Nobody's Child (complete)

Chapter 4 - The Locker

Chapter 4 - The Locker ©2018CarolynAnnAish

            Boy awoke to feel his head floating at an angle, seemingly six feet away from his body, connected as though by a thin rope. He drank thirstily from a mug held to his mouth by unfamiliar hands was soon fast asleep again.

One day he imagined himself to be lying in the back of a cart and became distressed at the incessant jogging on the rough road. He struggled and moaned to pull himself into consciousness but his body wouldn't obey his mind. The motion ceased and someone cushioned Boy's head, urging him to drink from a flask held firmly between his lips. Boy remembered these times only vaguely, because the liquid was drugged and he slept soundly, as his care-takers expected.

Cramp, cold, and hunger brought a certain amount of understanding, but he had difficulty in rousing himself. His eyelids felt heavy and he could only flicker them open and closed. The first object he viewed, was a thick woolen rug at very close range. The motion of the craft in which he lay, rocked and swayed him into a dreamy numbness. Splash; splash; oars dipping; water lapping; Boy felt mesmerized, overwhelmed; he had been here before; he relived a nightmare, which reared itself like an animated corpse from the tomb of his lost child-hood. Panic caused his heart to beat erratically and stirrings in the back of his mind made him moan with dizziness. Pushing the rug away from his face, he stared straight up at the dark blue sky, wondering if it were morning or night. Floating again, he felt he drifted with the bright stars in the heavens; then flew with a lone fowl, soon joining two more winged creatures until they were out of sight. They would be returning home ... home to their nests. Boy tried to think where his home was? Did he have a home?

As he became more lucid, Boy opened and closed his tingling hands. His arms felt disconnected, foreign. He forced his fingers to feel the smooth unfamiliar fabric of his tunic; it was strange to his touch, unlike the thick linen sages wore. Someone had changed his clothing. Boy wondered if he had somehow come alive again, in another time, another place... It's impossible. I'm still me, but I've been here before, and I'm still alive and in this life,he thought, confused.

Voices drifted to his ears but the conversation seemed hollow, blowing in the cool wind. Sitting up, Boy pushed the blanket away. Pulling himself up on a side plank, he gazed over the edge of the vessel. He was in a boat, moving across a lake, a lake upon which he had been rowed before. His eyes tried to focus, but the water shifted and danced unpleasantly before his gaze. His stomach heaved and he moaned again.

"So! Awake, are y'? We thought y' would sleep the night through." The voice was thick and slurred. Boy turned to behold the speaker. He remembered this fellow, the one who had treated him like a captive animal. Boy struggled to remember where he had been when he first saw this man. Barby? How long ago had he been at Barby?

His voice croaked and sounded unfamiliar, "How long ... have ... I ... been sleeping?" His dry mouth made words hard to form. He wanted to swallow and clear his throat, but needed a drink of water.

The fellow laughed unpleasantly and answered, "Long enough." Turning, he checked that the two men were still concentrating on the oars. Moving closer to Boy, he spoke quietly, "What's y' name, kid?"

Boy frowned, trying to imagine why he was on this boat, with this fellow. "They ... my father ... Seymour ... calls ... calls me 'Boy.' " Then Boy asked, "What is your name?"

"No. I mean, y' real name!?" The fellow's voice was scornful, "Y' must know that." Noting Boy's hesitation, the fellow, as friendly as a snake, bent close to Boy's ear and said, "They call me, 'Blade'."

Boy remembered this fellow's long dagger. "What," he asked, "is your real name?" As Boy looked up into the round face, it contorted and changed before his vision so that the nose was poking out with the eyes on its end, bulging and laughing at him with faces of their own. Boy, overcome with a sensation of falling, blinked and tried to focus.