2. Cumbersome
Chapter two
Cumbersome
E lizabet stared at the tree's bark as she clung to it for stability. The tiny grains of wood formed beautiful rivets and irregular patterns; she loved the art of nature. It had rained the night before, releasing the musty scent of the forest. She braced herself, and focused her mind, she was not here, she was somewhere else.
A cool breeze danced along her skin where her dress was open in the back. The sharp sting of the switch brought tears to her eyes. Elizabet would never get used to the shock of that pain and squeezed herself tighter against the tree. I’m not here . Her body tensed in rhythm with each hit of the willow tree branch. I’m someplace else . The sound of each sharp slap against her flesh flooded into the woods, becoming a part of them.
Father wasn’t really her father. Elizabet’s parents surrendered her to the church when she was five due to her ‘demonic sight’. They believed the church could unburden Elizabet of her wickedness. Father Thomas was the parish reverend assigned to heal Elizabet and turn her into a Godly woman. Good luck with that. She laughed internally. The dead were a part of who she was, like an extra limb. It wasn’t her fault she could see ghosts.
“Breathe, love, just breathe. Tis will be over soon.”
Elizabet dared not to respond to, Sarah, the ghost sitting on the forest floor in front of her.
“That’s right, child, breathe, almost done now. He’s already got a sheen of sweat on his brow.” Sarah glared at Father Thomas. “Fat tub o’ lard.”
Elizabet held back a chuckle and smiled at Sarah, then gave her a curt nod to acknowledge her thanks. If only the others could see what she saw. She ground her teeth against the pain until mercilessly the flagellation stopped. By the end she was hunched over.
“Stand.” Father Thomas said. His voice devoid of warmth.
Elizabet lifted her head and turned to face him. His stoic eyes sent a chill down her spine. She clasped her hands together for prayer.
Father Thomas spoke. “Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings. Amen”
“Amen.”
“A moment to gather yourself.” Father Thomas said sternly before walking away.
When Father Thomas was too far to be seen, Elizabet turned back to Sarah and smiled. “I Peter 5:8-9, a classic, never gets old.” Elizabet rolled her eyes. “Wonder when it’ll start working to drive out my demonic sight. ” She said sarcastically.
Sarah laughed. “Probably the same time the ol’ cod deems himself a fairy and turns a chatterbox with the squirrels.”
Elizabet couldn’t help the snigger that escaped her lips causing her to wince in pain. She sucked in the air, grimaced, and leaned against the tree. “I don’t know how much more I can take of this. Tis no life.”
Sadness wavered on Sarah’s eyelids before a ghostly tear slipped down her transparent cheek. “No, tis no life.” She wrung her hands. “I’ve been thinking, love. What if you told them you had a vision from, God.”
“What kind of vision?” Elizabet asked.
“Tell them, our holy father has blessed ye with the vision of angels. Your prayer and sacrament had made ye worthy of his love and the town is blessed with his favor.”
Elizabet considered Sarah’s words. “If they pronounce me a prevaricator I’ll hang.” Her heart beat rapidly.
“But if they believe ye, they’ll build statues in your honor.” Sarah said. “Some lies are worth the risk.”
Hope blossomed in Elizabets’ chest. She could be free of this pain. Honored instead of feared. Perhaps some lies are worth the risk.
Loud music forced its way up the stairs to Brad’s darkened room. Base rattled the empty glasses on his nightstand. He groaned face down into his pillow and pulled his comforter over his head. Data collection always left him with a mental hangover. His head throbbed as the last days of Elizabets’ life faded away. He could almost feel the sting of the cuts on her back. Her scars never did fade and pulled on her skin in the dry winter months. But she got her statue in the end. Brad smiled to himself.
He shook his head. You're not Elizabet, you’re Brad, party boy, in the twentieth century. His stomach protested for attention. Umm, burrito, must find food. He rolled out of bed and landed with a heavy thud. Gallegos down the block had the best green chili and they were open twenty-four hours. Perfect.
Brad waded through the mess of his room, sniffing shirts and jeans until he found something passable to wear in public. He pulled on his shoes and made his way downstairs. The smooth wood railing and steps formed a spiral to the first floor. He imagined the old Victorian home might have been beautiful once upon a time. Now it was covered in old stains and wooden floors that had become warped from not being properly maintained. A hole in a wall here and there from parties that had gotten out of hand. The university probably spent a fortune to keep the old place standing.
He reached the bottom landing and was greeted with a wave of cheers from three of his roommates.
“He lives!!!” Daniel shouted over the roar of rap music with a drink in his hand that splashed over the rim as he raised his hands in the air.
Brad stuffed his hands in his pockets and smiled. “Yeah, rough couple of nights man.”
“Hair of the dog will fix you right up.” Daniel yelled in Brad’s ear as he slapped him on the back. He snapped his fingers towards another dorm buddy to grab Brad a beer.
“Nah, brother. I gotta grab some grub man, my stomach’s gonna eat itself.” He roughly curled his fingers into Daniels, pulling him close to pat him firmly on the back. “Later though.”
Daniel nodded and threw him gun fingers. “Later.”
Brad headed towards the front door and shook off his unease. Daniel gave him the creeps.
Outside the night air was cool and refreshing compared to the stale air of the fraternity house. He pulled his black leather coat tighter and tucked his chin to his chest as he walked. Girls in mini-skirts stared at him as they walked by in groups talking in hushed tones and giggling. Brightly illuminated houses along fraternity row all pumped out their own variety of music.
He hated college life, being surrounded by so many naive people. He missed his last life as a leather worker, making handcrafted saddles, belts, boots and a variety of other specialty goods. That life was simpler, honest. Plus, that body didn’t draw as much unwanted attention. Bonus . But his opportunities for discrete data collection were limited in that life, so his assessor had him reassigned.
As he rounded the corner headed to the main road, there were more streetlights. He squinted his eyes from the sudden brightness and headed to the storefront three doors down. He opened the door to the Mexican restaurant, Gallegos, and a blast of spicy food smells and homemade tortillas filled his nostrils. It was self-seating here, and Brad tucked himself into a small corner booth.
His server greeted him moments later. “Good evening, what can I get you to drink?” The short brunette smacked her gum and gave him a cheesy grin. This body gets too much attention.
He cleared his throat. “Um, yeah, can I get a water and a coke please?”
“Sure thing darlin, be right back.” She winked at him as she walked away.
Brad shrugged off his coat and opened the menu on the table. The laminated sheets were sticky and made a sucking noise as he flipped each page. He quickly decided to order his normal smothered burrito and shoved the menu aside.
“Here ya are darlin, water and a coke.” The waitress set his drinks down and pulled out a notebook and pen from her apron. “What can I getcha tonight?”
“A beef and bean burrito, smothered in green chili please, all the fixings.”
The waitress scribbled down his order then shoved the notebook back into the pocket of her apron. “Coming right up.” She smiled again as she walked away.
Brad didn’t usually order meat in his burrito, the Stapes bone wasn’t the only bone that could transmit life, it was just the most powerful. Meat, even boneless, could transmit faint traces of life. An image here, a feeling there. But his body was craving it.
He propped his elbows on the table and let his face fall into his head, trying to rub the past days of Elizabets’ memories from his eyes. When he looked up, Spencer was seated across from him.
“Holy shit!” Brad exclaimed and sat up straight. “I’ve gotta get you a frickin bell or something. What are you doing here, Spencer?”
“Was your data collection successful?” Spencer asked calmly. He sat rod straight with hands clasped.
Brad took a deep breath and blew it out. “Yeah, it was successful, a full life of data has been stored. When will we deliver?”
“Now.” Spencer said simply.
“No. Come on man, let me eat my burrito, I’m starving.” Brad pleaded.
Spencer clenched his jaw in annoyance. “Fine. But make it quick.”
“You’re the best, bro!” Brad leaned across the table to slap Spencer on the shoulder.
Spencer brushed off his shoulder where Brad had slapped him and said. “Please don’t call me, ‘Bro’.”
Brad laughed. "Okay brochacho !" and held up his hands in mock surrender.
Spencer sighed but said nothing. Music from a mariachi band across the room filled the silence between them. Minutes later the waitress brought over a steaming pile of food.
“Careful, plate’s hot. Can I get you anything else?” She asked.
Brad smiled. “No, thank you.”
“And would you like to order anything?” She asked Spencer.
Spencer only shook his head in reply.
The waitress seemed a little peeved by his curtness but smiled anyway before she walked away.
Brad tried to take his time eating his meal, but his stomach cramped in hunger and he practically inhaled the baby sized burrito. He downed his soda and belched loudly before slumping back and rubbing his belly.
“Ah, that’s better.” Brad said in a satisfied voice.
“Great, let’s go.” Spencer replied.
Brad left some cash on the table, more than enough to include a good tip, and he and Spencer went back outside to the cold night. They walked around the restaurant to an alley behind the building. They stood next to each and looked straight up to the sky.
“Beam me up Scotty!” Brad joked.
Spencer was not amused. Brad hated this part, it always made him nauseous, and he didn’t want to lose the delicious burrito he had just devoured. A low hum vibrated the gravel on the pavement. A soft green light from above enveloped the pair. Suddenly, they hovered just above the ground. As the hum reached ear splitting levels, it stopped. Then they were gone.