I see a foot enter the door. It’s small and narrow.
“Sam, uh – this is really weird Sam. What’s going on here?” a woman with black hair and blue eyes says, as she stares, a deep and intense stare at Joey’s hairy butt crack.
I lift myself off of Joey, stand up and ask “who are you?”
“Sam, you forgot me?” she asks.
“I forget everything.”
“He got some sort of traumatic amnesia,” Joey says.
“OK butt crack man. Why don’t you pull up your pants and try to stand up,” she says. She looks at me, intensely and says: “I guess you don’t remember what happened on Friday?”
“That’s the day before I was buried. Were you here?” I ask.
“You weren’t, well … yes I was here. Are you drunk?” she says.
“Yeah, I’m a little drunk.”
“You must have had a lot to drink. I mean, you never, like ever get drunk,” she says.
Joey stands up, walks over to her, puts his hand out and says: “hey girl. I’m Joey.”
“I’m Sariel,” she says while looking at Joey’s hand and continuing “wasn’t your hand just touching your naked butt?”
Joey grabs her hand anyway and shakes it.
“Joey, don’t make friends with her. We don’t even know her.”
“It’s cool man. Nobody this beautiful could be dangerous. I mean just look at the nice set of…”
I interrupt with “Joey not cool.”
“Tits. Oh my gaaaaaaaaaaah. You’ve got some really really nice tits,” Joey says to Sariel.
“Joey, how about you take a step back there buddy,” I say.
Sariel walks over to me, puts her hand on my chest. “You didn’t forget me. You forgot you. I’m here now Sam.”
“I can see that you’re here. I can see that you know me, that I woke up in a grave. I can see that Tulsa knows you well, that you’re not surprised about a jail cell being in a cabin.” I grab the knife a little tighter and say: “you better tell me who the fuck you are.”