He laughed. “Much. Thanks.”
She grabbed his hand and led him into her quarters, shutting the door quietly behind them.
SANTA CLARITA, CALIFORNIA, USA
April 19th, 2017
Jericho Stone gasped as he snapped awake, opening his right eye as he bolted upright in his bed. He felt like someone had ripped him from a nightmare.
“What the hell…?” he shouted out, with an uncharacteristic panic in his voice.
He looked around the room, using his training to quickly absorb every detail; to determine if there was any immediate threat.
He was lying in a bed, in what appeared to be a very specialized hospital ward. There were no windows. The room was bright and clean, and looked like something out of a sci-fi movie. Every surface he could see was white. An assortment of technology beeped and flashed away on either side of him. He looked down and saw a variety of wires both on him, and in him, that connected him to the machines.
On the right was a large door, which stood open. There was a man standing casually at the foot of his bed, partially blocking his view of a big flatscreen TV mounted on the wall opposite. He was dressed in a shirt and jeans, and was staring at him with an expression of bemusement and disbelief.
On Jericho’s immediate right was a nurse. She was wearing a white overcoat, fastened. There was an ID badge clipped to the pocket over her left breast, stating her name was Julie Fisher. She regarded him with a look of professional concern, and her hand was on his forearm.
“Where… where am I?” asked Jericho, still taking in quick, deep breaths.
Julie squeezed his arm gently. “You’re—”
“I’ll take this one,” interrupted the man, holding up his hand as he spoke. He took a step toward the bed. “Jericho, you’re in a medical research facility in Santa Clarita, California. You’ve been in a coma for just over a week. You woke up for the first time yesterday, and you’ve been drifting in and out ever since.”
Jericho frowned. “California? But you’re… you sound British…”
The man nodded and smiled. “Yeah, I am — but don’t hold it against me. My name’s Josh Winters, and I work for GlobaTech Industries.”
Jericho frowned again as the name registered in his brain with a familiarity he couldn’t immediately explain. He knew GlobaTech was one of the largest private militaries on the planet. They specialized in contracted security, as well as research and development in fields such as technology and weaponry. They also worked in conjunction with government agencies, like the CDC, focusing on healthcare advances.
But the name was familiar to him for another reason, that he couldn’t quite put his finger on…
Jericho set his jaw with determination and, in what felt like a colossal effort, re-positioned himself in his bed so he was resting upright against his pillows.
“What am I doing here?” he asked, more alert than before.
Josh seemed to pick up on the change in tone. “You’re safe, Jericho,” he said, reassuringly. “I promise. I’m not naïve enough to think you’ll trust me, but I need you to believe we mean you no harm. You’re resting, after undergoing an emergency medical procedure that ultimately saved your life.”
Jericho stared blankly ahead of him, trying to wrap his head around what was happening. He fought desperately against the dark fog clouding his mind, in an effort to recall the events that led to him being there.
“Do you remember what happened to you?” asked Josh.
“Mr. Winters, please…” said Julie, interrupting before Jericho had a chance to respond. “I must insist that you let this man rest. He’s been through an incredible trauma. He needs time.”
“I understand that,” he replied firmly, looking at her, “I do. But time isn’t a luxury we have right now. He’s a big boy, I’m sure he’ll manage.”
Jericho let out a heavy sigh and closed his eye for a moment, focusing his mind and trying to remain calm. When he opened it again, he fixed Josh with a hard stare.
“I remember being in Colombia,” he began, sounding a little disoriented. “I was on a… on an airstrip. Something went wrong… I don’t…”
Josh held his hands up, and gestured for Jericho to take it easy.
“It’s alright,” he said, his British tone softening. “Relax, mate. I’m sorry to push you, it’s just we have a limited timeframe to work with, and you’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Rest up — I’ll be back soon to see how you’re doing.” He turned, nodding once to Nurse Fisher, and left the room, closing the door gently behind him.
She set about monitoring the various machines, checking on Jericho’s vitals. He regarded her quietly as she worked. He thought she was attractive, in a subtle way. She wore her brown hair tied up by a clip, and her hazel eyes darted back and forth, scanning the information with practiced efficiency.
“How did I get here?” he asked her after a moment.
She looked at him quickly, before turning back to the machines, as if unsure of what to say. “It’s… it’s really not my place…” she stuttered, regrettably. “I’m sorry, but it’s my job to make sure you recover. Mr. Winters can tell you the rest.”
Jericho leaned over, placing his hand gently on her forearm. “Please,” he implored. “I need to know what happened to me. To the mission…”
Julie held her breath for a moment. Jericho looked into her eyes, and could see the internal debate, presumably over how much information she should divulge. Finally, she spoke.
“All I know is, you came in here a week ago,” she said, with a sigh. “You’d received a gunshot wound to the right side of your cranium.”
Jericho raised an eyebrow and relaxed back into his pillows, letting go of Julie’s arm and gazing ahead of him, staring at the TV, but not really seeing what was on it.
“Huh…” he managed.
“It’s a miracle you’re still alive,” she continued. “The wound itself was bad enough, but you lost a lot of blood. You were flown here, and operated on immediately upon arrival.”
Jericho blinked slowly with his one good eye, taking a deep breath.
“How am I not… dead?” he asked.
“The bullet penetrated your forehead, above your brow line. It narrowly missed your brain, essentially grazing the bone. The damage was extensive to the area, but ultimately not lethal to you. We were able to insert a metal strip, which will hold the bone together securely until it’s had time to fully heal.”
“So, I have a… metal plate inside my head?”
“You do, yes. But it’s not as bad as it sounds, I promise.” She smiled weakly. “Listen, you need to rest. There’ll be plenty of time later for you to worry about what’s happened, but you need to get your strength back before you do anything.”
Jericho nodded slowly and closed his eye once more, trying to make sense of everything.
Who shot me in the head? The target was unarmed…
He struggled to remember, but couldn’t — there was a black hole in his mind where his memories should be. He took some deep breaths, and soon drifted back to sleep.
When he awoke a few hours later, he found it much easier than before, and far less disturbing, having avoided any further nightmares.
He pushed himself upright in bed again, with more of his natural strength having returned. He moved his right arm, turning his hand and clenching his fist, feeling like his old self.
As he looked around the room again, he realized he was struggling to gauge the distance of things. It took him a few moments to remember he could still only open his right eye for some reason. Tentatively, he moved his hand up to his face, slowly pressing his fingers against his skin. He moved them gently across, feeling the bandage around his head and over his eye.