BURKE HEARD A VOICE in the distance. It was a woman’s, but he couldn’t understand the words.

He opened his eyes with some effort, but he could only see shapes and bright lights. He couldn’t focus. When he tried to lift his head, little stars exploded in his vision.

Burke retreated into unconsciousness.

When he heard another voice, he wondered how long it had been since he’d heard the first voice.

This voice was a man’s, but again, he couldn’t make out what was being said.

He tried opening his eyes again. Everything was still fuzzy and bright. He remembered to avoid lifting his head.

He tried to say something, but his mouth didn’t work. He couldn’t produce a sound. His lips were gummy, and his tongue was limp. He shut his eyes and told himself to get control. He needed to know where he was and what had happened.

Then he remembered flying through the air and hitting something hard. He recalled feeling pain that overwhelmed him and took him far away.

“Monsieur Burke,” came a soft voice.

Burke opened his eyes. A man’s fuzzy face leaned toward him. The face had a moustache, dark eyebrows.

Burke tried to answer, but still, he couldn’t make a sound.

“Do not try to speak, monsieur,” the man said with a voice that was deep and warm and somehow reassuring to Burke.

Burke shut his eyes. The simple effort of trying to communicate with this person had exhausted him.

“You’re in a hospital, Monsieur Burke,” the voice said. “I’m Dr. Rossignol. You’ve had a terrible accident, but you’re alive, and you’ll get better.”

Burke managed a single nod.

“Good, you understand me,” Rossignol said. “Right now, you’re in a recovery room. We had to operate on you. I know you’re very tired, so don’t fight it. Go to sleep. I will see you again later.”

Burke nodded again. An operation?

Then he drifted off.

When he awoke, he felt like he was floating, but he was able to focus better. He was in a different room. Not so many shapes or bright lights. He managed to turn his head slightly and saw a wall. By the wall was some machine that made odd humming and beeping sounds. He couldn’t distinguish what it was.

He closed his eyes to focus his mind.

He remembered the doctor in the large room telling him he was in a hospital and had been operated on.

The doctor had told him he would live.

There were voices, this time farther away. Maybe from a nearby hallway. He couldn’t understand the words. Too distant.

He dug into his brain. What had happened? He had been riding his bike. Hills, lots of hills. People telling him he was fast and strong. Distant villages, stone farmhouses.

A speeding car behind him.

A car that meant to hit him.

To kill him.

Then the tree, the crash, the pain, the darkness.

Burke could remember. He felt fortunate. Next, he wanted to see if he could talk.

His tongue was still thick, but Burke, with a steely effort, managed to mutter, “Bonjour,” although he sensed he was alone in the room. It was enough to know he could speak. His brain, while still groggy, seemed to be working.

Next, it was time to take inventory of his body.

He lifted his head a centimeter or two and instantly felt a jab of pain in his torso. He slumped back again. He rolled his head slightly and saw his left shoulder and arm were wrapped up and stabilized in some kind of contraption.

He wondered about his legs. He told himself to wiggle his toes. He felt them move. Bloody good, he thought. Not paralyzed.

But something was wrong. There was some kind of packing against his left leg, right up to the hip. There was also some kind of contraption at the end of the bed. His eyesight was still blurry, and he couldn’t identify much beyond a meter or two.

Exhausted from this brief self-assessment, Burke closed his eyes again. He was thankful to be alive. He remembered the moment just before he collided with the tree. He had expected to die.

“Monsieur Burke, I see you’re awake,” came a new voice.

Burke fought off sleep and looked up to see the face of a pretty young woman bending over him. He gave her a weak smile.

“That’s good, that’s very good, Monsieur Burke,” she said. “I’m Nurse Peplinski, and I’ll be looking after you tonight. I’m going to put a small control panel in your right hand. If you need me, you just push this button.”

She showed him a small remote connected to a cable, identified the button and then placed it into his right hand.

“You have some very bad injuries, and you need to stay still,” she said, gently rubbing his right forearm. “Your surgery went well. You just have to rest and get your strength back. If you feel too much pain, just push that remote. I will be in and out to check your vitals. Now, get some sleep.”

Before she was out of the room, Burke was asleep—and dreaming about birds and gardens and the sea.