Chapter 2: Dead or Alive?

Strangetown. 2am. Police respond to a call from neighbors that a vagrant woman has been sleeping in the bushes, eating out of trash cans and panhandling at a nearby highway rest stop. When two officers arrive on the scene the woman is flustered, unresponsive, and obviously in a state of shock. An ambulance rushes her to the nearest community hospital.

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Three days later, in the psych ward of County Hospital, the as yet unidentified woman is unable to remember her own name. The Resident Physician, Dr. wong, as well as the Cheif of Staff have asked for the Police Department's help.
Sergeant Stanley Beanman, head of the Strangetown Police Force Missing Person’s Department, paid the hospital a visit in hopes of a lead. After following Dr. Wong down several antiseptic corridors in silence, the Sergeant found himself looking through a two-way mirror into what appeared to be the re-creation of a residential living room. There were colorful pictures, books neatly placed around the room, a small television stood in one corner and a shabby country quilt hung on the wall. It reminded him of his grandmother’s house when he was a child. The warm atmosphere was almost alien in contrast to the environment he and the Doctor had just wandered through for the last ten minutes.

“It provides a safe, neutral environment for our low security patients,” Dr. Wong said softly, noticing the inquisitive look that crossed his face.

They hadn’t even spoken when she met him in the lobby of the hospital. Now, at the sound of her voice echoing off the cold tile walls, Sergeant Beanman stiffened and quickly plunged into the matter at hand. “So, what’s the word on Jane Doe.”

Pretending she hadn’t heard the curtness in his voice, Dr. Wong shook her head disappointedly, “I wish I had good news for you Stan, but I don’t…”
It had been months since they had both agreed to end it and the familiar shortening of his first name only made him anxious. “Just tell me what we’re lookin’ at,” he said, a bit irritably.

So he wants to keep it impersonal, does he? Dr. Wong quickly discarded her relaxed manor for a painfully professional one. “The patient is suffering from a form Post Traumatic Stress Reaction, most commonly know as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Symptoms can range from nightmares, insomnia, depression and no appetite, to more severe effects like loss of memory, and emotional detachment.” The textbook definition tumbled effortlessly from her lips. She sighed resignedly, “She’s got ‘em all.”

“So was she drugged, kidnapped, tortured?”

“Actually, no. There’s a long list of traumas that could potentially trigger PTSD including physical and psychological abuse or hallucinogenic drugs. But in her case, the rape kit came back negative and there aren’t any marks on her body that would indicate torture. Also, her blood screen came up negative for drugs. Actually, the bruising and small abrasions on her body are consistent with accident wounds. She also appears to have also suffered from a slight concussion. Possibly a car accident.”

“…Or maybe a plane crash?”

Skepticism darkened her face for a moment. “Well, even if it was a small charter plane, the survival rate is almost nil. Have there been any reports?"
“I’m not positive. One of my buddies over at the county air-strip heard there was a private plane that took off a few days ago from Pleasantview that never reached its destination. I’ll have some of my guys look into it. What sort of time frame do you think we’re looking at?”

“Judging from the looks of the bruising and cuts on her body, probably anywhere from six to twelve days. Considering her head trauma and the fact that she’s been out in the elements for so long, it’s nothing short of a miracle she’s even still alive.”

“You think the concussion caused some sort of amnesia?”

“Her concussion was minor, and usually amnesia is linked to severe head trauma. One of the major symptoms of PTSD is emotional detachment and memory loss. Whatever happened, the experience was so painful that she’s chosen to either block it out, or to simply disassociate herself from the incident. Unfortunately, in an effort to block out the traumatic events, the brain can sometimes block other, more personal memories with it. If a loved one was also involved in the accident, this could have been even more devastating to her psyche."

He had managed to keep from looking directly into her eyes. Now he had no choice. “So what your telling me is…”

She took this opportunity to firmly hold his gaze. “…what I’m telling you is, it’s a strong possibility that there are others out there hurt or even dead.”

Blushing a little and looking away, the Sergeant muttered, “I’ll get the guys on the missing person’s reports right away. How long do your think before she’ll be able to talk?”

“Its possible, that within a few weeks her memory could start to return in patches. Sometimes psychotherapy and antidepressants help.”

Remembering the job ahead of him he momentarily forgot his discomfort, “A few weeks!? This case is already running cold Kim. You gotta’ give me better than that.”

He could call her Kim but she couldn’t say “Stan” without him getting all bent out of shape. Yes Sir, anything for you Sir! “I wish I could help you more but this kind of thing can’t be forced. Any pressure to relive traumatic events could push her farther away from reality.”

This encounter was too much to take. He had to get away from Kim before he lost his reserve. He was walking away before the words were even out of his mouth. “Just keep me posted if there’s any change, any at all. I’ll see what I can come up with on my side.”

“Good luck.” She called after him, with more than tiny falter in her voice.

The elevator bell rang. As Sergeant Stanley Beanman stepped briskly through the opening doors, letting his guard down for a split second he looked back with a sheepish smile. “Thanks, Kim. We’re gonna’ need it.”

To be continued…

Text Copyright © 2007 by Peter Alexander Pappas