A Fight to Remember

You Can Do This

A/N Thanks again for all your votes and comments.  We are still with Derek here... This is a long story, and so we are now journeying with Derek for a bit while he sorts himself out. 

Warning: This chapter is a bit dark and contains a description of a dead body.

I also wanted to mention about the italics... Bold Italics are the voice over. Light italics are thoughts or dreams he has. The thoughts are like voices in Derek's head, he doesn't remember per se, but there's like this constant reassurance, like he knows there is someone out there for him.

This was hard to write... how do you write someone who has completely lost their memory? How do you know what they feel or think? And I have no clue about survival techniques...  Anyway,

Enjoy!

June 17 2028

Derek

Hope. Optimism. Faith. Where do these things come from? Is it something we learn from our parents? Or life experience? Is it something that we are given? Or do we posess it at birth...

I woke to my body shivering, I clutched the tarp that I was using as a blanket a little tighter and blew on my cold fingers to warm them up. I just wanted to sleep, to allow my body to fall into exhaustion, but the wind and the cold wouldn't allow it. I stood, choosing move around and force my body to circulate the cold blood and warm it up. I was a hundred yards from the shoreline where I washed up, on a small ridge that overlooked the ocean.

My stiff and sore muscles protested angrily, but it had to be done. My legs were like wooden planks as they plunged forward. At least the moon provided enough light for me to peer through the dark forest. I decided to head for the shore. Before the sun had set the day before, I had scavenged the beach for things that could help me. The three items that I kept was a tarp, a large piece of fishing net, and a plastic water bottle. I had yet to find a source of fresh water, as I was too exhausted yesterday to look.

I would have to make a shelter later, my bed of pine boughs was woefully inadequate. 

I couldn't guess at the time of night it was as I paced the shoreline, so instead, I tried to think back and remember what happened to me.

Water, thick and murky, propelled me through a debris minefield. Somehow I came up for air and gasped, arms reaching, hands grabbing for something... Pulled under again, cartwheeling, underwater acrobat just trying to come up for air- gasping- the roar of the water deafening. Something hard and light hooked under my armpit, and I clutched it. It kept me floating for awhile... I felt nausiated as I raced with the current. No amount of swimming would save me here, I just tried to hold on... And then I was pulled under, and I lost my grip on my make-shift lifesaver...

That was it, my last memory before I woke up on the shore and felt the sand under my fingertips.

I shook my head and grunted in frustration. I couldn't do this... I couldn't go back again to nothing. So I paced, back and forth on the shore untill the sun came up and soft light appeared in the horizon to chase away the dark.

And life experience takes it away?

xxx

Hunger and thirst woke me from my semi-doze. I needed to find water. With the sun further up in the sky, and warmth returning to me, I pushed myself through the woods to find a stream. It was surprisingly easy, there was one only about a ten minute walk from my pine-bough bed. I hesitated for a brief second, considering if the water was fit to drink. It was clear, and the small stream it came from had very little dirt, so I took the chance, deciding it was more likely for me to die from thirst than from parasites or bacteria.