by J.R. Bowles
CHAPTER 37
“Captain―come quick,” a sailor from the Liberty ferry boat called. As the Captain came out he surveyed the collapsed bodies on the dock and one man on the gangway.
The Captain and his first mate started down the gangplank just as the man slumped there stirred to consciousness.
Michael raised his head as he heard the vibration of their feet hit the metal plank. He scanned the area and counted five people on the ground, and a girl on the bench; all apparently were still unconscious.
He knew John was not seriously hurt, for it would take something more extreme to do him any great damage, but he was unsure about Jamal. He had seen the knife enter Jamal just before he blacked out.
Michael managed to step over the Indian girl and rolled Jamal off John. The knife remained stuck in Jamal and he was losing blood; his breathing was shallow and his skin was clammy from shock.
As Michael examined Jamal, John began to groan.
“John,” Michael said, “this man is dying—you must help him. “
The realization of what had happened began to sink into John's groggy mind.
“Michael, what can I do?”
“When I pull the knife out, place your hand on the wound and order it to heal itself.”
John looked at Michael as if the poor man had gone daft. “Michael, I think we had better call an ambulance.”
“I'll call one from the boat's radio.” The ferry boat captain offered running back up the gangway.
“John, he doesn't have that much time. He'll be dead before they get an ambulance here. Just do what I tell you,” Michael ordered.
John shrugged but then nodded. At this point what damage could he do? It was quite apparent by just looking at the man that he was close to death—if he died did he really care? John wasn't sure.
Michael pulled the knife out. “Now, John, place your hand over the wound and tell it to heal.”
John complied, feeling confused and a little foolish about Michael's belief that he could do such a thing. But everything had suddenly become unreal—and this was certainly no stranger than what had been happening to him over the past several days.
“Heal!” John spoke evenly as he placed his hand on Jamal's open, bleeding wound.
John's hand began to tingle as if a million needles were being stuck into it. Jamal's hard muscular stomach felt as if it were water, and John could see down into Jamal as if every cell in Jamal had become transparent. Michael could feel the energy John was drawing from him to perform this miracle. Yes, that was the word, Michael thought; he is taking my faith in him, utilizing my energy and combining it with his own energy, and healing him. Although he told himself it wasn't a real miracle―John was just using the energy of the universe to correct the problem.
As John looked down into Jamal, he could see the transparent cells realigning themselves as if they were in a vibratory symphony, dancing to his vocalization of the word heal.
As John leaned over Jamal, Michael saw Jamal's eyes open and look up at John; something passed between them. Jamal glanced at Michael with his new understanding of what was happening to him.
When John removed his hand, there was no longer a hole in Jamal; the skin was smooth and he hadn't even left a scar.
John stared aghast, first at Jamal and then at Michael.
Michael looked over the others, saw that they were still unconscious and warned, “We can't tell them, not yet.”
John stood up, walked blindly over to where Jackie still slumped over on the bench, and sat down, staring off into the darkness.
Michael yelled up to the Captain to cancel the call for the ambulance—everything was okay.
Michael then went around and roused each of the others. He looked around and saw another person prone on a bench, away from the group. He decided he had better check him out to see if it was just someone sleeping in the park, or someone who observed what had happened and been drawn into it.
When Michael approached the bench he groaned. Rudy, he thought, that damn little peacock, what the hell was he doing here? He must have followed him and had been witness to the whole thing. “Wake up.” Michael prodded the man. “You're coming with us.”
Rudy looked up and smiled and thought, anytime sugar. Then he remembered what he had witnessed and sat up, shivering nervously, but remained silent.
When Billy regained his senses, he saw Michael had been busy taking care of everything—but Michael was looking severely fatigued. Billy wasn't sure what was happening to Michael but figured he had better take control; no one else seemed to have any idea what to do. He almost started laughing as he thought they looked like a bunch of lost sheep—each one seemed more confused than the next.
Billy went to them one by one, told them to get into his truck and pointed them in that direction. They started following, one after the other, all silent but obeying Billy's commands.
When they got to the truck he directed John and Jackie into the cab, and assisted each of the others into the truck bed.
“Sit down,” he ordered. “We're going uptown to a hotel. We can all recover there.”
Jamal sat with his arm around Mindy; Azid sat beside Jamal. Michael helped Rudy scoot in, and then flopped down beside him.
Billy got behind the wheel and started it up. “Hold on. I'll take it slow,” he yelled back to the group.
John sat beside Jackie, his expression blank. Jackie had taken his hand in hers and was using her other hand to stroke the back of his hand.
“It is okay, John,” she soothed as he sat there seemingly unhearing, between them.
