The Cost of Memory: Part Two

From the Blackwater Files

Read Part One here.

Read other Project Blackwater pieces here.

---

They made her change into paper clothes. Mental institute standard. Anna didn’t know which she hated more: the way the clothing rubbed against her skin or the memories they evoked.

She’d been under for eight hours, somehow.

Her first stop was a cafeteria, where she choked down food, and then she wandered the halls. She had had a vague notion of finding her room but couldn’t remember where it was. She thought about stopping one of the many people who passed her for help, but then she found a meditation garden.

Anna sat on a stone bench across from the entrance. Sand in square lots was scraped into concentric circles. Water splashed down rocks, gurgling along a little streambed that ran near her feet. Birdsong was piped through hidden speakers. Potted plants were arranged in such a way to look like natural growth. The fake sunlight that filled every building in this part of the world shined down through fixtures made to look like skylights.

A sudden crashing sound from the hallway. Her head snapped up. Heart slammed against her chest. It was just some employee, scooping up a tablet he had dropped by accident.

Closing her eyes, Anna focused on breathing and centering herself.

My name is Anna Smith—

Except that wasn’t her real name. The pelican statuette flashed through her mind; the crooked initials gouged into the bottom.

Who had been the girl in the pink bathing suit? The women in maid uniforms? Why had that old black purse looked so familiar?

“Anna?”

She jumped, a gasp clawing out of her throat.

An African-American nurse, wearing floral perfume, knelt in front of her. Her name tag read ‘Melinda’.

“Sweetie,” she said, “are you all right?”

Anna blinked down at her. “Um. I don’t know. I feel weird. Am I supposed to feel weird?”

“Coming out of the first session can be disorienting. Did you eat?”

“Yeah.”

Melinda smiled at her. “Was the food good?”

“I guess.” She wondered what the odds were of two nurses named Melinda. “A nurse with your name helped me go under the first time.”

“Really?” The nurse gently took Anna’s arm and pressed her fingers into her wrist. She looked at a dainty, white watch on her wrist. “You don’t remember what the nurse looked like?”

“I do. She—" Anna scraped her memory but the image of the nurse would not come. Fear shivered down her spine. “I don’t remember.”

Melinda stopped counting the beats per second and then patted Anna on the hand. “Because of your mental health history, it will be easy for you to get confused. I am the nurse that helped you go under. I’ve been looking for you because it’s time for your second session.”

Anna shook her head. “But-but I just woke up.”

“That was twelve hours ago. Have you been to your room to rest at all?”

Twelve hours? Panic sparked in her chest. She took a deep breath, trying to feel the fake grass under her paper shoes and the fake sunlight on her skin. The smell of the woman’s perfume filled her lungs. It was the same as the nurse before, that much she remembered.

“I-I want to go home,” whispered Anna. “I don’t want to do the study anymore.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you go without performing a minimum of three sessions. That was in the contract you signed.”

Tears pricked her eyes. She forced down another shaky breath. “Do I have to go again?”

“You’ll be fine after the second session. I promise.” Melinda smiled. “It’s good that you’ve gotten a little shaken up. That means you’re grounded. What probably happened is a bit of your subconscious spilled into your memory for a moment. It shouldn’t happen again.”

That didn’t sound right at all but Anna didn’t want to argue. Her survival mode kicked in, which meant agreeing—smiling and nodded—until the danger facing her got bored and wandered away.

Melinda stood. “Let’s go, shall we?” She held out her hand.

Anna was not a hand holder. She stood and followed the stone path toward the entrance.

The back of her neck prickled.

Stopping, she faced Melinda. “You go on ahead. I’m lost in this maze.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Another smile. Another flash of perfect teeth.

Anna was reminded of Dr. Karasevdas and his plastic perfection. She followed Melinda out of the meditation garden.

Things were different in the hallways. There was water all over the floor. Men and women in lab coats walked by with worried expressions, whispering amongst themselves.

Anna thought she heard that a body had been pulled from a pool.

Swallowing trepidation, she stretched her legs to walk beside Melinda, not wanting to be left behind.

---

Anna looked for exit signs as they walked. There was no way they could keep her by force.

But there were no exit signs and, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t remember how she got into the building.

Sometimes, that happened. If she was very stressed, she had problems recalling recent memories.

Back in the procedure room, Anna tried to focus on her breathing, willing her racing heart to slow as she lay under the terrifying assortment of machinery pointed down at her.

Melinda approached with the pill and cup of water. Anna searched Melinda’s face, looking for any compassion or sympathy. But she only saw a pleasant expression.

“What’s the name of your perfume?” Anna blurted.

“I’m not wearing any.” Melinda handed her the pill and water. “Go to sleep now.”

---

When Anna opened her eyes, she was back in the lobby. Water covered the floor. The scent of salt was strong on the air. The lights were dim and flickering. No music played.

“I don’t want to be here,” she whispered.

Anna sloshed through the water—gone from an inch to ankle-deep in moments—to the Employee Only door. It was locked.

She slammed her shoulder hard against the door. She was not going to take the elevator down. There had to be a way out.

Stepping back, she kicked hard against the door, beside the knob. But it didn’t budge. It was like the door was made of steel.

This was her dream, though. If she wanted through the door, couldn’t she get through the damn thing?

The water had risen halfway to her knees. If she didn’t take the elevator, if she stayed there, would she drown? If she drowned in her dream, what would happen in the waking world?

Anna went to the elevator, whose doors slid open as she approached. Water flowed into the elevator car, some of it falling through the cracks into the echoing shaft below.

The doors slid closed behind her and the elevator began to descend.

Her hand went to her pocket. She drew out the pelican statuette. Her thumb rubbed hard against its smooth lines.

The elevator shuddered to a stop with no indication of which floor she was on. All the orderliness of before was gone. Anna was no longer in control.

This is bad, she thought. This is dangerous.

With a ding, the door slid open.

Before her stretched a hotel hallway. Anna stepped out into it. The doors slid closed. She looked over her shoulder.

The elevator was gone. In its place was a wall covered in green-and-white striped wallpaper. A painting hung on the wall. It was a young woman, holding a little statue of a pelican. Anna stared at it for a whole second before she realized it was her.

“That’s creepy,” she muttered, turning back to the hallway.

The hallway ended with another dead end. There were three doors on either side. They were each marked with a number on a blue diamond.

She picked room 300. After hesitating a beat, she opened the door, blinding sunlight washing over her.

---

Anna stood in a living room. Everything was neat and orderly. A large blue rug covered a hardwood floor. A holo-television hung from the wall. Blue sofa and matching chairs were arranged to face the holoTV. The smell of baking apples and cinnamon filled the house.

“Joanna!”

Anna flinched.

An older woman burst from the kitchen. “If you don’t hurry and get to the Topaz, Tim is gonna fire your ass!”

The woman charged around a corner, disappearing through a doorway.

Silence reigned again.

Distant sirens. Air raid. Anna remembered the war, suddenly, and the terrible fear that had been their air and water for years.

“Joanna!”

The woman came out of a door that hadn’t been there a second ago. Anna whirled to face her. The woman was older, hair grayer, and she walked past Anna without seeing her.

“You can’t spend your whole day at beach and church, girl,” the woman screamed, disappearing into the kitchen. Her strident voice still carried on the air. “The bombs are gonna get you! We have to get to the cellar!”

Silence fell. The room darkened. Anna looked over her shoulder at a window. Night had fallen. Only a dim bulb in a lamp lit the scene.

“Joanna.”

Anna jumped. The woman now stood in front of her. She was young, now. Sweet-faced, with thick hair tumbling in waves to her shoulders. She held out cupped hands. In them laid the statuette, which was gone from Anna’s hands.

“Joanna,” the woman repeated. “Happy birthday.”

Hesitantly, Anna picked up the statue.

Memory slammed into her like a freight train.

The rainy street. The sound of surf pounding on the ground. Faint rain falling on her, misting onto her faded, pink maid’s uniform.

Joanna had argued with Mom. About bills and college and some stupid boy. She’d driven faster than was smart, taking a corner recklessly. And now she was on her back, her legs bent at a funny angle. A police officer crouched next to her.

“Can you hear me?” he asked. “What’s your name?”

And now Joanna stood on that street, looking at the place where the wreck had happened. Where she had passed out after hearing that question she had not been able to answer. She had not been able to answer it for five years.

She looked down at the pelican. J.H. Joanna Hartwell.

Someone chuckled.

Joanna’s head snapped up, looking at the source of the sound. The man in the black duster stood a few feet away from her, head slightly bent and face in shadow.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

He didn’t answer. He took a step toward her. She stepped back.

“Who are you!” she screamed.

The man hissed, “Riptide…”

A wall of water slammed into her.