Walking Ghost Phase (4 page)

“
What happened to her?”

“
She was traveling in a convoy when an IED detonated near her Hummer. The convoy came under attack, and her unit commander ordered a general retreat. They left her, although she was still alive. I often wonder if she thought about me before she died. I only hope she didn't hate me. I missed her so much, but I couldn't even tell her. She didn't deserve to hear me say those things, and she damn sure didn't deserve to die on that road without a single person by her side.”

Emily
's eyes burned.

“
You don't need to be alone. At least let me stay until you can reach your mother or someone else.”

Emily smiled through her tears. This man lost his daughter, and he asked to honor her memory by spending time with a perfect stranger. He probably had better things to do, places he was needed. But he chose Emily. Now the thought of the man
's daughter sitting alongside the road and dying without anyone to comfort her or hear her last words began to sink in. What if Emily couldn't reach her mother? What if she remembered something important? Could she expect some random nurse or doctor to carry her message? No, she didn't need Logner for that task. Her mother did. “Okay,” Emily whispered.

Logner tossed her the cell phone.
“Try again.”

She did, and the robotic voice came over the line.
“All circuits are busy. Please try your call later.”

She handed the phone to Logner, and he looked at the display.
“I know this area code. Nashville?”

She nodded.

“I was stationed at Fort Campbell many years ago. I suppose this was your vacation?”

“
Some choice, right?”

Logner narrowed his eyes.
“You didn't come here by yourself—did you?”

“
No. I was with three friends.”

Logner quickly hopped out of the chair.
“Why didn't you tell me? What are their names? They could be here. If not, I can have the head nurse call the other hospitals.”

Emily sighed, almost blurting out a laugh or maybe a spew of cusswords. She wasn
't sure which. “I don't—” She rubbed her hands along her temples. “—remember them.”

“
When you speak with your mother, get their information. I'll find them for you.”

The thought froze her. What if he succeeded? What if he delivered news that her friends had died? What if he tracked
down those three people, they walked through her hospital room door and she didn't remember a thing about them? Did she really want to spend her final days in the mental chaos of a fight to remember or, if they were dead, trying to forget? “I'm going to find out either way,” she said under her breath.

“
Pardon me?”

“
Can you do me a favor?” Emily asked. “Call my mother for me.”

“
Are you certain?”

“
Yes, tell her about me. Tell her everything.”

“
If that's what you'd like.”

“
I mean, I still plan to talk to her, but she might handle the shock better if it comes from a stranger.”

“
You think my informing her of your condition is going to keep her calm?”

Emily smiled.
“No. I just don't want to listen to her hysteria when she finds out. Consider yourself the whipping boy.”

L
ogner seemed to restrain the laugh. “Fair enough.”

“
God, I really want to see her.”

“
If you could walk out of this hospital right now and do anything, is that what you would choose?”

Emily glanced at the phone.
“Yes.” She shrugged. “You said anything? In that case, I'd also choose to remember my friends. Visit them. How about not die? At least so my mom didn't have to go through the misery.”

“
She obviously means a lot to you. Even the friends you can't remember seem to hold a place in your heart.”

“
They mean everything,” Emily whispered. “I think it's my fault I don't remember them. When I'm upset, I have a bad habit of pushing people to the back of my mind. Mom makes me aware of this quite often. I know I didn't want to be on this trip. I guess I was mad at my friends for making me come. But I'm not mad anymore. Part of me feels missing not knowing who they are.”

For a moment Logner sat quietly and
nodded. His eyes seemed lost in a deep thought. Then he stood. “I must apologize to you, Emily. I wasn't entirely honest about my reasons for being here.”

“
What do you mean?”

“
I'm a doctor. A psychologist for the Army, actually. I did come here to spend time with you in a personal manner, but I also needed to assess your mental state.”

“
What? You came here to analyze me?” The blood flow burned under the skin of her cheeks. “Acting like you're trying to do me a favor? Telling me a sob story about your daughter?” Her arm shot out, and she pointed at the door. “Get out of my room.”

Logner reached inside his jacket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper.
“This is a release form.”

She slapped the paper out of his hand.
“I'm not signing anything for you.”

He picked up the paper.
“What if I—”

“
Get out,” she screamed, and clenched her fist. “Get out. Get out. Get out.”

“
—could give you longer to live?” The words boomed from his mouth.

“
Get out. Get—” Emily's heart pounded inside her chest. “Is this your idea of a joke? You think that's funny?”

He placed the paper in Emily
's lap. Then his posture straightened, face darkened. The gentle, likeable demeanor seemed to disappear behind an experienced military man who demanded respect and full attention. “No, this is not a
joke
. These civilian doctors aren't aware of everything available to treat your condition.”

“
You're saying—you mean you can cure me?”

“
Possibly.” He produced a pen from his jacket. “It's an experimental treatment. There are side-effects, some of which you won't like.”

“
Such as?”

“
Your internal organs can heal most of the damage without long-term effects, but the brain is not as repairable. You will have lapses in your memory, potentially worse than you already do, and I cannot estimate how much you might forget. That is the risk. But I can guarantee you ninety days of doing whatever you want, be it spending time with your family, maybe taking a vacation.” He glanced at the window blinds. “A real vacation.”

“
So instead of a week or two, I'm going to die in three months?”

“
No,” Logner said. “Your three months are a courtesy. After that, the treatment has a price.”

“
We have some money saved. My college fund. We don't need it now. We can pay.”

“
I doubt you'd come close to the monetary costs. But money is not the required manner of payment. You may wish to read the fine print.”

She studied the form. The first page detailed the consent for treatment, legal jargon about holding the Army harmless for any complications resulting from said treatment. Then she flipped over the page.
“Trial? Experiment? What is this?”

“
Your cost. But before you ask questions about this trial, I don't know specifics.”

“
Will it kill me?”

“
I have been made aware of such a risk.” Logner sat on the edge of the bed. “Look at it this way. You get your three months instead of a week or two. The Army
might
get the rest.”

“
But I'm still going to die?”

“
Emily, we all die. Whether you are old and frail, if it happens today, a week or even three months from now, it is unavoidable.”

She tapped the pen against the paper.
“I should call my mom.”

“
It may be a day or so before you can reach her, and your level of radiation exposure is already eating away at your body. This treatment has a small window of effectiveness.”

She hesitated.

“Everything I told you today was the truth. I don't want you to die alone. I also know I'm not the prime company for your last moments, and I think you know it, too. Sign the form, and I promise you this—I will make damn sure you are home with your mother by tomorrow night.”

Emily stared at Logner as she lifted the pen. She imagined her bedroom, the way the sun shined
between the purple curtains in the morning. Her mother in the kitchen, making eggs and toast. Her house, which she always complained was too small. Would she remember any of it? But Emily would still be there. All those things would exist whether she recognized them or not. Those things made her feel safe. Secure. Happy.

It
's worth the risk
. She slid the pen across the signature line, trying to keep the tip from punching through to the sheets. Looking at the paper, she barely recognized her own name. Logner snatched the form off her lap and rushed out of the room, slamming shut the door.

Alone again, Emily imagined her mother
's embrace. The tears of happiness, not misery. Three months to spend together. Anything to forget about the end. Still, her mind pounded with another thought.

Faust.

A man who also wanted the unattainable—a disruption in the natural course of events. The Devil granted those wishes, and in the end Faust lost his soul. Now Emily had made her own deal, but unlike Faust, she didn't know the payment.

At least I
'll see my mom again.

At least…

Faust probably said the same.

Minutes later four soldiers p
ushed a gurney inside the room, and a blond-haired soldier switched her IV bag with another drug “This is Versed, so you might begin to feel light-headed.” The other soldiers helped her on the mattress, wheeled her to the hall, down the winding corridors, and into an elevator. By then, her eyes were growing heavy. The blond-haired soldier pressed the
Roof
button. As they went up, the muffled thumping of helicopter blades rattled the metal walls.

A flash radiated
across her mind—bright, clear—a candle burning in the center of a dark room. She clutched the blond-haired soldier's arm. “I…I remember them…”

The world faded.

Emily woke at six on a Thursday morning and threw her hand over the digital alarm clock, drowning out the red haze. She looked around the room, took in the lingering smell of hair conditioner and recognized the closeness of the walls. For the last three months, a brown teddy bear, which she had perched on the dresser top, watched her morning ritual with dime-sized eyes.

She touched her feet to th
e floor and went to the dresser, and as she fumbled through the drawers for a T-shirt, she stared at the bear's taunting smile. Her father, while in a hospital bed at Vanderbilt Medical Center, gave her the toy on her tenth birthday. The bear was now missing an ear, a single black thread held its nose, and half the stuffing had leaked out. Still, Emily could argue that the years were kinder to the bear than her family. Two days after she carried the present home, the doctors took her father off life support.

It was a mem
ory she'd have rather forgotten but nonetheless a memory—complete from the day her father received the cancer diagnosis and ending when his coffin lowered into the earth. The sight of the bear each morning kept that memory whole, unlike the fragmented images: moving to this small house but not remembering the trip, the first day of school but recalling none of the teachers, attending junior prom but not knowing her date's name. She pulled a blue T-shirt from the top drawer and put it on. Then she swiped at the bear, knocking her no-longer-needed reminder to the floor.

Emily
's mother sat at the dining room table, staring through the window, and she held a glass of ice water in one hand and an unfolded piece of paper in the other. As Emily stepped out of her room, the floorboards belted out a shrill creak. Her mother turned.