The Girl Without Fear - Chapter 1

 THE GIRL

Gayle had been moments away from giving birth. She lay in the surgical room, surrounded by the hum of large medical machines and the glow of computer screens. Six nurses stood around her, their faces a mix of anticipation and routine detachment. Gayle's feet were in stirrups, and she felt another contraction. She screamed, her voice echoing off the sterile white walls.

The doctor, who had been studiously positioned under the sheet covering her legs, finally came up with a newborn girl. Gayle, her face a canvas of sweat and relief, reached out to receive her baby. But before she could hold her daughter, a nurse abruptly took the child instead. Gayle didn’t argue; she had no energy left.

The nurse swiftly pricked the newborn’s heel and took a smear of blood on a glass slide. She handed the slide to a second doctor at a computerized electron microscope. He gave the slide a cursory check, and suddenly, something frightened him. He jumped to his feet, knocking the slide away. It shattered against the floor, and Gayle wept, her sobs mingling with the distant beeping of medical machines.

Several months later, track homes were neatly arranged on a military base in the afternoon. Above them, the view slowed over a cul-de-sac where a larger, more expensive home was under construction, hinting at the promise of a better future.

Miles away from the track house, inside a training facility, baby Samantha "Sam" Wright, only nine months old, giggled with innocent delight. Nearby, a doggie dish overflowed with kibbles and bits, but the focus shifted to a snarling 130-pound Rottweiler just inches from Sam. Gayle entered the room, panic washing over her face as she saw the dangerous situation. She started toward Sam, but a soldier held her back.

Two doctors made cursory notes, observing Baby Sam as she continued laughing, oblivious to the imminent danger.

Flash forward to a playground on a sunny day. Toddler Sam, now two years old, perched precariously high atop a jungle gym made for teens. Standing on a nearby bench, Gayle looked up from her iPad and gasped as she spotted Sam preparing to jump. Heart pounding, Gayle dashed over and caught Sam as she boldly leaped off the jungle gym. Her mind buzzed with the rush of relief mingled with an all-too-familiar sense of dread.

Years later, adolescent Sam, now ten, stood at the roof edge of an abandoned two-story building. Below her, several kids cheered her on. She gazed excitedly at the gravel pit below but hesitated, a flash of her mother's angry, scolding face crossing her mind.

"I don’t care that you’re not afraid, Samantha. No more jumping!" Gayle had said.

Sam stepped away from the edge, but the thrill was too irresistible. She leaped, the ground rushing up to meet her.

Hours later, In a high-tech room of a military hospital, Sam lay in bed, hooked to a morphing IV drip and secured in a traction system for her obliterated lower body. She ravenously devoured a bowl of gelatin as a frustrated doctor reviewed her chart.

"Licking her lips, Sam asked, 'Doctor, what do you call this?'"

"It’s raspberry gelatin. Haven’t you had Jell-O before?" the doctor replied impatiently.

"I’m not allowed to eat sweets. Mom says sugar makes me crazy. This is so yummy!" Sam exclaimed.

The doctor fumed, his frustration barely contained, as the General, a man of sixty armored in an intense demeanor, entered the room. The doctor snapped to attention.

The General scanned the medical chart, growing increasingly intrigued by what he read. "Pelvic fractures take six to eight weeks of healing before a person can even stand," he remarked.

"That’s true, but Samantha is healing at a rate fifteen-- maybe twenty times that of a normal human being," the doctor explained.

"Can you please get me some more Jell-o?" Sam called out, licking the dessert bowl clean.

The doctor tried to squelch his frustration. "By this time tomorrow, she’ll be running laps."

"Why’s she still in that contraption?" the General asked.

"Because she’s a goddamn nuisance. Impetuous. Foolhardy. She gets into everything," the doctor responded.

"That’s completely understandable. She’s not afraid of anything," the General noted.

"I know-- kids are fearless, but --"

"You misunderstood me, doctor," the General interrupted. "Sam was born without the ability to fear-- anything. The concepts of wariness, caution, and better judgment mean nothing to her."

Sam licked the dessert bowl, her pleased expression reflecting her condition's uniquely dangerous nature.