HEALER: Introduction



They thought I was Jesus. I was half convinced I was myself. I could do something no one else in the modern world could do... I could heal people. There were doctors, sure, but I'm not talking about that kind of healing. I'm referring to healing by mere proxy, the kind you read in the Bible, in legends, in fantasy. All over the worlds there were mystics and religions filled with people claiming supernatural powers to heal, but they offered little in regards to proof. Skeptics have often dismissed such abilities as fairy tales. I hardly ever thought about it myself. I suppose I assumed it was all nonsense and went on about my life. Who can heal people with near limitless power? Who else could cure illness, aches, and horrifying bodily destruction? No one can. Or so I thought.



January 1st, 2013


Something strange happened tonight. It was 3 am and I was coming home from my cousin's New Year's eve party. Emily was already asleep in the passenger seat, her phone still glowing in her hand as the final thoughts of last year's wishes became a new year's dream. My eyes were heavy and I was hoping I'd make it only 10 more minutes. The promise of a warm bed was all it took to press a little harder on the gas pedal. The road was vacant by this hour, only a few cars humming by with intoxicated eagerness.



I hardly noticed the fog accumulate on the window. I looked down to adjust the vent. My head lifted suddenly with a sobering shock to my body. I was falling asleep. It couldn't have been more than 10 seconds, but I was afraid. My heart raced, trying to outrun the sinking feeling of the danger my tired eyes were creating.



My head fell again, briefly and I caught it just as a truck swayed past the line on the left. I stomped the break and honked violently.



“What the heck, Charlie?!” Emily jumped from her sleep.



“That bastard is all over the road.” I pointed in righteous anger, ignoring all the creative driving I was doing moments before.



“Go around him.”



“I'd love to, as soon as he picks a lane.” I honked. “What is he doing?”



The truck continued to swing between lines until pulling hard right, cutting in front of us, through the next lane, and tumbled off the road into the ditch with a violent crunching.



“Whoa! Did you see that?”



“Oh my God! Do you think they're okay?”



I pulled to the side of the road and backed up. Several other cars did the same. The truck was standing on it's front bumper propped against a tree.



Hoooooooooooooooooooooooooooonk, the horn blared.



“I have to help them.”



I jumped out of the car and ran down the hill, tripping over roots and twigs as I slipped on the frosty mud. There were two people in the car, both men, both conscious, both in terrible condition.The men hung from their seat belts within the demolished interior. Blood was everywhere, dripping, pooling, soaking.



“Are you okay?”I yelled over the still sounding horn.



“Help us, please!”



“I'm going to try to get you out.”



“My leg!?”



“Oh, shit!”



“Hold on guys. I need to get you out of the seat.” I yelled as I approached the truck. A heavy smell of gas filled the air. There was no smoke, but the fumes alone were suffocating.



“Don't touch them!” reprimanded a heavy black man stumbling down the embankment. “If they broke their spine, you can permanently harm them.”



“They look to be bleeding badly. We have to do something or they're going to die. Come help me hold them while I get them out.” I barked back. The man came closer, seeing the deep shards of glass embedded in the drivers face and followed the bodily fluid as it dripped. Without further debate he nodded and complied.



“Get Eddie out first.” pleaded the driver.



I quickly circled the vertical truck, finding a blockade of branches and brush on the right side. “I want to help your friend, but I can't get to him from his side. I need to get you out first.”



I reached in the bent jagged door holding the drivers chest with my right hand and unleashing his buckle with my left. The other rescuer tried supporting what parts he could through the tight space. Then, together, we pulled the driver out and laid him on the ground.



The horn silenced as I turned the wheel to climb in. I crossed the middle console, then used my body to prop the passenger to release him from his seat. There wasn't room for the other man to help, but luckily the passenger was much lighter than the driver. The belt clicked, loosening, and with a weakening of pressure on his chest he let out one big breath and passed out.



“Where's his leg?” Asked the helper. I didn't notice as I struggled to hold him under his shoulders but the passenger's leg was missing at the knee. I handed the passenger off to the other man who laid him on the ground next to the driver.



“I'll be right back.” I assured over my shoulder, returning to the car to search through the wreckage. Metal and glass jutted everywhere cutting my hand while digging for the severed limb. I found it in the back seat.




I could hear sirens whistling in the distance. Emily must have called the police. I laid the leg next to the body and knelt down to tie a tourniquet. I ripped the pants from the leg, tearing it into strips and wrapped the thigh as tight as I could. I took hold of the severed leg and the strangest damn thing came over me. I put the leg against the leg, meat and bone to meat and bone, fitting the knee back into the socket like a child fitting legos together. 



“Oh my God! Oh my God!” The helper gagged from the gruesome sight.




Flashing lights waved high as the emergency vehicles approached. I looked down to see both the driver and passenger were unconscious. The other man, my helper, was on his phone, presumably talking to his family to explain why he'd be home even later. 




I sat, catching my breath for the first time since running down into the ditch. I stared at the men, hypnotized by the red and blue strobe. I stared at the men, specifically towards the passengers naked leg, when I noticed the leg was no longer torn. The skin had mended, the blood had stopped. 




I looked to the driver whose face was swollen and cut as glass pushed out of his skin and the wounds sealed themselves. My heart raced. 




“What the Hell? They aren't human!” I shouted. I rushed up the hill to escape, reaching my car where Emily was waiting.




“What happened? Is everyone in the truck okay? Are you bleeding?”




I panted frantically trying to find my words. I was stained red. I looked down at the cut on my hand to see the skin lift and fold into new pink flesh. 




“What happened?” she begged.




“I'm not sure, but we need to leave.”




That's what we did. Fled the scene of an accident we shouldn't have ever been involved in.


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