When she woke up in the basement, it was the image of the buzzards circling over the bare-branched oak that greeted her.
She had no present moment, only recollections of things that mattered in the instant before she lost consciousness. But how? Who? Why was she face down on the cool cement?
She fought hard to remember, but the buzzards were all that came.
Her sides ached; this she knew. Somewhere on the back of her head, enormous pressure was building--was it pent up fear or a bloody gash waiting to explode?
And then the searing stripe of pain through her right ankle. Yes, I remember this, she thought, as she wiggled it gingerly hoping that the next movement would prove her wrong. Flash, more pain.
Why am I in the cellar, hurt, alone? Comeon, brain--she closed her eyes against the darkness and summoned her memory back.....
More later.
