The Second City

The Schism

Barnaby's rememberance

Barnaby turned away, unsure if they would finish what was started. In part he didn’t care. The creature had taken something from him. Something that had caused him to fracture. He needed some time to think. To properly think.

As he walked it was all he could do to keep his beast from surging forth and unleashing on those he passed. The hole in his shirt only served to heighten that urge. He would need a substantial amount of sustenance to nurse his wounds and still have the strength to rise in the morning. Barnaby’s thoughts carried him forward in a stupor. He gave no thought to where he was walking nor the route he was taking.

Looking up his feet slowly stopped his momentum. If his throat wasn’t already dry surely the sight before him would have sapped any moisture that could have been there from his mouth. Was it a week ago that he stood in this exact spot looking up at this green awning with white letters. Greenburg’s grocery… The memory that stopped him before was one of familiarity and faint recognition. Now it was much more personal. How could he have forgotten this…or was this all part of the lie. Jason all but admitted he had been in league with Alder Harper this whole time…Could Penny be tied to them also? Was this all just a ploy from the beginning. He couldn’t trust his own thoughts and far off memories seemed to tumble through his brain like rocks down the side of a mountain.

He walked to the back of the building and climbed up the fire escape to the second floor. Looking down the alley and finding it to be empty Barnaby picked up a potted plant and broke the top section of window. Making short work of the lock he climbed in the now open window and looked around what he assumed was Isaac’s office. Everything was almost exactly as it was the last time they were together those many years ago. It was as if the office was picked up and transported halfway across the Americas. Somehow that both brought him comfort and disturbed him at the same time. Unsure of what he was looking for he left the office and moved down the hall. The door at the end was slightly ajar and a gentle touch swung it open. Barnaby stepped into the room and as he turned to take it in he froze. The chest was only about 2 feet long and half again as wide, but it seemed to take up the entirety of the room. He dared to take a step, unsure if his legs would fail him. A second step nearly as shaky as the first brought him to the dresser the chest rested upon. Barnaby froze, hands resting on the lid. He was unsure if what he was seeing was real.

Trembling he carefully lifted the lid, if the dream took this moment to shatter it would break him. Reaching inside he reverently removed the contents, an old rolled up piece of leather. He held the edge and let the bundle unroll into his hand. It was smooth to the touch and seemed well oiled. Barnaby found the motion comforting and almost familiar. He closed his eyes feeling the leather slide across his fingers. When was the last time I truly felt anything he thought?

Almost as if by rote memory Barnaby closed his hand as something heavy dropped into it. Was this really happening? What did this really mean? Barnaby opened his eyes and was bombarded by memories for the second time that night. The emotion was so strong that he could feel the beast surge, urging to be free and right all the wrongs that had been visited upon him. Staring at the old hammer he remembered, but more importantly he believed. He was Walter Helier, those from Kent called him Wat Tyler, and once again justice would prevail.

 

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