Cam Valdez and the Lost Origins: The Unkown Twin

Walmart of Doom

     By sundown, I had left Texas behind and was a short way into Kansas. It was getting darker by the second and my eyelids were droopy. I knew it was unsafe to continue my journey. I followed the exit signs to the nearest Walmart and crashed in the backseat of my “borrowed" truck. 

     The dreams of my past started immediately. 

     My skinny sixteen-year-old body vanished along with my surroundings as soon as I fell asleep. It seemed like I was in the body of three-year-old me. Small (ah, well, smaller), chubby, with a mop of dark hair, and as adorable as ever.

     I was sitting in one of those baby enclosures, playing with large multi-colored baby Lego bricks. I knew I was in an orphanage because I had never lived with my parents. I was building a model of an engine (and yes, for your information three-year-olds can do that).

     “Camy, darling?” called a young woman that was most likely one of the caretakers. “Someone's here to say hello to you, cutie.” 

     Three-year-old me continued playing with the blocks, trying to fit the lego engine with a lego dog head (I was three, don't judge me). I tried to look up to see my strange visitor but it seemed like three-year-old me was in charge. I whined as my pieces were gently tugged out of my hand.

     “Hello, Camileo,” said a raspy but soft voice. (Now that I think about it, that made no sense). “You look so much like your mother, Camileo.” 

     I frowned up into a man's face. His face was oddly disfigured, with many scars. He had kind brown eyes it almost seemed like his hair covered every inch or so of skin that showed under his work apron and grease stained shirt. His beard seemed to be sizzling. He wore extra-large jeans, one leg was in a metal brace.   

     I reached out a hand and tried to yank at the man's beard, but he took hold of my tiny hand, preventing me from touching his face. His hands were calloused, rough, and strangely warm.

     He smiled, making his ever-sizzling beard sizzle even more. “Who you?” I asked, my voice high pitched like a little child. 

     “I’m Hephaestus, your, uh… daddy,” he said, squeezing my hand. 

     “Daddy? Who's daddy? Do I have a daddy?” I asked, confused.

     The man frowned. For a minute he looked sad. Sad like he had lost someone close, but the next second the look was replaced by regret. “I'm so sorry we had to put you in here. Your mother begged me to help her, to give her the money to fix the cleft leg you were born with. I wanted to help so bad. Forchunetly Leo didn't have any problems but a large apitite.” He paused as if recalling an old memory. “But I had been warned that you and your brother's futures would not meet yet. Could not meet yet.” 

     I was getting bored with the man with the braced leg. I wanted to continue combining my lego motor with my lego dog head. Maybe I could add some legs. Or I could take the baby enclosure apart... again. Or maybe I'd just climb out and go find the kitchen. Yes, the kitchen sounded good!

     Now my tiny toddler mind was on food, having completely forgotten about the man with the leg brace. The man had stopped talking and was now watching as I pondered what I wanted to do.  

     Finally, after a very long, very awkward silence, a noise came from the door. We both jumped and looked to see what had caused the disturbance. A young woman with long, curly brown hair was standing in the doorway. 

     "Excuse me, sir?" She said in a sweet voice. "It's almost nap time for the young ones. So please finish up so I can bring little Camy to the nap room."