Uncharted waters…
The underwater world left her helpless as a fetus in the uterus, so she floated through the murky liquid tethered to the umbilical cords feeding her saline, nutrients and antibiotics. Unaware of the passage of time punctuated only by sharp sensations of pain, by human voices slow and garbled as an old-fashioned 45RPM record played at 33RPM, she swam through the uncharted waters oblivious to anything but the effort to breathe and the rhythm of her heart.
Occasionally she recognized an image, a sound, or a thought from her former life. But these soon faded. Gradually the tangibles came more frequently and lingered longer until she woke up and gazed into the same face she saw when she left the womb.
“Am I dead?” she asked her mama through parched lips.
“No, honey, you are very much alive!”
Then she knew she was Amanda, and the woman holding her right hand was her mother. She didn’t understand why there were tears in her mother’s eyes, or why her left hand was in a splint, or why her upper body and ribs were bound up in bandages.
“You’re alive, and you’re a hero!” said the tall man standing behind her mother. He was smiling, his aura was gentle, and after several heartbeats, she remembered he was Trout.
As she shifted her gaze back and forth between them, the nightmare images flooded back. She saw blood pouring from a sword wound and a hammer crushing the young man’s head.
“Is Marc dead?” The name came unbidden.
“He’s doing okay,” her mother said. “In fact, he’s here in this hospital, one floor down. I understand his shoulder is healing but the concussion was the main concern. They say he’s talking now, and making sense.”
Amanda was deeply relieved. Although she couldn’t remember details, she now knew Marc was not her enemy. She saw a dark warehouse filled with hurtful obstacles and sharp weapons. She recalled falling and stabbing the monster with a chisel. But when she recalled the bullets and finding her gun, she felt the recoil in her hand and saw the man fall.
“I killed him, didn’t I?” Suddenly she was sobbing. She sensed her mother and Trout looking at one another, trying to decide how much to divulge.
“Mr. Porter’s in this hospital too,” Diana said softly. “He’s under heavy guard in the psych ward surgery. He lost a lot of blood, and for a while it was touch and go. If you had hit his femoral artery he’d be dead, and I know you didn’t want that, honey.”
“You nailed him in both shoulders, Mandy Bear,” Trout added. “You’re a darn good shot, but neither hit was fatal.”
Thank God! Amanda closed both eyes and felt warm tears leaking from their corners. She was exhausted, hardly able to form words or stay awake.
Her mother touched her arm. “Before you drift off, honey, we have some good news. We got a call from that nice man at Wells Fargo. He said take all the time you need to complete the drawings and the commission. They think you’re awesome, and they’ll wait as long as it takes.”
“And the Lease Office from Metrolina sent a letter refunding all your rent, inviting you to stay for free,” Trout added. “You know I want you to work up in my garage instead, but that’s up to you. You’re a celebrity, girl, and everyone wants a little piece of you.”
It all sounded good, but Amanda would have to think about it later. “How’s the family?” she managed drowsily.
“Right now Matthew and I are the only ones allowed to see you. But the police have been roaming the hallways, hoping to speak with you as soon as you woke up. Is that okay?”
It hurt to nod.
Trout’s deep voice was the last thing she heard. “Take all the time you need, darlin’, those vultures can wait.”