R.E.birth Read online

Page 4


  Being unconscious for large chunks of time is unnerving. Anything could be happening, including the attacker returning for me. And having them care for me while I cannot do so is somewhat embarrassing.

  I rest my hands on my chest and lose more time just watching the scenery out the window to the left. A noise in the kitchen catches my attention and when I look to the white door I see Ami enter the room with a tray full of food items on it.

  “I brought us something to snack on.”

  I take note of everything that is on the tray. The contents consist of a plate of sliced apples, a plate of crackers, a bowl with some creamy brown spread and a couple slices of bread. There is also a pitcher of juice that has the color and consistency of juice made from apples, and a couple of glasses.

  “Mother has gone out to tend to the garden. We’ll be having vegetable soup for dinner tonight, providing you’re not out cold again.” Ami gives a half smile and I can see that she is trying to lighten the mood, despite the very dramatic day so far.

  “Is there anything I can do to help? You are doing so much for me when others would have let me die or given me minimal care to keep me alive.”

  “Well, if you help us figure out a way out, we can call it completely even, but in the meantime I could use some company later taking some clothes down from the lines if you’re feeling well enough.”

  She lathers some of the brown spread onto a cracker and hands it to me.

  “I think I could manage that.” Even though the wound had cracked open the night before, I feel my strength returning to me. Turning my attention to the spread on the cracker I smell it. “What is this?”

  “Peanut butter on a cracker.”

  “Peanut butter?”

  “Peanuts crushed until they’re a creamy texture, essentially. It’s a very common and handy source of nutrition in our time and goes well with an assortment of different foods,” she explains.

  I lick the peanut butter from the cracker to see if I like it and I find that its taste is much like its raw peanut form but slightly sweeter. Cautiously I eat one cracker while watching Ami devour several, as well as slices of apple slathered with it. The texture is sticky and the taste is delicious as it makes its way around my mouth, causing me to salivate heavily. Following Ami’s actions, I sit up, serving myself several crackers with peanut butter on them and quickly find that its thick quality has overwhelmed my mouth. Nearly choking, I reach for the pitcher and glass, pouring hastily and guzzling it down. It clears my mouth enough for me to continue eating and I find my hands and mouth driving me. Before I realize what I have done, most of the food and half of the pitcher of juice are gone. Not having left Ami much my face grows red from embarrassment.

  “I am sorry! I guess I did not realize how hungry I was!”

  Ami giggles. “It’s understandable that you would eat like that. We are in the Dark Ages and I’m not sure how manners go around here.”

  “Hey! For all I know I do not know any better!”

  “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” She continues to laugh, covering her mouth while she chews.

  Not knowing how to respond, I look out the window yet again and change the subject. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Being this hospitable to me. You could have let me die out there and I would have been none the wiser.”

  “We were just phasing into your time when you collapsed onto the grass. I was coming out to investigate where we had stopped when I saw you. Why would I not help someone that I had just seen fall?”

  “What if I was a bad person?”

  “I didn’t think about that. I just saw that someone needed help,” she says with a small smile.

  “Hmm.”

  After sitting silently for a few minutes I stand up and walk over to the window to get a wider view, finding a large yard filled with nothing but grass and a well that is made of stone and covered by an angled wood roof. The framing has a turning handle with a spindle of rope attached for pulling a bucket up. Beyond the yard are the heavily dense woods that I was assaulted in and I see the direction that I came from, and that Drake ran into. Curious, I almost want to look at that area for clues.

  There has been no sign of Drake, at least not that they have told me. Perhaps he did come and they already hid me from him.

  When I open the door to the left there is a small, wooden porch and stairs leading down to the grass. Beyond the grass leads to the edge of the woods, several yards ahead. Stepping out onto the porch, the smells of nature waft over me. The air is cool and serene, feeling a bit like springtime but there is no sound of wildlife.

  Do the animals know to stay away because of the power?

  Stepping down onto the grass I can feel the blades sink beneath my bare feet and the ground is dry, indicating that the day it rained has long come and gone.

  Compelled by the intrigue of what has happened to me, I walk forward to the place I had fallen. Quickly I look back at the house in a strange fear that it all might not be real. But the house is there and Ami stands in the doorway watching. I feel safe to continue to the edge of the grass. Looking at where my body fell, I find that there is only a smearing of dried mud and nothing more.

  I peer into the woods but cannot see anything distinctive, finding nothing but trees and plants out there. With no trail of any sort I contemplate what I was doing in the middle of the woods in the first place. It is almost as calm in the woods as it is in the field, barely a noise heard. But when I think about entering, everything in my body tells me the woods hold nothing but bad omens for me.

  “What’re you looking for?” Ami asks, having come up behind me.

  “I am not sure. I was just curious because of all the blank space in my head.”

  After a few more moments of looking in silence, we return to the house walking side-by-side and as we reach the steps, I allow her to climb them first. Once back inside I shut the door behind me, move back to the couch and sit gently down. I feel the skin of my chest and back stretch and it is almost like it is going to tear again, but blood does not soak through the bandage and I seem to be okay. Ami sits down next to me.

  “I would ask you to tell me about yourself, but with your amnesia I don’t think it would do any good.” She jokes.

  “No, you know as much about me as I do. I am not even sure how I lost my memories.”

  “It’s probably trauma amnesia. You know, where something so traumatic happens that your brain shuts everything down.”

  “I cannot say I have ever heard of that.”

  “Of course not. You have amnesia.”

  “I can remember some things, but only things that have nothing to do with my memories. It could have been something learned and retained.”

  After a few moments of silence Ami speaks up again. “So you are thinking about helping us?”

  “Considering I owe you two my life and I have nowhere to go it seems only fair that I assist you in breaking free of this cursed place.”

  “That would mean that you will be stuck with us until we do break it.”

  “I cannot think of any place better for me to be right now. Besides, other than the whole ‘aunt possessing your mother’ thing, this place is nice. Comfy.”

  “We have my father to thank for that. He built this house.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Back in our original time. He was gone when Aunt Evalyn died.”

  “Have you never been back to your original time?”

  “Not that I know.” She shifts in her seat a little.

  “I am sorry to hear that.” I try to give a sympathetic smile.

  “It’s okay. We came to accept it long ago.”

  Again we sit in silence on the couch. Though I am unsure what to expect if I stay with them, it seems to be my best option for survival.

  If I were to leave I would have nowhere to go, I would have no currency and it is likely that I would be hunted down again if I were recognized by anyone. Beyond that, I su
ppose adventure awaits me if I stay. I may not remember who I am but I do know that life in this time is dreary. Perhaps some excitement will jar memories loose in my head, but then will it really matter?

  Ami gets up and heads for the door to the kitchen. Turning around she waves for me to follow her. I push on the arm of the couch and ease myself up so as not to jar my wound. My body, having relaxed a little, is stiff and uncooperative at the moment but I hobble forward and follow. Once Ami is inside, she holds the door open so that it does not spring back and hit me. Through the doorway she heads for another door at the back left of the kitchen that leads outside.

  Making my way there slowly proves time consuming, but I am cautious not to open my wound again and use that time to look around a little more. Beyond the island counter lies another, longer counter with a sink that has two separate sections and a rack with dried dishes in it to the right. To the left of the counter with the sink is a shiny metal box with four distinct spirals on top that appears to be a stove, but there is no chimney leading up from it. Past it, Ami opens another door to the outside.

  Stepping out onto another small set of wooden stairs, I find Agatha tending a large garden on the left side of the yard that looks to have a wide variety of plants in it. One by one I take steps down the stairs until I am on green grass for a second time and I note that this half of the yard seems cluttered compared to the other. To the right are four large clotheslines set up in rows with washed clothes hanging to dry, and next to them are wash basins and an empty basket made from a strange material that is neither wood nor metal. Toward the far side of the grass boundary is an apple tree and it makes sense that they had an ample supply in the bowl.

  Ami steps past me toward the clotheslines and I follow behind her. She picks up the empty white basket and holds it out for me. I take it from her, noting its lightness while holding it at my waistline and following while she runs her hands over the clothes inside and out. It seems like every other one she pulls down and places in the basket along the first row.

  “Why are you leaving those? Are they still wet?”

  “Yeah, they need some more time to dry.”

  Watching her work I cannot help but admire her beauty as her brown hair seems lightened by the sun and her thin blue dress flows in a light breeze. Even while doing a mundane chore she moves with grace and I find myself staring rather than just looking. As she looks over at me I look away to avoid feeling awkward. She brings a few more articles of clothing over and puts them in the basket.

  Looking at the next row through the clothing, I can see all manner of women’s undergarments and I blush. Ami sees what I see, becoming excitable.

  “Close your eyes! Don’t look!” She puts her hand up to my eyes.

  I do as she commands and close my eyes blinding myself to my surroundings. I feel Ami tug on the basket. Trusting her, I allow her to lead me presumably to the next row of clothing and stand there awkwardly with my eyes shut. She rushes, moving faster than on the first row and the urge to peek is overwhelming. I squint, just barely opening my eyes; in the basket are colorful pairs of panties and my mind tells me that they are Ami’s. She pulls down a strange looking piece of clothing, two cloth cups held together by a tangle of straps that appears to fit a woman’s chest. She tests it for dampness and decides that it is dry enough. Grabbing and testing another she finds it acceptable as well and brings them over. I close my eyes completely so that she does not know that I was squinting to see.

  “Your eyes are still closed right?”

  “Yes.” I do not lie as my eyes are in fact closed at the moment.

  “Okay.”

  I hear Agatha laugh a little behind me and Ami grabs the basket’s end and leads me to another stopping point. Feeling her put more clothes in, I crack my eyes open just a little again, and look. Normal clothes are now covering most of the undergarments but Ami has not given me permission to open my eyes yet so I wait. She returns and places more in the basket.

  “You can open your eyes now,” she says, a smile in her voice.

  When I do, the bright light of the overhead sun temporarily blinds me, forcing me to blink several times to adjust my eyes.

  “So, what is your time like?” I ask.

  “Urban for the most part, though these woods still half exist.” She points out toward the woods past the apple tree. “Out that way is where the city is in our time and the direction you came from is all still uninhabited. My father built this house next to the woods to separate us from the urban environment.”

  “What do the cities look like?”

  “Crowded with buildings packed close together and people like fish in cans,” she says while returning to retrieving clothes from the lines.

  “Do you miss that kind of setting?”

  “I was young at the time when this all started, but I guess so.”

  She waves her hand at me and I follow her to the last clothesline. Taking the clothes down that she finds dry, she returns to me, drops them in and then takes the basket from me. Placing it at her hip she holds it with one hand.

  “Thanks, that was starting to strain me a bit,” I tell her.

  “No worries. We can’t have you doing heavy work yet.”

  “Yet?”

  “Of course! You don’t think we’re going to just let you laze about once you’re healed do you?” She smirks and shifts her hips to hold the basket better.

  “I suppose that is fair.” I smile back.

  “Good. Because you didn’t have much choice.” She winks and moves past me, heading for the house and I stare as she passes me. Looking back at me expectantly she catches me staring and stops walking. “You coming?”

  “Yes.” I follow and, as I pass Agatha again, she looks up at me and chuckles.

  Entering the house I notice a temperature drop and my body sends a shiver down my spine causing my shoulders to shudder. Following her back through the kitchen and into the main room of the house she begins to head down the hall. Not knowing what she wants me to do I continue on behind her and when we reach her room she opens her door and turns back to me.

  “You go ahead and rest in the living room. I have to fold and hang this laundry.”

  “You do not want my help?”

  “For the same reason I made you close your eyes outside, there are just some things you shouldn’t see! Now, go rest.” She smiles at me and waves her free hand.

  “Okay.” Turning around I make my way back. When I look over my shoulder I see Ami still standing there, watching me leave as if making sure that I am not going to stand outside her door and peek.

  When I reach the couch I turn around to sit and see her shadow move into her room, shutting the door behind her. Sitting for a few minutes causes me to grow restless. Seeing the bookshelves to the left of the hallway wall my mind grows curious about what I could learn from the books they have. They are both filled from top to bottom on all six of their shelves and from left to right the books increase in size with a few stray books lying down on top of others.

  If they are from the future and I am from their past, I could probably learn a great deal about the future cultures. Perhaps even find out more about why they talk so differently.

  Standing back up I walk over to the bookshelf and browse the titles written on each side. The first shelf appears to be filled with books of learning. ‘Grammar’, ‘Literature’, ‘Linguistics’, ‘Mathematics’, ‘Carpentry’, ‘Economics’, ‘Sewing’ and many others that seem like things one might learn in a schoolhouse. The second shelf features other books with what appears to be story-based titles. Picking one up named ‘Cold Nights’ I begin to flip through it and randomly stop on page fifty-three. When I begin to read it I find myself embarrassed as the page I am on describes a love scene between two characters in vivid detail. Placing it back quickly I look around to make sure that I have not been caught snooping. I move back to the first shelf and grab the linguistics book to try and cover myself, even though I am alone.

/>   Flipping the pages I find myself able to read most of the words in the book, but the content makes little sense to me. It discusses different languages and the study of them, but beyond that, it is difficult to comprehend. Shaking my head in confusion I place the book back and notice that there is no book labeled for history.

  Hearing Agatha come into the kitchen from the yard I head toward the white door and push it open slowly to peek. Agatha is at the sink and is washing some produce, taken from a wicker basket to her side. Once she washes it she places it on the fireless stove. My stomach grumbles loudly and I cannot help but think it has given me away so I push through the door to reveal myself to Agatha. She looks back and smiles.

  “Is there anything you need help with Agatha?”

  “I could use some help cutting up vegetables for soup.”

  “I am not sure if I will be any good,” I reply.

  “It all goes to the same place anyway. Food doesn’t have to be perfect.”

  I move over to the island counter in the kitchen while Agatha turns around and pulls out a wooden board and a large knife. She sets some washed potatoes on it and motions for me to come around the other side. Doing as instructed I make my way around and pick up the knife.

  “Cut it into cubes as best as you can, maybe an inch big or so,” Agatha demonstrates with her fingers for me how big she wants them.

  Cutting into the first one I begin slicing it up starting from one end to the other and then laying the slices down side by side I cut them into cubes as she asked which proves to be a time consuming task. Though she said it does not have to be perfect I find myself being very cautious while cutting the first potato and I am slow about it.

  “Would you like to see an easier method?” She asks.

  I give her the knife and watch intently as she slices the next potato down the middle lengthwise and sets each half down on the white board. She proceeds to cut each half down their middles and then lines them back up on top of each other. Making cuts all the way down she creates long slices and then cuts the slices into cubes. Looking back at me she smiles and holds out the knife.