Chapter 2

Vic had instructed her to wait for him in the lobby. Neon was gone when she got back, thank God. That kid had problems. She also didn’t feel like discussing her strange memory loss with him; he’d probably blame it on her lack of tentacles or something.

A few minutes went by and Vic came to get her. “It’s standard procedure to have amnesia victims checked out by a licensed doctor for head injuries. The closest hospital is 30 miles up the road, but we do have a home doctor here in town.” He saw the look of apprehension on her face and added, “Don’t worry, Dr. Ferdinand has just as fancy of a degree as all those other doctors, he just chose to work for a lower pay.”

He took her back to the interrogation room to wait on Dr. Ferdinand. Thankfully Vic didn’t ask her anymore questions while they waited. A soft knock came at the door and Vic went to answer it.

“I got a call about an amnesia patient,” Dr. Ferdinand said. He dropped his black medical bag at his feet and pulled out his stethoscope. He was old, short, and round and had a bald spot on the back of his head. His black loafers were polished to a reflective shine, and he wore a white lab coat over black slacks and a light blue shirt and tie.  “My name is Dr. Ferdinand. And you must be the Jane Doe,” he said, pointing at Carter. His voice was thin and slightly shaky. He gave a wet cough and covered his mouth with his fist.

“I found her out on the side of the road and took her back here. Poor girl’s go no memory.”

“Sounds like she may have a head injury.” He turned to Carter, “Do you remember anything before the accident? About yourself or anyone else you may have known?” he asked curiously.

Carter shook her head.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions about your past to see the extent of your memory loss.”

“Okay, sure. Do whatever you need to.”

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen,”

Dr. Ferdinand nodded his approval. “And your birthday is?”

Carter thought for a moment and then shook her head. “I’m not sure.”

Dr. Ferdinand gave her a slight frown. “What foods do you like?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I know a lot of foods but I can’t remember having eaten any of them.”

 “Interesting. How would you describe your childhood?”

Carter gave him a humorless chuckle. “I don’t remember being little.”

He looked at her curiously. “You don’t remember what it’s like to be little?”

“No.”

“Do you remember your parents? Even if it’s not a name, just what they looked like.”

“No,” Carter said sadly. If you can’t remember anything about your parents, do you really have them?

“I’m sorry.” He looked like he wanted to comfort her but didn’t know how. “What are some things that you like to do?”

“Oh, that’s easy, hang out with"” and then she drew a blank. Who’s name had she been about to say? Dr. Ferdinand looked at her with the same shock and disappointment that she felt. It was like all the answers were locked away and she’d lost the key. It made her so frustrated to not be able to do something that she wanted to scream.

“Look, this is getting us nowhere. Maybe we should try something else.” Vic said.

 “Very well. Do you mind if I check your head? I need to search for any gashes or lumps.” She didn’t protest so he began to examine her head very gently, being careful to not apply pressure to it. “How very peculiar; there are no injuries to her head. It looks perfectly normal. The extent of her memory loss--forgetting her entire life--is what you would see in a case of severe head trauma. An injury like that would certainly be visible, if it didn’t send her into a coma. I’m shocked that she’s sitting here awake with no side effects of a head injury.”

Carter was stunned by his words. If it wasn’t a head injury that caused her memory loss, then what did?

“Have you been experiencing any persistent headaches or nausea, vomiting, confusion, impaired motor skills"?”

“When I first woke up I had a headache and felt sick but it went away pretty quickly and hasn’t come back.”

“What I would suggest is that you are put under supervision in case any of those symptoms pop up. If they do you need to be taken straight to the hospital. Is there anyone who can watch her, taker her home with them, perhaps?”

“She can stay with me,” Vic said.

Carter wasn’t thrilled with the idea but there really wasn’t another option and she doubted that Vic would just let her go. “Sure, that works,” she told them. After a moment she asked, “Will I ever get my memory back?”

A pained expression crossed Dr. Ferdinand’s face. “In time your memories could come back, sort of like pieces of a puzzle. You may get all of them, or only part, there really is no way of knowing. But there is a chance that you might never get your memory back.”

Carter held on to the small hope that she'd know who she was again, not wanting to think about the alternative. “Is there anything I can do?”  She asked, sadness in her tone.

“You could try asking yourself questions to try and jog your memory, like we did earlier.  Other than that I really don’t know. Usually something triggers the memories, like certain smell or a food you might eat. Are there any more questions?” She shook her head no and Vic remained silent. “Alright, well then I’ll just perform a quick checkup and I’ll be on my way.”

He did the usual things: banged on her knee, took her temperature, had her breathe in while he listened to her lungs with his stethoscope, looked in her ear--but he paused when he went to check her heartbeat. “I guess it would be pointless for me to ask, but I’ll do it anyway. Is there any particular reason that you have a zip tie on your wrist?”

Carter furrowed her eyebrows. Huh, she hadn’t even noticed it. “No, I didn’t even know that it was there.”

“I could remove it if you’d like,” he offered.

“Sure, it doesn’t really matter to me.”

He went to his medical bag and pulled out a pair of scissors. “This won’t hurt or anything,” he informed her. The scissors wouldn’t cut it. He repositioned them and squeezed with both hands but it didn’t even scratch the surface. “What in the world? Vic, would you mind giving it a try?”

“Sure.” Vic grabbed the scissors with both hands and squeezed as hard as he could but nothing happened. “Maybe they’re too dull,” he suggested.

“Nonsense, a doctor’s scissors are always as sharp as his scalpel. That’s the philosophy I live by.”

“You know what, it really doesn’t matter. I don’t mind it so much.” It did seem strange though that it wouldn’t come off. Even if the scissors were dull the zip tie was just made of plastic, but they didn’t leave a mark.

“Alright, well I’ll be leaving you now. And be on the lookout for any of those symptoms.” And then he was gone.

 

However long he’d walked in the cornfield, plus the three miles to town had left blisters on his feet but he didn’t care. He had a gut feeling that she was close and that was enough to keep pushing him forward. Right now, finding her was all that mattered.

 When he finally made it to London he wanted to laugh at how easy it would be to find her. The town was so small it wouldn’t take him very long to figure out where she was and bust her out. Yeah, this was going to be a piece of cake.

Something rustled to his left and he jerked his head to see what it was. Probably just a rabbit or something. But now he couldn’t quite shake the feeling of being watched. He put it down to sleep-induced paranoia. Lack of sleep does funny stuff to your brain.

London looked like a rundown version of those towns you see on postcards. Old buildings inhabited by even older people. Well, at least old people don’t pose a serious threat. I mean, what are they going to do? Getting beat with a cane wouldn’t pleasant but it wouldn’t be the worst pain of his life.

Okay, now he was sure he was being followed. He could have sworn he heard footsteps just behind him. His gut hadn’t failed him yet and right now it was screaming at him that he was being watched. He felt tingly as adrenalin coursed through his body. Something hot, almost like breath, touched his neck.

He whipped around but didn’t have time to react as a fist flew at his face. His nose tingled--he hated that feeling--and blood gushed down his chin but he ignored it, already positioning himself for another attack. The next one came from behind. Arms circled around him and put him in a choke hold. Years of training flew through his mind. Ashton slipped his left leg behind his attacker and bent down, grabbing their elbow. He twisted his body to get out and brought their hand behind their back, and gave a quick kick to the back of their knee. They dropped to the ground and he smashed his palm into their ear.

The attacker--from what Ashton could see in the dark it was a man--reached behind him and pulled a revolver from his back pocket. He spit blood from his mouth and used Ashton’s shock to his advantage. He jumped to his feet, shoved him to the ground, and aimed the gun at his face. “You got a lot of fancy moves, boy, but ain’t none of ‘em gonna help you now.” The old man was breathing heavily and wiped sweat from his face. “Now, I suggest you get on up, nice and easy now, and come back to my house so we can have a chat. You try anything and I won’t hesitate to use this.”

Ashton stood up slowly, hands in the air. He’d never dealt with a gun before but he didn’t panic. That was the worst possible thing he could do.

“Now, you just walk in front of me, nice an’ slow.” He kept the gun pointed at Ashton’s face but used the other to push him in front of him.

Ashton took his chance and reached for the gun, but the old man yanked it out of reach and brought it down on the side of Ashton’s skull. He collapsed to the ground and the man dragged his unconscious body out of the street before anybody could see.

 

Vic opened the door to the interrogation room and ran smack into Sheryl.

“Viick! You will never believe the call I just got!” Her eyes shone with a mixture of excitement and terror.

“Calm down, Sheryl. What happened?”

“It’s a U.F.O!” she shrieked.

Vic chuckled. “A U.F.O, Sheryl? Come on, now. You know those don’t exist.” Carter didn’t like the condescending tone to his voice.

“Garvey came home an’ almost had a heart attack when he saw it. Said he ain’t never seen nothing like it before. Ripped through the woods and destroyed half his crops! He wants you to go check it out.”

“I’ll go give it a look but it ain’t no U.F.O.” Vic turned to leave.

“Vic, that’s not all.”

“What now?” he asked, raking a hand through his hair.

“The town is in chaos, Vic. Because of her.” She said it like an insult. “I’ve got ten phone calls today about her, and two of ‘em was from Carol. You know how she gets. The old bat won’t mind her own business. She’s already heard about the U.F.O and claims it’s her fault. Wants to know why you brought her here,” she paused. “Now, Vic, I know you can’t trust everything Carol says but I gotta agree with her on this one. That girl is trouble an’ you’re gonna ruin this town by letting her stay.” Vic groaned but Sheryl kept going. “Vic, listen to me. You found her by his farm, and now a U.F.O’s done crashed in it and she ain’t got no memory. Now, you can’t tell me that that ain’t suspicious.”

“Sheryl, drop it. And it ain’t suspicious because it ain’t a U.F.O. Now, I’m going to go check it out, I’ll be right back. Carter, you’re with me.

Carter’s mind spun. A U.F.O? Surely it wasn’t, but Sheryl did have a point. Her appearance was very suspicious, U.F.O or not. And it crashed where she was found, which either a major coincidence or she had something to do with it. She didn’t believe in coincidences. There was a reason that she didn’t have her memory and she was convinced it wasn’t from a head injury.

She followed Vic out the door and into the cool night air. A major improvement on the afternoon heat. Much to Carter’s relief Vic allowed her to sit up front. They sped down the road and out of town. Vic drove past the cornfield by where he’d found her and pulled into a long gravel driveway. It must have been half a mile long, but at the end sat a huge white Victorian house. The porch light was on illuminating the man that must’ve been Garvey. One strap of his overalls was ripped. He held a shotgun in his hand and his other rested on the head of his dog. His tail wagged excitedly as they got out of the car.

He turned his head and spit. “Down, boy!” Garvey instructed his dog, even though it hadn’t moved. It looked at Carter intelligently and nudged her hand. “What’s she doin’ here?” he asked, jutting his stubbled chin in her direction. His gravelly voice raked against her ears.

“She’s with me,” Vic said simply. From his tone you could tell he wasn’t going to elaborate.

Garvey eyed her suspiciously for a second and then decided she was okay. For now. “C’mon, I’ll show you where it happened. ‘Ere, boy!” He turned around and didn’t look back to see if they followed. His dog trotted faithfully at his side, only occasionally glancing back at Carter.

You could smell the crash site before you saw it. Smoke, burnt corn, and upturned soil. The dirt path they walked on was between the wood and the edge of the field. And then they saw it.

The path was interrupted by a massive rut made when the U.F.O had hit the ground and slid. Trees had been ripped from the ground, some of them with their tops ripped clean off. Corn was strewn everywhere like it had fallen from the sky.

“See what that bugger did? He ruined my crop! Even the corn that wasn’t ruined us unsellable. If it comes from my field no one will buy it. I’ve gots a field full of alien corn and ain’t nobody gonna buy it.” He huffed and kicked the dirt. “’Mere and I’ll show you his ship or what’s left of it.” He spit and then followed the rut into the field.

It looked like a bomb had gone off. Nothing survived the crash that even remotely resembled a ship. Glass and slivers of metal littered the ground like confetti.

“So, where is this ship?” Vic asked.

“It ain’t a ship that’s proof of aliens, Vic. It’s that.” He pointed with his shotgun to a gap in the corn at the edge of the destruction zone.

The stalks were bent and broken, shoved out of the way in their haste to get away. Garvey pointed to the indentations in the soil. “Footprints,” he said. There was no denying it, they were definitely footprints.

“Well, let’s follow ‘em then,” Vic said, starting off down the trail.

It took them a while to finally get out of the cornfield. The trail doubled back on itself several times but finally they saw the road. When they did Carter’s blood ran cold and a chill went down her spine like a wet spider. The path ended in the exact spot where Vic found her. You could see the leaves where she had slept, footprints surrounding them.

Garvey saw the look of recognition on her face and aimed his shotgun at her head. “You better start talking, and I mean now.”

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