Fatal Memories. Tanya Stowe
Crawl! The woman woke slowly.
Wake up and crawl!
She tried to move, tried to obey the thought that was so insistent, almost desperate. She lifted her head half an inch off the ground. Viselike pain gripped her temples and she groaned out loud. She froze, trying to ease the agony, but it didn’t go away. Now it pierced like sharp blades...her eyes, her temples, the back of her head.
It hurt so much, she collapsed...breathed in dust and grit. She coughed. The pain split her head in two and she cried out again.
Where was she? Why was she on the ground?
Crawl! Crawl away or you’ll die!
That’s right. The tunnel. She had to get out. Now.
Unable to lift her head without piercing agony, she slid one leg upwards and pushed her body along the ground. The grit scraped her cheek as she moved. No matter. She had to get away.
Raising one hand, she pulled herself a little farther. After a moment she was able to coordinate her hands with her legs. She pushed and pulled herself inch by inch, through the tunnel. Her head throbbed with blinding agony. Her cheek burned and still she crawled forward, driven by fear of what lay behind her. She had to get away.
She dared to look up. Pain shot through her head. Light. Light just ahead!
A click echoed behind her.
Too late! An explosion rocked the darkness. The shock wave slammed her head onto the gritty ground and she slipped into darkness again.
* * *
The headache returned. Or maybe it had never left. She couldn’t remember. It pierced her head like an ax...right between the eyes. And the spinning. She might be awake, but the world was moving around and around, even with her eyes closed. Her body ached from head to toe. Something was pumping cool air through her nose. The rest of her body felt hot, stiff. Impossible to move. Afraid to open her eyes, she held perfectly still, waiting...hoping the world would stop shifting around her.
Wait...someone was singing. Soft, low, smooth as velvet. Beautiful. What was the song? An old hymn. She heard “saved a wretch like me.”
Strong and firm, that voice. Low but not too low. Comfortable. A bit familiar but she couldn’t quite give it a face. Couldn’t remember the name. Who was it?
She tried to speak, but all that came out was a groan. The singing stopped.
Someone grasped her hand. “Joss? Can you hear me, Joss?”
Joss? The name felt reassuring. She tried to lick her lips, but her mouth was so dry, her tongue stuck. Something cool, a dripping, welcome moisture, ran over her lips. Liquid slipped in, onto her tongue, easing the tight, dry feeling.
“More.”
“Here you go.” The voice without a face swabbed her lips again. The moisture eased the stickiness. Made it easier to talk.
“Hurts.”
“What hurts, Joss?”
“My head.”
“That’s because you have a concussion. A pretty serious one. You’re in the hospital.”
A hospital. She wasn’t in danger anymore. Someone was taking care of her. Maybe the man with the gentle, kind...safe voice. She wanted to curl into the safety of that strong voice and sleep. If only she could put a face to it. Maybe if she opened her eyes...
Her lids felt as dry as her lips. Like sandpaper. And the glimmer of light caused the ax to sink deeper into her skull. She squeezed her eyes shut again.
“Go easy, Joss. There’s no hurry.” But his tone held a thread of something that said there was. Impatience? Frustration or worry? What was it?
She opened her eyes again, just a slit. The light didn’t hurt as much this time. Didn’t create the blinding pain. She waited a moment, then opened them all the way. His face was above her. Curly brown hair, a bit long. The shadow of a dark beard. He needed a shave. A slightly Roman nose. Not prominent. Just strong. A hooded brow over hazel eyes, more green than brown. His eyes almost matched the color of the collared sweater he wore. A slight frown creased his forehead.
Worry. Definitely worry she’d heard in his voice. Worry for her. That was a nice thought. As she studied him, the frown eased and he smiled. “It’s good to see you back.”
Back. Where had she been?
She licked her lips. “What happened?”
“There was a cave-in. You were trapped in the tunnel.”
“A tunnel? What was I doing in a tunnel?”
The frown returned. “I was hoping you could tell me.”
She tried to shake her head but it hurt. Instead she closed her eyes and tried to think. To picture a tunnel. But all she could see was the gray mist behind her closed eyes. “I—I don’t remember a tunnel...or a cave-in.”
She heard him inhale slowly. “That’s all right. It’s normal not to remember the details of an accident. It’s the brain’s way of healing.”
Normal. This didn’t feel normal. It felt empty. Scary. There was nothing beyond the gray mist. Nothing. Not even a memory of the handsome face at her bedside.
“Who...are...you?”
His features went slack with surprise before he gathered himself. “I’m Dylan. Dylan Murphy. We met about a month ago, when I came here from DC.”
She swallowed hard. Nothing he said pierced the fog in her brain. “Where is here?”
“Tucson.