Part 22 (1/2)

She looked around, trying to see if her grandmother was in the tent. Her dad told her she wasn't allowed to come to this part of the camp, but they hadn't been able to get any information about Grandma from the people in charge. This seemed like the best way. She'd look in all of the tents, and be back before her dad returned from helping dig graves for the dead.

The man saw her. Just as she started to drop the tent edge, he lifted his head.

”h.e.l.lo, little one,” his voice was raspy like he had a dry throat, and he talked funny. Different somehow.

Selah wasn't sure what to do. She crouched, motionless, tent edge still clasped in her hand.

”What are you doing here?” the man asked.

”I'm looking for my Grandma,” she replied. ”But I have to hurry. My dad's afraid I'll get sick if I talk with her. I'm not supposed to leave our tent.”

”What does your grandmother look like?”

Selah lifted the tent edge and crawled under. Hesitantly she made her way to the man's side. Close up, he looked sicker. She eyed his restraints suspiciously. No harm telling him, she guessed. ”She's short, little. She's smaller than my mom.” Selah studied the man. His black hair and bronze skin looked almost Mexican, but his voice had a different accent. She thought maybe he was Middle Eastern, like her friend Amira from school.

”Maybe I can help you find her?”

”Maybe. Are you sick?” Selah asked.

”No. I was asleep and they put these straps on me by mistake. They said they'd come back and undo them when they weren't busy,” the man said with a smile. ”But, now that you're here, you can help me so they can take care of the sick people.”

”You look sick.”

”I'm just cold. No heat in the tent.” He looked around, and shot a glance toward the tent door. ”What's your name?”

”Selah. What's your's?” She wondered if she'd get in trouble for talking with a stranger, but her dad wouldn't really know because she'd get back to their tent before he returned.

”Shem.”

”That's a funny name.”

”My home is far away. I was teaching at the college.” Bal Shem smiled again.

Selah knew a bunch of her grandparents' friends were professors at the state college in Commerce, not too far from Greenville. She'd been there lots of times.

”Can you help me unbuckle these straps?”

”I don't know.” She took a cautious step back. ”I should ask the doctor first. You look really sick.”

Bal Shem frowned, but quickly replaced the harsh expression with a smile. ”You want to find your grandma, don't you?”

”Yes.”

”Help me remove the straps and we'll go find her. I know where all the tents are. We can probably find her pretty fast.”

Selah looked around the empty tent and then back at Shem. He lay on the cot, smiling. He did look like a teacher. She moved to his legs and unbuckled the fat strap. ”What do you teach at the college?” she asked.

He muttered something incoherent, and struggled with words that couldn't seem to formulate on his tongue. He laid his head on the cot and closed his eyes, as if trying to clear the webs from his mind.

When her hand brushed against the bare flesh of his arm, Bal Shem felt tingles surge over his skin. Tingles similar to the sensation felt when the body experienced pins and needles.

Her hands worked the tight buckle over his chest.

”You've almost got it,” he said, voice heavy with encouragement.

”It's stuck, I think.”

”Wiggle it to the right a little more.”

Selah moved the black strap to the right and slid it from the buckle.

He was free.

Bal Shem clasped her hand in a gesture of thanks.

When he wrapped his fingers around the small bones of her fist, a current of power coursed through the receptors in the sensory neurons of his skin, neural transmitters surged to interneurons. Overcharged signals rocketed through the core of his spine. An electric heat rushed through his being like raw electricity. It gave him a momentary sense of elation, of power. Of strength.

He released her hand, shocked.

The little girl stood motionless before him, watching him.

Bal Shem felt his brain returning to normal. In a supernatural moment of heightened self awareness, he imagined he could feel the dendrites of neural cells in his brain begin to branch out again where they had begun to wither, could sense the somatic processing of his thoughts fire heightened impulses down the axons of billions of neural cells reawakened. Thoughts formed and stuck where, before, he kept forgetting what he was thinking.

He touched her arms with his hands. She stared into his face, trembling, but didn't make a sound.

Strength washed over him as he felt the rejuvenation of aching bones and eroding muscles on an almost molecular level. He brushed her face with his hand, gently, so as not to scare her too much. Another wave of warmth and energy bathed his frazzled nerves, soothed the chaos in his mind. What was it about this child that gave him strength and rationale where minutes before he only had weakness and confusion?

”Are-are you okay?” she managed to ask.

”Yes, yes, little one. I am only so very thankful for ... your help.” He hoped his voice sounded comforting, friendly. He let her go. She started to take a step backward, when he reached and grasped her hand once more. As a test.

The potency of her effect on him was immediate. Energy spiked through him, emboldened him, made him feel well again.

He heard footsteps pa.s.sing outside the tent.

”Are you still going to help me find Grandma?”

Bal Shem looked at her with his dark brown eyes, his dusky lips curling into a smile. ”Why, of course, little one.”

His thoughts rushed like water over a spillway now. Clarity returned and, with it, his purpose was renewed. He needed to get out of this camp. He'd been here too long and with the military and police presence, even in this time of insanity, someone might spot him again. On the other hand, he was sick. Despite his momentary rejuvenation, he felt it fading already, like the effects of a narcotic as it gave you back to your pain.

Yes. Despite what he'd just felt, this amazing surge of vigor, he was sure that he was still sick. And even as he realized it, his moment of lucidity was also fading fast. Suddenly, he struggled to formulate the next words he would say.

Until he touched this child.

He looked at Selah. Each brush against her flesh renewed his health, sent surging power and strength through his body. Was he so far gone, so sick and delusional that his mind was imagining these physical and mental effects?