Amnesia, Book 1: A Girl Lost In The Woods

<Dahlia> Chapter II: The Last Train

Eden, Population 108, Location Unknown

June 19th, 14:00 34 Hours Until The End

Fifteen minutes later Dahlia watched her house fade from view. It’s size surprised her, because it felt a lot larger on the inside. From this distance it looked like a simple country estate, not small or modest, but certainly not a mansion. The grounds were mostly devoted to her family’s agriculture. Dahlia saw an endless ocean of dazzling saffron sunflowers on which her house was a tiny ship afloat. The clouds had yielded and the haze burned away, and in the afternoon rays the petals shined like they were on fire as they swished gently in the warm breeze.

Dahlia had expected to see sunflowers… she didn’t know why. They were her favorite flower—one of her favorites, but that’s all she remembered.

They jostled down an old country road, ancient by any standards; it was level only from the wear of countless shoes, hooves, and wheels. Wild grass and brush encroached on all sides as soon as the sunflowers stopped. Then the sight of her estate and the gold-crowned hill disappeared from sight, and Dahlia felt a chill despite the summer warmth. The massive trees that flanked either side of the road pressed in on her carriage, giving her a momentary feeling of claustrophobia.

This was the edge of some kind of forest—that’s all she could tell, and the leafless trees felt sinisterly at odds with the picturesque world on either side. Nothing moved in the bushes, nothing rustled above. The only sound came from the wind, and even that died as they descended into a dip and made their way over the little stone bridge that separated her farm from the town proper.

Dahlia had a million questions boiling in her mind—despite her own honeyed reassurances. But she regretted opening up to Nellie. Especially if the woman was going to treat her like this. She’d just woken up from a coma—a coma!—and the first thing Mrs. Dean insists on is a trip into town. Dahlia felt like she deserved a week of breakfast in bed, even as she tapped her brown-leather booted foot restlessly against the seat, and realized she could barely sit still in this carriage, let alone a bed.

She sent another spiteful glare Mrs. Dean’s way. She’d stubbornly decided to give Nellie the silent treatment. If she started chatting with the woman now, she might make the mistake of thinking that Dahlia wasn’t still mad at her—and she was.

For her part, Mrs. Dean seemed not to notice Dahlia’s angst. She leaned wearily across from her mistress, fanning her ruddy face with her apron, not a word coming from her corner the entire trip.

It irritated Dahlia that her suffering went unnoticed by Mrs. Dean. Didn’t she care? Wasn’t she supposed to care? She’d sounded worried when she talked about the doctor’s visits, but now… nothing. Apparently Dahlia had to wake up from a coma in order to impress the woman—nothing less would do. She felt like throwing open the door and jumping out of the jostling carriage. Maybe that would get a response. She frowned, and settled for moving her jittery feet next to the door and looking out the window again.

Her timing couldn’t have been better. She caught sight of a carefully painted ash-wood sign half-hidden behind a sunflower and a tall silver pipe with a golden cap. It exulted:

“WELCOME TO EDEN”

“A New Life. A New World.”

Pop. 108

Dahlia raised an eyebrow as she passed the strange sign. Something about it felt so familiar. An image flashed in her mind. She was putting her name on a piece of paper. The paper said Eden. It also said…

“We’re… here Miss,” Mrs. Dean remarked, breaking the silence.

Dahlia snapped back to reality as the carriage slowed, then rattled to a stop. She’d been about to remember something—something important.