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Oh, she wasn’t any good at that kind of thing.
But she needed to be. Needed to stay calm. She didn’t want the needle.
She tried to swallow the panic. “Please tell me what you want.”
“Your story, Janet.” Clara sat in the chair beside the camera, folded her hands in her lap. “We want you to tell us your story before we let you go.”
“I don’t understand.”
One little window, she noted—high by the ceiling, covered with a blackout shade.
A basement?
“What story?”
“The story that matters, of course.”
Clara’s voice remained pleasant, her smile encouraging.
“On June twenty-fourth, you died.”
“Well, no. I’m—I’m here. I’m alive.”
“Brought back by artificial means.”
“Not—not—not—” She had to stop, take a long breath. “Not really. I mean. I fell off a paddleboard on the lake. Um, Deep Creek Lake? And hit my head. I went under, and nobody realized for a couple minutes, so—”
“We know all of that, Janet.” Sam spoke from behind the camera.
“Now, Sam, she can tell it in her own way. But what he means, Janet, is we’re aware, of course, of what led to your death. You drowned. They weren’t able to establish exactly how long you were gone before you were brought back to life, pulled back into this world. Two minutes, maybe three. We need to hear what happened in that two or three minutes.”
“I don’t understand. I was unconscious.”
“No, Janet. You were dead. Tell us what you experienced.”
“I don’t know. I fell, hit my head on the board. I had a mild concussion. They kept me in the hospital overnight, but I was fine.”
“Janet.” Clara spoke with infinite patience. “The story we need begins and ends with those two or three minutes. It’s important for you to tell that story, for that story to be documented. Where did you go? What did you see? What did you hear or feel or learn?”
Long tube lights on the ceiling. The floor looked like concrete.
Steps! Steps leading up.
A basement. Yes, a basement room with beige walls.
“Janet, what did you see, or hear, or feel, or learn?” Clara repeated.
“There was nothing. I fell, hit my head, and I went under the water. Then I was choking and heaving up water. My head hurt, and my chest, my throat.”
Clara nodded. “You had pain when you were pulled back. Before, before they forced you back into this world, it was peaceful, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t want to die.”
Clara’s smile remained pleasant, her voice patient.
“Want doesn’t change what is, what was, what must be. Please try to remember, to take yourself back to that two or three minutes. It’s what’s best for you.”
“The board knocked me out, so there isn’t anything to remember. I promise I’d tell you if there was. Afterward, I remember afterward how the light hurt my eyes.”