Page 11 of Lost Echoes

“Great.” She takes her bag and opens the door, gesturing for me to go ahead of her.

The hallway is bright, and the walls are white. This isn’t the normal theater.

I want to ask about that but don’t. There are many people bustling around, and several of them are wearing similar hospital gowns to mine. Many are dressed like the nurse who has been coming into my room. Clearly, the play involves a hospital. I’d better inspect the script when I get a chance.

Dr. Hanson leads me around other people until we come to another door. She opens it and motions me inside.

Her dressing room is nothing like mine. She has a long couch and several plush chairs, and off to the side is a very official-looking desk with a computer and a lot of papers. The walls are calming pastel colors, and she has pretty paintings of beaches all over.

She closes the door, and all the bustling noises from the hallway goes silent. “Pick your seat.”

I pick a spot on the sofa, and she moves another chair across from it, giving me another smile. “Tell me about Laurel. Is she a talented director?”

“The best.”

Dr. Hanson nods, looking thoughtful. “Do you mind if I take notes? It will help us put on a better performance.”

I shrug. “Okay.”

“Perfect, thanks.” She gets an electronic tablet from her desk and writes with a matching pen. “Is anyone from your family performing?”

“You mean our family,” I correct. “Just because you were dead doesn’t mean you aren’t part of the family.”

“Sorry, that’s what I meant. I’m so into my role as Dr. Hanson I wasn’t thinking about that.”

“We can stay in role. You’re right.” I wrap my arms around myself.

“Are you cold?” she asks. “I can get you a blanket.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Do you want to talk about your… our family?”

“What about them? That won’t help the production.”

“We can talk about anything you want. Where do you want to start?”

It strikes me that this doesn’t feel like we’re practicing our lines. “Shouldn’t we practice our lines?”

“I can’t find mine. If we talk about the play, it might help me to remember.”

This doesn’t seem right. Something’s wrong.

“Take your time.” Her voice is soft and kind. Like we aren’t getting closer to the opening call, and neither of us has the script.

Dr. Hanson looks down at her tablet, and after a moment, she jots down some notes. The click of the pen touching the tablet reminds me of something…

Takes me somewhere…

Click, click, tap.

Everything goes dark. Screams sound in the distance. It smells damp here.

Something bad is going on.

I need to get away.

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