Chapter Twenty-Three: Flashback

The salvage yard was quiet and warm. Summer evening had settled on the sea of rust and wreckage. No one worked the yard this late - too many rusty nails and sharp corners. This night was an exception. A person lay cold and unconscious in the dirt. No one was there to help - no one knew he was there.

He used his hands to dig through a small pile of dirt that still covered part of the back wheel of the bike. A sharp point jabbed at his hand and he quickly pulled it back toward his body. He held it up to see if it was bleeding, but only a tiny speck of blood could be seen in the dim orange glow of the setting sun. A quick brush of the back of his hand against his pants and he resumed digging. He was almost done. A few more minutes and he would be on his way home.

With the bike free from its premature grave, things looked like they were finally turning around. It was going to take some work to get the bike running, but it would be worth it. He stood next to the bike and gripped the handles, imagining that he was on the road, cruising toward a new life.

The sun had long since disappeared. A sliver of the moon gave just enough light to see where he was, but not enough to reveal any details of his surroundings. It didn't matter, though. A sudden stomach cramp gripped him and left him curled on the ground. Had he known that the spider's poison was coursing through his blood he might have called for help. It was too late now.

Chris found himself drenched in sweat and breathing uncontrollably fast, much as he had almost every night that week. He hadn't been asleep, but he was finding himself recalling this memory as if it were a dream. This was the first time he recalled that last night in the junkyard. It was a memory he didn't ask for and didn't want. Why must the painful memories suddenly surface and then continue to haunt him? He hated it. He tried to control it by thinking of the good things, the happy things. There was only one good thing he could think of.

After an extended stay at the hospital, Chris decided not to go back to the junkyard. It's hard to be much help when you only have one arm. Then again, who would have thought that waiting tables could be done with one hand? Or cooking? Or any of the other things that Chris found himself doing? He thought that Sam was just being nice when she hired him, but Sam insisted that he was the best man for the job. He proved her right day after day, and yet he always felt underqualified, but comfortable and appreciated. He fit in there. But most importantly, Sam had found a new purpose in her own life.

Having inherited the diner from her father who died almost four years ago, Sam often felt like more of an object - a thing - than a person. Regularly subjected to catcalls and obscene comments, it had become a way of life for her. Customers were often rude, but the small town folk were gracious enough that she continued to put up with the lower life-forms.

Once Chris started working with her, things changed almost immediately. Although he was often reserved and sometimes angry on his own time, he quickly became a sort of celebrity because of his wit and great personality. The person Sam had fallen in love with was a combination of the two Chris's. A person that stood in the middle of these personalities. She sometimes spent time with this person during late hours after the diner was closed and they were alone. These times were important because they both had something the other needed - a comfort that only the other could provide.

Sam had closed down the diner to go be with Chris. Without Chris there the diner was just a ghost of the past, full of sore memories. When he called, it tore her heart apart to hear him so worried and so confused. She was the only real friend he had and he needed a friend badly. That made the moment even more difficult. She had to be a friend without letting her true feelings for Chris show. This would only strain Chris further.

Reno was waiting. It would be a good change. Maybe should could help Chris find some friends, a job, a purpose. Maybe together they could find more.

But first, Chris had to find some answers.