When Memory Fails by L C Hayden

Author:L C Hayden [Hayden, L C]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Angel's Trumpet Press
Published: 2019-03-11T22:00:00+00:00

Present Time

Chapter 38

Bronson massaged his forehead. His head pounded as if a full marching band performed their routine in his brain and in the back of his eyeballs. He moved his head from side to side. It didn’t help.

He could tolerate the headache. He could even tolerate the desperate isolation brought on by the effects of time and weather as they left their marks on every crumbling shack in this decaying town.

He could even accept the eerie silence that walked along with him.

Yes, he could get past all of this. But he could not be at ease with the knowledge that he didn’t know who he was.

The name Bronson felt right. But who—what—was a Bronson? He eyed his wedding band as he twisted it around and around. If only you could talk.

The unexpected sound of shuffling feet captured Bronson’s attention. He looked up in time to see someone lying low to the ground scoot behind the crumbling walls of what once had been the schoolhouse.

Bronson’s grip tightened around the homemade club he had selected for an emergency like this. He sprinted forward, using the few remaining walls as protection. He plastered his back against the rotting wood and inched his way forward. When he reached the edge, he squatted and slowly peeked.

Nothing unusual greeted him. He remained, as before, alone.

Had he imagined the movement?

He slowly stood and sucked in his breath when he heard someone breathing behind him. Somehow, this predator had snuck in behind him and had him at an advantage.

With only his eyes moving, Bronson scanned the area. There must be something he could do. He sighed when nothing came to him. He gripped the club, placing it in front of him. He slowly pivoted, his knuckles turning white as he clutched the weapon tighter and tighter.

Soon as Bronson faced her, the medium size dog sat down and raised a paw.

Bronson slowly lowered the club, not wanting to scare the animal away. He quickly scanned the area, reassuring himself that no one was with the dog. He bent down. “You look like a friendly critter. Are you?”

The animal cocked her head and stared at Bronson.

He reached to pat its head, and the canine inched toward him. “Do I know you? Or better yet, do you know me?” Bronson checked her collar for any tags. There were none. Great. Just great. What kind of a place was this? Even the dog was unidentifiable.

Bronson patted her. Her honey-colored coat felt soft, and the short shiny hair told him this was no wild animal. Someone—could it be him?—had taken good care of this dog. “Tell you what, Dog. I’m going to stand up and let you lead me. Maybe you can show me why I’m here.”

He straightened up.

Dog didn’t move.

Bronson frowned. “Guess that was a bad idea. You’re not going to be any help, after all.” No use wasting his time. He would continue doing what he had started to do—thoroughly check building by building. One of them had to hold the key to his past.

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