Impact

By Piper McAlice

Alexis Monroe is having a little trouble with her memory. As snippets of her past begin to emerge, she's not even sure she wants to remember. Who was she? She ponders this question as she ducks into the shopping center crowds hoping to lose whoever is tailing her. There are at least three of them. They're good, but they're not that good...
Follow Alexis as she navigates the twisting paths of her strange and cryptic memories as she strives to discover the truth about her own past, and pushes back against those who would hide the truth about her father's legacy and her part in it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Piper McAlice
• Release date: Aug 11, 2021
• ISBN: 9781777845209

Book preview

IMPACT

by

Piper McAlice

Published by Balcony Books Canada

Smashwords Edition

Copyright©2021 Piper McAlice

ISBN:978-1-7778452-0-9 (EPUB)

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your enjoyment only. This ebook may not be redistributed or re-sold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author!

Disclaimer

This is a work of fiction. With the exception of some actual physical place names, this work is a product of the writer's imagination. Any similarity to any actual persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.

CHAPTER ONE

1

It should have been a day like any other. Everything seemed the usual for a regular Tuesday. There were no obvious reasons to be uspiscious. The crowded bus had a smell as always. A decidedly downtown smell. The odor of old cigarette smoke and hints of cheap perfume, mixed with undertones of wet dog, stinky feet and garbage. Was that fish she smelled? She wrinkled her nose. A headache was beginning to form already. Who eats fish on the bus at 10 o’clock in the morning? That should be illegal. Almost missing the bus this morning had made her a bit grumpy but this too was not unusual. She saw it at the end of the block and had to run for it but the driver was nice enough to wait. Now she was sharing the bus with some seriously stinky fish, but at least she wouldn’t be late. She thought these things not knowing how vastly her life would change in a matter of moments.

The crosstown bus was always an interesting representative sampling of this city. Sometimes annoying, sometimes surprising, but always interesting. She loved it here. She looked around and saw the fish guy. He was having a full-on meal. That guy does, she thought answering her own question. That guy right there eats fish on the bus at 10 o’clock in the morning. Breathing though her shirt might bring some relief and she considered it briefly. That seemed melodramatic, so she stuck her face as far out the window as possible. Maybe she’d get used to the smell. She looked back at him and knew she would not. Probably he’d just gotten off the early morning shift. He looked up and caught her eye and smiled. She willed her face to smile back. He was probably just too hungry after work to wait until he got home. She wanted to be less judgmental, but damn, stinky fish? It was too early for that. Bus dinners should never include fish she thought. Far too fragrant for a small, enclosed space like this, even one with windows. There should be a list of acceptable transit system foods, she thought. Anything you can’t hold in your hand should be out, off the list, full stop.

The city morning that passed by the window was a lovely one, despite some very melodramatic looking dark clouds. She smiled. Amy would think the whole fish thing was hilarious. She wanted to message her and give her a laugh, but she hesitated. Her phone was safely out of reach in the bottom of her bag where she was determined it would stay, at least for the time being. Her phone was the enemy right now. It taunted and tempted her. She would not fall for it and would not look. There might be a message from him but most likely not. She really wasn’t sure which would be worse and didn’t feel up to dealing with either option right now. She would tell Amy about the fish later, in person. Instead of her phone, she pulled out of her bag the book she’d been reading. She was thankful for a good book to escape into, and this was a good one. She read reasonably contentedly, fish notwithstanding, as the bus inched its’ way though midtown traffic.

All of a sudden, BANG. The bus stopped short, twisted and lurched. It flipped end over end. Had they blown a tire? Or hit another vehicle? People were tossed about inside it like ragdolls, landing in unnatural ways. She herself was tossed, precious book flying. Noooo! she heard herself yell.

The wail of sirens pierced the blackness she’d fallen into and brought her back to the present. She opened her eyes. Where was she? Why was she lying here in the midst of all this noise? It was so loud. Yelling and horns. A radio and the sirens. The screeching sirens were getting louder and louder, like they would land on top of her at any second. The noise level itself was painful. She tried to get up but that caused different pains. This is not where I should be right now, she thought. She tried to turn her head to look around but couldn’t seem to make that happen. She saw the pole of a streetlight in her field of vision. It was at a very weird angle. She wondered whether she was lying in the middle of the road. She wasn’t sure. That’s not right she thought. She wanted to call someone. Panic welled up inside her. She was afraid she’d get run over lying in the street like that. Anxiety gripped her tightly. Her field of view narrowed to almost nothing. The world spun and a roaring in her ears threatened to engulf her. She lay there in a shivering panic. She felt she might throw up. Lying on her back as she was, this alone might kill her. She couldn’t move and she didn’t know why. Her voice had failed her. She strained to call out but no sound escaped her lips. The pavement was hard and damp on her back, and on the back of her head. There was something in her eye. She tried to remove it. She strained but couldn’t lift her hand to her face. She gave up and listened to the chaos around her trying to understand what was going on. She was alone, afraid and unable to move. Staring up at the sky, she watched the clouds pass and wondered if she would die.

Time passed, possibly? She wasn’t sure. She was in and out of consciousness. She couldn’t tell how long she’d been lying there. It seemed like a very long time, a tortuously long time.

More voices could be heard now but it was too hard for her to understand the words she assumed were being said. It sounded almost like a language she didn’t know how to speak. She struggled to understand but the sounds refused to become the words she knew they must be. She tried to speak, to shout, anything but still nothing came out. Her mind was clouded. She couldn’t make sense of what was happening. The voices ebbed and flowed around her. They mingled and blended with the other sounds she was hearing. Occasional shouts, radio crackles, even a helicopter. Someone had turned off the music. She wished they hadn’t. It had masked some of the moaning and crying that had continued from the start. Thankfully, the screaming had stopped. Why had the screaming stopped?

Time passed. Then a face appeared in her view. A friendly face, but one with a look of concern. The eyebrows tilted upwards and the line of the mouth was not smiling. Still, it was a friendly looking face. It looked down at her, gaging her condition. It made her feel calm to look at it. She was grateful for this face.

Don’t worry, said the mouth. We’ll get you looked after, and then the mouth smiled encouragingly. This kind face belonged to a man, an attractive man. In another time, I would have dated someone like him, she thought. He had deep brown eyes with fluttery lashes and thick dark brown hair. She tried to say thank you but still her voice failed her. So, she just looked at him. He seemed to understand. He might have put his hand reassuringly on her shoulder. She couldn’t really tell. She closed her eyes.

Stay with me, he said. She opened her eyes again, trying hard to do as she was asked. Pleasing him seemed important. Almost immediately her eyes closed again. She was trying but she was just so very tired all of a sudden. She hoped he would understand. He seemed so nice. She drifted off to visions of France in her head.

She was much, much younger in this vision and there was another girl who looked very familiar. They were playing in a field of flowers. Tag maybe? They were running and laughing. A sharp pain assaulted her, and her mind exploded in white hot incapacitating agony. In her vision she went completely rigid. Immobilized she fell to the ground. The other girl had shot her. She looked down but there was no blood. She looked up at the other laughing girl still holding a gun. Tag with target practice? Who plays tag with Tazer guns? You could kill each other that way, or at least take an eye out. It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye. She tried to laugh, but only a gurgle escaped her lips. The vision faded.

Don’t go to sleep now, I need you here with me, said her brown eyed saviour bringing her back to the cold pavement on which she lay. Bet you say that to all the girls she thought groggily looking at him. She thought she giggled but heard nothing. Did she laugh only in her head? Reality and her imagination were becoming difficult to separate. She couldn’t tell which was which.

Over here, yelled her kind eyed helper over his shoulder to someone she could not see. Another man floated into view. He looked at her and then shook his head sadly.

Hold on! What does that mean? That seems bad, she thought. The panic cleared her mind a little. Wait, she wanted to scream but all she could manage was an anguished, plaintive moan. She pleaded with her eyes, but the second man floated away again. She’d failed to convince him. Another wave of panic rolled over her. She would die here on the cold, wet pavement. What a lousy way to go. She mustered all of her resolve and what little strength she had mixing with the anger at being dismissed so thoughtlessly and tried to get up. She managed to move a little. That pain just about rendered her unconscious again.

See? shouted her doe eyed angel to the floater. She moved! Come back. She needs your help. He bent down close to her again. Don’t worry, I won’t let them leave you here, he said. She silently thanked him and hoped the sentiment was conveyed through her eyes. Wow, did he smell divine too? Her stressed mind couldn’t quite believe it. That was just unnatural. To be that attractive and saving people and smelling good too. Verged on the criminal even but he had managed to get the other man back. The floater, older and probably wiser and dressed in paramedic equipment, assessed her for a brief moment more, and then abruptly turned and called for help to more of his team. She felt her anger and strength drain away from her to join the blood meandering along the damp pavement.

You’re going to be ok. It’s alright, we’ve got you now, the nice smelling angel man said to her. She thought that she detected a faint aroma of soap, shampoo and some after shave when he bent over her. Wow, she thought in her semi delirious state, I could breathe that all day long. Suddenly there were many people around her. She should have felt relieved, but nervousness gripped her belly instead. She could feel the change in the air as tensions rose. They quickly lifted her onto a backboard. The pain was excruciating. From the backboard to a stretcher. It lurched as they brought it upwards to roll her to the ambulance. Every bump added to the pain she was already enduring. Her guardian angel was lost to the crowded scene as they took her away for treatment. It made her anxious to lose sight of him but there was nothing she could do about that. His presence and kind eyes had been reassuring. She wanted to thank him. Thank him for fighting for her. She thought she began to cry but wasn’t sure. She felt no tears on her face.

They moved her quickly through the scene. The reassuring smell of her good Samaritan was replaced by other, more ominous smells. Sinister smells that hinted at tragedy. Smoke, burning plastic, gas and chemicals and more she couldn’t bear to consider. The metallic smell of blood, the smell of perspiration, panic and death. She couldn’t process the ramifications of those smells. Her mind just refused to register fully. She closed her eyes, finally descending into blissful blackness and the memory of a painful and twisted game of tag in a field of flowers.

CHAPTER TWO

2

The nurse popped into the young woman’s room. The one where the bus crash survivor was recuperating. This woman was not only a survivor of that horrific crash, she was the only one. Everyone else on that bus had died, most of them instantly. There were other injuries too. There were car accidents in the immediate aftermath of the explosion and two people walking down the street lost their lives as well. They’d been hit by debris.

It had been chaos, the likes of which this city had never seen before. It was the single biggest downtown fatality ever. They were saying on the news now that there had been a bomb on the bus. That’s what had caused everything. A bomb. It was freaking everyone out. The city had started checking bags at train stations and airports in case there was another attack. That’s what they were calling it, an attack. A domestic terrorist attack, but they no idea who had done this. There were no leads according to the mayor, and no one had claimed responsibility. It made one feel unsafe. Frankly, it felt like the whole city was on edge.

On her way to work on the train this morning it had felt different. People were closed off and reserved, suspicious of each other. Sideways glancing and clutching purses. Sizing up their fellow passengers as if to decide how much of a threat they might be. It was not a nice feeling. It felt as though the city had lost its innocence that day and the days that followed. The mayor could make all the assurances he wanted, and he was making many, but it wasn’t helping people feel any safer. He was on the news every day vowing to make this city and it’s citizens feel safe again but his assurances weren’t very convincing.

The patient was still unconscious. No change in any of her vitals. The young nurse felt a kinship with this woman. They were just about the same age. It could have been her lying there in not very different circumstances, the nurse thought. Of course, she never took that particular bus route, but still. It was too close for comfort. She always took a little extra time in this patient’s room. She didn’t know for sure if the woman could hear her or feel her touch, but she held her hand and told her that she was safe now. That it was all right to wake up again. As usual there was no reaction. That’s OK honey. Whenever you’re ready. Keep resting then. See you later, she left the room and continued on to the other inhabitants of the ward.

~

When awareness next graced her, it was fleeting. The pain was so extreme she fell back under without even opening her eyes. No one was there, so no one noticed she had awakened at all. The next time she woke many hours later, the pain was manageable. Had she heard something? A voice? She opened her eyes. It was painfully bright. There was no one there. She did not know where she was, but the sun was just coming up and she could hear birds chirping outside. She wanted to turn her head but was unable. She must be in a hospital. She was lying down and above her was the white dotted tile ceiling typical of most hospitals, lit by the unpleasant glower of fluorescent lights that hurt to look at. Why use such painful lighting? She did not know why she was here. Trying to remember hurt her head. Confusion filled her and consciousness slipped away again.

The next time she woke it was dark. Quiet but for the percussive noise of the pumps that shared her room. She wondered what she was hooked up to. There were lights and displays that flickered red and green and yellow on the ceiling. They reminded her of Christmas tree lights. As a child, she would sit in the dark and watch them flash. She wished they would turn them all off now though and let her get some sleep, but at least the fluorescents weren’t on anymore. She was thankful for that. She remembered dimly that she really hated hospitals and wondered where that memory came from. What alarms might be triggered if I just up and walked out of here, she wondered as she went back to sleep.

She awoke to the sound of voices filling her ears. At first, she thought she was dreaming. There were people in her room! She opened her eyes excited to see others. She had so many questions.

She’s awake! said a man who was undoubtedly a doctor. The owner of this voice was a bald man, about 50 she guessed and dressed in a white lab coat. She looked for his name tag but didn’t see one. He had the look of someone used to a very healthy and comfortable lifestyle. One that only wealthy people enjoy. He looked like a man who vacationed with his family on one of those Caribbean islands with Saint in front of its name. St. Kitts, or St. Barts or somewhere like that. He had a tan and looked like he enjoyed expensive sports like golfing and skiing. He probably had a personal trainer. All these assessments flew through her mind at lightening speed without conscious thought. She was not sizing him up on purpose. Merely out of habit. He had a comfortable manner and an ease about him. She liked him immediately.

There were a few other white coats in the room as well. Most looked younger than St. Barts. Why were there so many people in her room? Was she a teaching case? For some reason this annoyed her. She didn’t want to be an exhibit for all of these strangers. She felt terribly vulnerable and scrutinized. She realized how petty this was and felt ashamed of herself. I will gladly endure this and worse she thought. She was happy to be awake and thankful to be alive. She wanted to ask a thousand questions all at once, but she was having trouble formulating coherent thoughts.

OK, everybody out! said St. Barts. She liked him even more. We need to assess our newly awakened celebrity. You can all see her again in a day or two. Let’s give her some space now.

The room cleared and three lab coat clad doctors remained. Hello there! said St. Barts, I am Dr. Ben Rosenthal. I am head of Neurosurgery here. It’s so nice to finally see you awake. These are my colleagues, Dr. Evelyn Hanson, she heads up our physiotherapy division and Dr Samir Mahmud. He is the driving force behind our Neuroplasticity department. He’ll track your progress and help you relearn anything you’re missing.

The panic must have shown in her eyes because even though she didn’t say anything Dr. Rosenthal put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. You’ve been out for a while. You need to retrain your body a little. We don’t know the extent yet but now that you’re awake we can better assess!

She tried to speak but her throat felt like it was full of dust and her tongue coated in ash. Sensing her distress, Dr. Rosenthal put a straw to her lips, and she sipped small amounts of water. "Your voice will return, don’t worry. You just haven’t used