31. Mystery Man – Identity Issue

He was on his fourth tuna sandwich and third bowl of soup.  Dorothy took Rebecca by the elbow and led her into the next room.

            “It’s the oldest cliché in literature.  The mysterious stranger with amnesia.  It makes for bad soap operas.”

            “I know.  But that doesn’t mean he’s lying.”  Rebecca said.

            “But that doesn’t mean it’s a safe situation.  People are going to be looking for him.  He’s gained twenty pounds, he heals faster than I can believe, and I don’t like it.  There’s trouble coming.”

            “We can’t just wash our hands of it.  He needs our help.”

            “I know.”  Dorothy’s brow furrowed with concern.  “We just have to watch our backs.”

***

The young man stood alone in his spartan bedroom.  His ragged shirt was on a chair in the corner.  Sitting atop it was a black mask with a blue diamond pattern on the face, and another on the chin.  The cheeks were highlighted in blue as well.  He picked it up, looking at it.

            “You were wearing it.”  Dorothy said from behind him.  He turned as if he had known she was there.

            “When we found you.”  Rebecca added, leaning against the doorframe.

            “Where?” He asked.

            “A few blocks away.”  Dorothy said.

            “I want to see it.”

            Rebecca rubbed her arms as if they were cold.  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

            “And I don’t know who I am!”  He said firmly.

            “And somebody hurt you.”  Dorothy said softly.  “Somebody who could still be looking for you.  I think the first place I’d look for someone is the last place I saw them.”

            He glowered, and then nodded with understanding.

            “Maybe we could go after dark?” Rebecca suggested.

            Dorothy looked back, glaring at her.  Rebecca widened her eyes at her, imploring.

            “We could drive by.  In the car.”  Dorothy conceded.  “No getting out, no drawing attention to ourselves.”