Wildfire. P.Z. Johns

      Chapter 3

      Wildfire

      I woke up during the night. The chime was ringing.

      Can anybody explain to me why it is necessary for a monitor to tell me I’m awake? Hell, I know that! When I finally get out of this bed, I will rip that thing off the wall. No, actually, that’s not the first thing I’m going to do. First, I’ll tear that sedation IV off that rack. Hell, who am I kidding? I bet they have a room full of more equipment to replace these with.

      The other nurse, Zoe, opened the door and crept in without making a sound. She stepped to the bed and looked at me. “You okay, honey? Do you need anything?” Before I could even answer, she continued in a weird kind of way. “Oh, you’re so cold. Are you running a temperature? Let me feel your forehead. Yes, you might need another blanket. Let me get it for you.” I didn’t understand what she was playing at, but she must have had a reason for this little show. She went to the wall across from me and did something. A panel slid open and revealed a small closet. I didn’t notice that before, but then again, I haven’t noticed much because people have been putting me to sleep a lot. She babbled as she walked into the closet, “I’m sure there’s one in here somewhere.” But then she sneaked out and looked up into the corner of the room to my right.

      She hurried over beside me. “I have to talk fast, honey. There’s a camera and microphone up there in the corner. I turned it off, but someone will notice if I take too long.” She chuckled to herself. “Child, you set them at each other all afternoon. I tell you, ‘I told you so’ was flying everywhere, and Dr. Jane was leading the charge. I stayed out of it, didn’t want to get caught in the cross fire. But, ha, I loved it.

      “When everyone was in here, there were two army generals watching the TV at the nurses’ station. They caught your performance, and man, oh, man, were they angry with Dr. Philippe. They were all ‘you told us that you had the situation under control.’ The way they saw things, girl, you were the one in control today, not Dr. Philippe. Then one general got real mad and was all ‘Doctor, are you aware of what’s at stake here?’”

      She ended with “I don’t know what will happen, honey, but I’ll try to tell you when I hear something to pass on.”

      Then she glanced up to the camera again and talked quicker, “Something else you need to know, sweetie. The name on your file is Wildfire. When they found you, there was a picture in your money belt. It shows a woman standing in front of a horse. The back had writing that said, ‘Happy birthday—Love, Mom and Wildfire.’”

      I stared at the picture. A few thoughts flashed through my mind. Something was coming back to me. I started to cry.

      Zoe asked, “Your mom, honey?”

      “It could be, but I don’t know for sure; maybe it is. No, it must be my mom. It is her!”

      She gently took the picture back. “I need to get this back into your file.” She then ran back to the closet and came out acting normal. “I don’t see a decent blanket in there, honey. Oh, you’re crying, baby. Another bad dream? Here, I’ll sit with you. You can cry on my shoulder.” She glanced back up into the ceiling corner. The red light was back on. Zoe winked and smiled at me.

      *****

      That night, a small glimmer of my previous life came back to me. Oh god, is that my mother? Yes, it is! Oh, Mom, I miss you so much.

      I don’t remember her name or where she lives, or where I lived, but I know it is her. I was twelve years old when Mom gave me that picture. And Wildfire, I loved that horse! We had so much fun back then. He could run like the wind. And he could jump. Man, could he ever jump!

      I grew up with horses. I remember that. People who lived in the city called it a ranch. We lived there and called it a farm. We even bred horses. I rode them and played with them and loved them and had a ball playing with them.

      I can ride English saddle and Western saddle, but I preferred Western; I remembered that. There isn’t a lot a girl can do riding Western, except barrel races, and I had a blast riding in those races! Riding English saddle is different. It’s genteel! Me, genteel? I rode dressage and jumping. To me, dressage is the most boring thing anybody can do on a horse. I thought it was like watching paint dry. But jumping! Now that’s a kick.

      I had the toughest teacher in the world when I learned to jump horses. She was a hell of a teacher, but wow, the things I learned from her. I first learned to jump riding bareback. You believe it? Bareback! But that’s how they did it before they invented stirrups. That’s how the Indians did it and the Cossacks, in Russia too. Riding a horse is all about leg control. Jumping a horse bareback is all about combining leg control with hanging on for dear life. I sometimes thought I was flying as high as I could go!

      She taught me something else too. You can do anything you set your mind to. But you have to be smart about it! You can’t just go out and jump. It’s about control, looking ahead, planning your move, and pushing hard and flying as high as and as far as you can.

      I can’t remember my name, but I can remember a horse from years ago. I don’t know who I am or what my mother’s name is, but I also know that I’ve been using aliases for a while now. Why is that? My life must be more complicated than what I can dream up. But why all my aliases? Am I a criminal?

      Today Dr. Philippe asked me if I know who I am. Maybe he knows but was testing me. What if he doesn’t know who I am and wants to see when it comes back to me? No matter, either way, I’m not giving him the satisfaction. I’m not going to tell him anything. I’m going to keep them guessing. I’ll make them wonder if they overlooked something about me.

      They’ll start asking if there is someone who may come forward, a relative, anyone who can speak for me. I’ll keep them asking if there is someone from my past who will recognize me. I’ll give them a couple of clues, but that’s all. I am not going to give them my real name, whatever it is. I will not play Dr. Philippe’s game. But I know I’m going to piss him off like he’s never been pissed before in his life.

      I know! I’ll call myself Wildfire! I could be Wild for short. No, not Wild. I’m going to be Wildfire!