WAKING

The pain jarred me from oblivion to shivering, nauseating consciousness.

I pushed up from the slimy asphalt, left shoulder screaming from the effort, as sharp claws struck my ankle. My reflexive kick dislodged a rat the size of a cat. It scrabbled to right itself, then paused, assessing its options. I growled. It swished its enormous tail before waddling toward dark pools of shadow at the far end of the alley.

I vomited, tossing my insides into a convenient pothole before shuffling over to the wall to evaluate. After some painful prodding at the back of my head it was clear I was no longer bleeding. “Nothing derma spray and a strong course of antibiotics can’t fix.” I informed the swirling dark spots before my eyes. My dislocated shoulder throbbed in concert with my head but neither of those things were as troubling as the fact that I had no idea who I was or why I was wearing nothing but skivvies in this filthy alley.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Start with what you know.”

Bracing for the pain, I locked my arm around my knee, leaned backward, arched my neck, and rotated the screaming joint back into the socket. The relief was short lived. Squeals and the rustle of trash at the end of the dark alley told me my rodent nemesis had enlisted re-enforcements. I stood. As I waited for the world to stop spinning I noticed a neat pile of folded clothing - on a dry spot - against the opposite wall. It was nice to know the clothes thief was the tidy sort.

The blue wool sweater smelled like a wet dog after it’s rolled in something dead. The grey pants - two sizes too small – with torn knees were mended with neat red stitches and my big toes were airing out uncomfortably through the rip at tip of the grimy canvas runners. All in all, better than naked. I turned. Rat face and his rodent posse had arrived. They hesitated. I was less vulnerable and much larger upright than his Intel had led them to believe. I growled with more vigor this time. Rat face and his recruits retreated as I exited the alley.

Nothing about this gloomy street stirred a memory. Not the derelict buildings. Not the tagged gated shops. Nor the littered apartment entrances.  I glanced, automatically, at my naked wrist. “Crap” It was either very late or very early depending on your point of view. Either way these were vampire hours as I was the only soul walking this street. I hesitated at the corner. Left, right or straight ahead?

A synapse fired, an image flickered. A chiseled face, an authoritative voice directing as gunfire spit, engines roared and screams pierced the swirling fog. The words “We move ahead! Back means dead”.

I snapped back to the present and moved forward. Halfway up the next block I spotted a small, scarecrow man in oversized clothes. I slowed, moving toward the sepia glow of the reluctant streetlight on silent feet. Scarecrow’s hair was long and matted. A family of birds could have nested comfortably in his bushy beard undisturbed. He was ghostly white. Ribbon thin. A strong wind could send him fluttering.

“Wrong, so very wrong. Man like that probly don’t take kindly to being stripped.” He paced. “Just wanted to ask questions bout Talon…what he knows…gotta be significant…so damned important…But those men…that fight…and the damn lure of these clothes. Been so long, so very long...” He rubbed his arms against the night’s chill.

I sensed that my hesitation to confront him was out of character. Maybe? He spun. Our eyes met. He ran.

“Wait, just wait!” I struck an exposed toe against a broken chunk of cement. The jarring pain shot straight up to my cradled arm then onto my addled head. I stumbled from the jolt. Damnit, where was the stealth and grace I’d exhibited earlier? I took a deep breath then followed catching up only to see him disappear around a corner.

I gave the turn a wide berth just in case Scarecrow wasn’t as harmless as he appeared. There was no question I’d made that make before. Scarecrow was nowhere in sight. A decrepit Flatiron building created a literal fork in the road.

A memory bubbled up from my muddled subconscious.  “Use all five of your senses, greenie,” an olive skinned man cautioned as we crouched behind an overturned car. “The hunter knows which way the wind blows. What do you smell?  What do you hear? What do you see around the entire plane? Up, down, left, right all around. Does anything look out of place? What’s foreign to the environment?” I’d pointed. He’d nodded. “Good, now move it, greenie, go, go, before we become the prey!”

The memory drifted away as I followed the advice. I caught Scarecrow’s faint but distinct odor as the shrill whoop whoop of a police siren rent the silence.  It was time to move.

The sour smell led me to another alley. I discounted the rusted, broken zigzag of iron stairs clinging to the brick walls. Scarecrow couldn’t have reached the bottom rung unless he was half man, half spring. A quick test eliminated the doors as escape routes.  I approached the end of the alley cautiously. Legs in a comfortable natural crouch. Muscles engaged. Feet moving silently. Why did this feel so natural? Before I could follow that curious trail of thought I heard the muffled sound of glass crunching underfoot.

Behind garbage nirvana besieging a concrete wall was a jagged hole just big enough for me to squeeze through. Beyond the secret entrance was an open field with an imposing mountain of junk and debris. I navigated the maze at a jog hoping to catch up. I emerged to find a tent city. Grungy canvas homes and ramshackle shelters sprouted like wild mushrooms in a damp field. At this late hour, a few malnourished souls squatted near ow burning camp fires. The party crowd, staggering and urinating in the open congregated near some barrels glowing red with embers. I caught a glimpse of Scarecrow as he ducked beneath a grungy, gray flap attached to his scavenged hovel. I tested my shoulder. Not great but I could use the arm if need be.

I kicked the base of Scarecrow’s wall to announce my arrival. He shot out and tripped over my foot, stumbled and fell hard. I pinned him to the ground.

A flash of movement to my right alerted me. A tall, rail thin man pounced. I sprang clear. Scarecrow and his rescuer rolled in the dirt, struggling and cursing.

“Hellafire! Blake it’s me! I tol ya, ya need glasses, now get off!” Scarecrow shouted dodging a feeble punch.

“Moe? Is that you? Goodness where did the other man go?” Blake sat up wheezing. “You wait till I catch my breath!” He shook a bony fist at me, “I was a pugilist in my very younger days!”

“I just want to talk,” I said, hands held up, to indicate no harm. "Blake, Moe, is it?” I used their names hoping to set them at ease. Better to keep things calm.

“Wait...wait I recognize you,” Blake squinted as he pointed at me. “You’re the one who was looking for Claw at Saint Clements before Moe followed you.”

“Claw?”

“He means, Talon.” Moe wheezed, pushing himself up.

“Yes...that’s it...Talon.” Blake glanced at both of us, then laughed despite the situation. “You both look ridiculous. Moe like a shriveled raven in those baggy clothes and you like a child who’s outgrown his outfit!”

“Funny isn’t the word I’d use. But I see your point.” I waited as Blake and Moe dusted themselves off.

“C’mon,” Moe motioned towards me. “Let’s talk by the fire.”

I followed them to a small fire blazing in what looked like an old washing machine drum. The ground heaved. Or maybe I did. I sat hard in the dirt.

“Y’okay?” Moe asked. He looked concerned.

“Not sure.” I cradled my arm.

“Mystery man got knackered by some thugs,” Moe explained to Blake. “Weren’t exactly a fair fight. Five to one.” He turned to me. “Although I gotta say, you gave a lot more than you got. Until you got whacked by the lightning bugger.”

“Lightning bugger?”

“Yeah, a nightstick with a charged zing. Son...do ya know yer name?” He bent down and touched my knee.

“No.”

“Well ain’t that a pickle? How about the fight and the busty blond?” He stared at me.

My eyebrows rose. “You’d think a busty blonde would be memorable.”

Moe snorted. “She was. If ya don’t remember her...things are pretty bad.”

“Gray matter scatter,” Blake said.

I must have looked confused, I sure as hell, felt that way.

“Gray matter scatter’s what we call the loss of memory after a nasty beating," Moe explained. “The lightning buggers make it worse. I think the charge damages the cerebral cortex and the hippocampus. Perhaps both. I can’t tell without tests.”

I lay back on a patch of rough grass and closed my eyes, knowing I shouldn’t sleep. Not just because of my many questions. “Could we circle back to the ‘thugs’ and Talon? Do you know who they are? What happened to the Blonde?” Were the words that came out first.

“I’ll do my best to answer, son.” Moe offered. “I ain’t seen those thugs round here much. They’s the kind who do the beatings in private. Where they can dispose a’ the body without witnesses.” He looked at me sideways at the mention of a body.

I rubbed my face.  “What’s so significant about the word, body? Is the Blonde dead? I was alone when I woke up.”

Moe patted my knee again. “Don’t know ifn she’s dead. But I can say ya gave far more than ya got. The head goon only used the lightening bugger when it was clear they was outnumbered. Two of his men were down. The Blonde was screaming loud enough to startle the deaf and it was time to skedaddle. They tossed the Blonde in the trunk. Got the two that were out cold into the car after patting you down and taking your cell and watch. I don’t know how it all fits with yer search for Talon. But I do know I need to talk to Talon myself.”

“I see.” I didn’t.

“After they left, I stopped I put some pressure on the bleeding. Checked yer pulse and did everything possible under the circumstances.”

“I paid with my clothes?” I felt like crap the minute the words had come out of my mouth.

He sighed. “I suppose ya want yer clothes back now? I’m sorry for takin em. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Though it ain’t my normal.” He added.

I felt worse now than before. I wanted the itchy wool gone but not this way. He hadn’t exactly saved my life but I owed him a debt. And it was cold out here.

“No, they’re yours, keep them.”

“The shoes too?” He peered at me through his thick eyebrows, incredulous.

I wiggled my cramped, aching toes. “Sure. The shoes too.”

“Well isn’t that somethin’?”

“Something alright.” I closed my eyes.

“No ya don’t, ya can’t fall asleep, son. Sit up.”

I sat. I definitely had a concussion.

“Yer looking a little green there, son.”

I closed my eyes and breathed. “I got this. It don’t think this is the first time I’ve been in a situation like this.”

“That’s disturbing and yer calm is a little unnerving,”

Moe worried the gap to the left of his yellowed front teeth as he was studied me. Debating whether he should tell me more.

“The three times I’ve woken up in near your state, I was more than a wee bit freaked out.”

I shrugged. I knew I’d been in tougher situations. I just needed to wait this out. “I’ll freak out later, when I know what the hell is going on.”

Moe snorted.

“That’s the spirit.”  Blake said. “We should introduce ourselves properly.  My name is Professor Blake Chilton, philosopher, academic poet and Junk City’s most charming and debonair lady’s man. But you can call me Blake,” he reached for my hand. This is,” waving to Moe, “is the esteemed Dr. Moses Vezos. We’ll just call you Mystery Man fer now.”

I smiled. “Appropriate. I’m sure there’s an interesting story behind that introduction, but it will have to wait until you tell me how and why you came to follow me, Moe.” A wave of exhaustion swept over me. I took a deep breath and focused.

“Well...Mystery Man,” Moe began. “Last night was pot roast dinner night at Saint Clements Church. Blake an I was all dressed up. Blake, as ya can see, likes a more tailored look.” I glanced at Blake. His thread bare pinstriped, navy suit was as clean as possible under the circumstances. His once white shirt was yellow, the collar hopelessly frayed but the Windsor knot in his red tie was perfect. “Whilst, I prefer to sport the rugged, outdoorsy and dangerous look. Enhances my handsomeness.” He continued.  “Now like I was─”

“I’ll do this for efficiency's sake.” Blake interrupted. “Cause Moe can go on.” He came and sat closer. “You came in and showed us a picture of Talon. We’d seen him before – knew he’d once lived here, on the streets ya see – an he often visited friends. Then they disappeared. Talon came round looking for them. Even had aerial shots showing them entering the back of a white van. How he got hold of those is a mystery.”

“Sorry,” I asked to stake a marker. “Yesterday being…?”

“Ah yes….yesterday being Thursday….” I waited. “The fourth of December…2107. Does that mean anything to you? No? Well it’ll come back.”

I wasn’t so sure. For me, today was day one with fleeting overtones of countless days I couldn’t remember. “Then what happened?" I prompted.

“This,” Blake said, eyebrows raised at Moe. “Is where Moe takes over.” He glanced at his watch. Stood, seeping his arm toward Moe. “I promised Missy a dance.”

He walked away. Weaving through the tents in the encampment without a backward glance.

“This is gonna sound nuts.” Moe said as Blake walked away. “But yesterday you were normal. Today, yer an amnesiac, in a tent city, under a carbon dome, on a blighted, small planet flying through black space around a ball of fire. So if all of that is possible then anything I tell you is entirely plausible.”

I snorted. “A ball of fire? You don't say.”

Moe winked and nodded solemnly as his eyes locked on mine. “Those boys ain’t the first to disappear. Not by a long shot. Talon knew it. I knew it. It’s been happening fer a long time. Sometimes they come back. Telling us they were picked up, fed and taken care of." His eyes bored into mine. “It wasn't humanitarian aid. Within a few weeks, they got sick. Died. Ya should know that contrary to popular belief, universal health care ain’t so universal and it’s far from free. Too many patients, not enough resources an little interest in allocating funds to treat the most needy and helpless. Particularly when they’s the filthy, stinkin, homeless.”

He stood, pacing as he continued. “I may not have medicine or the wherewithal to authorize tests but I sure knew what I was seeing. Those people were infected with a deadly virus. I saw the bodies of those who’d passed away. There was no question about the source either. And I know what’s coming!”

His pace quickened. “I think Talon either suspected or knew what I know. He wasn’t just askin about his buddies. He was asking where all the missing homeless had gone. Who was taking people away? What tests were being performed? What he didn’t know fer sure was who was responsible.”

He spun, arms wide. “That’s why I’m here! Because I do know the sicko who’s behind it all. If we..." he waved at the two of us, "...if we don’t do something about it, a whole lot more people are gonna get hurt!”

“Don’t you see? You were looking fer Talon. I wanted to know what he knew.” He dropped down to eye level “So I followed ya hoping you’d lead me to Talon. To learn what you knew.”

Well I didn’t know a damn thing now.  “Why not go to the police with this story? Do we have police? Or...is it sheriffs?”

He spat. “Yeah, we got police alright. ‘The Planetary Enforcement Agency’ has worldwide jurisdiction.” He was gesturing with odd air quote marks. “The P.E.A. for the people. That’s their motto!” Moe laughed. “Well, in my opinion, P.E.A. should stand fer Protecting Economics Agency. Cause they only seem to work in the rich sectors where it pays. No son, they ain’t gonna help you. Trust me! Especially when yer dressed and smelling like that. An if ya think ya should get yerself checked out in a hospital. Don’t bother. They won’t touch you. Stay away from Grace General at all times, no matter the circumstances. That place ain’t just dangerous to people like us, it’s deadly.”

He pursed his lips. “But I gotta deal for you. Something real good for the both of us.” He pointed at his chest. “I’ll help ya get home.” Then he pointed at me. “And yer gonna help me find Sam.”

I tried to ease my neck and shoulder muscles. My vision blurred. The world swayed and tilted. Blake swept past me with a laughing woman in a pink dress. They were quick stepping lightly. Was I seeing things, or had they really swept by?

“Sam?” I came to, saying the word. Moe was straining to keep me from hitting the ground.

“That’s it son, that’s it. Yer back. Now, Sam’s my daughter. If I can find her, I can help everyone.”

“I think you’re on your own, Moe. I don’t see how I can help you in my current state.”

Moe rose, entered his hovel and came out with a blanket to throw over my shoulder. Embers flickered in the pit. It was mesmerizing. I just wanted to sleep.

“You’re state’s temporary. And you can most certainly help me, jus like I can help you. First I’ll help ya find out who ya are.”

“What am I missing?”

He paused a moment, then answered. “A convey.”

“A what? You mean I have a vehicle? Where? You might have mentioned that sooner.”

“Promise you’ll help me find Sam. Millions of lives really are at stake unless I find her.” He believed every word he'd said.

I laughed. It was ridiculous. “I don’t know who I am! How am I going to keep a promise like that?”

Moe looked me up and down. “Not sure yet. I just got a feeling.”

“You’re the only one feeling it, Moe. Just tell me where to find the car. Once I figure everything out, I promise I’ll come back and help. Satisfied?” I meant it.

“No, not satisfied. I’m not tellin ya where it is cause I’m gonna take you there. And,” he flashed a quick grin. “after I dazzle ya with my charm and charisma. I know you’ll help me. Now...I’m gonna get my things. We’ll leave in a half-hour. Take the time to rest, doctor’s orders. Ya look a bit peaked.”

He patted my knee, got up, and went inside his tent. A second later his head popped out.  Checking to see I was still there. Where the hell was I supposed to go?

I sighed and closed my eyes. Sometimes any way is as good as any. You just gotta keep moving. It was the voice of the chiseled guy I’d seen in my memory. I lay down, covered up and relaxed. Sleep overtook me.