Reborn (4 page)

What could want my soul? Whatever Melba spoke of, maybe it had already taken my soul, and my memories with it, and now I was an empty shell of what I once was.

Melba came out of her shock and picked an object off the ground. She flipped a switch at the base of what looked like a lantern, and light beamed from the upper half, casting a warm glow in the small space. After hanging the lantern from a nail on a beam, she picked up a square container, took off the top, and handed it to me.

I examined the contents: cooked chicken, sliced between bread, a piece of frosted cake, and a pear. Then she sat a jug filled with water in front of me, and handed me a tubular container filled with what she called herbed tea.

“Drink the tea first. It’ll sooth your throat and whatever else ails you.” Melba saw me struggle to remove the top. “Turn it.

A burst of hot steam shot up my nose, and with it, a pungent odor spiked with undertones of citrus and mint; all in all, not bad. By the second sip, the rawness in my throat lifted.

While I savored the strange concoction, Melba pulled a small bottle from her trouser pocket. With it, she proceeded to spray a fine mist into the air until the inside of the shed felt almost humid. I couldn’t make out what she mumbled as she sprayed; something about cleansing, and evil spirits.

While she did her thing, I lifted a slice of bread, noticing a white, creamy substance slathered on the inside of the slices.

“Mayo,” Melba said looking down at me in mid-spray, as if I should know. “You’ve had mayonnaise before, right?”

“It’s highly probable,” I decided, and took a bite and then another. The food tasted wonderful, like the first meal I’d ever eaten.

As the last sip of luke-warm tea pushed the last bite of bread and chicken down my throat, Melba pulled a bucket from a corner and sat on it. She toyed back and forth with a strange wooden carving that hung from her neck on a gold chain, and a tiny, red pouch that hung beside it.

“Thank you for the food. I shall pay you once I find my… my—”

“Identity?”

“I guess so.”

“Hmm, the sane thing to do would be to take you to a hospital, where they can have the police check for missing persons, or file a report, or whatever they do.” She leaned forward, letting go of the objects around her neck. “But I fear you need a different kind of protecting, Solomon.”

When she said the name, pertaining to me, adrenaline rushed through me, shooting a thrill along my veins, charging my insides, making me feel stronger. In that moment, I knew without a doubt I was Solomon. Brandt, on the other hand, I had trouble connecting with.

“Brandt.” As I said the name out loud, a shudder tore through me.

“Brandt?” Melba repeated. “Solomon Brandt?” Her eyes narrowed. “That can’t be your name.”

“It is my name.” As I defended the name as my own, I detected a note of authority in my voice that hadn’t been there before.

“Is that so?” Melba said dubiously. “Hmm, you do look sort of like…”

“Like who?”

“No one. I have the strangest feeling about you… Solomon Brandt. You were sent to me for a purpose.” Her gaze fell to the floor, to the left of her, and she spoke almost to herself. “And for some strange reason, I don’t think it would be wise to send you away.”

She bent forward and rummaged through a sack, pulling out a small wooden dish. She took off the wooden cover and stuck her fingers in what looked like dirty grease. Then she proceeded to cover each scratch and gash over my entire body with what she called healing tincture.

“This will warm your skin and deep heal those wounds. The spicy scent also has a calming effect.”

When she had my wounds dressed, she picked up the bundle she’d dropped earlier.

“Here, put these on.” She held up strange-looking undergarments, a plaid shirt, and trousers, then laid them by my feet. “I’ll bring you water for bathing in the morning; the tincture must have time to do its work.”

When Melba turned on the bucket to face the other way, I got the hint and picked up the clothes. The undergarments stretched over my bruised skin, but the trousers and shirt barely fit over my brawn.

“I don’t think they fit,” I said as I tried futilely to stretch the shirt fabric so both ends met. The buttons were at least eight inches from the holes.

Melba spun in a half-circle on the bucket. “Hmm, I’ll have to find something suitable for you to wear.” She looked longingly at the shirt covering my shoulders. “These were my husband’s clothes.”

“Were?”

“He passed nearly fifteen years ago, at just thirty-six.” Moisture pooled at the corners of her eyes as she spoke. “He was cutting down a tree with his chainsaw when a gust of wind came up out of nowhere and pushed the tree in the wrong direction… he died instantly.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yes, well, that was a long time ago, but feels like just yesterday.” A melancholy smile appeared on her face. She lifted the other items she brought with her. “I guess these boots won’t be of any use to you, either. They’re only a size nine. I don’t suppose you know what size shoe you take?”

I looked at her with her eyebrows raised, then to my grime-covered feet and shrugged.

“Well, you’re at least six-foot-something.” She sat a boot beside my foot. “Maybe an eleven… twelve. I’ll see what I can pick up at the used clothing store tomorrow.”

I wiped pear juice from my chin and took another bite of the succulent fruit.

“Let’s hope the cops don’t come by again tomorrow. You’re all over the news, you know.
Naked pervert riding a white horse.
” Melba shook her head. “They came back about an hour after they left. Brought hounds with them this time. I was sure they’d sniff you out. The dogs ran the whole yard and came back to the police car.”

Must have been while I slept,
I thought to myself.

“That horse of yours must have taken off—if he even is yours.”

Excalibur
.

I sat the pear core in the container and stood, bending my knees, trying to stretch the tight material against my thighs. I stepped out into the balmy night air and opened my mouth to call the stallion. As soon as I uttered the first syllable, Excalibur rounded the corner, neighing, sounding almost joyful.

“There you are,” I said, feelings of fondness for the horse taking hold of me.

Excalibur nudged my cheek with his nose in a loyal gesture.

Melba stood in the doorway. “There’s a bucket of water outside for your friend, and all the fresh grass he can eat. You two seem to know each other quite well.”

“It seems we do,” I answered while staring into the horse’s docile eye.

Excalibur entered the shed, walked to my makeshift bed and stood on one side.

“I guess he wants to go to bed,” Melba said, then laughed.

I smiled for the first time that I could remember.

“I’ll be back in the morning. Don’t let anyone see you.”

I gave her a nod. “Thank you… for everything.”

Melba closed the door behind her, leaving me and Excalibur alone. For some reason, having the horse near lessened the fear of what had happened earlier, to the extent that I began to think I had dreamed of the black fog.

Picking up the blanket Melba left, I re-situated myself on the earthy bed. The lantern above still shone. When I turned onto my side, I noticed the container that had held the tea sitting on the floor mere inches away, casting a wavy reflection of my face in the steel.

Blue eyes, set under black lashes and thick, dark eyebrows stared back at me. I picked up the contained, turning it, looking for a clearer picture. But the steel was dull and curved, making my face look distorted. Still, there I was, Solomon Brandt; dark, shoulder-length hair and blue eyes; muscular and once strong, and I knew how to use a gun.

I sat the container down and turned to look at Excalibur, who lay beside me now, staring intently at me. “Did you bring me here on purpose, boy? Is this where I’m supposed to be? Or did the scent of peach blossoms and clover lure you here?”

One corner of my mouth lifted while my eyes grew heavy. Words Melba spoke earlier rang in my head:
crossed
and
evil.

olomon… Solomon! Excalibur!”

Excalibur lifted his head from a patch of wild grass growing along the riverbank and looked in the direction Melba’s voice came from. I cut my bath short, jumped out of the cool water, and skinned on the too tight clothes Melba had given me the previous night.

“Solomon?” she called, her voice sounding closer this time.

“Over here,” I answered. “At the river.”

A minute later, Melba burst through the bushes carrying a crinkly, bulging sack. When her gaze met mine, her hand flew to her chest, and she muttered something into the air.

“I thought…” She stopped, took a deep breath, and positioned a hand on her hip. “You can’t just traipse around in broad daylight, child.”

Although I was hardly a child, this wasn’t the time for that debate. For some reason, Melba felt the need to mother me, and I was at least grateful for the care she willingly offered. So I let her scold me.

“Someone might see you,” she looked at Excalibur, “and that horse.”

With his nose buried in a patch of wild grass, Excalibur nickered softly.

“You can’t wander around the property so soon.”

“So soon after what?”

“Well, after yesterday, of course. I just came back from the city. The main road is closed off. Yesterday, someone appeared on a horse, naked, smashed the street and the sewer line, and then rode off. Fits your description to a tee.” She cocked her head, pursed her lips, and continued scolding. “So it might not be a bad idea for you to lay low for a few days, until someone robs the local liquor store or something, to take people’s minds off yesterday’s incident.”

She threw the sack at my feet. “Hopefully these will fit. There’s more in the car. Now get dressed and come back to the shed. I’ll make you breakfast.”

Sleep and Melba’s tea healed my body on the inside, strengthening muscles and spirit. The cool river water lifted some of the dirt and sting from the cuts. All in all, I felt exhilarated and also motivated, but I
was
starving.

“Don’t dawdle,” Melba called from halfway down the path.

I pulled out a pair of heavy cotton trousers, blue like the too-small ones I wore, from inside the bag. I also found a white undershirt decorated with a large orange M and a bear’s head on the front, and the words
Mercer University
printed below; the garment fit loosely. The one other item was a gray jacket with a hood and no buttons, but two strips of silver running up the front, which I didn’t know how to fasten; although the device looked similar, but different, to the shorter fastener on the trousers Melba showed me how to use the previous night. When I was fully dressed in the baggy clothes, I felt sloppy, unkempt almost.

Melba was nowhere in sight when I returned, but something different about the shed stuck out at me. A heavy line of red dust crossed the entrance. It hadn’t been there when I left for the river. I stepped over it, careful not to disturb whatever Melba had set up in my absence.

Inside, I found three sacks filled with clothing and a pair of odd-looking shoes: blue with bright orange stripes and laces. The shoes fit perfectly over a pair of socks I found in another sack.