Page 2 of Begin Again
How could I forget my name?
It’s…it’s right on the tip of my tongue! Ready to roll off the edge so I can tell him who the fuck I am and go the fuck home.Home.Where is home? And where am I right now? What happened to me? Why can’t I rememberanything?
My fists ball at my sides, grasping the cream, knit blanket covering my legs between my fingers. “It’s…”
“Take it easy, son,” Doctor Sanders says. “It’s alright. We’ll get this whole thing straightened out.”
This time, he doesn’t hide the concern etched in his features—his brow creases and his lips pull into a thin line, his eyes expressing a new level of pity—when he looks at the nurse. “Just give me a few minutes. I’m gonna make a few calls.”
Before the door closes behind them, I hear them talking in hushed tones, trying to figure out what they’re going to do. I can’t decipher what they’re saying, but I know it’s not looking good for me. Having an amnesiac loony toon show up in their town is probably the last thing on their list of wants.
A black hole forms in my stomach, slowly sucking me inside of it. How could I forget who I am? What the hell happened to me and why was I wandering in the woods? Was I alone? Of course, I was alone. Sanders would’ve said if they found someone with me here in…I still don’t know where the hell I am.
He said I was wandering in the woods…Well, that really narrows it down. There are a million different areas in the continental United States with woods. I am in the United States, right?
After what feels like hours have gone by, the door clicks open again. This time, Doctor Sanders is followed by two other men. One of them is an older man dressed in blue jeans and a button-up with a cowboy hat on his head. The other is a police officer. He’s a tall, aging, dark-skinned man with thinning gray hair. His white button-up looks freshly pressed, with two patches on either arm and a thin black tie clipped to the middle of his shirt by a gold tie clip. The patch on his right sleeve readsBezer Police Department. I notice a whiteboard behind his head:Bezer General. Janet’s name badge says the same thing, and so does Doctor Sanders’.
Bezer.
Where the fuck is Bezer?
“What’s your name, son?” the officer asks, and steps forward.
“I already told the doc, I don’t know.”
“Just give it another go for me.”
I sigh. “It’s…” A million names go through my mind, but not a single one hits home. I rub my eyes, trying to connect the dots, searching for anything that will tell me who I am, but I get nothing.
“Alright, take it easy,” the officer says, patting my shoulder. “I’m Chief Sloan. I’m the officer who responded when Bill and Joe found you the other day. Do you remember any of this?”
I shake my head.
“I thought you said it wasn’t that bad.” Chief Sloan hisses over me toward the doctor.
“I said we couldn’t be sure until he woke up,” Sanders defends himself. “There’s no way to tell what the body will do to protect itself. He’s obviously been through something, that much was apparent from his injuries.”
Chief Sloan sighs, rubbing the crease of his brow before he meets my eyes again.
“Where am I?” I ask.
Finally, the other man in the cowboy hat steps forward, clearing his throat. “Bezer. Bezer, Colorado.”
Colorado? What the hell am I doing in Colorado?
The four of them look down at me, then at each other, a hint of pity etched in each of their features. They don’t know what to do with me. They don’t know who I am or what I’m doing here, but neither do I. They said I’ve been here for two days, but how long was I out in the wilderness before that? Isn’t there anyone looking for me? Don’t I have a family trying to find me? Or maybe I’m just a drifter, alone in the world with nothing to call my own, with no one to care if I find my way home or not.
“Welcome to the City of Refuge, son.”
Part One
HIM
CHAPTER ONE
NOW
THUNDER ROLLS THROUGH THE sky, reminding me to pick up the pace because I have limited time before the heavens unleash their fury. I thought walking home from the gym would be a good way to cool down after a quick game of basketball with some of the guys, but the air is thick and sticky—and only getting worse. I’m sweatier than I was on the court, but there’s no use trying to get a ride now. I’m only two blocks from home. Rounding the corner, my pace slows when I see a figure on the sidewalk not too far away. Not a figure…a person. A woman.
