CHAPTER FOUR
The Healing Miracle
Two days later, Connor woke to a peculiar odour, though it wasn’t the smell of home, but fresh and clean instead. Unfamiliar noises made him wary. Stiff white sheets lay across his body, tucking him tightly to the mattress. As he wriggled an arm free, a boy in the next bed watched him.
‘Hi. You’ve been asleep for ages.’
‘Where am I?’ groaned Connor, reaching for his glasses.
‘In hospital,’ replied the boy. ‘Your glasses are on the table to your left if you’re looking for them.’
‘Thanks,’ Connor stretched his arm, banging it awkwardly on the cabinet. Putting on his glasses, his vision became blurrier, so he took them off to discover he could see perfect without them. ‘Strange.’
‘What’s strange?’ The boy looked across at him.
‘I don’t need my glasses anymore.’ Connor had worn them his entire life and now something extraordinary had happened but he’d no memory of it. Sitting up, he immediately brightened when he saw birthday cards on the bedside cabinet. One was from Deana and the other was from Tookar - the name was familiar but Connor had no memory of him.
‘What day is it?’
‘Thursday. You’ve been asleep for days.’
So Connor had missed his birthday. The boy in the next bed looked friendly, with dark circles and mischievous brown eyes. At that moment, a stout nurse marched into the room, bolt upright.
‘Ahh. You’ve woken, Connor. You kids will do anything not to go to school these days.’ She inspected Connor with her green eyes, peering over the rims of her glasses instead of through them. She checked his pulse and updated the written record hanging at the end of his bed. ‘Would you like something to eat or drink?’
‘I’m not hungry, but I’d like a drink.’
A few minutes later, she returned with a jug of orange squash and a clean glass.
‘This will help.’ She poured him a glass and handed it to him.
‘Thanks.’ He waited for an explanation to explain his presence in the hospital, but when she turned to leave, she left him disappointed. ‘Excuse me!’ he called and the nurse paused. ‘Why am I here?’
‘The doctor will explain.’ She cocked her eyebrows in a curious fashion before walking away.
Connor groaned, itching to leave hospital. Opposite him lay a young girl, struggling to breathe. As if reading his mind, the boy in the next bed gave him a commentary about her.
‘I’m Philip and that’s Mary over there.’ He pointed to the bed opposite. ‘She has asthma. She’s been bedridden since birth.’
Mary waved her little fingers and smiled, in between deep, raspy breaths.
‘How horrible,’ Connor murmured, his life suddenly didn’t seem so bad. ‘I can’t imagine being in bed all the time. It would drive me crazy.’
‘It drives me crazy. I wish I’d stop growing!’
‘What’s wrong with you?’ asked Connor.
‘I have gigantism, but I call it a pain in the butt,’ smirked the boy. ‘I’m already seven feet tall and I’m still growing. As long as the doctors keep drowning me with painkillers, it’s at least bearable.’
Philip’s feet poked out the end of his bed and rested on a table. It would be a lie to say his feet weren’t big. They were huge, at least a shoe size twenty-five.
‘By the way, happy birthday,’ cheered Philip – the boy giant.
Despite enjoying his chat with Philip, which lasted the afternoon, he grew exhausted without leaving his bed and wondered when Deana would finally show. It was four o’clock when she finally poked her head round the door.
‘Happy birthday,’ she breathed, sliding next to him and whispering suspiciously.
‘Thanks,’ beamed Connor, relieved to see her.
I haven’t slept a wink!’ she confessed, glancing nervously towards the door. ‘Are you okay? Are they feeling you good food?’
‘I had sandwiches for lunch and I’m having a jacket potato with beans and cheese this evening. I’ve enjoyed being spoiled for once,’ he smirked.
‘That’s good. How do you feel about you-know-what?’
‘What?’ he asked.
‘Everything I told you yesterday,’ she reminded him.
‘I can’t remember anything.’
‘Are you joking?’ she whispered.
‘No!’
‘Can you remember what happened Monday morning?’
He shook his head.
She looked crestfallen. ‘What can you remember?’
‘I remember you talking to someone in the kitchen.’
‘Tookar warned me this might happen,’ she muttered.
‘Tookar?’ quizzed Connor.
‘The man in the kitchen,’ she explained. Deana gave him a newspaper clipping from her pocket. ‘Remember this?’
‘Of course, I do,’ whispered Connor, solemnly.
‘Do you remember its fake and had been created at the AAA as a cover up to be given to your uncle. Your parents are alive, Connor.’
Connor watched her straight-faced.
‘This is so annoying.’ Deana pressed her lips. ‘Tookar wanted you to have this.’ She took a photograph from her bag and gave it to Connor. ‘He wanted me to give it to you since he thought you might not remember him.’
Connor recognised his parents straightaway as they stood each side of another man with scraggly brown hair.
‘It was taken weeks ago,’ Deana informed him gently. ‘Your parent’s are alive.’
Connor frowned and stared at photograph.
‘That’s Tookar.’ Deana pointed to the stranger in the centre.
Connor examined the photo closer. ‘I don’t recognise him and my parent’s died in an accident.’
‘No, they didn’t! They’re still alive but I can’t discuss it with you now.’ Her tone was final. ‘My friend K will collect you tomorrow,’ she whispered.
‘Why can’t you?’
‘I’ll visit in the morning but you can’t leave with me. It’s too dangerous.’
‘Too dangerous?’ spluttered Connor. ‘This is a hospital, not a raging river.’
‘You don’t understand. Anyway, it’s arranged.’
‘What does K look like? How will I recognise him?’
‘It’s hard to say, as he may be in disguise.’
‘How helpful,’ mumbled Connor.
‘Tookar believes your memory will return in the next few hours.’
‘I hope so.’
‘I’m not sure what to say to you now, considering you don’t remember anything.’
‘Tell me about my parents,’ he said.
‘Well, they talk about you a lot.’
‘It must be a short conversation, considering they haven’t seen me in ages.’
Unperturbed, she carried on. ‘They’re both warriors and manage different factions at the AAA.’
‘How lovely,’ said Connor, full of sarcasm.
‘They are. Do you want me to continue? Or are you going to carry on taking swipes at them?’
He shrugged.
‘Perhaps its best not to mention them anymore for the time being,’ she said. ‘I’ve bought you a present.’
She handed Connor a small gift, wrapped in birthday paper. He couldn’t remember having a present before. Inside was a locket with a picture of his mum and dad.
‘Thanks,’ he smiled. ‘Where did you get the pictures from?’
‘K’s mum had a few,’ she told him.
‘It’s great. I love it,’ he yawned.
‘Don’t worry, Connor. Everything will be okay. You’ll leave here tomorrow and this will be nothing but a bad memory.’
‘But I want to leave today,’ he yawned, stretching.
‘You can’t,’ she said. ‘You’re too weak to move. It’s the after effect of the Starstone joining forces with you.’
‘But I’m fine…’ he said, closing his eyes and drifting off.
Deana left soo
n afterwards.
Later, when he’d woke for supper he felt an overwhelming loss at Deana’s absence and wasn’t too talkative. After all, its not every day you’re told your dead parent’s are alive. Meanwhile, Philip’s parents stayed for an hour and Connor made polite conversation with them, especially after they’d visited the hospital shop and bought magazines for them both. His mother was incredibly tall; whereas his dad appeared to be the shortest man he’d ever met and made up for lack of height by spreading outwards instead.
‘You’re parents are kind,’ Connor remarked after they’d left.
‘They are,’ Philip beamed, his cheeks puffed after shoving a handful of grapes into his mouth at once. He offered some to Connor. ‘Where are your parents?’
‘I don’t know.’ It was an honest reply. Knowing so little about them, Connor didn’t want to discuss them.
Philip shrugged dismissively and devoured more tasty grapes. With the empty bowl on his lap, he fell deep asleep. The night had slowly arrived. Curtains were closed and the lights on the ward had dimmed. In the main corridor outside the ward, the nurses sipped hot drinks while writing reports at their desk. Their soft chatter and laughter was comforting. However, as Mary struggled to breathe and had been unable to speak throughout the day, he wished he could help her. A mask had been placed on her face to cover both her nose and mouth. Her chest rose rapidly as she breathed with the aid of extra oxygen.
He rubbed the crease of his elbow where he’d been pricked like a pincushion from one blood test after another.
Two specialists had examined Connor’s stomach, exchanging several gasps between them. Connor withdrew, wanting to yell at them to leave him alone. He wasn’t a guinea pig to be experimented on.
Being tucked in bed wasn’t a pleasant experience either, for the freshly cleaned blankets were tucked under the mattress so securely like being an insect in a cocoon. It did cross his mind they were trying to keep him a prisoner. He became frustrated. His life didn’t seem to be his anymore. Deana wanted him to do one thing and the doctors and nurses wanted him to do something else.
By the time Connor ‘s worries were put aside, he’d become the last child to fall asleep. He dreamt of falling into a bottomless pit, before coming to a slow grinding halt. Then his body catapulted in the opposite direction, flying him upwards. With a loud pop he floated above his body, staring at the familiar face he’d come to know so well. A purple thread of light was safely linking both his bodies. His head was tipped on the side so his cheek squashed against the pillow. His mouth opened and closed in a gentle snore. He tried to touch his face but his hand passed through his skin.
Feeling invigorated and free, Connor knew it wasn’t a dream as whirls of different colours surrounded the other children. He flew about the ward, travelling through walls to witness the light touching the sleeping children as well as the nurses on duty. Then, without any warning, his body sucked him back into it like a vacuum, where his dreams were restful. He continued sleeping soundly throughout the night.
Unknown to Connor, his desire to help Mary had caused something miraculous to happen inside of him. The Starstone, nested inside his stomach, leaked light and an invisible force flowed unconditionally from his body, sending healing to every patient in the children’s ward. Connor’s compassion had energised the strange alien life form to cure every possible aliment inflicted on the patients.
The next day at sunrise, the children’s section of the hospital brimmed with excitement. Joyous faces were at every turn.
‘It’s a miracle!’ exclaimed the day nurses, who’d arrived for work to find the ward in absolute chaos with previously bedridden children now jumping on their beds and running excitedly.
‘My cancer has disappeared. Father Christmas gave me my present a month early,’ a young boy told those who would listen.
‘Look what I can do,’ another child shouted across the room, bouncing on the bed. His broken legs had rapidly mended.
‘And me,’ another cried.
Mary had also been cured. For the first time in her life she left her bed and, with the assistance of the nurses, attempted to walk. ‘Watch me!’ she grinned. ‘I’m walking. Soon I’ll be running!’
Connor beamed. ‘Unbelievable!’
Philip spent most of the day in shock. Already he had reduced by four inches in height. His pain had vanished and for the first time in months he could swing his long legs to the side of his bed. ‘I’m shrinking!’
‘Wow!’ Connor breathed.
Broken bones had mended overnight. Cancers and tumours had vanished. Burns had been replaced with new skin leaving no scars. Children waiting for organ transplants no longer needed them. Those children needing time to recover had recovered. The list of complaints miraculously healed was endless and the healing didn’t affect the children, but everyone who’d worked last night too.
Overjoyed, one particular nurse who worked on the ward said, ‘My warts have vanished. ‘I’ve had them for years and they’ve simply vanished…it’s magic!’
Connor slipped on his clothes and waited for Deana. He needed to tell her about his strange dreams of healing people.
‘What happened last night?’ Philip wrinkled his face, grinning broadly in astonishment.
‘I haven’t a clue.’ But Connor knew he’d somehow been its cause.
Connor Clover and the Lost Children (Book 1) Page 4
