Post by Hellokitty on Aug 19, 2006 8:37:25 GMT -5
Falling Book 2: Finding Marlena – Chapter 2
“What do you see when you close your eyes?” the man in the sterile white lab coat asked her as he held the hypodermic needle against her upper arm. The green rubber band tourniquet wrapped tightly around her arm was causing a numbing sensation in her fingers. Moving her fingers back and forth, she paused to answer as she watched her arm slowly start to turn a slight blue color.
“Nothing,” Marlena finally muttered as she looked up at the man suspiciously. “I told you before….why don’t you people ever believe me?” As the man tightened his grip on her am, she felt the tip of the needle as it slowly penetrated her epidermis. Not wanting to look the slight bit interested in what was happening to her body, she looked over the man’s shoulder at the bare wall behind him, watching as the setting sun behind her reflected on the bars on the window, casting their shadow on the wall. The questioning was the same, never a deviation in the questions themselves or the order in which they were given.
“What do you see when you close your eyes?”
“What’s your given name?”
“Who are your parents?”
“How old are you?”
“Who are your siblings?”
“Where do you live?”
“Who is Rafael Torres?”
“Does the name mean anything to you? When I say the name Rafael Torres, do you feel anything? Is so what?”
“Who is Channing Owens?”
“Does the name mean anything to you? When I say the name Channing Owens, do you feel anything? Is so what?”
“Who is Mason Jones?”
“Does the name mean anything to you? When I say the name Mason Jones, do you feel anything? Is so what?”
“Who is Alexander North?”
“Does the name mean anything to you? When I say the name Alexander North, do you feel anything? Is so what?”
Thirty more questions always followed. Everyday for weeks they had been asking her the same questions and patiently Marlena had given them the same answer. She remembered nothing. Nothing. The more that this charade went on the madder she became. They were simply wasting their time and for what purpose? There was no point in this line of questioning and she didn’t understand why they were asking her and how much longer she was going to have to answer their questions before they would be satisfied and let her go home. Who were these people and why did they think that she knew them?
Having memorized the questions the third time she had been asked them, on her fourth visit to the man she dubbed ‘monotonous Marvin’, she had tried to be cute and gave her answers in the correct order without waiting for the questions to be asked. Never again would she try that; she was accused of lying and hiding what she remembered and was subjected to more testing. No matter what answer she provided, she was always given an injection of something at the end that made her drowsy. She couldn’t recall how long she’d been in the facility or how she’d gotten there. She only remembered waking up one morning in incredible pain; her body battered and bruised. After the doctors tended to her physical injuries, the tests began. First physical tests, followed by mental tests, then what she referred to as memory tests. Marlena had no idea how long she’d been there. Days? Weeks? Months? Years?
“What is your give name?” Monotonous Marvin asked her as he pushed the hypodermic needle further into her skin.
“Marlena Evans.”
“Who are your parents?” The needle slowly was making headway into her arm.
“Frank and Martha Evans.”
“How old are you?”
“Fourteen.” The needle came to rest against her muscle and she felt the burning sensation of the medication as the liquid was slowly released and penetrated the surrounding tissues. It hurt like hell. Clenching her eyes shut tightly she tried not to cry, refusing to show any sign of weakness. She was stronger than that; nothing or no one could hurt her.
Something was wrong. Monotonous Marvin always waited until question 27 to inject her. Feeling light headed she leaned back in the chair and tried to focus on the wall in front on her. The shadow of the setting sun was creating a vibrant but ever changing kaleidoscope in the room. She clenched her eyes shut tightly and put her head down between her legs to try to stop the room from spinning but couldn’t. Faster and faster things moved in her mind.
“Marlena, what is the number?” the man aggressively demanded as he grabbed her head and lifted it, forcing her to look at him. She tried to focus on his spectacles, but couldn’t. Her inertia and the glare of the setting sun off his glasses hindered her concentration.
“What number,” she mumbled as she felt the bile slowly rise up her esophagus.
“Don’t play dumb…All this will stop if you tell me the number.”
“I don’t know…please stop this?” she begged the man as she tried to grab his hands and get him to let go of her head. “Please, I’m going to be sick.”
“You’re a good little liar Julie….had me convinced,” the man said cruelly as he pulled roughly on her hair. The bile rose higher and higher as she fought to maintain her awareness.
Crying out in pain, Marlena yelled at the man, “You mother fucking asshole I don’t know who the hell Julie is…My name is Marlena Evans. I am fourteen years old. I have a sister named Samantha and we live in Denver, Colorado. I have never heard of Rafael Torres, Channing Owens, Mason Jones or Alexander North nor do I care to. The name Julie means nothing to me, neither does the name John Dimera, Katherine Dimera, Daphne Dimera, Stefano Dimera, Matthew Dimera or Suzanne Dimera. The name Frank Evans should mean something to you though, because when he finds out what you’ve been doing to me he is going to kick your ass to the moon and you’re going to wish that you never were born,” Marlena screamed out at the man before the drugs took effect and she slumped forward in the chair, his hand still tightly clenched around her ponytail.
“Her memory has been wiped clean…we can return her to Frank Evans, let him know that she’ll be safe as long as he doesn’t expose her to anything that will trigger her memory returning….he knows what those triggers are…too bad about her sister though,” was the last thing Marlena heard as she lost total consciousness.
“Marlena, Marlena, Marlena,” John said slowly as he waved his hand in front of her face. For the past two minutes he had been trying to get her attention.
“Honey, are you okay?” he asked as he finally got up from the table and stood behind her, gently rubbing her shoulders. The muscles in her shoulders were so tense.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Marlena finally muttered, shaking her head. “I’m sorry,” she apologized again as she put her hand to her mouth and covered it, masking her yawn. “I don’t know what happened. Must not have gotten enough sleep last night. I apologize for my rudeness John…you were saying that you were in contact with Roman?’ She asked as she looked behind her shoulder and up at him and smiled.
“We can talk about that later sweetheart…do you want to go back and rest?” John asked, the concern evident in his voice as kissed the top of her head and then took his seat across the table from her.
“No I’m fine…really I am,” Marlena said as she leaned into the table and took his strong hand in hers. “I’m so glad that we came here for lunch…I was tired of feeling like a criminal in hiding,” Marlena said before she realized exactly what she had said. “Oops, I guess that I am,” she laughed. Seeing John’s serious expression, Marlena squeezed his hand. “John, its okay to laugh once in a while.”
“I know sweetheart…You’re not a criminal and it pisses me off to know that those bastards are out there hunting you down,” John said as he picked up his fork and stabbed a piece of marsala chicken with it. “You of all people don’t deserve to be treated like that. You’re not a criminal, I refuse to believe that,” John said as he put the piece of chicken to his mouth and chewed on it.
“So what did Roman say?” Marlena asked as she looked down at her salad and gently scooped a small piece of lettuce onto the tines.
“He figures we have a couple more days here until we need to move again.”
“Do they know where we are?” Marlena asked, trying to hide her panic.
“I asked him that,” John said as he picked at his chicken. “ISA intel from Shane indicates that those looking for us are closing in on this continent but don’t know what country we’re in.”
“I don’t want to move again,” Marlena complained as she put her fork down and placed her hands in her lap, looking downward.
“You know that we don’t have a choice….” John started.
“I know, until Shane and ISA figure out what’s going on and I remember my past we can’t go home,” Marlena said as she put her napkin on the table, pushed her chair back and stood up.
“Marlena, please sit back down and finish your food,” John implored her, slightly irritated by her mini tantrum. As was her habit, when conversations turned serious or Marlena felt threatened in any way, she found a way to remove herself from the situation. John intrinsically knew that her actions were a result of behavior learned and practiced as a child; instead of learning to cope, she ran.
“I’m not hungry…. You finish your food, I’ll be outside,” Marlena stood next to the table, arms folded across her chest. She knew that she should sit down and talk to John but didn’t want to. She was no longer hungry, but John still had a full plate of food.
“No way…you know that I can’t leave you alone in the city,” John replied, his voice rising.
“I’m not a child…please, finish your food…I’ll be fine,” Marlena muttered, looking around the small restaurant, making sure that the other patrons hadn’t noticed them.
“No,” John said as he put down his napkin, pushed out his chair and stood up.
“John,” Marlena warned him.
Not bothering to respond to a futile attempt on her part to gain some much-desired independence, John took out his wallet and placed 40 euros on the table. “Let’s go,” he said as he deftly slid the wallet back into the rear pocket of his black jeans.
“Finish your food John,” Marlena said stubbornly as she stood by the table and refused to move.
“Come on Marlena, lets go” John said as he took her by the elbow and started toward the door.
“Fine,” Marlena said following him, not wanting to make a scene. Although she wanted some independence, she desired her freedom even more. Making a scene would have drawn attention and the men after her would be one step closer to finding them.
Once outside the restaurant, John carefully looked up and down the street before stepping out of the sheltered alcove. Taking Marlena’s arm and holding her close to his body, he led her quickly down the side alley to his motorcycle.
Putting his helmet on, he sat down on the motorcycle and turned it on. As the engine came to life, John watched as Marlena tried to tame her wild blonde mane underneath the helmet. He never tired of watching her, especially moments like this when she thought no one was looking. Her mouth opened wide in concentration, tongue poking out between her teeth; she fastened the strap under her chin and then adjusted her jeans before climbing on the motorcycle behind him.
“Ready,” she yelled at him as she put her arms around his waist and held on tight.
John guided the vehicle down the narrow cobblestone alley onto the main thoroughfare. Marlena watched as the now familiar signs quickly passed by. She was saddened by the knowledge that once again she was going to have to leave a place she liked. She thought back to the places that they had stayed over the last five months; Greece, France, Germany, the Netherlands, England, Russia, Egypt, South Africa, China, India, and now Italy.
Opening her eyes, she watched as John expertly maneuvered the machine onto the isolated road at the end of town that led to the small house that they had been staying at for the last three weeks. Since their location changed so often, the only constant was the beach. John had always managed to find a house on an isolated beach to rent and always made an effort to make the house as comfortable as possible for her, often arranging for familiar items to be delivered – pictures of their six children and two grandchildren and pictures of other loved ones, familiar bedding and pillows, favorite towels, perfumes, soaps and lotions. Resting her head on John’s shoulder, she closed her eyes and let the warm breeze wash over her face.
“The answers are in you…we just need to know where to look.” John’s words to her last night ran through her mind. If only she could remember who she was this nightmare would end, or at least start towards a resolution. It seemed that the harder she tried to remember, the less she did.
Who was Marlena? She remembered bits and pieces of her life as Julie Dimera, but not all of it. As more time passed, her memories were unexpectedly and randomly returning. Was something triggering the return of her memory or was it the natural progression of her illness? In the beginning days of her isolation with John she tried to use her psychiatric and medical training to heal herself but had been largely unsuccessful. John repeatedly told her to take her time and let the memories return on their own. But she didn’t want to wait; every moment that she didn’t remember was a minute that she could have spent with her children.
Closing her eyes tightly, she tried to will the return of at least another memory. As she thought back to the memory that had unexpectedly returned during lunch she wondered what had triggered it. Almost all of the memories that had returned were of her as a child, yet in this one she was clearly a teenager. What did it all mean and was it really a memory or her mind grasping to fill a void? She knew the general sequence of events in her life based on what Shane Donovan had told John and Roman on the way to the airport. Having the timeline was helpful as little flashes of things returned; she had the context into which to place them sequentially. Nevertheless, the gap between what she last remembered; shooting her father, and what she remembered next; moving to Salem as a psychiatrist, was huge. She didn’t remember attending medical school, couldn’t recall her high school or college graduations, and didn’t remember her prom or other teenage milestones. Did she experience these things like other kids her age or had she spent all those years in the facility?
“Hold on,” John yelled over the sound of the motorcycle, shaking her out of her reverie. She felt the sudden breaking of the bike as it moved side to side in a swerving motion. Marlena held onto John tighter, eyes clenched tightly shut, afraid of an impending collision.
Once the bike was almost at a complete stop, she felt the gears shift as John changed their course. Opening her eyes just enough to peek, Marlena looked in front of them and saw what looked like three police cars, lights on, heading toward them. Frightened and confused as to why they were heading toward the police, she glanced behind her toward the cottage. At the end of the road, she saw half a dozen police cars parked in front of their beach cottage. Someone had found them.
“John,” Marlena panicked as she grabbed onto him tightly. She was going to die.
With the police less than a two miles in front of them and closing in quickly, John was running out of options and surrendering wasn’t one of them. Jerking the motorcycle to the right, he tried to maintain control as he drove down the steep embankment toward the marsh. Marlena felt the coldness of the water as the motorcycle came to rest and started sinking.
“Come on,” John yelled as he shut off the engine and helped Marlena off the bike. She was chest deep in murky water and having a hard time gaining her footing. John kicked the bike over so that it was completely submerged. Assisting Marlena to the shore, he looked back to make sure that it wasn’t visible. Satisfied that finding the bike wouldn’t be easy, he grabbed Marlena’s hand and briskly ran along the edge of the marsh toward the sand dunes that rose up quietly behind the marsh.
Pulling off her helmet and tossing it to the ground, Marlena wrapped her arms around John’s waist and started crying. Removing his helmet, he gently tossed it onto the warm sand and then placed his arms protectively around Marlena.
“We’re going to die…I’m going to die…I’m going to die,” Marlena repeated over and over again.
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” John tried to reassure her as he rubbed her back. He needed for her to remain calm if they were going to make it out of town undetected. “Marlena we don’t have much time, we need to get out of here,” John said as he removed her arms from his waist and tipped up her chin so that he could see her eyes. Although they were temporarily sheltered from view by the massive sand dunes it would only be a matter of time before they were spotted.
“Somehow they know we’re here and we need to quickly get out of this area undetected. You know this area and you know where to go,” John said noticing that Marlena was shaking her head no. “Yes you do sweetheart, the route will be the same one we practiced just yesterday. You know the markers and the route. If anything happens you know where to go. Whatever happens do not take your belt off…the GPS device is in your belt. I activated the switch on the cycle once I saw the police so Shane and his team should be looking for us now.”
“I can’t do this…I’m not ready for this,” Marlena cried out.
“You’re the strongest woman I know…you know what to do…you can do this Marlena…I need for you to stop panicking though.”
“I’m trying not to John, but I’m scared, I don’t want to die,” Marlena said, lowering her head. John noticed the slight trembling of her body as she tried to keep her emotions together. Taking her into his arms once again, he tilted her head so that he could look into her eyes. “Honey, its okay to be scared. I’m scared too. But as long as we are together and work smart, we should be okay. We don’t have time to panic; the police are probably hunting us now. I know you’re cold but a mile or so up the road is the place where we hid the dry clothes…. Things will be okay Mar, trust me.” John looked deep into her scared hazel eyes trying to reassure her that was he said was the truth.
“I do,” she whispered as she gathered her strength from him. Leaning down, he kissed her deeply on the lips, an indulgence of time that they really couldn’t afford.
“Let’s go,” she said as soon as they separated, jogging down one of the well-rehearsed escape routes. As John followed her, he looked behind him and saw a dozen police officers, flashlights illuminating their path as they made their way down the hill towards the marsh.
“Run Marlena…run.”
“What do you see when you close your eyes?” the man in the sterile white lab coat asked her as he held the hypodermic needle against her upper arm. The green rubber band tourniquet wrapped tightly around her arm was causing a numbing sensation in her fingers. Moving her fingers back and forth, she paused to answer as she watched her arm slowly start to turn a slight blue color.
“Nothing,” Marlena finally muttered as she looked up at the man suspiciously. “I told you before….why don’t you people ever believe me?” As the man tightened his grip on her am, she felt the tip of the needle as it slowly penetrated her epidermis. Not wanting to look the slight bit interested in what was happening to her body, she looked over the man’s shoulder at the bare wall behind him, watching as the setting sun behind her reflected on the bars on the window, casting their shadow on the wall. The questioning was the same, never a deviation in the questions themselves or the order in which they were given.
“What do you see when you close your eyes?”
“What’s your given name?”
“Who are your parents?”
“How old are you?”
“Who are your siblings?”
“Where do you live?”
“Who is Rafael Torres?”
“Does the name mean anything to you? When I say the name Rafael Torres, do you feel anything? Is so what?”
“Who is Channing Owens?”
“Does the name mean anything to you? When I say the name Channing Owens, do you feel anything? Is so what?”
“Who is Mason Jones?”
“Does the name mean anything to you? When I say the name Mason Jones, do you feel anything? Is so what?”
“Who is Alexander North?”
“Does the name mean anything to you? When I say the name Alexander North, do you feel anything? Is so what?”
Thirty more questions always followed. Everyday for weeks they had been asking her the same questions and patiently Marlena had given them the same answer. She remembered nothing. Nothing. The more that this charade went on the madder she became. They were simply wasting their time and for what purpose? There was no point in this line of questioning and she didn’t understand why they were asking her and how much longer she was going to have to answer their questions before they would be satisfied and let her go home. Who were these people and why did they think that she knew them?
Having memorized the questions the third time she had been asked them, on her fourth visit to the man she dubbed ‘monotonous Marvin’, she had tried to be cute and gave her answers in the correct order without waiting for the questions to be asked. Never again would she try that; she was accused of lying and hiding what she remembered and was subjected to more testing. No matter what answer she provided, she was always given an injection of something at the end that made her drowsy. She couldn’t recall how long she’d been in the facility or how she’d gotten there. She only remembered waking up one morning in incredible pain; her body battered and bruised. After the doctors tended to her physical injuries, the tests began. First physical tests, followed by mental tests, then what she referred to as memory tests. Marlena had no idea how long she’d been there. Days? Weeks? Months? Years?
“What is your give name?” Monotonous Marvin asked her as he pushed the hypodermic needle further into her skin.
“Marlena Evans.”
“Who are your parents?” The needle slowly was making headway into her arm.
“Frank and Martha Evans.”
“How old are you?”
“Fourteen.” The needle came to rest against her muscle and she felt the burning sensation of the medication as the liquid was slowly released and penetrated the surrounding tissues. It hurt like hell. Clenching her eyes shut tightly she tried not to cry, refusing to show any sign of weakness. She was stronger than that; nothing or no one could hurt her.
Something was wrong. Monotonous Marvin always waited until question 27 to inject her. Feeling light headed she leaned back in the chair and tried to focus on the wall in front on her. The shadow of the setting sun was creating a vibrant but ever changing kaleidoscope in the room. She clenched her eyes shut tightly and put her head down between her legs to try to stop the room from spinning but couldn’t. Faster and faster things moved in her mind.
“Marlena, what is the number?” the man aggressively demanded as he grabbed her head and lifted it, forcing her to look at him. She tried to focus on his spectacles, but couldn’t. Her inertia and the glare of the setting sun off his glasses hindered her concentration.
“What number,” she mumbled as she felt the bile slowly rise up her esophagus.
“Don’t play dumb…All this will stop if you tell me the number.”
“I don’t know…please stop this?” she begged the man as she tried to grab his hands and get him to let go of her head. “Please, I’m going to be sick.”
“You’re a good little liar Julie….had me convinced,” the man said cruelly as he pulled roughly on her hair. The bile rose higher and higher as she fought to maintain her awareness.
Crying out in pain, Marlena yelled at the man, “You mother fucking asshole I don’t know who the hell Julie is…My name is Marlena Evans. I am fourteen years old. I have a sister named Samantha and we live in Denver, Colorado. I have never heard of Rafael Torres, Channing Owens, Mason Jones or Alexander North nor do I care to. The name Julie means nothing to me, neither does the name John Dimera, Katherine Dimera, Daphne Dimera, Stefano Dimera, Matthew Dimera or Suzanne Dimera. The name Frank Evans should mean something to you though, because when he finds out what you’ve been doing to me he is going to kick your ass to the moon and you’re going to wish that you never were born,” Marlena screamed out at the man before the drugs took effect and she slumped forward in the chair, his hand still tightly clenched around her ponytail.
“Her memory has been wiped clean…we can return her to Frank Evans, let him know that she’ll be safe as long as he doesn’t expose her to anything that will trigger her memory returning….he knows what those triggers are…too bad about her sister though,” was the last thing Marlena heard as she lost total consciousness.
“Marlena, Marlena, Marlena,” John said slowly as he waved his hand in front of her face. For the past two minutes he had been trying to get her attention.
“Honey, are you okay?” he asked as he finally got up from the table and stood behind her, gently rubbing her shoulders. The muscles in her shoulders were so tense.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Marlena finally muttered, shaking her head. “I’m sorry,” she apologized again as she put her hand to her mouth and covered it, masking her yawn. “I don’t know what happened. Must not have gotten enough sleep last night. I apologize for my rudeness John…you were saying that you were in contact with Roman?’ She asked as she looked behind her shoulder and up at him and smiled.
“We can talk about that later sweetheart…do you want to go back and rest?” John asked, the concern evident in his voice as kissed the top of her head and then took his seat across the table from her.
“No I’m fine…really I am,” Marlena said as she leaned into the table and took his strong hand in hers. “I’m so glad that we came here for lunch…I was tired of feeling like a criminal in hiding,” Marlena said before she realized exactly what she had said. “Oops, I guess that I am,” she laughed. Seeing John’s serious expression, Marlena squeezed his hand. “John, its okay to laugh once in a while.”
“I know sweetheart…You’re not a criminal and it pisses me off to know that those bastards are out there hunting you down,” John said as he picked up his fork and stabbed a piece of marsala chicken with it. “You of all people don’t deserve to be treated like that. You’re not a criminal, I refuse to believe that,” John said as he put the piece of chicken to his mouth and chewed on it.
“So what did Roman say?” Marlena asked as she looked down at her salad and gently scooped a small piece of lettuce onto the tines.
“He figures we have a couple more days here until we need to move again.”
“Do they know where we are?” Marlena asked, trying to hide her panic.
“I asked him that,” John said as he picked at his chicken. “ISA intel from Shane indicates that those looking for us are closing in on this continent but don’t know what country we’re in.”
“I don’t want to move again,” Marlena complained as she put her fork down and placed her hands in her lap, looking downward.
“You know that we don’t have a choice….” John started.
“I know, until Shane and ISA figure out what’s going on and I remember my past we can’t go home,” Marlena said as she put her napkin on the table, pushed her chair back and stood up.
“Marlena, please sit back down and finish your food,” John implored her, slightly irritated by her mini tantrum. As was her habit, when conversations turned serious or Marlena felt threatened in any way, she found a way to remove herself from the situation. John intrinsically knew that her actions were a result of behavior learned and practiced as a child; instead of learning to cope, she ran.
“I’m not hungry…. You finish your food, I’ll be outside,” Marlena stood next to the table, arms folded across her chest. She knew that she should sit down and talk to John but didn’t want to. She was no longer hungry, but John still had a full plate of food.
“No way…you know that I can’t leave you alone in the city,” John replied, his voice rising.
“I’m not a child…please, finish your food…I’ll be fine,” Marlena muttered, looking around the small restaurant, making sure that the other patrons hadn’t noticed them.
“No,” John said as he put down his napkin, pushed out his chair and stood up.
“John,” Marlena warned him.
Not bothering to respond to a futile attempt on her part to gain some much-desired independence, John took out his wallet and placed 40 euros on the table. “Let’s go,” he said as he deftly slid the wallet back into the rear pocket of his black jeans.
“Finish your food John,” Marlena said stubbornly as she stood by the table and refused to move.
“Come on Marlena, lets go” John said as he took her by the elbow and started toward the door.
“Fine,” Marlena said following him, not wanting to make a scene. Although she wanted some independence, she desired her freedom even more. Making a scene would have drawn attention and the men after her would be one step closer to finding them.
Once outside the restaurant, John carefully looked up and down the street before stepping out of the sheltered alcove. Taking Marlena’s arm and holding her close to his body, he led her quickly down the side alley to his motorcycle.
Putting his helmet on, he sat down on the motorcycle and turned it on. As the engine came to life, John watched as Marlena tried to tame her wild blonde mane underneath the helmet. He never tired of watching her, especially moments like this when she thought no one was looking. Her mouth opened wide in concentration, tongue poking out between her teeth; she fastened the strap under her chin and then adjusted her jeans before climbing on the motorcycle behind him.
“Ready,” she yelled at him as she put her arms around his waist and held on tight.
John guided the vehicle down the narrow cobblestone alley onto the main thoroughfare. Marlena watched as the now familiar signs quickly passed by. She was saddened by the knowledge that once again she was going to have to leave a place she liked. She thought back to the places that they had stayed over the last five months; Greece, France, Germany, the Netherlands, England, Russia, Egypt, South Africa, China, India, and now Italy.
Opening her eyes, she watched as John expertly maneuvered the machine onto the isolated road at the end of town that led to the small house that they had been staying at for the last three weeks. Since their location changed so often, the only constant was the beach. John had always managed to find a house on an isolated beach to rent and always made an effort to make the house as comfortable as possible for her, often arranging for familiar items to be delivered – pictures of their six children and two grandchildren and pictures of other loved ones, familiar bedding and pillows, favorite towels, perfumes, soaps and lotions. Resting her head on John’s shoulder, she closed her eyes and let the warm breeze wash over her face.
“The answers are in you…we just need to know where to look.” John’s words to her last night ran through her mind. If only she could remember who she was this nightmare would end, or at least start towards a resolution. It seemed that the harder she tried to remember, the less she did.
Who was Marlena? She remembered bits and pieces of her life as Julie Dimera, but not all of it. As more time passed, her memories were unexpectedly and randomly returning. Was something triggering the return of her memory or was it the natural progression of her illness? In the beginning days of her isolation with John she tried to use her psychiatric and medical training to heal herself but had been largely unsuccessful. John repeatedly told her to take her time and let the memories return on their own. But she didn’t want to wait; every moment that she didn’t remember was a minute that she could have spent with her children.
Closing her eyes tightly, she tried to will the return of at least another memory. As she thought back to the memory that had unexpectedly returned during lunch she wondered what had triggered it. Almost all of the memories that had returned were of her as a child, yet in this one she was clearly a teenager. What did it all mean and was it really a memory or her mind grasping to fill a void? She knew the general sequence of events in her life based on what Shane Donovan had told John and Roman on the way to the airport. Having the timeline was helpful as little flashes of things returned; she had the context into which to place them sequentially. Nevertheless, the gap between what she last remembered; shooting her father, and what she remembered next; moving to Salem as a psychiatrist, was huge. She didn’t remember attending medical school, couldn’t recall her high school or college graduations, and didn’t remember her prom or other teenage milestones. Did she experience these things like other kids her age or had she spent all those years in the facility?
“Hold on,” John yelled over the sound of the motorcycle, shaking her out of her reverie. She felt the sudden breaking of the bike as it moved side to side in a swerving motion. Marlena held onto John tighter, eyes clenched tightly shut, afraid of an impending collision.
Once the bike was almost at a complete stop, she felt the gears shift as John changed their course. Opening her eyes just enough to peek, Marlena looked in front of them and saw what looked like three police cars, lights on, heading toward them. Frightened and confused as to why they were heading toward the police, she glanced behind her toward the cottage. At the end of the road, she saw half a dozen police cars parked in front of their beach cottage. Someone had found them.
“John,” Marlena panicked as she grabbed onto him tightly. She was going to die.
With the police less than a two miles in front of them and closing in quickly, John was running out of options and surrendering wasn’t one of them. Jerking the motorcycle to the right, he tried to maintain control as he drove down the steep embankment toward the marsh. Marlena felt the coldness of the water as the motorcycle came to rest and started sinking.
“Come on,” John yelled as he shut off the engine and helped Marlena off the bike. She was chest deep in murky water and having a hard time gaining her footing. John kicked the bike over so that it was completely submerged. Assisting Marlena to the shore, he looked back to make sure that it wasn’t visible. Satisfied that finding the bike wouldn’t be easy, he grabbed Marlena’s hand and briskly ran along the edge of the marsh toward the sand dunes that rose up quietly behind the marsh.
Pulling off her helmet and tossing it to the ground, Marlena wrapped her arms around John’s waist and started crying. Removing his helmet, he gently tossed it onto the warm sand and then placed his arms protectively around Marlena.
“We’re going to die…I’m going to die…I’m going to die,” Marlena repeated over and over again.
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” John tried to reassure her as he rubbed her back. He needed for her to remain calm if they were going to make it out of town undetected. “Marlena we don’t have much time, we need to get out of here,” John said as he removed her arms from his waist and tipped up her chin so that he could see her eyes. Although they were temporarily sheltered from view by the massive sand dunes it would only be a matter of time before they were spotted.
“Somehow they know we’re here and we need to quickly get out of this area undetected. You know this area and you know where to go,” John said noticing that Marlena was shaking her head no. “Yes you do sweetheart, the route will be the same one we practiced just yesterday. You know the markers and the route. If anything happens you know where to go. Whatever happens do not take your belt off…the GPS device is in your belt. I activated the switch on the cycle once I saw the police so Shane and his team should be looking for us now.”
“I can’t do this…I’m not ready for this,” Marlena cried out.
“You’re the strongest woman I know…you know what to do…you can do this Marlena…I need for you to stop panicking though.”
“I’m trying not to John, but I’m scared, I don’t want to die,” Marlena said, lowering her head. John noticed the slight trembling of her body as she tried to keep her emotions together. Taking her into his arms once again, he tilted her head so that he could look into her eyes. “Honey, its okay to be scared. I’m scared too. But as long as we are together and work smart, we should be okay. We don’t have time to panic; the police are probably hunting us now. I know you’re cold but a mile or so up the road is the place where we hid the dry clothes…. Things will be okay Mar, trust me.” John looked deep into her scared hazel eyes trying to reassure her that was he said was the truth.
“I do,” she whispered as she gathered her strength from him. Leaning down, he kissed her deeply on the lips, an indulgence of time that they really couldn’t afford.
“Let’s go,” she said as soon as they separated, jogging down one of the well-rehearsed escape routes. As John followed her, he looked behind him and saw a dozen police officers, flashlights illuminating their path as they made their way down the hill towards the marsh.
“Run Marlena…run.”