Why don't I feel panicky? It's weird.
Erin throws an arm around my shoulders. "If that creep comes within two hundred yards of the camp, we'll know about it—and we'll eighty-six that guy. So just relax and eat some lunch."
The guards positioned discreetly around the camp will never let that jerk past the perimeter. They're armed and well-trained by Grant and Erin, who both have military experience.
"Don't worry," Grant says. "No one in this camp will ever let anyone hurt you."
I wish they wouldn't treat me differently than everyone else in Sanctuary. Amnesia doesn't make me special. All the residents of Sanctuary have a story of loss, the gut-wrenching kind. I have no idea if I've lost anyone, or if somebody out there is looking for me.
"Please, just treat me like everyone else," I say. "And I really wish you guys would let me do something. I can help with the cooking or sewing, or anything."
"Do you remember how to sew?" Erin asks.
"Well, no. But I can't keep sitting around doing nothing." I suddenly remember that maniac on the beach. "Erin, would you teach me how to defend myself? I'd love to know how to shoot arrows like you do."
"Allison can show you self-defense techniques. Dax taught her. But if you really want to learn about archery, I'd be happy to teach you."
"Thank you." I try to restrain myself, but I fail. "When can we start? Today?"
Erin smiles and shakes her head. "You might not remember your past, but you sure know what you want. Yes, we can get started later this afternoon. I need to help Grant with something after lunch, then I'll come find you."
Well, that's a start. I need to feel useful, and after my encounter earlier, I need to develop some fighting skills.
"Maybe you shouldn't go out by yourself anymore," Grant says. "Just to be safe."
No more nude sunbathing. He's right, of course. But I wish he were wrong.
"I should check around," Grant says, "to see if anybody has seen that creature."
"He wasn't an Echo creature," I say. "He was a man."
"Oh. Well, we should send a few people to search the beach and the woods along our favorite trails to make sure that guy has left the vicinity."
"Lunch," Dax hollers. "Come and get it."
Hearing a British man speak those words always strikes me as kind of funny. Shouldn't he announce that lunch will be served in the dining room? But we don't have a dining room, or any type of rooms. Just tents. Grant, Erin, and I head for the fire and the nicely roasted meat waiting for us there. As I eat a hunk of white meat chicken, I can't help wondering for the thousandth time if I used to like meat or if I might've been a vegetarian, maybe even a vegan.
Will I ever find out the truth about myself?
I say goodbye to Grant and Erin, who are going off to do whatever they need to do that I'm not allowed to know about. Despite the fact they've welcomed me into Sanctuary and treat me like family, I often wonder if their secret discussions revolve around me and who or what they think I am.
Someone screams.
We all freeze. I glance at Grant and Erin, who have barely walked halfway to Dax and Allison's tent.
"Out of my way, you moron!" a man shouts.
I recognize that growly, nasty voice. But no, it can't be him. We have lookouts who watch for anyone or anything that might waltz into our camp.
"Hey! Don't push my wife. Who do you think you are, anyway?"
That sounds like Stan Woodruff. He and his wife, Miriam, are the oldest residents of Sanctuary, though they're only in their sixties.
Dax and Allison rush out of their tent and race toward the ruckus, but Dax waves for her to stay away. She is pregnant, so I get why she needs to stay back. Grant and Erin hurry after Dax.
Will I just stand here? That's what I usually do. But I refuse to keep letting everyone treat me like the fairy-tale princess who can't stand to lie on a pea. So I race after my friends, heading straight for the ruckus on the other side of the camp. Halfway there, we stop.
A figure stumbles out from between two tents.