Now You See Me

One: Amnesia

When I woke up on the beach instead of in bed, I knew something had gone wrong.

The wailing of sirens had woken me, so loud it hurt, though that might also have been echoing from the pain in my head. Everything felt off, somehow, misaligned in some weird way; the sensation tugged at the corner of my mind, with a persistence that grated on me.

I withdrew from my thoughts at a sudden jolt, followed by rocking movements that accompanied the sound of footsteps on gravel. I could hear gulls and the wash of the sea, and for some reason, that comforted me far more than the gentle hum of human voices.

I opened my eyes - which was difficult - and found myself staring up at a woman in green overalls. I'd never seen her before - at least, I didn't think I had. She walked beside me, and her hand brushed my shoulder with each stride. She glanced down when I fidgeted.

"He's awake," she said, tapping someone and pointing at me.

"Good. We'll check for head trauma in the ambulance."

I didn't remember calling an ambulance. I didn't remember how I ended up on the beach in the first place. I'd managed to shed any clothing I may or may not have had - though someone had wrapped me in a blanket - and I'd been strapped tight to a stretcher.

"Where am I?" I asked. The woman didn't hear me, and I couldn't move my hands to prod her. "Excuse me," I said, louder. "Where am I?"

She noticed that time. She looked down, and I thought she smiled.

"Don't worry, love, you'll be fine. We're taking you to hospital."

I frowned. That hadn't been what I asked.

"How did I get here?" I tried instead. That made her frown, which was annoying. It was no use if she didn't know, either.

"We were hoping you could tell us," she replied, stopping in her tracks. The stretcher clattered and the world shook, before a ceiling replaced the sky and doors were closed on the beach. Someone sat near my head and I heard a click, before a torch appeared, almost depriving me of any sight at all. I hissed, paused, and frowned. That wasn't normal for humans...or was it? I ground my teeth, frustrated, coming up against resistance when I tried to remember for certain.

Someone hit metal twice. "We got an S.E. Code S.E."

I twisted to stare at the paramedic holding the torch. "What's that mean?"

"Don't worry about it, mate," the man replied. He smiled and patted me on the shoulder. "You just relax and breathe deep. It'll all be sorted when we get there."

-

I must have fallen asleep on the journey early on, since the next thing I became aware of was a hospital room. I could hear voices outside the door, but the curtains were drawn on the window into the corridor so that I couldn't see who it was. I looked around. The room was small, painted a cheery aqua colour, with a bathroom in the corner. The bed was lumpy, the curtains chosen in bad taste, and half of it seemed to be taken up by a great deal of tubing, all of which led to some part of my body.

I shuddered, and tried not to dwell on it.

"Mr Smith?" someone said. I looked up. There was a nurse in the doorway, smiling at me like she knew me somehow.

"I guess," I replied, watching her warily. She looked like she was after something. "Where am I?" Maybe this woman would have information for me.

"Charing Cross," she replied, with a patronising smile. "Your mother had you transferred closer to home. She's outside." She opened the door wider and allowing someone else in - a woman, around fifty years old, with dark hair and a familiar face.