Mind Over Psyche

by Karina L. Fabian

  Nonetheless, after he’d gotten to the room, spread out his cache on the table and settled down in one of the soft bag-like chairs, he found himself drained of thought, and he sat there, knees up under his chin, enshrouded by his misery, for hours. Occasionally, he roused himself enough to ask, “What am I going to do?”

  His thoughts had come to nothing when the first earthquake hit.

  *

  Joshua stood on the plateau of one of those high, narrow, lonely mesas in the middle of Utah, the kind they used in SUV commercials. The altitude and a slight breeze cut the heat some, but it was still dusty, dry, and barren, and as he looked around at the bizarre desolate landscape, he wondered how he’d gotten there—and how he’d get down.

  “Joshua!”

  “Sachiko!” Joshua turned at the sound of his fiancée’s voice and started to run to her. No sooner did he take his first step, however, than the mesa shook violently, knocking them both off their feet. Joshua fell hard, but his need for her drove him up again, only to be tossed up and thrown to the ground by another forceful tremor. A ripping sound, then a roar like he’d never heard before, like a Niagara Falls of dirt and stone, and the stretch of mesa between him and Sachiko disappeared.

  Sachiko, still on hands and knees, looked to Joshua in horror.

  Joshua judged at the rift, decided he could jump it, and ran.

  A third tremor knocked him backward. Sachiko screamed. The ground crumbled in his direction and he scrambled back. The wind picked up, as if the air rushed to fill the gaping hole between them.

  “I’m okay!” He had to shout to be heard. His heart pounded almost as loudly as the splitting rock. When the tremors finally stopped, he crawled his way to the crevice and gawked at the gap filled with blackness and stars.

  He looked up and across to Sachiko’s despairing face.

  “I’ll find a way!” He shouted.

  “I believe you! I love you!”

  “I love you! Wait for me!”

  “Forever!”

  When Joshua awoke, he knew why tears dampened his face, but he couldn’t figure out what he was doing on the floor. Then, the room shook and swayed.

  Earthquake! He froze, unsure of what to do. All he knew about earthquakes was from disaster movies or the news. Should he go outside? Stay indoors? People got buried in the rubble, but wasn’t it more dangerous outside? Could a plant-building collapse?

  Tasmae collapsed one, but Deryl made it sound like she talked it into doing so.

  The room shuddered.

  “What do I do?” He demanded, though he didn’t know why.

  The leaf door to his room opened. He hastily threw on pants and dashed into the corridor. He’d find someone and ask or follow them. People here knew what to do, right? As he neared the main hall, he heard hoof beats and broke into a run.

  He rounded the intersection and saw a unicorn carrying an unconscious warrior who was bleeding slightly at the temple. The warriors were spending the night at the cliffs. Didn’t Tasmae warn them? He hurried to the unicorn.

  “Are there more?” He asked, hoping the stallion understood. Joshua didn’t recognize him.

  The unicorn jerked his head in the horsy equivalent of a nod. Joshua noted that, although blood stained his gray hide, it didn’t seem to be his own.

  Gently, Joshua pulled the woman off the unicorn’s back. “I’ll get her to the healers,” he said, glad that he’d finally memorized that route. “Go see who else you can help.”

  Again the nod, and the unicorn spun in a turn that should have been impossible for so large a beast in so narrow a hallway. As he headed back outside, Joshua hastened to the healer’s den, doing his best not to jostle the injured woman.

  He got to the healer’s area just as another tremor hit, and he braced himself against the wall until it stopped. It was milder than the one that had tossed him from his bed, and he wondered if that was a good sign. A healer wordlessly took the warrior from his arms and carried her to a low bed to be examined. He took no notice of Joshua; no one did.

  Now what? Head back the way I’d come and hope to run into another unicorn? Joshua looked around the room. Anyone who wasn’t a healer was scurrying about on seemingly urgent tasks; no one was going to take time to give him directions. He started out the door, but another tremor made him hold back.

  What if my route isn’t the safest? It’s not the most direct, I’m sure. Maybe I should wait until someone else comes and follow them. He saw Terry, bent over another injured warrior, his expression serene yet deep in concentration. For a moment, Joshua thought of a saint in prayer. The room itself remained eerily quiet, except for the muffled footsteps and the occasional moans of the wounded. No machine sounds, no spoken directions, no swearing.

  There was, however, the healing energy, calling to him, teasing. He felt like he should know it.

  A half-dozen others came in, two of whom carried a third that was unable to walk. As a healer rushed to them, Joshua stepped out of the way, sidling toward Terry as he did. No one took heed of him, and he hesitated to offer his help, for fear of jarring Terry out of whatever trance he was in. By the time he’d looked back to the people at the door, they were gone.

  Well, there’s always one thing I can do. He closed his eyes a moment and opened his heart to prayer.

  With a rush, the healing power moved into him, filling him with light and music and a sweet taste.

  Terry’s patient began to convulse.

  Without thinking, Joshua hurried forward to help hold him down. No sooner had he set his hands on the man’s shoulders, than the power began to course through him and into the wounded warrior. He started to jerk away in surprise, but Terry slapped his hands over Joshua’s, pinning them down. He had no choice but to let the power rush through him and try not to lose himself in the flood.

  The music crescendoed and faded, and the flow of power slowed. Terry released him, and Joshua sat down hard on the floor, huffing. He felt dazed and giddy. He blinked several times, then looked at Terry and the patient. The warrior, though unconscious, breathed normally.

  Terry smiled at Joshua. “And you said you were not a healer.”

  “I’m not. I—” Joshua shook his head, trying to focus. He couldn’t catch his breath. He felt the melody of power around him, both comforting and pulling at him. There are more, it crooned. He shook his head again, looked back at Terry. “What just happened?”

  Terry took hold of his shoulders. “You are untrained, but you can channel power. There are others who need our help.”

  There are more. The music whispered, luring him.

  “I, I don’t know what to do. This didn’t happen when we were practicing.”

  “No es importante. I will guide you. Just call the power as you did before. Can you do that?”

  He licked lips gone dry. “I suppose…“

  There are more. Sing with me. Make healing music.

  The initial confusion faded, leaving him with the kind of natural high he felt after Chipotle gave a great performance. He grinned and held out his hand for Terry to pull him up. “Let’s do it!”

  Terry guided Joshua through healing the next patient, having him call the power then directing it himself to where healing was needed. He let the music/light/taste/caress overwhelm him so that he barely noticed moving on the next patient, then the next, then from healer to healer. He was suspended in a kind of rapture, until at last the melody faltered, the rainbow faded. He stumbled; still, power flowed through him, and healers wordlessly passed him among themselves, and he could not break free of the flood to voice a protest.

  When at last the song released him, he crawled into a vacated cot and gave himself to sleep.

  The power called out to Joshua, singing his name. “C’mon,” he protested weakly. “Let up. I’m so tired. I’m only human.”

  Rest, human, the powe
r sang. Rest and know you have done well. Your purpose reaches fulfillment. You will be home soon, soon…

  *

  Half asleep, Joshua stirred uneasily in the muggy heat. Sweat made his shirt and shorts cling to his body. The mechanical roar of his window fans invaded his slumber, but barely made a breeze.

  Fans?

  Joshua opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling fan of his Rhode Island flat in mute disbelief. Was he really back home?

  He sat up, saw his laptop on the end table, his synthesizer in its spot between the two windows. He turned his head toward the door.

  “’KO!”

  Sachiko, bent over her backpack, stood up with a yelp of surprise. “Jeez! You scared the life out of me!”

  He bounded over the coffee table and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her with a week’s worth of pent up passion.

  “What was that all about?” She asked when he’d finally stopped kissing her mouth to press his lips against her neck and ear.

  “I’ve missed you so much!” He whispered.

  She laughed. “That’s what you get for sleeping the day away.”

  He backed away from her. “What?”

  She held up the motorcycle helmet she’d been pulling out of her backpack. “I stuck around because I was worried, but you were sleeping normally, and I need to stop falling asleep at your place. Engaged or not, your landlady’s going to get some funny ideas, and I wouldn’t put it past her to call your parents about us, ya know what I mean? But seriously, you’ve got to get up for work in a couple of hours. I mean, if you’re up to it. Edith said—Joshua, hon, what is it?”

  He’d sat down hard on the coffee table. It felt real enough. “What day is it?”

  “Tuesday, about 2 a.m.” She sat down next to him. “Why?”

  “This is going to sound stupid, but which Tuesday? Did Deryl do anything…odd?”

  Sachiko set her hand on his arm. “Deryl…took you somewhere. We don’t know how. Then, half an hour later, you showed up in an empty conference room. You were pretty dazed, so I brought you home. You said you wanted to sleep for a week. I thought maybe the concussion—”

  “Yes!” Joshua jumped up, cheering. He pulled Sachiko into his arms again and kissed her. “Have I got a story for you!”

  “Well, that’s good, because Malachai and the police—”

  “Uh-uh. As far as they’re concerned, I have no memory of what happened between Deryl and me disappearing and me reappearing half an hour later. This is for your ears only.”

  “Now, I’m intrigued.” She settled herself on the couch, helmet at her feet.

  He sat down next to her, cross-legged and facing her. He couldn’t keep back a grin. “It may have only been less than an hour here, but it was nearly a week we were gone. Remember Tasmae, the Miscria? She and her world are as real as Deryl’s abilities, and he took us there.”

  She leaned back on one hand and cocked an eyebrow at him. His heart skipped as he gazed into her eyes, exotic like her Japanese mother’s, and the smirk that was all-too-much her father’s. Her blouse, damp with humidity, clung to her body. Just enough buttons were undone that he could see the curve of her breasts. Below her skort, her legs were shapely and tan. One of them pressed lightly against his.

  He forgot all about the adventure. “I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again,” he whispered.

  “Know what I think? I think you’ll say anything to get me to stay the night.”

  “Do I really have to say anything?” He leaned toward her, and soon they were settled against the pillows of the couch he forced himself not to think of as a bed. Their kisses grew more passionate, their caresses more eager, until he found himself wishing it was a dream so he could follow through on his desires.

  As if summoned by his silent wish, someone grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him roughly. “Hey! Wake up!”

  Startled, Joshua pulled back and had one last look at Sachiko smiling with irony before the scene around him faded.

  “No!”

  “Wake up!”

  “No,” Joshua moaned and pulled the light sheet over his head, desperately trying to find his way back to his dream.

  Someone ripped the sheet off him. “Quit goofing around and wake up!” Deryl yelled.

  White-hot anger shot through him, and he threw himself into a sitting position and whirled on his friend. “What? What could possibly be so frickin’ important that it couldn’t wait another half hour?”

  Deryl flinched, but he set his jaw and demanded. “Tell me your name.”

  “What? Are you out of your mind?”

  “No, but you may be. Now tell me your name. Your full name.”

  Joshua opened his mouth to say, “What?” Again, realized that would be redundant, closed his mouth, and looked around. Deryl still wore the clothes he’d had on yesterday, and his long blond hair pulled back from his face in a tangled mess, as if he’d tried to tear it out again. His eyes searched Joshua’s face. At the foot of the bed, Terry, too, was watching him expectantly. Four of the five other healers crowded around the bed and even the fifth watched curiously from where she sat beside a patient.

  “Well?” Deryl demanded.

  The tremor in his voice melted some of Joshua’s anger, but he still answered with poor grace. “It’s Joshua Abraham Lawson, named after my great-great grandfather. Good enough?”

  Without answering, Deryl looked at Terry, who nodded.

  “Joshua,” he said grimly, “the Barins have attacked early. They are at the gates now.”

  “What!” Joshua yelped. “What do we do?”

  To his amazement, everyone grinned.

  Deryl sighed. “Never mind. Relax. I lied.”

  Terry added, “I’m sorry, but we had to test your response.”

  “My…response?” The sudden change from anger to panic to confusion left him weak. He leaned against the wall and tried to sigh instead of whimper. “Would someone please tell me what’s going on?”

  “You healed twenty-seven people in a row—did you know that?” Deryl accused. For some reason, he was still very angry.

  “I wasn’t counting. Besides, I didn’t heal them, really. I was more like a—I don’t know—maybe a conduit for the healing power. They did the healing.” He waved his arms at the healers around him.

  Terry smiled at his modesty. “Perhaps so, but we were able to heal better and faster with your aid. In several cases, that saved a life.”

  “Really? Cool. But I wasn’t really doing anything—you guys—”

  “If the mutual appreciation society is over,” Deryl snapped sarcastically, “the fact remains that you healed twenty-seven people—aliens—in a row.”

  “So?” Joshua felt himself grinning like he had after the first time he’d kissed Sachiko. Could he have really done something so incredible? He knew later he would probably be struck dumb with awe—this was something saints did!—but right now, he felt like laughing and cheering.

  Deryl, however, growled. “So? Didn’t you listen to anything Terry’s said about healing—or what Tasmae’s said for that matter?” His voice rose in volume.

  Terry stopped him with a look and took up the explanation more calmly. “When a Kanaan healer does his work, he has to share the person’s essence—his spirit, personality, memories, what makes him individual. Even when the healing is done, the healer may still retain some of that person’s essence.”

  “I remember,” Joshua said with a dirty look at Deryl. “Holding on to too many or too strong an essence can make you go crazy. So you have to expel them or ‘cleanse yourself’ periodically.”

  “Except,” Deryl now interrupted heatedly, “no one saw fit to remind you about it today, when you’re doing real healing work. No, and when one dropped out to take care of his own psyche, they just passed you on to someone else,
never mind what danger they put yours in!”

  “It is second nature to a healer to know his limits,” Terry explained. “Each of us assumed you would know yours.”

  Deryl snorted. “Not you, though. You just kept going until you passed out.”

  “Okay. First off, I didn’t ‘pass out.’ I ‘sacked out.’ There’s a difference. In the second place, I’m not a healer. I was a conduit. I was no more involved in someone’s psyche than a power cord is in a computer’s program, okay? Third, I am neither Kanaan nor psychic. Could someone’s essence get tangled up in mine? I don’t think so. As far as I can tell, my turning into a warrior from bumping minds with one is as likely as my turning white from bumping into you.”

  But Deryl wasn’t ready to concede. “What’s ‘frickin’ mean?”

  Joshua made an impatient sound with his teeth. “It’s a nicer way of saying something else. Frick-in. Think about it.”

  “It’s not a Barin swearword?”

  “How would I know? It’s a British evil genius swear word.” Then he changed to a nasal English accent and quoted, “‘You know, I have one simple request. And that is to have sharks with frickin’ laser beams attached to their heads!’ Austin Powers. No one’s ever quoted that around you? You can’t be that out of touch!”

  Deryl relaxed slightly. “Now that’s the Joshua I know.”

  Joshua’s stomach gave a great growl. “Well, the Joshua you know is starving.”

  “Come on then.” Deryl headed for the door without waiting for Joshua. Cochise flew in over the young psychic’s head and landed on Joshua’s bed.

  Joshua huffed and rolled his eyes, but as soon as the door folded shut behind Deryl, Terry helped him to his feet, keeping hold of him until a moment of dizziness passed. Then he handed him what looked like a couple of tortilla wraps. “Something has happened between him and the Miscria,” he said. “We found him in his room, shielded against everything. No one has seen Tasmae.”