1.
It was late, and I had been driving non-stop most of the night.
I saw flashes up ahead.
There was a lot of wild game in this area and I am sure they were muzzle flashes.
It had to be poachers.
I slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road.
I turned off my engine and sat and listened.
The only sound was John Cougar Mellencamp singing a little ditty about Jack and Diane.
I opened my door.
Ding ding ding ding
Looked around and got out.
It was still.
Maybe they weren't flashes after all.
Maybe it was just my imagination.
Maybe I should just get back in my car and take off.
Maybe I will after my head clears and I finish the cigarette that I promised myself I wouldn't have.

2.
I had left in a hurry that night.
Her silence was driving me crazy and I knew I had to get out before I said, or did, something I would regret.
So I drove.
I always drove.

3.
Standing there in the cool November air I decided it was time to go home.
It was part of the ritual.
I'd get mad.
I'd drive.
I'd go home.
All would be forgiven.
I took a last drag on my cigarette, and flicked it in the air.
Then by the orange light of the burning ember I saw something.

4.
I couldn't make out what it was, it was too far off in the distance.
All I could see was a shape rustling towards me.
It could have been a man, it could have been an animal, it could have been anything.

Why did I stop?
So what if there had been poachers.
What was I going to do, make a citizens arrest?

I could hear whatever it was now coming towards me.
I was getting nervous.

Why hadn't I gotten my flashlight out of the glove compartment?
Why hadn't I got a tire iron out of the trunk?
Why hadn't I kept that gun that my brother had given me for Christmas ten years ago?
Why did I let her silences get the best of me?

5.
It had started this morning at breakfast.
She looked troubled and I asked if anything was wrong.
As soon as I spoke I knew what her answer would be.
There would be no answer.
Just a blank stare that looked right through me, not even acknowledging my existence.

6.
The shape came closer.
It was definitely two, maybe three people.
They were carrying rifles.
They had to be poachers
This didn't look good.
I knew I was in serious trouble.
It was too late to jump in my car and take off.
A fleeting image of Ned Beatty squealing like a pig passed through my mind.
I had to do something.
I had to say something.
Think, think, think.
I had to convince them that I wasn't some kind of a cop.
I had to convince them I was a good old boy just like them.
I started to speak, and then I felt a blunt object strike the back of my head.
My knees began to buckle, and then I blacked out.

7.
I was in the bathroom shaving.
I loved the bathroom mirror it always made me look better than I actually looked.
She was already in bed and she called to me to hurry up.
I told her I'd be there in a second and I started to rinse the lather off my face.
I looked back in the mirror while reaching for a towel.
And there was that shape again reflected in the mirror coming towards me.

A hard slap to the face brought me back to reality.
I shook my head trying to get rid of the cobwebs and then I opened my eyes.

8.
There were two men standing before me.
They both had crewcuts, they both wore grey suits.

The younger and the smaller of the two men stepped forward grabbed my wrist and took my pulse.
He then took a small flashlight out of his pocket and checked my vision.
He wrote something in a small notebook and showed it to the other man.

Without a word they turned around and left the room.
The door clicked and locked behind them.

I appeared to be in some sort of break room or staff lounge.

The left sleeve of my shirt was cut off above the elbow.
My forearm stung.
I peeled back a bandage to reveal two little pin pricks.

These were not poachers.

9.
How long had I been out?
Was it a few hours.
Was it a few days.
I scratched my chin, there was stubble.
I had shaved last night, or was that the dream?
I had a gut feeling it had to be at least twenty four hours.

She had to have missed me by now.
She must have called the authorities by now.

But the men with the crewcuts and grey suits, they had to be some kind of authority, didn't they?

She must be frantic by now.
God, I hope she is.

10.
A voice came over a speaker that was mounted over the door.
It was a man's voice.
I assumed he had a crew cut and wore a grey suit.
He told me that if I were hungry there was food in the refrigerator, and that I should help myself.
I spoke for the first time.
I asked them what they wanted with me.
There was no answer, just music.
It sounded like the fm local classic rock station.
If it were a local station that would be a good thing.

11.
Who was I kidding.
She was going to blame me for this.
Somehow all of this was going to be my fault.
I knew what was going through her mind at this very moment.

He shouldn't have pressed me.
He should have let it run it's course.
He shouldn't have left.
It's his ritual.
It's not my fucking ritual.

The door opened and the taller and older man with the crewcut and the grey suit came into the room.
He smiled at me and asked if I had any questions.

12.
He stood there waiting as a million questions went through my mind.
As I was about to speak an alarm went off and the room went dark.
The door burst open and there was a white hot flash as the man with the crew cut and the grey suit collapsed on the floor.
Someone took hold of my arm and led me out the door.

13.
I woke up in a cold sweat, thrashing about under the covers.
She looked up from her book and asked if I'd had a bad dream.
I closed my eyes real tight for a few seconds, opened them, and stared at her real hard.
I took a deep breath, kicked the covers off and sat on the edge of the bed and told her that yeah, I guess I must have.

14.
I wasn't sure what was going on.
I absentmindedly started scratching a freckle on the back of my wrist.
She sighed and told me to quit picking at or it would start bleeding just like it did last time.
I was going to tell her that I wasn't picking at it, I was scratching it, but figured what's the use, and said nothing.
She shook her head disapprovingly and returned to her book.
I saw an ant carrying a crumb almost half it's size slowly heading towards the bathroom.
I watched it for awhile trying to imagine how much I could carry if I had the strength of an ant.
I got up intending to step on the ant when I caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

15.
I couldn't believe what I saw.
I ran my hand across my forehead.
There were stitches.
I couldn't tell how many, there had to be eight, nine, at least ten of them.
I ran into the bathroom to get a closer look.
Yes, there were ten stitches across my forehead.
They looked fresh.
The skin around the stitches hadn't started to turn that sickening yellowish greenish blue color yet.
All of a sudden I felt woosy.
I turned to the toilet bowl.
I glanced into the waste basket next to the bowl.
It was filled with blood soaked tissue paper.
I tried to steady myself and called out for her.
She came quickly to the bathroom.
On wobbly legs I asked her what the fuck had happened.
She looked surprised, shook her head and said she couldn't believe I didn't remember.
As I slumped to the floor I began to remember.

16.
As I slumped to the floor I began to remember a lot of things.
Silence ...
Flashes of light ...
John Cougar Mellencamp ...
Shaving in the bathroom mirror ...
Pin pricks ...
Men with crewcuts and grey suits ...
A long dark hallway
Dreams?
Reality?
Where did one start and the other end?

17.
She had moved to Santa Rosa with her mother from Ohio just after her parents divorced when she was five years old.
In elementary school she had been a shy and moody child, shunned by the other girls, her looks as yet unappreciated by the boys.
In third grade the first time she refused to answer the teacher she was made to stay after school.
The second time she refused to answer she was sent to the office.
After the third time she spent the afternoon on a cot in the school nurse's office.
Finally, after the fourth time she refused to answer the teacher her mother was called and an appointment was arranged with a child psychologist.
This was a trend that would continue all her life.

18.
Her mother was a loan officer at a branch of a local bank, who read self help books, and fantasized about being abducted by aliens.
Her father, who she hadn't see since her parent's divorce was rumored to be ...
Well, let's just say we'll be finding out more about her father as our story progresses.

19.
When she was twenty years old she used to fantasize that her father was a doctor working for the World Health Organization in some third world country.
When she was fifteen years old she was convinced that her father was the bass player in some eighties hair band.
When she was five she used to pretend that her father had been killed trying to rescue a litter of kittens from a burning building.
And now, like most things she didn't understand, she tried not to think of him at all.

She looked up after rinsing the soap off her face and her reflection in the mirror told her that no amount of scrubbing would eliminate the bags from under her eyes.