As agreed, Raug had brought Samantha back into the now safe forest and led her to the next country road. The fact that it was still daytime made everything immensely easier, but everything that followed was far from it.


    Of course, the media delight and interest was equal to a broken dam when Samantha was spotted by a patrol and collected to be taken to one of Great Kingston’s biggest and best hospitals.


    As she had done at Patriarch Stein’s estate, Samantha soon found herself in a bed and her tattered uniform had been exchanged for comfortable patient clothes. She had already completed one day and was still alone in her sickroom, because apart from the doctor and the nurse from before, no one was allowed to see her and her peace and safety was ensured by two of her colleagues outside the door. The big spectacle and rush was not here anyway, but in the reception area of the hospital, which Samantha followed on the television.


    Deputy Chief Frank Uphill, the boss of Samantha’s precinct, stood finely sanded at a lectern peppered with microphones and routinely answered questions from the press. “As I have said before, we are all incredibly relieved and happy to see Officer Rockford return unharmed, but we will not say anything about her condition for the time being, and will not release any information in this regard for now, even after further investigation. Everyone please bear with us as she seems to have been through a lot and everything takes time."


    The subject was just too hot and reporters spoke in confusion before a woman was chosen from among them. "Deputy Chief Uphill, do you think Officer Rockford will provide crucial clues as to what happened to the rest of the unit that night?! After all, so far there hasn’t been a single lead, unfortunately, and the public has a right to answers!"


    "We certainly hope to get clues about the fate of the remaining officers through our colleague, as we are as eager for answers as the public is."


    "Fate you say? Does that mean you have given up on the rest?"


    Uphill was experienced and did not fall for this slightly provocative question. "Officer Rockford has shown that anything is possible. Nevertheless, we are considering all possibilities and, regrettably, the circumstances so far argue for a harsher reality. The next question."


    An extremely lanky man, probably six feet tall, stood up in the crowd of reporters. "Deputy, what do you say to the rumours of a few days ago, about a wild shootout near the night’s incidents?"


    "As you can imagine, with our current increased presence in the area, we immediately moved out because we suspected a connection with said night," Uphill explained, raising his shoulders in perplexity. "But there was nothing. We didn’t find the slightest clue of any wild shooting or any other incident."


    "You think the rumours are false?"


    "I think we’re more dealing with Fake News," the Deputy Chief sighed. "After all, there are all sorts of allegations and conspiracy theories at the moment about what happened there in the forest, and so new stories are springing up directly, presumably from the same sources.


    That set the reporters off, but there was an audible knock on Samantha’s bedroom door and she switched off the television. "Come in."


    A man and a woman in doctors′ uniforms entered the room. "Mrs Rockford," greeted Doctor Hendrick Cornfield. He had performed the initial examination on the policewoman. "How are the abrasions? Are you tolerating the medication?"


    "I feel dazzling, considering the circumstances," Samantha replied, looking at the fresh wounds on her arms. Using blood magic, Patriarch Stein had inflicted this damage on her, but it hadn’t hurt her, even though the injuries were real.


    "Any doctor would love to hear that," Hendrick smiled a little exaggeratedly and stopped beside the bed. "How’s the head?"


    "Keeps refusing me," Samantha lied convincingly. After they found her and took her to the hospital, she claimed that she could barely remember the night in question and what happened shortly after. Only that she had been wandering and struggling in the woods for days. "I’m sorry, Doctor."


    "Don’t be," Hendrick said empathetically, and he made notes on his Black Pitch. "We’ll take a step-by-step approach to her recovery and any events that may occur." The doctor was not unaware of his patient’s questioning look, which was directed at the woman next to Hendrick. "May I introduce: Doctor Raffaela Santoro, specialising in neurology and psychiatry."


    "Hello Mrs Rockford," greeted Raffaela. She had black, very long hair and an olive complexion familiar from countries like Italy or Greece, but her pronunciation was without any accent. "You’ve probably heard this question enough times now, but how are you feeling?"


    "Worn out," Samantha said wearily, and that was true. She knew her return would be exhausting and yet the acting tugged at her. "And the sooner I’m out of this hospital, the better everything will be."


    "You don’t like hospitals?"


    "I haven’t been in many," Samantha replied. Indeed, Oskar’s warning gnawed at her, even if she tried to suppress it. But the fact that a doctor was here who specialised in mental as well as physical ailments of the nerves set her alarm bells ringing. On the other hand, it made perfect sense to Samantha that such a specialist would be involved in her case and she continued to try to brush her fears aside. "And all this fuss over me is quite stressful, even when I’m so well shielded here."


    "Understandable. There’s nothing unusual about that," Raffaela said, making notes to herself on her Black Pitch. "If it would be all right with you, I would still like to have a little talk with you and possibly order some investigations."


    More investigations made Samantha sigh, but she had nothing else to do and had to go through this procedure. "I guess talking is better than continuing to be alone in this bed."


    "Talking is always good," Santoro agreed, casting a pleading glance at her colleague. "Doctor Cornfield, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to have this patient conversation in private."


    "I think that would be Mrs Rockfords′ wish anyway," Hendrick surmised, receiving a curt nod from the officer. "I’ll check back later then. I’m sure I’ll have more results from the MRI by then too."


    After the doctor had said goodbye, Raffaela looked for one of two chairs at the small table in the room, which had fresh water ready in a glass carafe and was merely bolted to the wall and folded in and out. "Do you want to sit down with it? Many patients quickly get tired of this constant lying down."


    "I’d rather stand, if that’s all right with you," Samantha replied, getting out of bed and leaning against the edge of the wide window that gave a pretty good view of the sprawling hospital complex. Her attention, however, was now on the psychiatrist. "Although I have been walking a lot in the last few days," she said.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "Alone in the cold woods, I can imagine," Raffaela finished. She was informed. "Your colleague Brown had mentioned that you had a lot of hunting experience. I’m sure that was a huge factor in your survival."


    "You have spoken to Peter? How is he doing? I’m sure it’s been a tough time for him too lately."


    "He suspected you would say something like that," Raffaela smirked and poured herself some water. "He’s doing well and eager to visit you. You’ve been working together as partners for over a year, right?"


    "Just over a year, yes," Samantha smiled at the thought of Peter being well. "We often complement each other well. That’s important between policemen."


    "One covers for the other, I’ve been told that by many in your profession," Raffaela mentioned, though she was becoming more objective now. "Stress is a constant companion among policemen. It keeps our bodies on their toes, but it also protects us."


    "Stress protects us?"


    "Oh yes," Raffaela said, taking a sip of water to speak in a clear voice. "Whether it’s physical or psychological, when humans are exposed to extreme levels of stress, they begin to shut down because they can no longer cope with the overstimulation and thus try to avoid serious damage. That’s probably why you currently, or perhaps forever, have little recollection of what happened in that forest."


    Samantha could remember only too well and would not have minded if the stress had actually had this effect on her. However, she was not so fortunate. "I keep trying, I really do," she insisted, continuing to play the role of the clueless. "I know it was cold and I made a fire and I made a hiding place out of branches of conifers in a hollow of earth. After that, a lot of things become fuzzy and blurred."


    "Yes, typical characteristics of displacement," Raffaela noted in passing, and although the next question matched Oskar’s warnings, the doctor spoke routinely. "In the same way, stress can make us see things that cannot exist. Was that the case with you?"


    "... What do you mean?" murmured Samantha coveredly, crossing her arms. "What am I supposed to have seen that doesn’t exist? Are you talking about something like ghosts?"


    "All sorts of things," Raffaela posited, and now seemed to be watching her patient very closely. Perhaps it was paranoia, but the woman’s tone of voice seemed disturbingly gentle. "Our imagination is a powerful tool, but it can also be a danger to us. To process things, our minds manifest our fears and worries in various forms, like when you were a child and possibly heard or even saw monsters in your closet."


    Now monsters was not something Samantha had expected as a choice of words so soon after the start of this conversation, or even considered normal. It made her suspicious, but she tried to restrain herself. "Maybe it was like that as a child, though I don’t remember anything about it now. In the forest though, no, there were no monsters there."


    "Monster was just an example now," Raffaela said, curling a hand. "Perhaps the animals have spoken to you, or the trees have wandered."


    "No, no, none of that," Samantha shook her head sternly.


    This reaction was apparently a little too certain for the doctor. "You seem extremely convinced of that."


    Samantha remained composed. "I can’t confirm what I haven’t seen, can I?"


    "That is correct," Raffaela returned, diligently taking notes. She did not proceed brashly, but did the woman distrust her patient? "However, that part of your memory seems to have been functioning properly if you are so certain that you had no hallucinations. That suggests that the damage to you is limited."


    "I don’t have any damage!" now Samantha did sneer.


    Immediately Raffaela tried to contain her frustration. "Please forgive me, I didn’t mean it that way. We psychiatrists tend to get too absorbed in analysis. However, something happened to you and affected you, otherwise there wouldn’t be these memory lapses, right?"


    "That’s true, but I’m pretty lucid," Samantha said in her normal tone again and she wanted to explain herself. "Sorry if that was rude before. I’m just kind of afraid you’ll think I’m crazy."


    "How come?" wondered Raffaela, leaning forward with interest. "You don’t have to be afraid, but it seems your mind sees me as a danger. That could be an indication that there is something in your mind that your mind does not want me to discover."


    "If that is so, my mind must also see me as an enemy."


    "You have grasped it," Raffaela said, her disconcertingly soft tone disappearing. "Whatever slumbers there shall remain there, but I am very confident that together we can find it and overcome it."


    "That sounds very different," Samantha admitted. Perhaps she had simply been frightened by Oskar’s ominous example and the psychiatrist was simply doing her job. Still, Samantha needed a break. "However, if you don’t mind, I’d like to rest now. I feel quite exhausted."


    Raffaela put away her Black Pitch and rose. "Yes, I can see that you are, and after all the examinations, I have put quite a strain on you in addition with this short conversation. In fact, I’d like to prescribe you a sleeping pill so you can get some proper rest."


    "Will that knock me out?"


    "No, your case is not that bad," Raffaela noted, pouring her patient a glass of water which she handed to her. "It’s more comparable to Valium. Even if you wake up, you’ll continue to be half asleep and the next day you’ll be bursting with energy."


    Samantha accepted the glass of water gratefully and took a refreshing sip. "A good night’s sleep would be a dream and most welcome when you do your investigations. What can I expect there?"


    "A mixture of various therapeutic approaches and recording of your vital brain waves, the latter being quite monotonous. Plus various reaction tests and checking your general motor and intellectual abilities."


    "So you want to see what else is going round?" grinned Samantha with relief.


    "An apt summary," Raffaela nodded before heading for the door. "I’ll leave you alone for now though and later a nurse will bring the sleeping pill: A tablet that you will take with a sip of water."


    "I will do that, Doctor Santoro. See you tomorrow," Samantha said goodbye and after the doctor had left, she fell detached on her bed. She had probably really just let her paranoia drive her and all the stress of this spectacle didn’t make it any better. Still, a thought briefly flitted through her mind. I’d better ask the doctor what this sleeping pill is all about. Na?ve Samantha was not, and as a police officer she tried to pay attention to the details, because the situation was far from over and they might try to poison her. I prefer to have the drug -explained- to me directly by Doctor Cornfield.


    Later, Doctor Cornfield did not find the question suspicious and he confirmed Doctor Santoro’s words. Moreover, the tablet had been in the correct package, so Samantha took it without hesitation and quickly fell asleep.


    Every now and then Samantha woke up for a few seconds, but she hardly noticed anything except sounds. The rotors of distant or nearby helicopters, the quiet footsteps in the hospital corridor at night or wheels rolling through the corridor. In addition, there were unintelligible scraps of words from people passing the room until one of these conversations seemed to take place outside her room.


    Despite the sleeping pill, Samantha had become aware of the conversation, but everything around her was quite blurred and she couldn’t understand a single sound.


    Then, as the door of the room opened, the light from outside blinded her briefly and five figures entered the room one after the other.


    So far away from her, Samantha didn’t recognise who they were and frankly she wasn’t sure she wasn’t dreaming.


    The light from outside made two police badges glimmer, probably from her guard outside the door.


    "She looks healthy to me," one of the people said, but it was not clear who was speaking. All the voices sounded so similar, washed out and muffled.


    "Don’t go by appearances, but we’ll take good care of her."


    "I don’t doubt it, doctor."


    "Nurse, please get her ready for transport."


    One of the figures stepped to the foot of the bed while a second approached the headboard and half-crystallised. "Hey Sam," said her patrol partner Peter. He was in civilian clothes. "Don’t be scared, okay? I know everything and we’ll get you to a better place."


    Samantha’s eyes fluttered so that everything went white once before she regained spongy focus. She tried to raise her hand, but her body was completely limp and words she failed to form in the slightest, as well as babbling sounds.


    "Here are copies of the necessary files," said one of the other voices, transmitting something to one of the policemen with a black pitch. "If there are no further questions on your part, we will hurry. We have a schedule to keep."


    "You’re in a hell of a hurry. Is it that bad? Officer Rockford actually seemed very clear to me," doubted the policeman who was being transferred the data. "I don’t suppose you’d mind if I checked with the deputy chief?"


    "You can, but it′s unnecessary. Officer Brown, show the Deputy Chief’s agreement."


    "Oh, of course. Here," Peter said, turning to his colleagues. "I have also spoken to him personally. He’s fully aware of the situation and just wants Samantha to get better quickly."


    Samantha made one last attempt to speak, but she could not produce a gasp and, completely befuddled and tired, her eyes fell shut again.