Etched

Part I

PREFACE     

She remembered everything, every gunshot, every drop of blood, every scream and every pale, empty face. Would a burden as this, something so terrible, so awful, and yet so perfectly exact in every image and moment, be worth it? Perfect memory and perfect recall. These are the words often used to describe people like this. Every movie you saw, every book you read, every song you listened to, would be permanently cemented into your brain and you could call it back months, years, even decades later, with flawless clarity as if it had just happened the day before.

This girl's name is Tara Dione, and she is called an Etcher. An Etcher is someone with perfect memory and perfect recall. However, an Etcher is someone who has seen something dangerous, or important, or, something that could get them killed if they say anything.  They are called Etchers because everything they see, hear, smell, taste and touch is perfectly copied as if their minds are the ultimate super computer with unlimited data. Everything is Etched into their minds.

CHAPTER ONE

Recall

I had just been deposited on a hospital bed and left there. No one came in to the small room for several minutes, but I could hear a flurry of activity outside, nurses, orderlies and doctors running from room to room. I could hear the nearly inaudible buzzing of the fluorescent white tubes above my head, on full blast despite the fact that the blinds on the long window had been pulled up, revealing a spectacular view of downtown Salt Lake. Images flashed in my head like on a projector screen, or a slideshow. There was no audio, no video, but there easily could be. Freeze frame images alone were the most I could handle at this point, I couldn't hold it back for long.

I could picture every detail. I saw the blackened, crisped sofa, all but disintegrated in the fire. I saw two dead bodies, both were men I did not know. I remember seeing three seeping wounds, scarlet pouring out of them, two in my best friend's lower back and one in his left thigh in the back. He was here in the hospital somewhere. He had come over to hang out and work on homework. Why this Friday of all Fridays? I was the best tutor and student in every class, because I remembered everything. I tutored a lot of people, both people that were my friends and total strangers that I only knew from mutual classes.

He had come over so that I could tutor him in Honors Biology, I wished he had rescheduled for Saturday. I would've happily taken him on despite my crazy schedule if I'd only known...The door opened then. I didn't look to see who it was, but the voice was, thankfully, very familiar. "You've had an interesting morning, haven't you Jameson?" I frowned but still didn't look at him. His name was Dr. Stone, and he was an old family friend. "My name is Tara." I reminded him dryly, as I did every time I came to see him. Jameson was my first name, but I had been going by Tara since, oh, I don't know, the first grade?

"Right, right, Tara, I'm very sorry my dear." I sighed and then leaned up on one elbow in his direction. "So, what's the verdict?" I asked. Then Jeanie walked through the door. Jeanie is the most amazing woman that you would see anywhere. She's a registered nurse, she laughs, she tells jokes, she remembers everyone and she's like a second mother to me. She was a mother for me in a way that my true mother never had been. I glanced up at the calendar. Today was, ironically, August 9th; exactly three years ago, my mother had been put in jail for driving under the influence, getting in a car accident and putting all of the people in the other car under intensive care and, holding, using and selling illegal drugs right out of the house.

I swallowed convulsively and came back to reality. Dr. Stone still hadn't answered my question. "Well, I think, considering that you don't seem to be in shock, that we'll run some basic tests to make sure you're alright and then we'll dispatch you."