Page 87 of Born in Fire

Chapter 26

Juno

The world passes by in unfamiliar fragments—trees giving way to fields, fields to scattered buildings, buildings to warehouses. I watch it all from the elevated cab of Eddie’s semi-truck, my “borrowed” hospital scrubs stiff against my skin, my mind as empty as the stretches of highway before us.

“…and that’s when I told her, ‘Darlin’, I’ve been hauling freight from Seattle to Omaha for twenty-seven years, and I ain’t once seen a moose doing the mambo on Interstate 90!’” Eddie laughs at his own story, his salt-and-pepper beard bouncing with each chuckle.

I offer a small smile, grateful he doesn’t expect more. Since picking me up, Eddie has filled the silence with a steady stream of trucking stories, family anecdotes, and observations about the changing landscape. He asks occasional questions but seems content when I respond with nods or single-word answers.

His kindness requires no explanation, and I have none to give.

“Getting chillier out there,” he observes, adjusting the heater. His gaze drops to my feet, bare except for the thin hospital shoe covers, now muddy and torn. “Those can’t be comfortable. Hold up a sec.”

Eddie reaches behind his seat, rummaging through a storage compartment while keeping one hand on the wheel.

“Should have something in here… Aha!” He produces a pair of rubber flip-flops, bright blue with a faded trucking company logo. “Keep ‘em for shower stops. Never know what’s growing on those truck stop bathroom floors.” He shudders dramatically. “Probably too big, but better than nothing, right?”

I accept them with careful hands. “Thank you.”

“She speaks!” Eddie grins, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Was starting to wonder if you’d gone mute on me.”

I slip the oversized flip-flops onto my feet, the rubber cool and surprisingly comfortable after hours of inadequate protection. Another small mercy in a world where I understand nothing but recognize kindness when offered.

“So,” Eddie says after a comfortable silence, “where exactly are you headed in Seattle? Got family there? Friends?”

The question should be impossible to answer. I have no conscious knowledge of Seattle, no memory of anyone waiting for me. Yet my mouth forms words without my brain’s permission.

“The Towers.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Craven Towers? No kidding!” He whistles low. “Talk about timing. Place is the center of the biggest mystery in the Pacific Northwest right now.”

Something stirs in my chest at the name. Craven. The word resonates like a bell struck inside me, sending vibrations through my empty memory.

“What happened?” I ask, my voice stronger than before.

“You haven’t heard? I woulda thought that’s why you were going there. Been all over the news!” Eddie seems delighted to share information with a willing audience. “Some kind of explosion or attack a few days back. Tore up the top floors something fierce. But here’s the weird part,” he lowers his voice conspiratorially, “people swear they saw… dragons.”

“Dragons,” I repeat, the word feeling strangely familiar on my tongue.

“Yep! Flying right around the building! Videos all over YouTube, though they’re saying now it was some movie publicity stunt.” He shakes his head. “Pretty elaborate, if you ask me. Building damage looked real enough.”

His words trigger something—a flash of light, the sound of breaking glass, screams. The images come and go so quickly that I can’t hold them.

“You one of those urban explorers?” Eddie asks, misinterpreting my silence. “Folks who check out disaster sites? Or maybe one of those conspiracy investigators?” He glances at my hospital scrubs. “Though usually, they dress a bit more… conventional.”

I let him form his own conclusions, grateful for any explanation that doesn’t require me to invent a past I can’t remember.

“Don’t worry,” he continues, “I don’t judge. Met all types on the road. Once gave a ride to a guy convinced the government was putting mind-control chips in cereal. Nice fella otherwise.”

The highway curves, and suddenly, the Seattle skyline appears in the distance—a collection of glass and steel rising against a backdrop of mountains and water. Something inside me lurches toward it, a physical sensation like being pulled by an invisible thread.

I lean forward unconsciously, my breath quickening.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” Eddie misinterprets my reaction. “That’s the Space Needle over there. And see that really tall one? Columbia Center. Craven Towers is the one with the weird wing-like things at the top, but you can’t quite see it from here.”

As we draw closer to the city, traffic thickens. Eddie navigates smoothly, still chatting about Seattle landmarks and the best places to get coffee. I barely hear him, my attention fixed on the approaching city, the pull growing stronger with each mile.

“Can’t take you all the way to the Towers, unfortunately,” Eddie says as we exit the main highway. “Downtown’s got restrictions on commercial vehicles, and I’ve got a delivery schedule to keep. But I can drop you at the edge of the business district. It’s maybe a fifteen-minute walk from there.”

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