The Sole Survivors' Club

Epilogue

Monica stared out the window of her hospital room, trying to sort her jumbled thoughts. A hand drifted in front of her face to snap fingers at her. It was the third time the FBI agent had done so, and feeling annoyed, Monica slapped his hand away.

“Stop that. I’m sorry I can’t answer your questions, but I’m not sure what’s happened to me.”

The agent sneered at her. “You can claim that all you want, but...”

“Hey, I just woke up from a coma, one you said lasted two months. The last thing I remember clearly is falling asleep in my car headed out of Dallas—”

The agent scowled as he shook his head. “That’s flat out impossible. You don’t own a car.”

“Yes I do. It’s a black Dodge Neon, and it was signed over to me by Bernice Schott. You should have found the car wherever you found me.”

“There wasn’t a car where we found you, Miss Harper. So how did you get from Dallas to Amarillo in one day?”

The door of the room opened, and Monica turned her head when the doctor gasped.

The doctor’s thick lips drew into a tight frown as she shook her head. “I don’t believe this! She’s not been awake for less than an hour. What did I tell you?”

“Dr. Marshall, this woman has been linked to multiple car wrecks—”

“I don’t care what your problem is. You can talk to her after I’ve had a chance to look her over and not until then.” The doctor pointed at the door. “Go on. I’ll call you when she’s ready for visitors.”

The doctor made a frustrated hiss as she shut the door behind the agents, and then she turned around to smirk at Monica. “I swear, between those two and your boyfriend asking for updates on you...” She shook her head and moved to stand beside the bed. “Never mind. How do you feel?”

“Um, confused? I know I’ve been in a coma thanks to those agents, but I don’t remember how I ended up here.”

“Yes, I know. When you first woke up, you kept asking me if you’d been in a car accident.”

Monica frowned, chewing at her lower lip while her gaze wandered back to the window again. “Now I’m not sure if anything I see in my head is just dreams I had during the coma, or if I really did see all those things.”

“What things?”

“It’s complicated. Those agents weren’t lying. I’ve seen a lot of car crashes. They aren’t my fault, but those agents think they can link me to a bunch of random accidents by getting me to confess. They don’t have any evidence, just accusations that I must have done something because I was there.”

“I am curious about a couple of things,” Dr. Marshall said. “We thought your boyfriend was depositing these two items in your room every day, and we banned him from visiting.”

She shook her head, pausing to gesture across the room. “But he’s sworn he has nothing to do with either of those things being here, and we’ve had your room under constant observation just to be sure.”

Monica sat up and propped herself up on her elbows to look where the doctor pointed. In the chair against the wall was a flattened cola can. The paint was faded and looked as if it had been in the sun for a long time. Most of the logo was faded, and a clump of mud was stuck on the top, sealing it.

A sword was propped against the arm of the chair with the point on the floor. The blade, guard, and pommel were shiny enough to reflect its surroundings with mirror perfect precision, and the weapon glowed under the fluorescent lights.