The old dog padded along beside Samuel on the edge of the abyss. The grass of the field was going to seed and drying out in the hot sun. Even in the day time, he could walk along the edge of their world and see the stars orbiting each other and the galaxies swirling in the distance. The sun rose and set, just like it did before they came here. The moon appeared at night, going through the same phases as before. Samuel especially loved when the moon was dark He felt that he could move around town the most freely then.
He was reading a stolen book while he ambled along the edge. Samuel didn’t worry about getting too close to the edge because if he did, the old dog would bark at him.
He barked now. Samuel looked up from the copy of Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, and saw that he was indeed about to fall off the edge. He considered it. They deserved it after all they’d done to him. But he sighed, patted the greying yellow lab on the head, and turned inward toward the field.
He was getting close to the end of his walking path now and near to one of the occupied neighborhoods. If he was spotted, he’d be beaten bloody and spend weeks healing. So, he made a loop through the field and turned back toward his abandoned street, now some half mile or more away.
He slid his backpack off, tucked his book away, and pulled out an old tennis ball that the dog had brought to his house that day. The old dog jumped excitedly at the yellow ball, barking and whimpering.
“You want the ball, buddy? You want the ball?” Samuel brandished it then threw it as hard as he could into the deep of the field. The old boy went bounding after it through the tall grass. They played fetch for some time until the dog finally came back panting and laid down at Samuel’s feet in exhaustion. With feigned annoyance, he said, “Alright, Solomon. I guess we can take a nap.” He fell into the grass beside the dog and listened to his panting. Is he older or not? I can’t tell. The old dog never seemed to age. For that matter, neither did Samuel. He was still a scrawny, black haired boy of maybe 18. It had been so long since anyone had celebrated his birthday that he’d forgotten how old he was. How long has it been since the last reset? 21 cycles? When you don’t have to worry about things like driving, bars, medicine, and whatever else, your date of birth and your age become superfluous–even more so if you never spoke to anyone. His only friend was this dog and even he only hung around from time to time. Most days Samuel was entirely alone on his street. He didn’t even have any neighbors.
When he and Solomon started back, the old boy had a limp. That happened from time to time when they played in the field. Samuel just knew to walk slowly on the way back to his house. When they were back on the dead end street where Samuel lived, the dog licked his hand then limped off down the road, leaving the yellow ball behind.
And I’m alone now, Samuel thought. He went back into the field, but stayed close to the end of the street so he could see his house. He found a thick patch of grass on a hill to lean against and pulled his book back out. This was how he spent most days. Avoiding people and doing nothing. There was little else to do and there hadn’t been for years.
After some time, the sound of a large diesel truck came up the road to his house. Samuel had positioned himself where he could not be noticed if he needed to hide. He closed his book and nestled his pack into the grass. He sunk to his belly behind the hill and listened intently from the ground.
Truck doors slammed and yelling ensued. “SAMUEL! GET OUT HERE!” Samuel shook when he heard this. No one had bothered him in years. Nobody had driven out this far. He barely remembered who owned a big red truck like that one. John Ripley? Or was it Mr. Murphy? He had to see.
Samuel inched forward toward the road. He was near the top of a slight hill that was just high enough that he could hide in the grass while still being able to see his house in part. He saw John Ripley brandishing a wooden bat. “COME ON OUT!” The man was a hulking mass of muscle in a fire red shirt. Samuel remembered him being doughy around the middle when he last saw him 5 years ago in town. The screaming and the bat had the opposite of their intended effect. Samuel wasn’t likely to come out to that. John turned his head and Samuel laid flatly down to hide.
Another truck door slammed. “You think he’s gonna come out with you waving that bat around. Give it here!” Samuel looked again and saw the farmer, Ethan, pulling the bat from John’s hand and throwing it in the back of the truck. “Come out, Sammy. We’re not gonna hurt ya.”
Samuel put his head back down and kept it down until he heard the sound of his door being broken down. He inched forward some more and saw the backside of John as they walked into his house. No! No. No. No. What are they doing?
He heard a clatter of things being overturned, doors being kicked down, and glass being broken. “John, stop it!” Abraham yelled. “He ain’t here! Let’s just stick the letter on his door and leave.”
Samuel resumed hiding in the grass until he heard the truck doors slam again and the sound of diesel burning as they drove off.
When Samuel stood up and approached his house, there was an envelope stuck in his front door. He pulled it off and opened it. The letter inside read:
“Samuel, we need to talk. Meet us in town square tonight at 7. We know you are responsible. We won’t kill you this time, but if you try to hide, we will find you and punish you dearly.
– Citizens of Rock Ridge”
The envelope also contained a rapid exposure photograph–the kind with the white border. On the bottom margin in black marker was written, “You did this!” The photograph showed what looked like a large metal bowl with a panel bolted to one side with a few wires attached to the inner aspect of the panel. It appeared to be sitting on top of the ivory fountain in the center of town square.
Samuel had no clue what was in the picture. He put the letter and the photograph back in the envelope and walked inside to see the damage. The place had been trashed by John. His coffee table had been overturned. The bathroom door had been broken down. Every closet had been opened and gutted. What were they looking for? He’d have to take what items he needed and move to another house. This was the first livable one he’d found when looking for a place to squat. This street had been abandoned before they all came here, but Samuel had no idea why.
Samuel had spent more than two decades evading and hiding when he needed to. The first few years in this place were horrific. He didn’t know the layout or where he could hide. It was years before he could navigate without being caught and beaten bloody.
In the decades since the last lynchings, he’d had many new moons to search the town under the iridescent starlight. Samuel knew where the back doors to certain buildings were unlocked. This town had many unused buildings. He knew of one that gave a particularly good vantage point of the central park while still providing cover. He stole his way into town under darkness, using every hiding spot and hidden route he knew of. This was clearly foolishness in his mind, but he knew they’d come looking for him. He wanted to know why. The photograph told him nothing.
Tonight was another new moon–his favorite. The stars above his head were brilliant tonight. One of the constellations shone purple next to the black void of the moon. Samuel called it “Oriona” to make it sound female. It had a belt similar to Orion back home and a string of stars forming a sort of bow in her right had. Samuel felt it was female because of the long string of nebulas that flowed like lavender hair down her shoulders. She was beautiful. But he couldn’t admire her right now. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a pair of binoculars. The walls on this roof had narrow openings along it he was able to look through without being in the open. He looked through the binoculars and saw the detail of the fountain. It was a stone statue of a woman in the Roman style with form revealing dress. She held a vase with reeds out of which poured water. But she looked very different from the last time Samuel saw her. Atop her head sat a metal bowl with a panel bolted to one side with wires attached to it. This was the object in the photograph from before.
Around the fountain were all the citizens of this town, Rock Ridge. There was John Ripley and his motherly wife, Elena. Mr. Murphy, the old bachelor with his wild grey hair. The all-American, brunette Jenson’s and their three girls (aged 10, 14, and 19). The entire town was present. Samuel even spotted Amanda, the enormous pink woman who assaulted him with eggs. There were the clerks who ran the town hall, people who cleaned the superstore, and every person that Samuel ever remembered seeing in the brief times before they killed him. On the other side of the fountain he spotted Marshall Matthews, the astronomer. He was a few years older than Samuel, blonde and always wore an unnecessary vest over a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He was craning his neck up and inspecting the thing on top of the fountain while writing furiously in his notebook.
The sight of them all made Samuel’s heart thump. His chest tightened. The wheeze and hyperventilation of his panic overcame him. He put the binoculars down and laid flat on the pea gravel of the roof. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths while violent images scrolled through his mind. Flashes of fire, rope, chains… When he stopped shaking, he picked the binoculars back up and looked at the gathering again. They all just seemed to be waiting. Waiting for what? For me to walk out into the middle of them and let them kill me again? Is that really what they want this time? It can’t be.
Samuel put down the binoculars and pulled on his backpack. He’d seen plenty and wanted no part in what he assumed was a trap. He pulled his feet under him from his lying position and made to move away from the edge slowly on all fours. He heard yelling and his heart sped up again. He moved too quickly toward the door and slipped on the pea gravel. The resulting noise wasn’t much, but he noticed that the voices from below had stopped as he got back to his hands and knees. “No no no no no,” he whispered under his breath. They must have heard him.
Footsteps could be heard from the street below. Samuel crawled back to the edge and looked down at the park again. There were people missing. Where was John Ripley? Ethan was gone too. More were missing besides them. He panicked and slid down to his stomach again.
He listened. The sound of a door opening came from the alley below. But it wasn’t THIS building’s back door, he knew. I have time to get out!
Samuel crept to the roof access door. He went down the back staircase and listened at the steel door between him and the alley. No noise came from the other side. He pushed it open slightly and looked through the crack. He saw nothing.
The door flew out of Samuel’s hand and his vision flashed red. He felt pain in his left arm as he was drug into the alley. Samuel looked up to see John Ripley’s raging face. The images of all the times this man had beaten him to death imposed themselves, forcing Samuel into a panic. He struggled and hit at John, but the man didn’t seem to notice as he pulled Samuel around the building and toward the park.
As they passed through the gathered crowd who made a path the fountain for them, the eyes on him were too familiar. They were indifferent to his terror. “Let me go!” he screamed hoarsely. “Let me go! Please!” The memory of the fires and ropes of the past pushed his sanity away. He flailed and screamed. He didn’t want the torture to start again. He had to get away. Someone grabbed his other arm. They were a green blur through the tears that ran from Samuel’s eyes. He kicked and pulled as they drug him to the foot of the fountain and flung him down. Samuel felt the rough concrete scrape his palms when he tried to break his own fall.
He scrambled to his feet and wiped the tears from his eyes. He looked around, averting his eyes down from theirs. Their hands were empty. No one was holding a weapon, but they were all postured defensively, as if Samuel were some kind of wild animal. They were shouting at him. “You did this!” “Take it down!” “Go back to your hole, freak!”
Samuel barely heard them over the sound of his pulse in his ears. His throat felt like cotton. He turned from them and approached the fountain. They won’t kill me this time. They won’t kill me this time. They won’t kill me this time. He tried to convince himself. He reached the foot of the fountain and looked up at the ivory woman with the vase. He clenched his fists to keep from shaking.
There was silence suddenly. No one moved or spoke. He looked at the face of the fountain. He was forbidden to look anyone in the eye, but he could look at her face all he wanted. She smiled down at him. That was the first human smile Samuel had seen in a very long time. It was beautiful, even though it was stone. He drifted away, letting the memories of past years fall behind his consciousness. He imagined for a brief moment that the woman with the vase might run away with him. They’d protect each other. They’d be happy and safe somewhere else in the cosmos.
The faint smell of chlorine from the fountain rooted him back to reality. The panic passed. His heart slowed. The fear became replaced by a cautious anger. “You all called me here. What is it?” Samuel said. The thing atop the woman’s head seemed to ring dully in a low tone. It made him feel like he was trying to remember something.
A thick voice called angrily. “What did you do? You little piece of–”
“That’s enough, Amanda. We won’t learn anything if we scare him away.” The voice belonged to the astronomer, Marshall. He appeared to be taking charge of this meeting.
“What is that?” Samuel pointed at the object on the fountain’s head.
“We don’t know. We… They think you have something to do with it. Do you?”
Samuel didn’t answer. He looked at the object blankly. It seemed to vibrate.
“Answer him!” said the hulking voice of John Ripley. “What did you do?”
Others began shouting again. “What did you do?” “What is this?” “How dare you?” They shouted and screamed at him. The memories of the lynchings replayed themselves and he closed his eyes against the stone woman’s smile.
Samuel heard footsteps approaching him. He reached behind his back and pulled out a gun from a concealed holster. He pointed it has his own head. The crowd resumed their silence. He opened his eyes and looked into all of theirs. Two men and a woman were close as though they meant to lay hands on him. Fear was in their eyes, but he didn’t know how to look at them. It was like he’d forgotten how. Do I look into the right eye? Left eye? Both?
Anger and rage pushed the fear farther away. He pressed the gun hard against his temple, gritted his teeth, and said, “Take one more step and I will reset everything!”
Uncertain 