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“No. A surgeon? Am I in hospital? What happened?” I pleaded. Something was very wrong; I could sense it but couldn’t grasp the elusive sensation.
“There was a car accident. You were hurt. Do you remember it?” the guy pushed, and I cocked my head.
“No, was Jesse involved and Mick? Are they okay?”
“Jesse is fine, Cheyenne; he’s waiting to see you,” Nana soothed. Oh, that was good. My son was safe. Wait, safe from what? I stared at them, puzzled.
“Why can’t I feel my legs? Where’s Jesse? Was he hurt?” The doctor smiled and patted my hand.
“Cheyenne, I’m going to speak to your Nana outside. Would you like the tv on?”
“No, I want quiet. Can you tell me why I’m here?”
“Of course. Let me make my report, and then we’ll talk.”
???
“What’s wrong with her?” Nana burst out as soon as the door closed.
“I’ve seen this before. It’s a condition calledanterograde amnesia. From my questions, Cheyenne’s memory is resetting about every forty to forty-five seconds. At the moment, she’s incapable of remembering anything and keeping the information,” Doc Paul explained. Nana went pale.
“Is it curable?”
“I’ve studied four cases in my career; three did not get better, the fourth did. Cheyenne is awake and alert, which is a huge bonus. We’ll monitor her condition and check her memory every hour. I understand how frightening this is for you, on top of her other injuries, but please don’t give up now. Cheyenne is conscious, and that is an enormous step. The scans showed swelling in her brain. Which means as it goes down, she may recover, but I can’t promise that,” Doc Paul said gently.
“My granddaughter has suffered enough; there must be something you can attempt, Doctor Paul,” Jed exclaimed, barely holding on to his anger.
“Jed, Nana, we’re in a waiting game, and Chey is running it. We will watch the condition very closely,” Doc Paul tried reassuring them. Nana exchanged a hopeless look with Jed. What else could possibly happen?
Chapter Six.
Celt slammed out of the hospital three days later. He was barely holding on to his temper and shoved past the throng of reporters waiting. They recognised his cut and began hammering Celt with questions. With permission from Kye, Nana and Jed, Hellfire had been helping spell The Wild Wind, Ken, Dave, Jesse, Nana and Jed at Chey’s bedside. The anterograde amnesia was wearing them all thin. After telling Chey the first few times that Mick had died and listening to her heartfelt sobs, they’d stopped explaining. The same way as they had sidestepped the injuries to Chey’s legs and spine.
Life literally sucked at the moment. They were doing two hour turns with Chey to give people breaks. It was tragic how Chey struggled to cope, but not as painful as watching her family crumble under the anterograde amnesia. Even Paul was beginning to lose hope. Chey had been back exactly two weeks and his life was once more revolving around her. Celt glowered at the surrounding reporters and cut across to his Harley. He needed to feel the road under him.
Celt revved his bike loudly and sped out of the carpark. Chey’s condition hadn’t been fully released since the disaster happened. How could they inform the media how severe Chey’s injuries were? Guilt swamped Celt as he recalled Doc Paul telling them of the repercussions of the accident. The anterograde amnesia was just another fuckin’ thing to beat. Celt breathed deeply as he hit the open road and let the throttle go. He needed speed and time alone. Because all Celt could see was Chey’s beautiful, confused eyes.
???
“Chey?” Celt asked three hours later when he returned to the hospital. Chey lifted her face, and Celt winced once again at the healing cuts on it. Some of those would leave scars.
“Celt,” Chey replied and twisted her hands in the blanket.
“How are you feeling?”
“Tired of this confusion. Tell me what happened, Celt,” Chey said, gazing into his eyes.
“A juggernaut hit your vehicle as you left Hellfire. It rolled the car three times. You and Mick were badly injured,” Celt explained for the thousandth time.
“Where is Mick?” Chey asked softly.
“Mick didn’t make it Chey; the impact snapped his neck. We dragged him from the wreck when it exploded, so he wasn’t burned up inside.” Celt glanced at his watch. Twenty seconds and Chey’s memories would reset.
“Mick’s dead?” Chey’s voice cracked, and Celt nodded, feeling like a louse. He hated this. Soft sobs broke through his reverie.
“Have I missed Mick’s funeral?” Chey whispered.
“No, it’s planned for next week. Mick’s family is flying him home.”
