neighbors next door breathing as they listened to the ill-timed investigation.

After sweating bullets, the other officer came back to the front of our apartment, Dean in hand. He had him by the collar, barely allowing him to walk on his own. "Identify yourself," The officer apprehending him demanded. My breath caught as our world began plummeting around us. Instinctively, my hand reached for the locket hanging around my neck. In my head, I screamed for my mother, though she stood next to me, my father her avatar. I tried to channel her through his touch, asking her to help us in any way she could.

"I am Dean Turner," My brother admitted, prompting the other officer to search his name in the database. Dad was frozen. It seemed he was more concerned with protecting me and our heritage than Dean.

"No one by the name of Dean Turner lives within 20 miles," At that moment, I saw the officer holding onto Dean reach for his gun. Everything happened in slow motion as I used that time to break free from my father's protection. If he didn't want to do anything to save Dean, then I had to. Mother gave her life to bring Dean into this world. I wasn't going just to let him die. If they captured and executed Dean, her death would have been for nothing, and in a way, it would feel like losing her all over again.

"Stop!" I screamed, time resuming its normal forward flow. My father stood behind me, struggling to recapture me, and in turn, saving me from the line of fire. Before my foot could even connect with the officer, he shoved me with force strong enough to crush a planet. I hit the floor, cracking my skull on the kitchen island as I fell.

The second the officer's hand connected with my chest; I lost the ability to breathe. The action around me blurred. I couldn't tell if it were my father or brother who lowered themselves to me, crying. Blinking away the moisture, I could finally make out the piercing blue eyes of my mother. I used to envy Dean for receiving such a beautiful gift from a mother he never knew. Using the last of my strength, I snatched the locket from my neck, laying it in his hand, closing his boney fingers around the precious metal.

I could find peace knowing he's safe now. He's the last of the line, and the only way he could legally die was from natural causes. The system hasn't done it before, but they'd find a way to preserve our ancestry within Dean.

My tears mixed with the blood beneath me, adding to the ever-growing pool. My father joined Dean's side, grabbing my other hand. "Remember I told you that you'd be fine, Alexis? Your mother will make sure of that. She'll look after you better than I ever could," My dad's last words to me began to distort as the darkness faded in around me.