Son of Cerberus (The Unusual Operations Division Book 2) by Jacob Hammes Page A

Amy’s hand between the two of hers and held it tenderly. The hand in the glove felt as if it were on fire beside the other one. It was comforting, yet frightening at the same time. As if some hidden power lay beneath the white cloth—either that, or it had just been used to snatch a pizza out of an oven.
    “I’m going to give you and the doctors our phone number,” Cynthia said. “It’s imperative that you get in touch with us if you think you’ve remembered anything at all. Your name, a phone number, or anything else from your past at all might give us a clue.”
    “Why would my name help you in your investigation?” Amy asked. She wrapped her skinny arms around her as best she could to shield herself from the cold. “If I remember my name, is it going to help you find those bad men?”
    Cynthia smiled a bit. She knew something about this job that Amy didn’t.
    “Maybe not,” Cynthia said. “But we know the right questions to ask you. Once your brain starts working again, we might be able to access the information you didn’t even know you had by asking you guided questions.”
    It made sense to Amy. She thought that remembering would happen in layers. It might come slow at first, but then she could peel back the haze and figure out what had happened before her fateful ship ride.
    “I will call you if I remember anything,” Amy answered. “I want those bastards caught. Hopefully you can bring them to justice for doing this to me and for murdering my doctor.”
    A flash of something violent sped across Cynthia’s beautiful brown eyes. It was murder, Amy could feel that. It made her happy, not scared. She felt as if this woman really had her best interests in mind, especially since she was willing to go to such great lengths.
    They left and Amy was alone again in the hospital room. Though she had two more guards outside a new room, complete with large television and big window, she felt as if she were far away from everyone. Amy didn’t know what she liked to do before she lost her memory, but sitting in any type of bed didn’t feel natural. It felt as if she should be out doing things, not lying uselessly about.
    Regardless of what she wanted to do, she knew her body was weak. It felt fatigued still, as if she had recently run a marathon. It was difficult to keep her eyes open and from time to time she felt like she might just faint.
    Instead of risking the possibility of falling over unconscious into a corner, she decided it was best to lie down and get more sleep. The guards were reassuring and the television whispering quietly on the wall made her feel comfortable. She curled her tiny feet up beneath her skinny legs and folded her hands beneath her head.
    Within minutes she was deeply asleep. Rest, however, was not what she found in the darkness in her head. She had terrible dreams—nightmares which kept her tossing and turning and moaning in the bed. More than once she woke up sweating, tears pouring down her cheeks. Every time she fell back into her deepest sleep, the visions took over. It wasn’t until the last time she fell asleep that the visions became clear and her dreams became vivid.
    She was aboard the yacht, surrounded by smiling faces. All of them were familiar, somehow. Though she didn’t know their names, she knew they were friends. They smiled or winked her direction, ruffled her hair and rubbed her back and shoulders. More than once she was congratulated for something she didn’t know she had done.
    Then the visions would take a dark turn. The lights were suddenly red and flickering. The once happy men and women that had surrounded her screamed, crawling through puddles of blood, and clawed at the doors. It didn’t seem like anyone in particular was at fault. Instead, the men and women, all crazy, had been killing themselves and each other in some lust-filled massacre. Blood spurted from a severed artery where one man had shoved a steak knife deep into his leg. Another man begged