The Cure

by JG Faherty

  But why should you feel guilty? It’s self-defense, not murder. You’ve done it before.

  She thought about the man she’d killed in McDonald’s. It seemed like a lifetime ago, although only a couple of weeks had passed. She felt no guilt about that, not anymore. And the man in the warehouse, the one who’d died because he touched her at the wrong time. That wasn’t even her fault, she’d been unconscious. And she’d certainly been ready to kill Tal Nova on more than one occasion.

  So why the desire to avoid killing now, even if it meant saving her and John’s lives? Because it was premeditated?

  It’s not, though. It’s just planning for a possible situation. A situation where if I don’t do it we’ll be prisoners forever.

  The more she considered it, the more it seemed that guilt wasn’t the problem. There was something else, something like fear, but colder, that gripped her whenever she thought about killing someone. The kind of fear better associated with opening the door to a dark cellar when you didn’t know who or what was waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs.

  A fear of the dark…

  The pieces of the puzzle clicked. The dream. Death, wrapped in darkness, entering her, telling her good can’t win.

  I’m afraid there’s an evil inside me, and killing someone will release it.

  But that was stupid, wasn’t it? She’d already killed—twice—and nothing happened. She was still the same person. Besides, if using her Power to kill was going to release some kind of supernatural evil, then what about all the animals she’d killed over the years? Why would that be any different? It boiled down to the same thing, after all: remove something bad here, insert something bad there. Take Death from point A and place it in point B.

  It was all part of the same Power, the yin and the yang of it.

  “God, I am such an idiot.” She didn’t realize she’d voiced the thought until John responded.

  “What? Why?”

  “That priest and those men with him, they convinced me I was evil, that my Power was something bad. That it came from the devil, not God.”

  “And I told you not to listen to them, remember?”

  “I do. But you were wrong too. It’s not a Power from the devil, or from God. It’s not good or bad, it’s just a thing. A thing I can do. The good or bad part comes from me. It’s no different than any other kind of tool. Think about it. Guns, radiation, lasers, chemicals—they can all be used for good or bad purposes.”

  “I get it.” One of John’s eyebrows went up as he stared at her. “So what’s this all mean for you?”

  Leah shrugged. “That I feel better about myself. Even if someone forces me to do something I don’t want to, I’ll know I’m not a bad person, just a regular person in a bad situation.”

  She shook her head and let herself laugh a little. “Too bad my big epiphany doesn’t involve any ideas for escape.”

  “Maybe it will. Maybe this will help you clear your head and—”

  The sound of the door being unlocked cut short John’s words. They both turned as the door opened, revealing four men holding pistols.

  “On your feet,” one of the men said. “Time to go.”

  Leah gripped John’s hand.

  “I love you,” John whispered.

  “I love you too.”

  Then two men pulled her away and led her down the hall. Her last glimpse of John was his back as he was dragged in a different direction.

  And then he was gone.

  Two miles away from the meat-packing plant where Del McCormick was preparing to start his auction, Tal Nova stood in front of his extraction team, anticipating the brutal destruction they were about to unleash. He’d handpicked the entire group, ten of the nastiest guns for hire he knew. He’d used them all before, mostly for wet work in Third World countries where fear and bloodshed got things accomplished much more quickly and effectively than diplomacy or even cash. At least three of them were wanted for questioning by Interpol and the FBI—three that he knew of. It wouldn’t be a stretch to figure there were others. It had cost Tal serious cash and favors to get them all into the country unnoticed. The cost would be well worth it, though, if he ended up with DeGarmo in his possession.

  Watching McCormick endure a slow, painful death would be the icing on the proverbial cake.

  “All right, it’s just about go time.” Tal looked at the men, all of them armed to the teeth. “You all know the drill, right?”

  “Capture the girl alive, kill everyone else,” one of the mercenaries, a hulking man almost equal in size to Tal, said.

  “Emphasis on ‘capture the girl alive’. I need her unhurt, understand? We are expendable, she isn’t.”

  The men nodded.

  “Okay. Let’s move out.”

  Tal checked his own weapon and then followed them to the waiting vehicles.

  Chapter Eight

  With every new person the guards escorted into the room, Leah felt her spirits sink even further. Each one seemed more dangerous than the last, despite their expensive suits and polite mannerisms. Six men in all, of varying ethnicities. They said very little, so she couldn’t ascertain their accents, but at least two seemed Middle Eastern and one Italian. Another, pale-complexioned and broad-shouldered, appeared to be Russian or of some similarly Slavic origin.

  Criminals. Terrorists and mobsters, most likely. They stared at her from across the wide room with varying expressions of hunger, eagerness and suspicion that made her feel degraded, as if she was nothing more to them than a piece of meat.

  And in a way, that’s true. This is the modern version of a slave auction, with me as the slave girl.

  There was no compassion in these men, no hope for respect. Their gaze promised brutal treatment and suffering, worse than anything Del or Tal Nova had done to her.

  The door opened a final time and Del walked in, his smiling countenance the total opposite of the hard looks his guests wore.

  “Good evening, gentlemen,” he said while his guards took up strategic places around the room. “Thank you for coming. I know several of you have traveled a good distance to be here, so I won’t waste your time.”

  “This better not be bullshit.” The man who’d spoken, a skeletally thin black man with more gold on his fingers than Leah had in her entire jewelry box, cast a scowl in her direction.

  “I assure you, this is not bullshit.” Del went to a small desk, which held a laptop. It showed a revolving screen saver, the same image displayed on the large flat-screen TV positioned at one end of the table where the six criminals sat. Leah had been placed in a chair off to one side, but she could still see the TV.

  Del touched a button on the keyboard and the picture on both screens switched to a view so grotesque Leah felt herself go numb. John, seated in a chair, surrounded by deadly-looking hooks that dangled from the ceiling. Two armed guards stood a few feet away.

  An involuntary gasp made it past Leah’s lips before she clamped her mouth tightly closed. It was too late, though; several of the men at the table glanced her way. One of them raised an eyebrow and turned toward Del.

  “You’re wondering about her reaction?” Her captor nodded to the group. “Consider him the carrot on the stick. Please watch carefully. Go ahead.”

  Del’s voice had risen, and one of the guards with John looked up and flashed an okay sign. Then he turned and pulled out a pistol.

  John’s eyes went wide.

  “No!” Leah jumped up as she screamed, knowing what was about to happen.

  Rough hands forced her back into her chair.

  On the screen, the guard pulled the trigger. There was a sound like a child’s cap gun going off and John tumbled off the chair. A black hole in his shirt disappeared as a red stain quickly formed in the center of his stomach.

  “Let me go!” Leah struggled against her guard’s iron-strong grip.
“He’s going to die if I don’t get there.”

  “Not just you, Doc.” Del nodded to the guards and they opened the door. “We’re all going, so these gentlemen can see firsthand what you can do.”

  Leah fought harder to break free, but her struggles were in vain until all prospective buyers had left the room. Only then did the guards let her up. She ran for the door, where another guard took her arm and guided her down a side corridor.

  “Hurry!” She tried to pull free but the man held her arm too tightly. “Please!”

  They rounded a corner and she saw the others entering a room a few doors down. The guard let her go and she raced down the hall.

  She was only a few feet away when the world exploded around her.

  John stared at the sky and wondered why it was so dark. Was it going to rain? He was cold, but it was a good cold. It numbed him, took the pain away. He’d been shot. In a room. So why was he in the water now, sinking down. So hard to breathe. Drowning? That didn’t make sense. He was waiting for Leah. Where was she?

  How would she find him in the water?

  The sky grew darker and he closed his eyes.

  I’ll just rest until she finds me.

  Tal Nova ran down the corridor in a crouch, a pistol in one hand and his other pressed against the earpiece he wore so he could monitor the updates from his team. The concussion grenades had done their job, putting at least half of McCormick’s men out of commission. Those deeper in the building were fighting back to some degree; the sound of gunfire echoed through the hallways, but it was a losing battle against superior firepower. Already he was hearing reports of clear corridors and rooms.

  He’d split away from the team as soon as the shooting started, knowing Del’s instinct for self-preservation would have him heading in a direction away from the conflict. And wherever Del McCormick was, DeGarmo would be with him.

  Turning a corner, Tal nearly stumbled over the very person he was looking for: Leah DeGarmo. She lay on the floor, moaning, her hands over her ears. He assumed she’d been at the periphery of one of the blasts; had it caught her full-on, she’d have been out cold. After checking to make sure no one else was around, he leaned down and poked her with his gun.

  “Hey! Can you hear me?”

  She let out a scream when she saw him.

  Her expression quickly changed from fear to something worse, a combination of terror and hatred that made Tal’s heart sing. Not only did she recognize him, but she was aware enough to remember how dangerous he was.

  “Get up,” he said, motioning with the gun.

  She reached out to him and he backed up a step, shaking his head.

  “Don’t even try to touch me. Now get your ass up.” He motioned again, in case she couldn’t hear him.

  Without warning, she lunged at him.

  He reacted without thinking, his finger instinctively squeezing the trigger, a reflex ingrained in him by hundreds of hours spent training for, and experiencing, life-or-death situations.

  The hollow-point bullet caught her in the right shoulder, tearing a fist-sized hole through her and sending her back-first against the wall.

  “Goddammit!” Nova stared at her body. Blood poured from her wound and her eyes had already closed. How could he have been so stupid? He’d always prided himself on thinking before acting, and now he’d gone and fucked up everything for himself.

  Then again, maybe not, he thought, noticing a slight movement. Her chest was rising and falling, which meant she was still alive. If he could get her back to the van, they had emergency medical equipment there, and at least two of his mercenaries had battlefield first aid training.

  He holstered his weapon and knelt down. Before he could slid his arms under her and lift her, her eyes opened and her lips twitched. He bent closer to hear what she was trying to say. Her hand closed over his wrist.

  Tal Nova screamed as fire filled his veins.

  Leah knew only darkness and pain. They surrounded her, encased her in walls of black fire. There was no conscious thought, no sense of body or mind. Just endless torture.

  Just when she thought she might explode from the pain, a glowing sun appeared in the distance, its light enticing her with salvation from the eternal hell of her existence. Without being aware of moving, she reached for the golden promise of deliverance.

  The moment she touched it, the brilliance poured through her, melting through the burning dark in waves of cool, soothing pleasure that was like nothing she’d ever felt before. Better than an ice-cold drink quenching a parched throat, better than stepping into a frigid mountain stream on a hot day. She let the waves wash over her, wanting to bathe in them forever. As the yellow light grew stronger, she felt its energy recharging her, revitalizing every cell in her body. In her mind she shouted with laughter as conscious thought returned.

  This was it! She’d finally reached heaven!

  Leah opened her eyes, wanting to see the beauty of the afterlife.

  And found herself face-to-face with a monster.

  All of Leah’s good feelings shattered at the sight of the shriveled, twisted standing mummy less than a foot away from her. She cried out and jerked away, but it followed.

  It’s got me! It’s got—

  Realizing she was holding on to the creature and not the other way around, she let go, her hand unclenching like she’d grabbed a red-hot pan. The thing slowly toppled backwards and hit the floor next to her, its limbs as shrunken and deformed as its face.

  Leah gasped as she recognized the monster for what it really was.

  The corpse of Tal Nova.

  Her first thought was What the hell happened to him? But even as the words took shape in her mind, a cold suspicion followed in its wake, an impossible idea that nevertheless wouldn’t go away once it had formed.

  The beautiful light in the dark.

  A fear like nothing she’d ever felt before took root in her guts.

  She remembered Tal pointing the gun at her. Deafened by the explosion, disoriented, she’d reached out to him, desperate for help.

  And he’d shot her.

  That part she had no memory of. But the results—the terrible pain, the darkness—were vividly imprinted in her memory. It made sense. He’d always been afraid of touching her, ever since the night in her clinic. So in his fear, he’d shot her, at close range.

  She’d been dying.

  And the light in the darkness? Tal? His essence, his life force? Had she somehow sensed it? Touched him?

  The light growing stronger. That was me drawing the life from his body. My Power working…in reverse? Instead of passing on my injury, I Cured myself.

  The epiphany struck her with the force of a fist to her stomach.

  She’d known for a long time she could heal her own body. Had understood in her subconsious even before she admitted it to herself. Cuts and bruises that faded faster than they should. Never getting sick. But until the concussion... the pig... she’d never realized she could Cure serious injuries just as easily. And she’d never considered how. After all, she’d never passed those injuries on to anyone or anything.

  She looked again at Tal’s dessicated form. Remembered seeing Del’s guard jump and cry out when he handled her battered, broken body.

  All these years I’ve been taking something from the people around me, their energy. Storing it inside me.

  “Jesus,” Leah whispered to herself, “I’m like a vampire.”

  It all made sense. All the physical contact of daily life—shaking hands, holding animals, brushing up against people, maybe even just being near people—each time, she took a tiny bit of their healthy energy and stored it like a battery.

  To be used when she needed it.

  Like with Tal Nova. She’d drained him, pulled every last bit of life out of him. More than enough to Cure her wounds; that was why she’d f
elt so wonderful, so full of…

  Life.

  Life. Oh my God.

  “John.”

  The rest of her memory returned. That was where she’d been going. He’d been shot too. Then the explosion. Tal—he must have attacked Del’s hideout to get her. His men might be searching for her right now. To take her away.

  Away from John.

  She stood up. How long had she been unconscious? They’d shot John in the stomach. Was he still alive? She had to find him.

  She took off in the direction they’d been taking her.

  Chapter Nine

  Leah found John less than a minute after leaving the corpse of Tal Nova behind, but the delay had been costly.

  He was dead.

  She wanted to shout her anger at God and the heavens, beg them to bring him back. She’d arrived only a few minutes too late, after fighting through the smoke and dust that filled the hallways.

  A few minutes too late. His body was still warm, despite the icy air of the meat locker they’d left him in. However, the puddle of blood growing cold and tacky beneath him was no longer spreading. Frustration, anguish and hatred raged inside her. Damn Tal Nova! Even in his final act of life, he’d still managed to ruin hers.

  A few minutes. That’s all she would have needed. Del would have let her Cure John—wanted her to Cure him—and then they could have done whatever they liked with her. Sold her to the mob. Let Nova bring the whole damn building down on top of her. As long as John was alive.

  But no.

  Instead, she’d been knocked senseless, unconscious just long enough to make her too late to save him.

  She knelt on the frigid cement, staring at his face. He looked too serene. Death shouldn’t look that calm. He’d died waiting for her to save him, waiting for the miracle inside her, the miracle that never came.

  Were his last thoughts that I let him down?

  Guilt gnawed at her insides, a vicious, starving animal that wanted to swallow her whole. He’d trusted her, counted on her, depended on her.