Right at this moment I have that old Bay City Rollers song about Saturday night running through my head. I am fighting to find a way to make it for Wednesday night but I am failing. Of course now I will have that song running through my head for hours. You know what that’s like, don’t you?
Anyway, let’s read a story and then head over to Indies Unlimited and do some voting. You know you want to vote for me. That seems like the right thing to do anyway. If nothing else maybe it will get that song out of your head.
Until two weeks ago, I led a perfectly ordinary life. Ever since I woke up in the hospital, people have been trying to kill me and I have no idea why.
I knew this place had some significance. It was as if I had been here before, but I had no memory of it. Why I was drawn to this place? I knew part of the answer must be here. I also knew I had been followed…
“Took you long enough to find the place,” she said. Her voice carried from behind me then into the mists on the lake. “No don’t turn around, not yet anyway.”
I knew her voice, couldn’t find the face to match it but the voice, ya, that voice. “What’s out there?” I asked. Puzzle pieces all around me but none of them quite fit together. She had moved closer, directly behind me. Cold metal caressed the back of my neck.
“That’s right,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “They told me you might not remember. I brought this along just in case.” The gun, a revolver, waved just at my peripheral vision.
Why would the gun help me remember? I thought maybe she meant more for her own protection. But I couldn’t see her, still couldn’t put a face to the name. “I don’t think you need that.” I turned ever so slightly, still too much for her. The butt end of the pistol tapped me in the side of the head. “I get it, I get it. You have the control here,” I said. “Fine, what do you want from me?”
“Confess,” she said. “Tell me why…” She pressed the gun into my back and marched me forward toward the cliff.
At the edge, with nothing to hold onto I looked out over the water, so far below. Realization hit me, or maybe the butt of the pistol. “She jumped,” I said.
“Why did you live?” she asked.