R.E.birth

by Thomas W. Everson

  My chance to get away from the fighters massing and moving toward me dwindles and I find myself acting impulsively.

  “Get out! Get out or I am going to beat you senseless!” I yell and move my arms excitedly.

  I can see the fear in their eyes, not wanting to deal with me again, and they do as they are told. Jumping in before they are out, I press the number twenty on the pad of numbers. The doors begin to close and I hear someone yell about stopping the elevator, but the twins stand in inaction outside of it just watching.

  When the doors have closed and I ascend through the tower I sigh, relieved I have a moment or two to catch my breath.

  For all I know there are more of these fighters waiting for me when I get to the twentieth floor. Hopefully he is not hard to reach.

  It reaches my chosen floor and I hide against the side of the elevator, preparing to assault anyone that comes through the door. The elevator dings and the doors open. There is silence for a few moments while I wait patiently for any attacker who may also be making an attempt to be cautious. But no one enters. I poke my head around the corner and find that this floor is much different than the other floors I had been on. There is a small very nicely furnished rectangular room there to greet me. I take notice of a few chairs scattered about, a couple tables with flowers in pots and a large set of solid wood doors, but there is not a soul in the room.

  As I exit the elevator I cautiously look around to find that only three elevators reach this high and there are no apparent stairs up to this location. Making my way toward the big doors I hear the elevator close behind me and the other two have come to life. The situation becomes urgent and rather than being quiet, I psyche myself up by breathing in and out a few times, puff up my chest and kick the doors in.

  They fly open I find myself caught off guard by Denis’s other bodyguard rushing through and slamming two fists into my chest.

  Exhaling violently I am staggered and he takes the opportunity to unleash a fury of punches and kicks that cause my body to scream out in pain. Aiming for the tender parts of my body, he hits my ribs, sternum, my left kidney and finally my temples as he swings both of his fists into each side of my head.

  Dry heaving, I fall to one knee. I block as much as I can with my arms, but he is relentless and begins a series of kicks against my forearms to try and break my already weak defense. Desperate, I continue to block with my arms and the book while I move from one knee to crouching on my feet, preparing to spring up.

  I time his kicks and there is a brief moment of reprieve that becomes my chance. Pushing against the floor with all of my legs’ strength and aiming as best as I can, I drop my arms from their defensive position and thrust my head forward. When my forehead connects with his abdomen it catches him off guard and gives me an opportunity.

  My turn.

  He stumbles backward only a few inches, but I find it enough to throw the book at his face and then a few blows at him. His abdomen is just as solid as my fists when I connect, causing my knuckles to crack and blare with pain. But despite the bruises forming all across my body I continue anyway, distracting him with a light set of punches to his torso and abdomen.

  He swings a left hook but I turn my body sideways while lifting my leg. Overextended and his knee exposed I bring my foot down directly into his kneecap as hard as I can.

  A sickening crack can be heard and he wails in pain but his resolve is strong. He tries to keep going, putting all his weight on the other leg and swinging for a lucky shot but, now able to out-maneuver him, he misses again. I wait for an opportunity, ducking under and around missed blows, and when I see it, I clamp both hands together and swing them at his cheek. He collapses to the ground but looks up at me with ferocity.

  “Stay down,” I manage, panting heavily from the stress on my body and lungs.

  “Or what?” he responds defiantly.

  “I will make you regret it,” I tell him.

  He begins to get up and I immediately take action, rushing at him and slamming my foot into his groin. His yell is so loud that it echoes throughout the room and he collapses, rolling around on the ground in pain.

  The first of the three elevators ding behind me and I turn to slam the wooden double doors shut before whoever is on the elevator can step off. With haste I grab a couple chairs from within this new room and jam them up against. Banging ensues but I find myself with a moment to breathe and look around.

  This secluded room is much larger than the room that doubled as an elevator, but it has a similar layout. There are shelves and pictures lining the walls and strange miniature statues and oversize belts on those shelves. A desk and chair block my path to a wide window that overlooks the edge of the city and out into the farmlands. The chair is turned facing the window and from behind it I can hear Denis breathing as quietly as he can.

  “This is over Denis,” my voice is firm.

  “It isn’t over until I say it is! My dad is going to get you for this!” He yells out from behind the chair.

  “Does your father even know what you have been up to?” I ask him.

  “Y...yes! He said that these guys would take care of me while he was away!” I can hear a quiver in his voice, despite his attempt to sound fearless.

  “You are lying to me Denis. I think I will just contact him,” I bluff as I have no idea of how I could contact his father.

  “No, don’t!” He exclaims while spinning the chair around.

  His sandy blonde hair reaches his cheekbones and I can see the tears welling up in his eyes.

  “Why not? If he knew what you were doing then it should not be a problem, right?” I cross my arms in front of me.

  “Because he’s on an important business trip and he will be mad if you call him!” The sniffling begins.

  “Call him?” I am a little puzzled what this means but play it off. “I was just going to have him come home and take care of this.”

  “No! No! No! I promise to be good! Please don’t bring him home! I’ll be in trouble.” That breaks him and the bawling begins, a distinct look of fear on his face.

  “Denis, you are in trouble anyway. The city is tired of you harassing them and they are not paying you anymore,” I lie, continuing my charade. “Why not let your father come home and fix this?”

  Two parts of me war inside. One laughs and urges me to torture the boy more with idle threats while the other tells me to let it go and just find a way to get his father to come home to straighten all of this out. It pleases me to make this child squirm but I cannot understand why.

  Perhaps because justice is prevailing, or could it be a darker side of me surfacing? I suppose with my past unknown it is hard to find what is driving me now.

  “Fine, I’ll call my dad.” His tears begin to slow down and he looks over to some of the trophies on the shelf to his right.

  The banging continues behind me – it sounds like the full horde of fighters is trying to get in here – but I wait patiently for him to do something, unsure of what.

  “What? You want me to do it now?” Denis inquires.

  “If possible, that’s the idea.”

  “But…!”

  “Don’t try to squirm your way out of this! I am not leaving until it is done!” My voice raises a few notches.

  Denis pulls out a small rectangular object similar to the PayPad, but it is slightly different. Instead of an area to swipe a card over there is a circular device attached. Denis presses some buttons and what happens next astonishes me. A small man sitting in a chair appears, see-through, with his back to me.

  “Denis, I’m a busy man. What is it you need?” The little moving image speaks.

  “Dad! I’m being picked on by a bully!” he complains.

  “Now hold it…!” I begin to protest but am cut off.

  “Must be a tough bully if he can get to you through all of my prized fighters there to protect you,” he sounds annoyed.

  “He beat them up!” Denis whines.

  “If I coul
d get a word in…” I try again.

  The small transparent man spins in his chair and addresses me formally.

  “And you must be him, since I don’t recognize you and you’re standing in my office.” The man crosses his hands at chest level, placing his elbows on the armrests of his chair.

  “Might I have a word?”

  “Anyone that can break into my building and make it to the top without getting beaten, thrown out or killed is worthy of a minute of my time. Say what you have to.” He waves his hand, displeasure in his voice.

  “Thank you. My name is Rain. I have recently come to this area and become involved with some locals. Those locals are being harassed by your thugs… or fighters… whatever you call them. Denis has been extorting people of their money with the promise of ‘protection’ from him.” I take a deep breath to continue. “Your men, Driesen and Anthony, recently ransacked a friend’s shop, destroying it in the process because she refused to pay Denis this ‘protection’ money.”

  “That’s a pretty wild claim. Do you have evidence of this?”

  “Denis was keeping log book of frequently hit stores and businesses,” I pick the book back up and wave it around.

  “My journal!” Denis exclaims.

  “Denis, I’m coming home. I’ll be there in a couple days and you and I are going to have a long talk. Keep that evidence safe, as I will require it when I get there.”

  “Yes sir, Mister….?”

  “Lindali.”

  “One more thing, Mister Lindali. Outside your office your fighters are trying to get in here, still pursuing me. How should I handle that?”

  Mister Lindali turns back to Denis. “Activate the com-system.”

  “Yes sir,” Denis hangs his head in shame while pressing a few more buttons on the pad. “Com active.”

  “This is Trevor Lindali,” his voice echoes through the room, and I assume on all floors of the building. “All fighters are to stand down and the man who has breached the building is to leave unharmed. You are no longer to follow any of Denis’s requests as I had directed before, except for basic necessities of food and care. I will be returning to the office within two days to straighten things out. End transmission.”

  With that Denis hits a few buttons and sulks even more in the chair and the echoing stops. Mister Lindali turns back to me.

  “That should take care of all the issues until I return. I will expect to see you here in two days’ time.”

  “You could send Driesen and Anthony for me when you arrive,” I smirk at the thought of seeing their faces after all this. “I am staying at the house in the middle of the park.”

  “I wasn’t aware there was a house there,” he quirks an eyebrow at me.

  “This has been a strange experience,” I comment.

  “Mmm. Indeed,” he replies while rubbing his chin.

  Removing the chairs from the door I pull them open and find the once empty room is now filled with a variety of characters, all of which are giving me a dirty look, but when I start to walk they open a path for me to the elevator. Pressing the number one for the first floor, I smile audaciously as the doors close and I descend. When I reach the bottom I find Driesen and Anthony waiting for me, unbound from my knots. I nod and proceed to exit the elevator.

  “Mister Lindali is going to have you come find me when he returns. I live in the house in the middle of the park.”

  “House in the middle….?” Anthony begins to question.

  “Do not ask. Just know that I live there.”

  With that I push by them and exit through the booths and spinning glass doors at the front of the building. A long walk home through the city while my body aches leaves me worn but when I find that park, it is a beautiful sight. When I reach the door to the kitchen I push in to find Agatha there and she moves to aide me.

  “Rain! What happened?” She looks at my face, examining it.

  “Got in a few fights. I am going to go rest,” I tell her with a weak smile.

  “I should look at your wounds,” she says in her motherly tone.

  “After I sleep,” I smile.

  Moving away from her I find my body hurting even more now that the adrenaline is draining from my body and my muscles are beginning to relax. Climbing the stairs becomes a feat, but I manage to make it to my room. Without turning on the light I gently lower myself onto the bed and close my eyes, the book squished under me.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  I hear a noise next to my ear and it startles me to the point that I open my eyes suddenly. In my peripheral vision I see a little blonde headed girl bent over with her eyes closed and lips puckered as if she were about to kiss my cheek.

  “What are you doing?” I ask her calmly.

  Emma squeals and jumps up from a kneeling position and puts her arms behind her back while innocently looking out my window.

  “I was just checking on you to see if you were okay!” she says slyly.

  I sit up and rotate so my feet hit the cool floor. Smiling, I realize that after dealing with Denis the other day she has become infatuated with me, finding her hovering over me while I slept then, too.

  I wonder, since we will be leaving here soon enough, if I should break it to her that she will have to detach herself from me, as well as from Ami and Agatha.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “I only wanted to make sure you were okay. You have a lot of bruises.” She laughs nervously and retreats to the door to my room, but watches me intently.

  I stand up, stretching my arms and legs, causing my body to protest with pain. I grunt. Though I have had a day to recuperate, my bruises tell me it will still be at least a week or two before my body starts feeling normal again. But normal seems to be an incorrect term to describe me. With violent tendencies and the ability to physically assert myself, coupled with a drive for justice, I am left plagued with wild ideas of who I used to be.

  Moving toward the door causes Emma to retreat some and when I turn to head down the stairs she beats me to the bottom. Slowly and cautiously I take the steps one at a time while reflecting on the current situation.

  I have not heard from Driesen or Anthony yet but the day is young. Mister Lindali said two days so I wonder how far he has to travel. Their technology and travel methods are so far beyond what I could have imagined. Two days walking is a significant distance, but how far is two days by their train system?

  Emma was helpful enough yesterday teaching me a few more things about this time but it still baffles me about their image technology. A miniature version of the person appearing out of thin air is baffling. But I suppose it all is still.

  Reaching the bottom of the stairs my bladder tells me that it is time to head for my morning bathroom routine. When Emma follows me down the hall I make sure to lock both doors, feeling a little bit smothered. After relieving myself, I wash my hands and take the opportunity to shave with a razor blade that Agatha provided.

  For the first time since my memory loss, I find that I am growing a little stubble along the base of my chin and my upper lip. Though I cannot remember, I find that I am proficient at shaving when I lather my hands up thoroughly with a bar of soap and then apply it to my face generously.

  Rinsing my hands, I grab the single edged blade and place it carefully to my face while dragging it across slowly and carefully. It takes me a good fifteen minutes and I cut myself a dozen times, but I manage to finish up. I wash up and dab my face with a dark hand towel, finding it difficult to get the bleeding to stop despite being minor nicks, but they eventually calm down.

  Exiting the bathroom after cleaning up my mess, I find Emma has disappeared. I move to the kitchen door and the smell of fried eggs hits me. I salivate and my stomach gurgles painfully. Pushing through, I am met with a waft of cool air from the open door, carrying that smell directly at me. Agatha, or perhaps Evalyn, is cooking, while Ami is lavishly spreading butter on a plate full of toast. Emma sits at the already set
table, squirming in her seat as if she cannot control herself.

  “Morning everyone,” I announce myself.

  Ami looks up and bursts into a fit of laughter.

  “What happened to you? You look worse than when you came back from the U.F.A. building!” She continues to laugh at my bloody encounter with the razor.

  “It is not that funny.” I frown at her.

  “Yeah! It’s not funny! Rain is hurt!” Emma shouts at Ami. “Are you okay?!”

  “Keep your voice down inside, young lady,” Evalyn scolds her brashly.

  “I am fine Emma. Just cut myself a few times shaving.” I pause before moving to the back door to toss my dirty towel out into the washbasin. “Is there anything I can help with?”

  “No, sit down and wait,” Evalyn snaps at me.

  I do as she commands and Emma sits down in Ami’s normal spot, right next to me, and I hear a small grumble from Ami as she notices the same attachment. But she does not speak out against her spot being taken. Emma crosses her arms on the table and lays her head down on them, staring at me.

  Is what I did worth such admiration?

  “How’s the cleanup of your shop coming?” I ask her.

  “There’s a lot of damage. It’s going to take me some time to recover, but with not having to pay Denis anymore, I should be able to manage the losses to profit,” she says while sitting back up.

  “Glad to hear that you will be back on your feet soon.” I smile at her.

  I look over to see Evalyn and Ami heading our way with the food. We are all given two fried eggs, bacon, and a piece of toast to eat. While Ami, Evalyn and I proceed to use our forks to eat, Emma folds the toast in half and places the two fried eggs inside, eating it with rapid speed before I have even put two bites in my mouth. Wide-eyed, I cock my head and give her a funny look but while the rest of us continue to eat, she inhales the bacon and proceeds to wash up and clean the dirty dishes.