by Eden Robins
A Cerridwen Press Publication
www.cerridwenpress.com
After Sundown: Illumination
ISBN 9781419918575
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
After Sundown: Illumination Copyright © 2009 Eden Robins
Edited by Ann Leveille.
Cover art by Les Byerley.
Electronic book Publication February 2009
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Cerridwen Press, 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502.
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Cerridwen Press is an imprint of Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.®
After Sundown: Illumination
Eden Robins
Dedication
To those who know the truth…
Those who see its illumination burning bright.
Love is the strongest power on earth.
Trademarks Acknowledgment
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Corvette: General Motors Corporation
Jell-O: Kraft Foods Holdings, Inc.
Oprah: Harpo Productions, Inc.
Staind: Tradem, Inc.
Tarzan: Edgar Rice Burroughs, Inc.
Darkness cannot drive out darkness:
only light can do that.
Hate cannot drive out hate:
only love can do that.
―Martin Luther King, Jr.
Prologue
The full moon’s rays shot through the bars of the high window, filling the cell, lighting it in the midst of darkest midnight. Its beams lightly caressed the creature inside where she sat huddled in the corner of the room. She made no sound yet tension emanated from every part of her. Her wings and long tail were wrapped protectively around her body and she was trembling violently as though the evening was in freezing winter instead of mild spring. Silence reigned supreme through the air, leaving no tolerance for even the slightest cricket’s chirp.
A door opened and closed, breaking the silent night. The creature snapped its head in the direction of the noise and let out a low hiss. She couldn’t do much else. The pain she had endured, the spells binding her to this place and the drugs filling her body left her weak and powerless. She straightened her wings and tail and tried to sit up straight, tried to prepare herself for whatever was about to happen. It wouldn’t be good.
She knew that.
In this place, it never was.
A moment later a soft click and whooshing sound slipped through the blanket of stillness. The creature screamed, tearing the hushed cover of night in two. The shriek sounded almost human but was deeper, more primal than any human’s possibly could be. The agony of it was unmistakable. The soft click and whooshing sound tore through the air yet again but this time the creature didn’t respond.
She couldn’t.
“Did you get her that time?”
The shooter lowered the bow he was holding and grinned widely.
“Damn straight. The first shot was just a tease. I wanted to see how loud I could make her scream.”
His companion nodded his head but didn’t return the smile.
“Good. We’re finished here. Let’s go.”
The two left as quietly as they had entered, leaving the moonlit room in silence once more.
Chapter One
Her body jerked as she woke with a start. The staccato rhythm of her heart beat out of control. The creature’s bloodcurdling scream echoed through her head. The feel of its agony shot through her body like a million sharp knives, making it difficult to breathe.
She tried to sit up, but felt too weak to move. Even her eyelids felt so heavy that she couldn’t imagine lifting them to look around. The screams she heard before waking had faded away, and as she finally caught her breath, fatigue snuck back up on her. But before she could let it take her back to sleep, the scream was replaced by a soft yet insistent voice.
“Can you hear me?” the voice asked. “Let me know if you can hear me. Any sign will do. Lift a finger or squeeze your eyes tighter. I need you to let me know that you are aware of my voice.”
She didn’t want to respond. She was too tired. And the quiet oblivion of sleep was a siren call she couldn’t resist.
But the voice called to her again. This time louder and more demanding.
“I know you’re awake. I saw you move. You have to do this. Please. I need to know that you can hear me.”
Maybe it was the word “please”. Maybe it was the way the voice had ended in such a sad, desperate tone. Whatever it was, she decided to at least try to give the person a sign.
It took everything she had. Absolutely every bit of energy she could muster to squeeze her eyelids more tightly together. As she began to slip back into seductive slumber, she wasn’t sure the voice had seen it, but then another spoke.
“Thank God. She moved. Did you see her, darling? She moved!”
“Yes, I saw her, I saw her.”
Even as sleep threatened to take her away she detected the emotion and relief in the two voices. Someone had seen her move. And someone had been glad. As she slipped into peaceful oblivion, she took comfort in that.
Someone cared about her.
The next time she woke up, she was able to open her eyes. Yet she was blurry-eyed and incredibly sore all over. When her vision cleared somewhat, she saw that she was in a hospital room, and there were all sorts of tubes stuck into her as well as several cords attached to monitors that were steadily beeping around her. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and when she tried to move a throbbing, aching pain speared through various parts of her body. Gingerly glancing around, she finally noticed the woman standing by her bed. The stranger suddenly bent closer, bringing her smiling face near and introducing herself as a doctor.
Then the questions began.
“Do you know where you are?”
“In a hospital?” she responded.
“Yes, that’s right,” the doctor said in a kind voice. “Do you know why you’re here?”
“I, uh, well, not really.” She felt really befuddled by the questions. And tired. So tried she just wanted to fall back and into blissful sleep.
“That’s okay,” the doctor reassured her. “Don’t worry about it. I know you’re tired. I have just one more question for you, and then I’ll let you sleep. Can you tell me your name?”
“Of course I can. My name is,” she hesitated as her mind went blank. “My name is, er, my name is…”
It was too confusing. She didn’t want to think so hard. She didn’t have the energy. “I, uh, I really don’t know, Doctor. Please leave me alone. I just want to go back to sleep.”
“That’s fine, young lady,” the doctor said, patting her hand. “Rest.”
And she did just
that. She vaguely remembered coming to a couple times after that, but her mind was always fuzzy and she never could keep her eyes open for very long.
And now, as she woke once again, she was in yet another place she didn’t recognize. But this time the experience was somewhat different. This time she finally felt awake. The fuzziness still nagged at her, but it was fading fast. And as it did, anxiety took its place.
She sat up in bed, trying to catch her breath, but instead groaned in pain.
She felt like she had been run over by a truck. Twice. Once going forward and again in reverse. Her head and body ached. Even her neck was sore. So much so that it was difficult to turn her head. Panic crept in slowly, insidiously starting to overwhelm her. What had happened? Where was she?
She scanned the room.
Nothing looked familiar.
Her strange surroundings did little to calm her racing heart. The stark room contained the minimum, a bed and dresser. The walls were bare of pictures and there was only one small window located high on one wall. It was too high for her to reach, let alone look out of, but she could tell from the sun shining in that it was daytime.
Beyond that she knew nothing.
The door to her room suddenly swung open and she found herself face to face with a short, elderly, balding man wearing dark horn-rimmed glasses and carrying a tray. She stood up as he entered, trying to ignore the aches and pains that speared through her. The breeze that brushed over her body made her look down and she realized with dismay that she was wearing a nightgown. She immediately disregarded the fact, however, when she saw that she was covered up in all the necessary places.
There were more important things to worry about.
Like who she was, where she was and who the guy standing in front of her was.
“Hello, Rebecca. How are you today?” The man gave her a friendly smile, setting a tray on her dresser. It had a wrapped sandwich, an apple, some potato chips and a bottle of water on it. She immediately noticed his good humor didn’t reach his eyes. They remained watchful and intent, as if waiting for some cue or reaction on her part.
The sound of her name rolled through her mind, immediately bringing recognition, comfort and a sense of peace.
Him calling her Rebecca felt right, and she knew instinctively that was her first name. How did he know that? Who was this person, what was she doing in this place and what was going on?
“Who you are and, er, where am I?” she stammered, scared as well as embarrassed by her inability to grasp the situation.
The man smiled again, this time it was gentle and it reached his eyes. That made Rebecca feel better. He walked slowly toward her and held out his hand.
“I’m Dr. Everett,” he said, giving her hand a quick, firm shake before releasing it and taking a step back. “Please don’t be frightened. Your situation is understandably confusing and disorienting. I wanted to be here when you woke up, to help you with the transition, but I was detained elsewhere.”
“Transition?”
Frowning, Rebecca caught that word and focused on it. It was the one that seemed to need the most explanation. She had always functioned that way, been able to hone in on certain words as a person spoke and discover more from the words by asking questions.
But wait, how did she know that?
The memory of her talking to many people one on one, asking them questions, floated through her mind, but it was anchored to nothing else and she couldn’t find the place it belonged.
“Are you okay, Rebecca?”
She returned to the present, putting that one memory aside for the moment.
“I just remembered something but it left me more confused than ever,” she admitted. “I can’t seem to recall anything about myself except my name and that I’m good at asking questions. Doctor, who am I? Where am I? And what am I doing here?”
“You certainly are good at asking questions,” Dr. Everett chuckled, then motioned toward her bed. “Let’s sit down for a minute and I’ll be glad to explain.”
Rebecca did as he asked and waited expectantly. The longer she thought about this the more confused she became. Who was she? What had her life been before this very minute? Why couldn’t she remember?
“I can see your brain working furiously, Rebecca. I know it’s difficult but please try to relax,” he said, raising the clipboard he held in his hand and silently reading some of his notes before continuing. “Your name is Rebecca Vanderhoss. You had a traumatic experience recently and as a result of that you’ve lost your memory.”
“Okay,” she said, nodding her head. “I already realized the memory loss part, Dr. Everett. What else can you tell me?”
“I can’t tell you too much more other than the fact that you’re at the Scottsdale Behavioral Health Center in Scottsdale, Arizona. We thought it best that you recover here with our qualified staff to help you.”
The words recover and we stuck out in Rebecca’s mind. And once again she focused on specific terms.
“What do you mean recover?” she asked. “All I need to know is who I am and I’m sure everything will come back to me. And who’s we? Do I have family members? If so I’d like to speak to them as soon as possible.”
Dr. Everett smiled again and Rebecca noticed that he had a very kind face.
“I wish it were that easy but it’s not,” he said.
Her confusion must have been obvious by her expression because he placed a hand gently over hers and gave her fingers a light squeeze. His touch was warm and caring, in no way threatening. This helped her calm down a little.
“I know this is confusing. I’ll try to clarify things. You had an experience that was devastating enough that your mind has chosen to forget. Only when you’re ready will you remember. It can’t be forced and if I try to give you all the information now it might be too much for you and your condition could worsen.”
“Worsen? How?”
“Patients with trauma-induced amnesia have been known to go into comas,” he carefully explained, the intent, watchful look back in his eyes. “I don’t want that to happen to you, Rebecca. Your actions and behavior, at least at this point, tell me you’re doing fairly well. I wouldn’t want that to deteriorate.”
Rebecca didn’t like what she was hearing. She wanted to know who she was. She needed that information. The unknown loomed too large in front of her. Another recollection flashed through her mind. From the time she was a child she had always feared and fought against the dark unknown, striving to make things clear for herself and the world.
Now was no different.
Grasping for what she could, Rebecca asked the next question that came to mind.
“You mentioned we. Do I have a family or not? If so I’d really like to speak with them.”
Dr. Everett’s eyes saddened.
“I’m sorry, Rebecca. I can’t tell you anything more at the moment. Just know that there are many people out there who care about you and are looking forward to your recovery. Right now our goal is to help you rest your mind until it’s ready to remember. Until that happens your exposure to the outside world needs to be limited.”
Rebecca folded her arms defensively across her chest. Suspicion and a slowly growing apprehension filled her.
“You mean I’m a prisoner here?”
“Of course not. But you are under my temporary medical care. You have full access to this wing of our facility. Our staff will be respectful, courteous and helpful to you at all times and we have a lot of great activities to keep you busy during your stay here. However, you will not be allowed to wander out of this unit, for your own safety, and your access to the outside world will be limited to myself, our staff and a few other patients.”
Rebecca bolted off the bed.
“So I am a prisoner here? I don’t like this, Dr. Everett. I want to speak to a family member, or at least my attorney.”
Suddenly Rebecca remembered that her attorney was an incredibly intelligent and strong person, always fully behind he
r on any of her business decisions. The image of her lawyer’s tall, Amazon-like build, beautiful face and keen, intelligent eyes came to mind.
“I just remembered my attorney. I know what she looks like, talks like and how she thinks!”
Rebecca smiled, glad she was getting some knowledge back.
“That’s wonderful, Rebecca,” Dr. Everett said, returning her smile with his own encouraging one. “Your memory is already returning. I feel strongly that it will only be a short period before your mind remembers everything. All I’m asking is that you allow yourself some time to do that. I guarantee your stay at this facility will be nurturing and supportive as you regain your memories.”
Rebecca was still wary. She didn’t like the idea of not being able to leave if she wanted to. Having her freedom taken away didn’t sit well with her.
“I don’t know, Dr. Everett. It still sounds like I’m a prisoner here.”
“Tell you what, why don’t I take you around and show you the facility, then you can tell me what you think?”
Rebecca nodded. “Okay, let’s do it.”
At least she could see what she was getting herself into.
Dr. Everett opened her room door.
“Will that door stay unlocked at all times?”
“Yes. It’s not necessary to lock you in, Rebecca. Your state of mind is such that we don’t need to keep the rest of the patient population safe from you.”
“But what about keeping me safe from them?” she muttered to herself as Dr. Everett opened the door and walked with her out of her room.
“I heard that,” he said with a chuckle as he led her down the hall. “Don’t worry, the patients in this wing are nonviolent and our staff will keep you safe.”
Despite his words Rebecca still felt like she wasn’t safe at all.
Dr. Everett showed her around. The place reminded her more of a large ranch-style home than of a hospital. There was one long hallway containing all of the patient rooms, maybe eight of them. That hallway led to a great room that branched off into other rooms. Each room had a theme. There was the game room, containing different activities including board games, shuffleboard, two bowling lanes, ping-pong, chess and checkers.
