Dead Girl Walking | (rewriting in new book)

(IV) Cathrine Calkins

26.02.2013

Chapter Four | Cathrine Calkins

 Rick had felt hostile air before, in hostage situations, in moments of uncertainty between a perp and a officer of the law. He watched closely as the memory of that day stung his vision, like a momentary dream flashing in a clear, fluent video of that day. He didn't realise he was staring at her, waiting for any kind of explanation she could provide him, deter him from the belief that she was Cathrine. 

  The death rattle of her wheezing, collapsed lungs were very clear that day. She could not have survived her injuries. The woman - Cathrine - on the other hand, looked back at him as if he was once again, a threat and it was only then that he realised it was because of two reasons: one, she couldn't remember who he was or two, she was afraid that he had something to do with those people who had hurt her.

 "Cathrine, right?" Sapphires were alight with questions, watching her every movement. "You died." The certainty he had in his voice was almost bone-chilling, but she stayed quiet. "I want to know how you survived."

 "I . . . " She struggled to say the correct thing, as if there was a correct answer. She shifted hesitantly before her shoulders dropped. "I died - I was gone seven minutes, just in time for the ambulance to show up." She rubbed her ribs, eyes averted. "They revived me on the scene and then they set to work on you - and that's all I was told."

 "Told?" 

 "Twenty-nine days ago, I woke up from a medically induced coma. I was suffering - " She distracted herself from that admittance, as if ashamed. "They told me you were in a coma -" she indicated the satchel of food she had handed to him uncertain as to how he would take the information, "- that you might not wake up."

 "Who told you that?" he asked. 

 "Your friend - what's his name?" She shook her hand as if it would help her remember. "Simon."

 "Shane."

 "That's it."

 "You know where he is? If he's here -"

 "He's not," Cathrine interrupted the flood of questions. "He hasn't been for a couple of weeks, at least, not after it went to hell." She looked frustrated, but not with Rick. Herself. "I get little snippets of that day, but nothing that can help you understand what's happening now."

 "Snippets?" he stumbled over his words. "Like, amnesia?"

 "Doctors thought it was self-inflicted," said Cathrine, her brow furrowed. "My mind trying to protect me from one hundred and thirty seven days of captivity - torture - and they said it could be permanent. I'm still waiting for things to come back -" She swallowed. "- but I get snippets now and then."

 "Do you even know who I am?" he asked her, frowning. 

 "Deputy Sheriff Rick Grimes," she answered, as if it was an timed exam question. "The man shot in the line of duty saving my life from some men who were killed at the scene."

 "You saved mine first," he muttered. When she inclined her head, he indicated to her shoulder unconsciously. "You literally took a bullet for me."