Prologue 2 Sec. 1
"I remember... everything!"
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He was conscious of sounds first. There were voices in the distance, but he couldn't make out the words. It smelled clean and fresh. He was in bed with a warm blanket that he was suddenly loath to get out of. It wasn't his bed. It wasn't as comfortable as his bed, or as soft, and the sheets were a bit scratchy, but he didn't want to leave it all the same. Move voices came to his ears. An intercom. People were whispering in the background. It was obvious to him now that he was in a hospital.
"Marie?" he called. There was a sudden sound of activity as whoever was in the room reacted to his voice. "Marie?" he said again. Wait! he thought, That's not my voice!
"Marie's right here, honey," a woman's voice replied that was both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. "Everything is all right."
He didn't want to open his eyes. He could already tell that the room was too bright. "How long have I been out?" he asked.
There seemed to be a moment's hesitation before the woman's voice answered again. "It... It's been four days, dear."
"Heart attack, right?" he asked. "I thought I was a goner." As he remembered the weird dream that he had, he realized that his chest didn't hurt as he figured that it should have, but he did have a headache.
"Heart attack?" the woman asked. "Uh... no... You had what the doctors call a seizure, dear." A hand went to his forehead and pushed a few strands of hair aside. It was massive against his forehead.
"Where's Marie?" he asked again before something clicked in his brain. Hair? He had no hair anywhere near his forehead to he brushed aside like that!
"Marie is outside with Daddy now, Ricky."
His eyes snapped open and the bright light poured in, blinding him for a moment. The face in front of him was a blur at first as his eyes adjusted to the light, but quickly came into focus. "Who are..." he began to say, but stopped short. He did recognize the face and something in his brain had labeled her as "Mom". Memories began to jumble and dance in his head, making his headache worse. His hands instinctually came up to his head and pushed against his temples as he closed his eyes to the pain and tried to push himself deeper into the pillow. He let out a groan as the pain took over.
"Ricky?" Cathy Weir asked. "Are you alright?"
"Headache," was his only response as he tried to push his head through the mattress.
"Wait! I'll get the doctor." She got off of the bed and ran for the door. The doctor was outside talking to her husband. "Dr. Shaw, come quick," she said. "Ricky's awake, but he's complaining about a headache." Dr. Shaw and John Weir entered the room after her.
"Hello, Ricky," Dr. Shaw said too cheerfully for him to stand. "Is your head hurting you?"
Why did doctors always have to be so damned cheerful, he thought. "My name's not 'Ricky', it's..." He stopped short of saying "Thomas". Then he remembered that it wasn't a dream and that he wasn't Thomas any more; he was indeed "Richard".
"Okay, then, Richard," the doctor replied. "You're head is hurting you though, right?"
"Feels like it's going to explode, Doc," Richard answered. "Too many memories," he added cryptically. "Got any morphine?"
It was a weak attempt at humor, but the joke wiped the smile off of the doctor's face to be replaced with concern. Cathy's and John's jaws both dropped. "I'm afraid I can't... give morphine... to someone of your age for a simple headache," the Dr. Shaw stammered.
"What do you mean 'my age', Doc?" Richard responded, nearly sitting up. "How old do you think I am?"
There was a slight hesitation. "Four?" Shaw finally answered, looking quickly over at Cathy to confirm the age.
"That's right," Cathy confirmed with a nod and a scowl, "you're four years old, Richard, And I am not likeing that disrespectful tone you're taking."
Richard's eyes widened. "Four!?" he asked in disbelief. He sat up fully now and took a look at his hands. Not a wrinkle showed. He looked down the length of the bed and saw how far short his feet came from the end. "I'm four?" He looked up at Cathy, John, and Dr. Shaw, all of whom were nodding at him. Cathy continued to scowl; John looked stern but worried too; Dr. Shaw looked confused. "I'm four," Richard conceded as he fell back into his pillow again.
The act only served to remind him of how much his head hurt. Richard placed his hands at his temples again. "Okay, so I'm four. Doc, I assure you this is no 'simple headache'. Isn't there something strong you can give me?"
"I'll... I'll be right back with something," Shaw stammered again. He turned to John and Cathy. "Could I see you two outside first?"
The three adults left Richard's room, closing the door behind them. "Has he ever demonstrated behavior like this before?" Shaw asked them.
"No," Cathy answered first. "Never. This does not sound like my Ricky at all."
"He sounds... I don't know... older, I guess," John added. "You saw how surprised he was to know he was four."
Shaw nodded. "Obviously, with a seizure like this, some tests are done to discover the cause. So far, what we've run has found no reason for it. X-Rays don't show any trauma, nor did the CAT scan. I want to keep him here and run every neurological test we have on him to see if there is some explanation for both the seizure and this change in personality." The two parents nodded their agreement. "I'll recommend Dr. Lewis, our head neurologist, for you. I'd also like to recommend you to Dr. Carpenter, a child psychologist and therapist."
"Why?" Cathy asked.
"You don't think he's crazy do you?" John asked.
"No," Shaw answered too quickly. "No," he repeated a bit more calmly. "I get the feeling, however, that Richard might be able to tell us more about this than the tests will."
The two parents exchanged a look and then silently nodded their consent again. Shaw placed each of his hands on each of their shoulders in an attempt at reassurance before walking off to get Richard's headache medication. Cathy and John went back into Richard's room.
Marie looked up from her drawing book and stared at the door next to her chair.
To be continued....