“You’re staying here,” Doc Mia said, turning back to her clean up. “You too, Sam. If this idiot decides he’s going out tonight, I’ll need you to hold him down while I knock him out.”
Sam looked panicked for a moment until it dawned on him that Mia was making a joke.
“Aw, Doc,” he said. “Solomon won’t go nowhere tonight. Not like he can find my hiding place again on his own. He’ll stay here. Isn’t that so?”
This last was directed at Solomon. “Absolutely, Sam. I’ll stay tonight. Tomorrow morning, I’ll head out to find my stuff.”
♦ ♦ ♦
As the room started to brighten the next morning, Solomon had to admit that Doc Mia had been right. Throughout the rest of the evening and into the night, his leg occasionally throbbed, and sharp, stabbing pains came from both hands.
But he had been right as well. The discomfort started to fade around midnight, and by the time the sky was showing signs of dawn, Solomon was feeling more like his old self.
“I don’t understand,” Mia said. “This should be impossible. No one gets over a plague rat bite that quickly. Not even with that medicine from the Mar-Trollid.”
“Told you I heal quickly,” Solomon replied. He sat up and rose from the examining table. “Now, it’s time for me to go. I appreciate what you’ve done, Doc.”
She regarded him, her mouth twisted. He smiled at her and started to move toward the door, leaving Old Sam to snore in the corner of the room where he curled up the night before.
“Can you really do it?” Doc asked as he reached for the door.
Solomon turned back to her, the question dying on his lips as she continued.
“Can you really fix this place? Dunfield, I mean. Bring it back to how it was?”
“I can try.” He smiled and opened the door.
It was early morning, but after dawn, when he walked back onto the streets. People were out and about on whatever errands those who still remained in this place needed to tend to. No one spoke to each other, there were no greetings of old friends running into one another. Instead, people shuffled along with their heads down, muttering angrily when they bumped into one another.
Solomon considered his intended direction for a moment. Doc Mia’s place was in a neighborhood that had been nice at one point. Large homes, some with store fronts below what were obviously living quarters. He could see faded signs for a baker, a florist, and a butcher. Ordinary businesses in any city.
Now, the stores were closed, the doors firmly shut, and the houses falling into disrepair. They reflected the attitude of those on the street.
“One direction is as good as another,” he said and, sticking his hands in his pockets, walked down the cobblestone-paved street.
He really did feel remarkably better. His leg was still stiff, but he could walk on it without too much trouble. His broken hand was about healed already, while the other one was much like his leg. A little stiff, but manageable.
Still, he hoped he’d be able to recover his items without having to resort to violence. While he wasn’t too concerned about the outcome of a fight, he really didn’t want to have to return to Mia to patch him up again. He could already hear the vitriol.
Unlike the citizens of Dunfield, he kept his head up, staying aware of his surroundings. He noticed that only the predators in this city did that, and they did it simply to spot their next victim.
Which was when a gang of five youths, a mixture of boys and girls, stepped in front of him, obviously intending to block his way.
They were armed with pieces of wood, held casually in their hands. Their eyes were hard, and their mouths twisted into cruel grins.
“Going somewhere?” one of them asked.
This one must be the leader. Taller, slightly meatier than the others, he gazed up at Solomon without a speck of fear in his eyes.
“That way,” Solomon said, tilting his chin.
“This is a toll road,” the boy said.
Solomon smiled and took his hands from his pockets.
“Shouldn’t you be in school?”
The boy’s eyes hardened further.
“Toll road. Pay up or go another way.”
“Fair enough.” Solomon shrugged and started walking across the street, angling in the direction he was heading before they stopped him.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”
The boy’s grip tightened on his wooden cudgel. His friends moved up, frowns replacing the grins.
“I’m going this way,” Solomon said. “Around you. But I’ll tell you what. I’m looking for someone, and if you help me find them, I’ll pay your toll and extra besides.”
“Why should we do that? You can either pay us now or go back the way you came.”
The others spread across the street, blocking the entire thing. Another man walking that way turned and took a side street without a word.
Solomon stepped forward and snatched the club from the boy’s hand before he could move. With a casual toss he sent it flying far down the street behind him, then turned and regarded the boy.
“I’m going that way,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to hurt you, and I won’t if you don’t make me. But really, I could use your help.”
“How did…?” The boy was staring down at his hand in shock. There was muttering coming from the others. “How did you do that?”
“I’m not from around here. Now, can I go on my way without further trouble, or do I need to take those toys away from everyone?”
The rest of the kids started to move toward him when their leader put up his hand.
“Stop,” he commanded. “He can go.”
“Aw, come on, Christoph,” one of the girls
