Free Wraith's Awakening (Para-Ops) by Virna DePaul Page A

have-
    That's when it hits me. I have no idea who I am.
    I don't know my name, my past, present, or future.
    I can't say for sure that my life consists of anything more than sleeping in an alley waiting for death to claim me, although my knowledge about the Terminator tells me I've been to a movie a time or two.
    Fear is a living, growing thing inside me. I spend crucial moments engaging in self-mutilating behavior. I pinch myself. I bite my lip. I bang my head against the side of a building hard enough to see stars.
    Nothing.
    But as I once again hear the sound of something coming closer, I press my lips together and rally. I might not know my name or anything except what has occurred in the last few minutes, but I have no intention of dying, not here and not now.
    I duck behind one of the green dumpsters, peering around it until the approaching creature comes into view.
    *****
    The first person I see after awakening is an elderly woman wearing a red, white, and blue bandana tied around her neck and a matching baseball cap atop her pageboy white hair. Unlike my hair, which from what I can see looks like it's been frying under a heat lamp for the better part of sixty years, her hair is shiny and feathered away from a face that, although weathered by time, is lit with a pleasant smile. She hasn't spotted me yet. Her back is hunched as she pushes a walker, one that is decorated with a cheery sprig of colored tinsel, again red, white, and blue. It is my first clue as to what month it is. Although the morning air is still brisk, I assume she stocked up on post-4th of July regalia for bargain-basement prices.
    I take a moment to ponder the irony of my predicament. I've obviously been briefed on the concept of the Super Sale, yet I have no idea who I am, where I am, or why I woke up buck ass naked under a pile of refuse.
    Maybe I was in some kind of accident?
    Or maybe I was in the hospital for some kind of medical procedure and wandered off?
    Or maybe I was the victim of a violent crime. . . .
    I quickly shove that thought aside. Still, while part of me ponders what unpleasantries my mind has chosen to block out, I say a prayer of thanks that the first person I see is this old lady and not some sex-deprived prison escapee.
    Grabbing the cardboard sheet I had earlier tossed aside, I hold it in front of me and rush forward. I clear my throat and call out. “Umm-Excuse me?”
    The old lady pauses and looks over at me. I half expect her eyeballs to pop out and to hear the screech of her walker wheels as she escapes. Instead, she stops walking and smiles wider. “Well, hello. Troubles, dear?”
    Well, no shit, Sherlock.
    My thoughts are accompanied by an eye roll and I immediately feel guilty. Even more guilty when I realize how natural the flip thought and eye roll came. It's an insight into my personality that bothers me. I take several steps forward, however, encouraged by the woman's continuing smile. “I-uh-need clothes, ma'am,” I manage to choke out in a low voice. “Is there any way-?”
    I gasp when my bare foot lands on something sharp. A quick downward glance reveals that I stepped on a pretty sizeable shard of glass, yet somehow I managed to avoid being cut. I glance up again. Although I believe the rest of my question is self- explanatory, the woman simply tilts her head like a curious dog and continues to smile at me.
    “Yes?” she prompts.
    “Well, I-” A hysterical giggle escapes before I can stifle it. “Is there any way you can get me some clothes, ma'am? I'd really appreciate it.”
    She lifts one veined and spotted hand and bats it in a dismissive gesture. “Now why would you want me to do that? If I still had a body like yours, dear, I'd be showing it to whoever would look. Own what you have and be proud of it, that's what my late husband Alfred always used to tell me.”
    She starts to push her walker along.
    For several seconds, I shift the cardboard and stare down at my body. Okay, so I'm fit. Tall.