"She's in here."

"You're keeping her in with the other patients?"

"Charles didn't want to give up his bed."

"Uh-huh. So how's she been doing?"

"Blood pressure steady, other vitals good. She seems a little malnourished, though."

"Entirely possible. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to talk to her a little before she looks at her personal affects."

"Go ahead."

"You might want to give her a little advance warning. I've learned that amnesiatic patients don't do well with surprises."


4:50 P.M., May 26th, 1952

I just got back from the supply tent. Doctor Hunnicutt came and got me at about 4:30. Supposedly I was looking at "my" things but, to be perfectly honest, I have no memory of them.

There is one slightly odd thing, though--there's a silver bracelet that makes me want to cry whenever I touch it.

I don't have specific memories of anything but they do have feelings that are attached to them. The psychatrist--Dr. Freedman--said that that would be normal.

Damn it! I don't know who I am but I'm getting sorrowful feelings from a damn bracelet? That is not--I repeat not--fair. I need a past! And what's more, I want it.

...but until I can remember who I am--which will not be happening anytime soon--I have to settle for dealing with what I have now. But what's that? A mobile army surgical hospital in Korea that I am not supposed to be at?!?!??!?!?!??!?!??!

I must calm down. This is unbefitting. Come on, Mariam.


Mariam? Oh God, I have a name.