An Annoying Fan Writer in New London
by Mary C.
It was delighted. Everything was going according to plan.
Well, except for the one that had landed on the detective. That was
going to take some fixing. And the fact that it hadn’t yet reached
them all. Still, things were going good and it was optimistic that
they would remain that way.
Low voices somewhere nearby brought Mary back to a state of
semi-consciousness. Through blurred vision she could make out two
people with their heads together discussing something that she
couldn’t quite catch. As she fell back into the blissful darkness, she
thought she heard something about DNA.
She came fully awake a little later to find herself in a
strange room. She lay still, disoriented, until memory of the crash
returned. That coupled with the sterile smell and the low beeping of
machinery, she figured she was in the hospital. She sighed softly. The
bill was probably going to be a lot more than she could afford,
judging by the fact that she felt no pain in her arm or her head. Just
one more thing to worry about.
She sat up and looked down at her arm, then frowned in
confusion. There was nothing there. No IV, no cast, nothing. She
looked at her other arm, but it was the same way. Besides, she
remembered that it was the left arm that had been broken. Then
again -- she also remembered waking up in a field just outside of New
Hope filling her at the prospect of maybe not having to pay as
high a bill, she felt her head. There were no bandages.
Feeling much better, she decided to take a good look at her
surroundings. It was a small room, and, except for the bed, the smell,
and the fact that there was no discernable point of exit, it was
unlike any hospital she’d ever been in. In fact, if it weren’t for
those things, she’d say she was in an inn. That, and the now annoying
She glanced around for the source, but she couldn’t find it.
Her heart began beating faster and the beeping corresponded. She
closed her eyes and clenched her fist, refusing to acknowledge the
niggling little reminder that she had seen the skyline of New London.
"Oh good, you’re awake," a warm feminine voice said from
somewhere to her right.
Mary opened her eyes and stared at the lab-coated woman who had
entered a door that had been invisible previously.
"I’m Doctor Loggins," the woman said amicably, "How are you
feeling? Your heart-rate accelerated rather alarmingly there for a
Mary blinked at the doctor for a few seconds before managing a
tiny smile. "I’m okay," she paused and cleared her throat,
"Really...just a little...disoriented." And delusional. She wondered if
they would put her in the loony bin if she mentioned the fact that she
was pretty sure she was in the 22nd century....
Doctor Loggins tsked and pulled out a strange-looking
instrument. Mary closed her eyes, pretending she didn’t notice the
scanner passing over her. "Well," Loggins began, "It would appear that
you’re right. Still, you were unconscious for a long time, so we’re
going to keep you here a little longer for observation." There was
something odd in the doctor’s voice and Mary glanced at her. "You’re
not telling me something," she accused.
Surprise flashed briefly across Loggins’ features before she
schooled it back into her former amicable appearance. "Nonsense. Now,
I want you to try to go back to sleep. Concussions are a serious
matter, even if we do have the ability to heal any physical damage
that may have been done."
Having said that in rather a rush, the doctor walked through
the doorway, pushed some buttons and disappeared behind the wall that
was suddenly there. Mary scowled at the offending thing, then looked
back up towards the ceiling.
Okay, so she wasn’t dreaming, and she wasn’t hallucinating. She
was actually here, in the 22nd century....probably in New London, even
though the doctor’s accent had been American. So, now she just needed
to find out how and why. Scratch that. First she needed to find out
why she was being kept basically a prisoner in the hospital.
Then a thought occurred to her. "Duh!" she smacked her
forehead. She didn’t have any DNA on file. They probably thought she
was some kind of criminal. Great...now what am I supposed to do?
She tried to think of some excuse as to why her DNA wasn’t on
any kind of list, but she threw out everything that came to mind on
the grounds that she just didn’t really know squat about this century.
Maybe she could just tell them the truth....or part of it anyway. Of
course, they probably wouldn’t believe that she had just appeared from
out of nowhere so....
Her thoughts were interrupted by the wall disappearing. She
glared in that direction as a man in a white New Scotland Yard uniform
walked through. He was tall, and looked like he was about thirty, even
though his face was full of lines.
"Glad to see you’re awake," he said. Unlike Doctor Loggins, he
was not amicable in the least. "You can answer a few questions we
"What, you’re not going to introduce yourself?" Mary asked,
even as she winced inwardly. Way to go me, she thought sarcastically.
One edge of the officer’s lips twitched. She couldn’t tell if
it was an almost smile, or just a nervous habit. Probably the latter.
The guy didn’t look like he even knew how to smile.
"Inspector Hawkins. Now. Who are you?"
On to Part 7!
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