The Resurrection

Brandon-Jack couldn’t breathe. He sucked in what putrid air he could and struggled in the swill water to keep afloat. Gradually he saw a distant light in the darkness and made his way towards it. As he got closer a strong unseeable force dragged him up, spun him around and tossed him out into a whole new world.

Brandon-Jack, having just been shot out of a toilet in the River Street visitor’s center men’s restroom in Savannah Georgia, stood stunned and shaken. After the shock of being reborn wore off, he burst out of the stall, and starred at himself in the mirror. He grinned to see his familiar devilish face and more importantly, to see his head attached to his resurrected body.

His first death had been the result of an unfortunate beheading and his second death had been even more unfortunate when the policeman shot him in the heart. Now, apparently he’d been granted a third life. He was thrilled with the unexpected opportunity because he’d thought he was going to hell.

He left the men’s room, picked up a few tour brochures and maps in the lobby. A welcome center greeter man asked him if he needed help finding something. He said ‘no’, then exited the building and joined the hustle and bustle of tourist season. He didn’t stay long on River Street, but instead made his way to Wright Square.

In Wright Square, for over a hundred years, his bones had been locked up in an old sea chest and sealed up in a basement wall. And it was in that very same square that he’d met his second death in front of Toomochichi’s rock tombstone.

Wright Square was like home to Brandon-Jack and he felt welcomed. He sat down on one end of a wooden bench and a ten year old boy sat on the other end. They didn’t speak and avoided looking at each other. An occasional tour walking group, tour trolley and tour horse drawn carriage went by. They could hear snippets of the tour guide’s stories. 

Brandon-Jack leaned over to the boy and said, “Ain’t much of that what they be say’n be true.”

“That so?” The boy raised a suspicious eyebrow. 

“Yup. For instance, those dead man’s bones they found in that building right there that they talk about wasn’t a pirate. He was a very sophisticated gentleman.”

“That so?”

“Yup. His name was Brandon Tyler and he was wrongfully convicted of being the Savannah Strangler. I knew him personally.”

“Yes sir, I’m sure you did know him since you ARE Brandon Tyler, then you took body possession of a tourist from Ohio named Jack Nyman. Now you call yourself Brandon-Jack.”

Brandon-Jack leaned back against the hard bench and carefully studied the boy. “And so, if I be the notorious Savannah Strangler, then who might you be?”

“Henry, Henry Walsh.”

“Never heard of you. Where you from?”

“Savannah. I’ve lived here all my life and sometimes people like you stop by to visit.”

“People like me?”

“Dead-folk”

“Are you the greeter at the dead-folk welcome center or something like that? You got a tour map for me?” Brandon-Jack laughed. 

Henry smiled an all-knowing smile.

“You ain’t so smart boy. Look at me. Do I look dead?”

“You look dead to me, but not so dead to everyone else. You’re in reprieve right at the moment.”

“Whatcha say’n?”

“I don’t exactly know for sure. You’re the first soul reincarnation I’ve seen. Not sure why you’re here, but I would guess you got some pay-back to do.”

Brandon-Jack shook his head. “I ain’t never done anybody wrong. It’s all an unfortunate misunderstanding. Besides, if I did do somebody wrong, all those people are dead and I can’t make up for past grievances anyway.”

Henry stood up and looked at Brandon-Jack. “You need to figure it out or you’re going to hell. That’s all I know.”

“What? Whatcha mean, going to hell?”

“Three chances is more than most get. I’d make the best of it.” He started to walk away.

“Wait! Wait! Help me out boy, what do I do?”

Henry looked back over his shoulder. “I’d start with going to the homeless shelter and taking a shower. You smell like crap.”