For Dudley

A gust of wind caught the hood attached to a tattered woolen trench coat. A thick gray hand reached for it immediately to keep it in place. The creature knew the wind was cold, even though they could not feel it. It was important to keep covered, both to keep their internal organs warm enough to function, but also to conceal the odd and discolored assortment of human parts cobbled together that made up their physical form.

Before them stood a makeshift wall of stacked crates, boxes, barrels, rusted hunks of metal, and wooden beams arranged haphazardly to leave no spaces between the objects. The height of the wall ranged from just over the creature’s height, at several inches above seven feet, to nearly twelve. There was no discernable gate that they could see from the cracked pavement driveway but getting in would not be too much trouble. Having a body assembled from the best parts of several humans had advantages that made most places accessible.

The creature reached into the pocket of the dirty trench coat and pulled out a silver heart-shaped locket. The advantages that made the wall such a minor obstacle also made simple tasks of minor dexterity a challenge. They clumsily maneuvered the locket around in one hand to open it with the other. After a few failed attempts to pry it open with their thick fingers, rage had begun to build within them. Their mind dulled and it was becoming more difficult to concentrate on the task when it finally sprang open.

Within the small compartment sat a photo. A family of four; father, mother, daughter, and son were huddled together and smiling. They looked young and happy. The picture was faded and worn, but still intact, even after the events that brought about the changing of the world. The creature attempted to mimic the smile worn by the small boy in the photo. Holding the expression, they closed the locket and turned it over in the hand. On the back were inscribed two words. The first was too badly marred to be legible, but the second clearly said, “DUDLEY.” The creature read the word out loud. Their voice sounded harsh and forced, like the sound of a rusty gate being forced open after a decade of being in the elements. The creature smiled wider and looked toward the wall. Behind this barrier would be their home.

A modicum of peace settled over the creature as they thought back over their progress. Their earliest memories were of walking endlessly across a deserted land. They were occasionally attacked by creatures unknown to them as they attempted to rest in the night. The events of the fights were fuzzy and mostly irrelevant. They traveled on, always checking the locket, and moving toward a home and a family they could not remember. Nothing seemed to break the monotony of their travels until they met another traveler. He was a middle-aged man, rugged and stern. He did not seem to mind their appearance as they camped together and talked. The man gave them the trench coat they wore now to protect them from the coming winter. He also suggested that their amnesia came from their condition and that their name might be Dudley. He believed he knew the family in the photo and instructed them on where their family might reside. Now here they stood in the location where their family home should be.

Dudley walked halfway back down the hill and took a deep breath. They turned to face the wall and began to sprint. Their mismatched legs pumped furiously and propelled their massive body toward the wall. Dropping one shoulder they slammed into a hunk of metal that had once been some sort of long white box. The wall shuddered and gave way. A larger section of the wall fell as it was reliant on the refrigerator for stability. They lifted their gaze and could see a two-level house across the yard. The windows were boarded up, but they could see light coming from the spaces between the wood. This made Dudley notice the sun was setting. A feeling of relief washed over them as they realized they would have the cover of darkness to hide their appearance. They did not want to frighten their family now that they looked nothing like they did in the photo. After a quick adjustment of their clothing, they moved toward the house.

The building looked cozy, even in the aftermath of the disaster. Many of the buildings they had seen in their travels had been abandoned or burned, but this one seemed mostly intact. It had been fortified with planks of wood and sheets of metal blocking the windows and doors. It may not have looked inviting to most, but to Dudley, it looked like home. As they stepped up onto the wooden porch the boards creaked and groaned under their weight. A single sheet of rusty-spotted metal was set within the door frame. With the locket held tightly in their hand as evidence, they pounded their massive fist against the metal door, ensuring that their presence was known. After only a moment, they spotted a pair of soft brown eyes peering through the cracks in the boarded-up window.

A moment later Dudley heard two voices arguing. The woman’s voice sounded pleading and insistent, while the man’s voice was angry and authoritative. The voices silenced and they could hear the floorboards creaking as someone moved toward the window. A gray-haired man with green eyes and round spectacles looked through the same crack as the brown-eyed woman had previously. Shaking his head in disappointment, the man moved from the window to the door. As it slid open slowly, the sound of metal scraping against metal set their nerves on edge.

As the door opened, lantern light spilled out onto the darkened porch. Dudley made sure they were just outside of the pool of light before lifting their face to regard the pair. The man stood at least a foot and a half shorter than Dudley and was incredibly thin. His shirt, vest, and pants hung over his bones as if it were made for a man twice his size. He leaned on a black walking stick and stood with a slight hunch in his shoulders and had more gray hair than black. His stern expression felt cold and cruel. In contrast, the much younger woman that stood behind him was shorter but much healthier. Her brown hair had a copper sheen in the lantern light. As the old man, she was also dressed in pants and a shirt made for a larger man, but her smile was one of wonder and excitement.

“Since you aren’t attacking us, I assume you aren’t one of those mutants. What do you want?” the man demanded. Dudley hesitated and shifted uncomfortably. These two people looked nothing like the people in the photo. Maybe the wanderer was wrong. Maybe his family no longer lived here. Maybe this bitter old man did something to his family so he could have their home for himself. No, this man was much too weak for that, but maybe something else took them first and he simply took the house.

The man rapped his walking stick against the hardwood floor and raised his voice. “Well, if you aren’t going to answer that question, then tell me how you got past the wall? Did you climb over? Are there others with you?” He began trying to see past Dudley into the darkened yard.

“No, I am alone,” they responded. Their voice was raspy and dry which seemed to disturb the two humans. Fear crept into their eyes, and they regarded each other, seeming to question their decision to open the door.

Dudley slowly presented both of their hands, palms up, revealing the silver heart-shaped locket to show that they meant no harm. “I am looking for my family,” they rasped. “I lost them. I don’t know how long ago. I have no memory beyond a few weeks.”

The man took a long look at the woman behind him and seemed to gather his strength. He took the lantern from her hand and took a few determined steps forward into the doorway. Gesturing at the silver locket, he asked, “May I?” Dudley nodded and stretched their arm out farther, still trying to keep the light from touching their face.

The old man took the locket slowly, as if removing an object from an overprotective animal, and opened it. Sadness crept over his face as he examined the contents. He shook his head slowly and looked toward Dudley’s shadowed hood. “These people never lived here,” he said in a low voice. “This house once belonged to those people there,” he added, gesturing toward a painting on the wall over the mantle. Dudley leaned inward to try to get a better look at the painting.

The old man raised the lantern as Dudley moved closer. A feeling of betrayal and grief crept over the creature, and they could feel the rage building inside them beginning to rise. The man was looking at his face in the full lantern light. From the horrified expression he had, Dudley knew he could see the rough stitches that crisscrossed his scalp and neck, holding pieces of skin of different shades, and their two eyes of different colors and sizes. The man’s shout of warning to his daughter, stopped in a terrible shriek as Dudley moved with lightning quickness. They attempted to snatch the locket away from the man while also shoving the lantern away. Instead, they had jerked the man’s arm with a sickening crunch while knocking the lantern out of his hand and sent it flying. The flaming oil spilled over the broken lantern glass and across the floor.

The old man raised his walking stick to defend himself, but Dudley was quicker. They grabbed the old man with both hands and threw him onto his daughter, who had not run but merely stood staring in shock. The pair crashed to the floor and the creature turned their anger on the nearest objects. The room quickly became a flaming pile of broken furniture obscured by oily smoke. As their rage abated, Dudley grabbed the painting from the wall and stomped outside away from the heat. Once a safe distance from the burning house, they sat down on an old tree stump and examined the painting. It showed a man, a woman, two girls, and a boy. The family portrait became the only thing in their attention as a thick haze wrapped around their thoughts. After a time, the haze faded away.

The creature stared at the painting in their hands and wondered what it was. They looked up at the ruins of a house, smoldering and smoking in the dawning rays of the sun. With curiosity, they turned the painting over. On the back, one word was written in black paint, “Lichfield.” A crooked smile crossed the creature’s face. “My family,” they whispered. “I must be Lichfield.” With this new revelation, Lichfield rose from the tree stump and began walking down the hill toward the road.