Track of the Beast: A Brock Stone Adventure

Interlude 6

Stone awoke to the aroma of freshly baked bread. He felt around and found a slice of warm bread with butter and a few tart berries, Himalayan blackberries perhaps.

There was also a cup of water and a cup of hot tea. He devoured it all, even the tea, which he ordinarily did not care for.

“Did you enjoy your meal?” Gideon’s voice asked from somewhere in the darkness.

“I would love a cup of coffee,” Stone said wryly.

“I just like the smell of coffee. I could smell it on your breath the first time we met.”

“It has been days since I had coffee. You must have a sensitive nose.”

“Or you have bad breath.”

Stone breathed into his cupped hands, sniffed, and shrugged. He stood and stretched. Every inch of his body hurt. He wondered what was in store for him today.

“What comes next?” Stone asked.

“Your rebirth continues,” Gideon said.

“You said childbirth is painful, so I guess that means another beating?”

“That depends on you.”

Stone was tired, hurting, and had little patience for the man’s cryptic answers.

“Can we get on with it then?”

“First lesson,” Gideon said. “Inside the womb, a child who is nearing birth cannot see the world outside, but that doesn’t mean the child is unaware.

“Makes sense,” Stone said.

“Tell me what you hear.”

“Your voice,” Stone replied. He waited. Silence. “Sorry. Was I supposed to listen for something else?”

Something struck him across the small o his back. A lance of pain burned his flesh.

“Ouch. I only wanted a clarification of the rules.”

This time the blow struck him across the knees. He let out a pained grunt.

“An infant is incapable of understanding rules. It learns by experience.” Still, Gideon’s voice seemed to come from everywhere at once.

“How do you do that with your voice?”

Something jabbed him hard in the gut. Stone grunted.

“Focus!” Gideon snapped.

“All right. I’m focusing. Let’s try it again.”

Gideon didn’t reply. The silence was as complete as the darkness.

Stone listened for more sounds. He had sharp ears, but he couldn’t hear anything except the thrum of his heartbeat. A whack across his backside, more annoying than painful, made him jump.

“I can hear my heartbeat.”

That must have been a satisfactory answer because Gideon didn’t hit him this time.

“What else?” Gideon said.

“There’s a rushing sound in my ears like the blowing wind.”

“And outside of yourself?”

Try as he would, Stone couldn’t hear anything. Another blow. He tried to shut out his other senses and focus on his hearing. He tuned out the scent of blood that filled his nostrils, the taste of sweat on his tongue.

“Wait a minute.” He heard a faint dripping sound. “There’s water dripping somewhere far away.”

“Find it.”

It took a long time to find the source of the sound, and Gideon hit him with the stick several times before he completed the task, but he managed it. There was a crack in the wall several feet up. He pressed his ear to the small opening. The water was dripping on the other side of the wall.

“I found it.”

Silence.

He waited. NO answer. “Are you still there?”

No answer.

“No prize for passing your test?” he muttered. “Not even a pat on the head?”

As if in response, there was a scraping sound somewhere behind him. A familiar aroma, rich and nutty, filled the air. He smiled, followed the scent like a bloodhound. His hands closed around a cup of lukewarm coffee. He took a sip and let out a sigh of contentment.

“Thank you,” he said.

From somewhere far away, Gideon replied.

“You are welcome.”