The Death and Resurrection Of Martin Luther

The Boy in the Picture

Taylor has been different lately. Softer and warmer. Ever since Martin protected her from those thugs at the marketplace, her tone carried a little respect when she spoke to him.

“I found this in your pocket,” she said quietly. “That day we rescued you.” She said as she handed him a folded rumpled picture.

Martin frowned when he saw it. His rough fingers trembled as they touched the faded edges. The picture was old, bent at the corners, the face of a child staring back at him with wide eyes. Something inside him shifted immediately.

“I… I know this face,” Martin whispered, pressing the photo closer. His voice shook. “But it’s blurry. I can’t… I can’t see clearly.”

Taylor studied him, her eyes lingering. “Maybe New York will help. You know how they say a new environment does wonders to one's health?"

Martin looked up, startled. “New York?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I’ve got an interview there, a real chance to make something out of my life. But I can’t go alone… I need you with me. I feel safe when you’re around.”

Martin shook his head. “But your father, we can’t leave him. What if the thugs come back?”

Before Taylor could answer, Elder Orso shuffled into the room, leaning on his cane and smiling like he had heard everything.

“Don’t you worry about me, boy,” Elder Orso said, his voice firm. “I’ve survived worse than petty thieves. Let them try me, I’ll give them stories to tell their grandchildren.”

Martin clenched his jaw. “But...”

“No buts,” Elder Orso cut him off. “Go. Maybe… maybe you’ll find what you’re looking for there. Don’t let your life slip away hiding in my shadows.”

Martin stared at him for a long moment. The old man has never been afraid, and he was always right.

He looked at Taylor. “Fine. We go together.”

---------

By the time a taxi dropped them of at their destination hours later, after the long train ride from Texas, something pulled at him. Something deep, that clawed at the edge of his broken memory. But when he tried to chase it, the pain split his skull terribly.

“Are you okay?” Taylor’s hand brushed his arm.

“I… I don’t know,” Martin muttered.

She smiled faintly. “Don’t worry. I’ll be inside for the interview. Just wait here, or… look around if you want.”

She disappeared through the glass doors, leaving Martin at the edge of the empire he once ruled, an empire he no longer remembered.

“Arghh…” he groaned, clutching his temple, as his chest tightened. He could see flashes of light, laughter and a face... a woman's face...blurred but haunting.

Just then, a voice broke through his thoughts.

“Hey!”

A small hand tugged at his.

Martin blinked. A boy, maybe seven years old, stared up at him with curious eyes. The boy’s tiny fingers wrapped around Martin’s rough hand like they belonged there.

Martin’s heart thundered.There was something about those eyes. A wave of recognition and emotions exploded in his chest.

“You…” Martin whispered, his voice trembling. “I… I know you…”

“Maxie!”

The boy flinched and turned towards the sharp voice that had called him. Martin’s gaze followed, and that was when he saw her.

Aubrey.

“There you are,” she hissed, striding forward. “I’ve been looking everywhere! What do you think you’re doing, running off like that?”

She grabbed the boy’s arm.

Maxie whined. “Mama, I was just trying to play”

“Quiet,” Aubrey snapped, her eyes finally shifted to Martin.

Martin stood rooted, his cane digging into the floor, his chest heaving as he stared at her. Something about her pulled at his memory.

Aubrey’s brow furrowed. She scanned his ragged clothes, his beard, his limping stance.

Her lips curled. “Who are you?”

Martin opened his mouth, but no words came.

Aubrey’s suspicion sharpened. “Are you lost?” She looked him up and down, sneering. “How did someone like you even get into this building?”

Martin’s mouth trembled. “You…” His voice cracked. “I… know you…”

Her eyes widened slightly, then narrowed. The way he looked at her unsettled her.

“What did you say?”

Martin staggered closer, his eyes darting between her and the boy.

“You… and him… I…” He pressed his temple, fighting the blurriness. “Why… why do you feel… familiar?”

Aubrey stiffened and her fingers tightened on Maxie’s arm.

She snapped, “Are you dumb?!” Her voice rose, attracting the attention of a few nearby employees. “How did a madman like you get in here?”

Martin’s breathing grew uneven. “Aubrey…”

Her blood drained from her face. There was no way in hell this mad man knew her name.

“No…” she whispered under her breath.

Martin stepped closer, trembling, his eyes searching her swollen belly, the boy’s face, her terrified stare.

“What… are you hiding from me? You know me too, right?”

“Enough!” Aubrey barked, panic seeping into her voice. “Security!”

Two guards rushed forward at her call.

“Take this lunatic out of here!” she shouted, though her voice cracked with fear. “Now!”

Martin reached out, his cane clattering to the ground as he grabbed the photograph from his pocket and held it up, his hand shaking.

“Tell me… who is this child?”

Aubrey’s face turned white. Her eyes flicked to the picture which was unrecognizable and for a moment, she was confused.

“Get him out!”

The guards seized Martin’s arms. He struggled, shouting, his voice hoarse but desperate.

“Aubrey! Who am I to you?! Tell me the truth!”

Aubrey clutched Maxie tightly to her side, her face pale as though she had seen a ghost.

"You are a mad man! Take him far from us, now!"

The last thing Martin saw was the boy’s wide eyes looking back at him, eyes identical to the ones in the picture he carried.

Before he was thrown out of the building like a piece of trash.