Times of Tribulation
Lost Marbles: Part One

They say life at New Rydynn Memorial Hospital is never dull, unless you are a patient, then it's always fatal. I laugh when I hear that, because laughing is better than crying. Most often the statement's true because the patients we get are usually to far gone with infection or disease to do much more than watch them die. It would be a pretty depressing place for someone to work if we didn't save a few patients now and then. You never hear about the success stories, only the failures. Failure means death and even on Sabatt, most folk have kin and kin have long, long memories and usually are pretty loud.

I had enough of life at NRMH. Feeling tired and useless, battered and frustrated (do not smirk at me! ), I took out my aggression on poor Joseff Jansenn and then I fled. What follows is an account of my return and the events at NRMH just prior. I wasn't there at the beginning, but I sure was at the end. Hooray for me.

I only know Marshall, my eldest brother, visited NRMH because Elliot told me. The computer recognized his voice pattern. No one else knew who he was though he occupied his old room from about the night I left till the night I returned. Elliot tells me, on the night I came home, Marshall sprawled by one of the ruined statues flanking the main steps leading to the only working set of sliding doors this side of the Spratt. The statue is still there. It is a woman. Well, what is left of a woman, cradling a baby in her arms. The marble's all chipped now and the woman's head is missing. It's mate standing guard to the left is nothing more than dark-veined rubble.

If my brother didn't slouch he'd be a tall man. He has a barrel chest, just like our dad's and is now sporting long, greasy blonde hair that hang in dread locks to conceal his piercing blue eyes. That night he wore a mishmash of clothing -- several pairs of tattered trousers and socks, T-shirts and button downs that each had a hole somewhere torn out of their dirty fabric. He rolled a marble over scabbed knuckles, back and forth. Marshall glanced up, though one could hardly tell where the man was looking because of the dreads in his eyes. "Evenin', brother," he said to the dark shape approaching hospital. Shad Grey had come to the hospital, weary.

"Evenin'," he said, looking for all the world like he had seen war. Shad wore a duster that was darkened with various stains, most likely blood.

Marshall looks more like the multitudes of people in the city that have nothing better to do than survive than the Freemen soldier that he is. He was in disguise and there was a fragrant aroma about him that spoke volumes of a lack of bathing. The twin suns had set, illuminating the shattered buildings beyond a jagged sky scape. Marshall eased up to a sit hiding the marble in his beefy hand. "Yer all bloody. Right place to be, I guess." He jabbed his thumb at the hospital doors.

Shad's appearance would win him no beauty contests. Looking barely any better than Marshall, the various stains he wore showed he hadn't had much time to consider personal hygiene. Shad glanced at the nearby statue and nodded to it. "Yeah.. I've been dancing with the gangs. I'm not bleeding anymore."

Marshall combed his fingers through the tangled mess of hair revealing for a brief moment his shrewd, ice blue eyes. He laughed. He has a hearty laugh and his grin shows several teeth missing.

"Uh, you're with security here?" Suddenly, Shad was unsure of my brother.

"Security? Brother, this place is leakier than a sieve."

Shad emitted a halfhearted chuckle. "Yeah, I hear ya."

Marshall nodded as his hair fell back into place. He bounced the marble, which was not a marble at all but a small rubber ball, off the steps It was hard to believe he caught it with all that hair.

"Uh, you hear anything about the hospital," Shad asked, hopeful. "I'm looking for someone who works here."

Bounce, catch. "Yah? Like who?"

"Meralynn Harperr," Shad said in hopeful tones.

"Doc Harperr's daughter?" Marshall perked, then bounced the ball again.

"I've been too busy to check up on her." The slight smile Shad wore couldn't hide the weariness in his voice.

"Well, she ain't been snatched again, far as I heard." The ball hit a chip and flew off to the side.

Shad breathed a sigh of relief. "I've been chased around by the bastards who did it the first time."

Marshall stared off at the escaping ball, lips curling into a childish frown. The haze in the sky made for a spectacular sunset. Red and oranges mingle in muted layers tinged with hopeful pinks and purples. Around them the air hummed with the low buzz of the air filtration system.

"Gotta love those Reapers," Shad mused.

"Reaper's Minions. Nah...wannabes." Marshall grinned. "No real cohesion - all out for 'emselves."

"Yeah. I whupped them with some renegades from 'em. Their leaders been...dethroned. Hear anything 'bout Garth?"

"Bout who?" My brother fished through his pockets. Maybe he could find something else to occupy his hands. The tobacco supply had run out at his post and he felt his addiction in a need to fidget.

"Garth Lowinn," Shad supplied helpfully. Garth helped me out against the Reapers."

"I thought...uh...Ritchie...uh Valentine...yeah..." Marshall was never good with names, but one he recognized. He thrust a big finger in Shad's face. "Lowinn is alive?" He forgot what he was looking for.

"Yeah, I think," Shad said. "Least last time I checked. Kinda tough when ya have a hoard of thugs after you."

"Yeah? Hmm. Innerestin'." That's my brother, always using big words to illustrate his vocabulary. Marshall looked Shad up and down, appraising him. Marshall's good at changing the subject too. "So, brother? May I ask you a personal question?"

Shad let him know he could with a nod and a noncommittal, "Yep." The young man looked cautiously about.

Marshall eased back, stretching his long legs out. The position showed off the hole in his shoe. "Yah, well...what side you on?"

"Me?" Shad chuckled slightly. "That's a difficult one." He paused to think about the question more. "Well it's definitely not the Church. I kinda go where Fate takes me."

"Yah, good answer," Marshall said. "You ever think of doin' somethin' useful? Yah know, help yer fellow man, fight oppression and junk like that?"

Shad shrugged. "I prefer to even the odds. I find myself doing that."

"Good, good. Even odds. That's a good thing." Marshall smiled. "Ever thought of how you could achieve that, brother?"

"My sis has an orphanage. Been helping there. My good deeds are mostly there. Even the odds. By balance. Helping the weak." Shads words tumbled out in a stream of consciousness. "By stealth and what mean are possible."

Marshall nodded, still at ease with himself and his reclined pose. "Yah, that's right. Sure could use you."

Shad became more thoughtful. "I owe the hospital plenty. And a lot to Mera..." His words trailed off.

"I gotta few friends I think you should talk to," Marshall said. "Yah, meet me later, out back. I'll take yah to ‘em."

A look of interest crossed Shad's dusky face and he nodded. "I'm interested.. I'm gonna check on someone. Later"

"Take care, brother." As far as I know, that meeting never took place and Shad isn't wearing Freemen green. Marshall's like that. He drifts into someone's life, then drifts away without a closing word. He was gone by the time I returned to the hospital. Only Elliot recognized him. No one else bothered to ask who he was. That's life in the city for you. Folks too busy trying to survive to care about a passing stranger or what that stranger might mean to someone. I miss my big brother an awful lot.