Chapter Five
Nathan
I was glad when we pulled into Topeka and Bree declared she needed something to eat. She offered to go through the nearest drive-thru and be happy with some cheap burgers.
"We can stop for a full meal," I told her. "I can't pay so the least I can do is let you choose a place you really want to go."
Bree had heard of a little cafe with amazing turkey club sandwiches, and I was more than happy to drive around until we found it. Unfortunately, the wait staff there was really jumping and, all said and done, the entire meal took only twenty-five minutes.
We were back in the car and headed for the clinic when Bree asked the inevitable question. "Recognize anything?"
"We're here to talk to the staff at the clinic," I reminded her.
After the spur-of-the-moment turn on the interstate, Bree and I had discussed a real plan for the new direction. We would find the clinic in Topeka and press the staff for any further information they might know. It was the logical first step.
"I know you want to get to the clinic. I just thought maybe all this driving around would jump-start your memory," Bree said.
I humored her by staring out the window, but it was mostly a way to mask my frustration. Every time I tried to think back, there was a wall of black fog. I pushed against it, tried to look at it from all angles, but it was still there. A testament to the fact that I had lost control.
How could I have been so stupid? What would have prompted me to screw up so badly?
Bree pulled another U-turn and I cleared my throat. "Are we lost?" I asked her.
"Um, maybe. No." Bree glanced at me, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. "Yes. The waitress made it seem so simple but I must have misheard her."
“What about your cell phone?”
Bree grimaced. “It’s dead. We left so quick I forgot my charger.”
I nodded, wondering if it might be better to be off the grid for a while.
She pulled into a convenience store parking lot and left the car running. I watched as she ran inside to ask for directions. With Bree out of sight, my thoughts took another dark turn.
What kind of soldier wakes up in an unfamiliar clinic states away from where he is supposed to be?
Even worse was the fact that when I woke up, I neglected to ask all the questions we were now going to ask. I had been so disoriented when I came to in the Topeka clinic that I hadn't even bothered to ask what had happened to me. I just got out on the road and started hitchhiking my way back to the base.
Bree returned to the car and startled me. "It's okay. I just took a left when I should have taken a right. We'll be there in under ten minutes, I swear."
I watched carefully out the window until we pulled up to the small clinic, but nothing jogged any memories.
Bree saw me sit forward suddenly. "What is it? Do you remember something?"
"Yes and no," I slumped back in my car seat. "I remember standing at that bus station. Some nice nurse gave me bus fare, but when I realized it wasn't enough to get me all the way to New Mexico, I pocketed it and started walking."
"At least it's something." Bree parked the car and hopped out.
"Don't get your hopes up," I said when I joined her at the clinic doors. "This is probably a dead end."
Bree shook her head. "You know what I'd be doing right now? Folding utensils into napkins before the dinner rush. So, I refuse to believe this is anything but a good first step."
"Hi, can I help you?" a woman in bright reading glasses asked us from behind the receptionist desk.
"Ah, yeah. I was a patient here a few days ago, and I was wondering if I could talk to the doctors who treated me?" I asked.
The woman tipped her head and gave me a funny look. "Name? Date of birth?"
She typed furiously at her old computer and her funny look changed into a frown. "Looks like you were a transfer from the hospital emergency room. Your file says you were stable but in and out of consciousness, so they brought you here to be monitored."
"Instead of staying at the hospital?" Bree asked.
The receptionist shrugged. "Happens a lot. The hospital runs out of beds and sends over the least critical patients."
"Is there any way I could talk to the doctor who treated me?" I asked again. I had been struggling to remember the doctor's face and coming up with nothing but a vague outline.
"That would be Dr. Connolly. I'll page him. You can wait over there." The receptionist nodded to a small sitting area with blue chairs.
We heard the page echo through the small clinic as Bree picked a pair of seats near the window. She plucked a fashion magazine off a pile on the side table and leafed through it. I studied her, as if I could absorb her calm sense of optimism.
Then again, I'd be calm, too, if it wasn't my life that was a complete disaster.
"Ah, Mr. Walker. I never expected to see you again, but it's always nice to catch up with a former patient." Dr. Connolly strode up and held out his hand.
I stood up and shook it. "Dr. Connolly, thank you. I've been having some trouble clearing up my memories, and I'm wondering if there is anything else you can tell me that might help."
Dr. Connolly nodded but his attention was taken up by Bree. She had tossed the magazine down and stood up, smiling. She swept back her long ponytail before shaking the doctor's hand, too.
"And who is this lovely lady?" Dr. Connolly asked.
"My name's Bree," she said with a smile. "I'm here to make sure he follows the doctor's orders."
"Well, it's nice to have someone so beautiful in my corner," Dr. Connolly said. "Your friend here was quite a mess when they found him."
"Found me?" I asked.
Dr. Connolly noticed that I swayed at the new information, and he gestured for us to sit down again. He sat next to Bree and directed his answer to both of us.
"You were found at the side of the road, Mr. Walker. Just outside of Topeka, off the main drag. A good Samaritan called it in and waited with you until the ambulance arrived. You were still unconscious when you arrived at the emergency room."
I nodded, impatient. "The receptionist explained how I was transferred here."
Bree held up a hand to slow me down. "Wait. How did the emergency room doctors categorize his injuries?"
"Good question," Dr. Connolly said, smiling at Bree again. "His chart listed multiple injuries all consistent with a car accident, but there were no cars at the scene."
"A hit and run?" I asked.
Dr. Connolly shook his head. "We don't know. But the police on the scene said they saw no evidence of a car accident where you were found."
"Multiple injuries?" Bree asked.
Dr. Connolly patted her hand in sympathy. "I'll go get his chart and give you a moment."
I shook my head as Bree turned to me. "I don't know why, but I know it was no accident."
"You think someone hit you with a car on purpose?" Bree asked.
"I know it sounds crazy, but I can just feel it. Something inside me keeps screaming it wasn't an accident." I didn't tell her that I also felt a certainty that I had deserved it. How could I explain that?
"I believe you," Bree said. "Now you don't have to look at me like I'm the crazy one. The doc said you were found on the side of the road with injuries consistent with a car accident. But the police saw no evidence of a car accident where you were found."
"So?" I asked.
"That means that someone dumped you there. And that makes me think you're right about it not being an accident. If it was, they would have dumped you off at the emergency room," Bree said.
I was suddenly very glad my surprising waitress had made the trip with me. Bree seemed able to connect the dots where I was still too fuzzy.
Dr. Connolly returned with my chart and went over the minor injuries. "The only real concern was your head. You kept slipping in and out of consciousness. That's why the emergency room transferred you here. We monitored you a good eight hours before you finally came to and were able to talk."
"Is that why he can't remember the days leading up to the accident?" Bree asked.
"Exactly. The brain got jumbled. Luckily, there are no signs of lasting damage. Given time and low levels of stress, it is entirely possible his memory will return on its own," Dr. Connolly said.
"How long?" I asked.
The doctor shook his head. "No saying for sure. Could be a few hours, could be a few years. Or it might not return at all. I think the important thing is to focus on the fact that you seem in good health. And in good company."
Bree grinned as the doctor winked at her. Then she sat forward. "Wait, we forgot to ask. Did Nathan have any other belongings with when he came in? Did the police find anything else at the scene?"
"Hmm." Dr. Connolly scratched his chin. "That would be a question for the orderly on duty that night. Marlene over there should be able to track that bit of information down for you."
I stood up and shook the doctor's hand again. "Thank you so much, Dr. Connolly. I really appreciate all your help."
"Anything for a fellow military man." Dr. Connelly gave him a rusty salute and went off to continue his rounds.
Marlene pushed her bright glasses higher on the bridge of her nose and frowned at us. "I'll have to search through the old schedules and double-check that shift against the time cards."
"That is so sweet of you," Bree said. "How about I get you a cup of coffee while you work?"
Marlene softened. "The good stuff from the cafeteria or that sludge from the machine?"
"Cafeteria coffee coming right up," Bree said.
I walked with her, only getting vague flashes of having been there before. I did remember the green Jell-O from the cafeteria, but Bree pointed out that could have been from any clinic in the nation.
A tall man was lounging against the reception desk and making Marlene laugh when we returned.
"This is Davey," Marlene said. "He was the one who checked you in."
I shook Davey's hand. "Any chance you know what happened to my belongings? My wallet?"
Davey stood up, at least two inches taller than me. "I don't steal from patients."
I stared up at him and stepped closer. "I'm not asking that. I simply want to know what I came in with."
Davey realized his height meant nothing to me unless his scrawny ass could hold his own in hand-to-hand combat. "Nothing, man. Barely anything. Clothes on your back and a handful of stuff. I wrote it down on your chart."
Marlene jumped up and pointed a long, red fingernail to the paragraph in my medical chart. "Davey wouldn't lie. You came in with a pocket full of junk and that was it."
"And nothing was left at the hospital?" I asked.
Davey shook his head. "Nah, they've got the same system. We're all here to work, man, not steal pocket change."
Bree thanked them and handed Marlene her coffee. "You could have been robbed by whoever dumped you at the side of the road," she said.
"Or by the good Samaritan who called you in," Davey said. "Had that happen to a few patients."
"What would they do with my wallet?" I asked.
Davey shrugged. "Pawn shop probably."
We thanked them again and headed to back to Bree's car. I opened the driver's side door for her, and she smiled as she slid inside.
"Let me guess," she said. "We're heading to the nearest pawn shop?"
"You must have been a detective in another life, so you tell me."
"Pawn shop it is," Bree decided and started the car.