posted on Sep, 22 2009 @ 07:18 PM
“Nothing was as hard as watching my daughter die. She was fourteen years old, but by the end she was light enough for me to carry her twelve blocks
to the emergency room. They had told us that going to the ER was more dangerous than trying to wait out the flu at home, but I had to do something.
She was drowning. I could hear it.” She took the tissue that he offered, then lit another cigarette.
“How long was she sick?”
“She felt bad for a couple of weeks in the summer, then got better. But in October the coughing came back harder than ever. She died in my arms
at the hospital waiting for anyone to help us.”
“Why would no one at the hospital help you?” He could see that she wanted to be done with this part of the narrative, but needed to record all
the details that she could provide.
“By that time, it seemed like the whole world was sick. The hospitals were barely working with a skeleton crew, and the few left had little to no
resources. The medicines were gone. The beds were full. The dying and dead filled the waiting areas, the halls, and the parking lots.”
“OK, please continue.”
“When I started walking back to our house with her tiny body in my arms, a member of the civilian police force came to me and tried to pull her
away. I screamed and kicked and scratched and bit him, but two others pulled me off of him and shocked me with a taser. I couldn’t move, but I
wasn’t unconscious. I saw as he loaded her into a trailer full of other bodies. It was that one thing that made me join the rebellion. If they
had let me take my daughter home, I would have continued to follow directions like a good little robot.” She crushed out the cigarette and lit
“The civilian police force was a joke. The plan goes like this: ‘Do you have an IQ just high enough to be inventfully cruel, but low enough to
pledge allegiance to an unknown source? If so, then the CPF is for you!’ The bastards could and did get away with anything in the name of keeping
civilians in line. In a protest, back in the early days before they became violent, I and two other women were detained for suspicion of making
terroristic threats. We were interrogated in the back of a van, which really meant beaten and raped, for two hours. Then we were told they would be
looking for us at the next protest. I never saw the two women or those particular officers again.”
“Why didn’t you report this to the authorities?” He dropped his pen as she struck out and grabbed his wrist with an iron grip.
“Aren’t you listening to me! They were the authorities! Police had no power. The few that were left healthy were busy rounding up the
civilians that no longer believed there was a peaceful resolution. The media was entirely bought and paid for and most of the appointed government
representatives had already gone into hiding. The CPF reported to no one. That’s they way they liked it. That’s why I began killing them one by
“How many did you kill?”
“I don’t know, I never tried to keep count. I only know that it became impossible to find any more bullets. Then I realized how much easier it
would be to take out several at a time with an explosion. I don’t know what I did wrong. I took the backpack bomb to the recruiting station as
planned. I followed the tunnel that Simon had shown me, so I was undetected. Somehow, the package exploded early. I felt the fire tear the flesh
from my bones, but then I woke up here, with you.”
“But don’t you see? You didn’t die in an explosion. It was all a terrible dream that’s over now. Your daughter is only six years old and
healthy. There has been no prolonged war overseas, no swine flu, no stripping away of our rights by a Homeland Security Act, no bombing of buildings
in New York. None of those things ever happened!”
“THEY WILL! IT WAS NOT A DREAM! I did not dream the past eight years! It’s real, all of it, and it’s going to happen unless we do something
to stop it!” An orderly came to her with the now familiar prick of the needle. Her cares and thoughts became disjointed and she felt herself being
wheeled back to her room.
“What’s the deal with this one, John?” He had never seen Dr. Rich so involved in one of his cases.
“I’m not sure, Alex. She showed up outside my office last week with this wild story. She thinks she is from the future. The year 2009 to be
exact. She says that she has lived through the destruction of our country over the last eight years. She thinks she was some kind of freedom
fighter.” He wiped the sweat from his brow.
“So what is it about this girl that has you all twisted up inside?”
“Most delusions are not rigid and fixed. The patient will embellish them when presented with questions. They make their story fit with the facts
you present them. She doesn’t. Her story hasn’t wavered the tiniest bit since the first day. Even the specifics she tells me all check out.
There really is a woman by her name. She has the social security number, date of birth, address, even the name of the child right. I’ve seen this
woman’s driver’s license picture, Alex. I swear it could be her younger sister. This is the most organized and rational psychosis I have ever
seen. I can’t find any holes in it.”
Alex brought over a cup of water for the doctor. He was visibly shaking. “OK, but all that just makes this an interesting case. It shouldn’t
scare the hell out of you. Are you starting to believe she’s telling the truth? That she’s really from the future and somehow was sent back to
you to stop something?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. At least I don’t think I am. What worries me is what she says started this whole destruction of America thing.
She said that airplanes will crash into the world trade center in New York. She says it’s going to happen on September 11th, 2001. That’s