Jaxon woke with a start. Rolling to his side and sitting up proved awkward. It took a moment for his foggy brain to register. Bandages held his upper right arm against his side. He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly while he looked out the window.
Dusk had fallen, bringing out the city lights. But what were those moving lights that seemed close to his window?
He rose. His IV stopped him from going further. He snorted and shook his head. Who knew what the general had thought about his sudden appearance? He could not figure it out himself.
Those lights blinked in a pattern he knew. Morse Code. S L A I N T E. His brows furrowed. It meant health and was usually said as a toast or a cheer. He raised his hand, and the lights blinked excitedly.
He heard someone walk into the room. The lights fled upward. He tried to get closer to the window, but the IV wouldn’t let him.
“What are you doing out of bed?”
He knew that voice well, the general’s secretary. His stomach growled loudly.
“I was checking out the lights.”
“They haven’t changed. You really should get back in bed.”
“I’d rather find something to eat.”
“You only feel this good because of whatever they put in that IV.”
He turned to face her. “Perhaps.”
She creased brow and darting eyes made him look around the room.
Why could he not remember her name but could figure out a code that had spelled an Irish word? He chuckled.
“I missed you.” She did not move, but she looked ready to run to him.
Something about the way she said that made a tingle run up his spine. His eyes widened. Yeah, he knew more about her than he should. They weren’t married, but when had that stopped anyone these days? Somehow that all felt wrong and went against his upbringing. That he could remember fairly well. He started laughing.
“Are you all right?”
“No. I’m a complete mess.” His stomach growled again. “My stomach wants some food.” He looked around but could not find the call button for the nurse.
“I’m scared they will find something in your head scans, but maybe they can help if they do.”
“My brain is still trying to digest things. I should be dead. I did not eject from a plane that is in a million pieces. I am sure I didn’t.”
He turned and looked out the window. If he hadn’t, then someone had to have saved him before the impact. Someone who knew Irish and Morse Code. He wondered what his helmet cam and the black box would tell them.
He turned back to the woman again. Why couldn’t he pull her name from his memory but could remember some quite intimate details about her? She fidgeted with the designer scarf that hung loosely about her neck.
“How long have I been gone?”
She froze.
His eyes narrowed. “I’m going to take that silence as too long.”
She looked away from him.
“Let me guess. You tried to be executor of my estate.”
Memories of his condo and a friend named Randy swirled in his head. He let out a slow breath. Now, if he could remember where he lived, that would help.
“Okay, we had a memorial for you five months ago.”
Her blurted statement did not shock him. Somehow that seemed about right.
“And all my stuff?” Not that he really cared about much of it. Only a few things were irreplaceable in his collection.
“It’s still there. Randy says there is a snag in closing out your estate. I think he is lying.”
“And what have you been doing for five months?”
She didn’t answer.
“Maybe it is a good thing my memory is off the grid. It’ll make some things easier to deal with.”
“You didn’t care before.”
“Care about what?”
“We had a rather open relationship, but…”
“Okay.” He nodded his head. “I can’t remember much of anything, but I obviously had some reason for allowing that. Totally off the grid of how I was raised.”
“So, you don’t want to?” She bit her lip.
He had to pause before answering. “Honestly, I don’t know. Like I said, I’m a complete mess.” He scratched his chin with his left hand, finding a decent growth of beard there. “Yeah, seems like yesterday I got in my plane, but five months definitely sounds right.”
“Maybe it is a good thing your estate still exists; you might need it since you’ll wind up medically discharged if you can’t remember anything.”
Her voice held a near sob to it. He wanted to hug her and say it would be all right. Would it? Why did he feel good about any of this? He knew he had a smile on his face and could not change it. He felt great despite the confusion and his confined arm.
His stomach interrupted with a growl. “I need to go find some food, though what we call food is ridiculous.” He laughed and shook his head when he saw her shocked expression. “Never mind. It will have to do.” He started walking around the bed toward her, holding the tubing so he would not pull his IV out.
She backed up to the door, but after a moment she bustled into the hallway, calling for the nurse.
He looked at the IV bag. “Whoa. No wonder I feel good, but this isn’t helping my memory.” He yanked the needle out. Once the meds wore off, his shoulder would let him know how it felt. “Yeah, I rather have you complaining than feeling too numb to know what I need.” He laughed again because he was talking to his body like it could understand.
“You pulled that out, didn’t you?”
He turned with a smile to face the nurse. “On purpose even. I would like to try eating something before my stomach crawls out and tries to find food on its own.”
“If you get back into bed.”
“I need to move.”
The nurse sighed. “I knew you would be a pain. You always are.”
“My memory is shot, but I am sure you are right. I never did like lying around or being on drugs for anything.”
“But I really need for you to sit down and let me put that back in until the doctor says okay.”
He shook his head. “I know you are trying to do your job, but I won’t let you. If forced, I’ll sue. I’d rather not.”
“You seem awfully happy for a man considered dead and with huge memory loss.”
“I know. Might be the beard or the fact my hair has grown out for the first time in years.”
“Oh, lordie. I hope we don’t see what happens when you really let your hair down.” She smiled. “If you promise to stay in your room, I’ll go see what we can do about some food and how to make sure you do all right off the IV.”
“Thank you. I hope I am not being too rude, though I feel adamant about this.”
“Hopefully, you aren’t just trying to pull rank to get your way.”
He started laughing. “I didn’t remember my rank until I was called colonel. By the way, how many days have I laid here?”
“Three.”
“Definitely too many.”
“You need to rest.”
“Oh, I don’t plan more 100-mile hikes for a while.”
“Good, because you can’t go that far in here.”
He laughed when she winked at him. His gaze returned to the window after she left. He went to it and pressed his face against the glass. He needed to see those flashing lights again.
This is the second of three free episodes of Cataclysm. I want to hear from you. If you like what you are reading and want to help me fine tune the story further, you can continue with the paid option. This will allow you the opportunity to win prizes based on the stories you help me with. If the story gains enough interest, it will become a book.
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“Oh, I don’t plan more 100-mile hikes for a while.”
Consider "plan on any more"
but I am sure you are right.
The way you have this character speak, the contraction, "you're" would feel more natural.