The Awakening (13 page)

             
Ben didn't realize his hands were shaking until the cigarette had burned down so far it began to sear his skin.  He glanced down, tossing the cigarette aside, and saw his fingers trembling.  Ben clasped his hands together tightly, laying them on the cold, stone table, and he looked the doctor in the eye.

             
“That's impossible, you realize.”

             
The doctor's eyebrows went up.  “Yes, detective, I
do
realize that.  There's always a chance that we have faulty equipment, or got a false reading, but believe me it's not very probable.  If I had some idea of family history, some identification... anything, I might be able to tell what's really going on.”

             
Ben sighed and glanced up to the second floor again, where Mark and his sister likely still stood, Abby trying to sort out everything, and Mark trying his best to explain his absolutely insane story.

             
Rubbing his face, Ben looked at the doctor and shook his head.  “He's here for sixty days.  It's not likely he won't wake up in that time, right?”

“
Considering the lack of brain activity, that’s a fair conclusion,” the doctor confirmed.

“I
f he does wake up, he's not going to be allowed to just waltz out of here of his own accord, so give me some time to see what I can do.  I'm a homicide detective, so this isn't exactly my area, and frankly the only reason I'm given clearance to investigate so far out of my jurisdiction is because I have a possible witness and I was involved in the case.  Either way, the moment I learn something, I'll call you.”

             
The doctor pulled out a business card and a pen, scribbling a number on the back.  He slid it over to Ben, his face serious and firm.  “Please.  The moment you have any idea where he came from, no matter if it sounds crazy or not, call me.”

             
Ben slipped the card into his wallet and tucked his wallet back into his pocket.  “I expect the same, Greg.  If he wakes up and says anything at all, please call me.  You have my number?”

             
“It was provided earlier.”  The doctor stuck out his hand and Ben took it, shaking it up and down firmly, and only once.

             
As the doctor ambled away, Ben stared down at his still trembling hands, and felt scared.  He felt like something was dragging him deeper, asking him to believe in madness, and he was afraid that if he took that leap, if he peered down into this chaos, he was going to be pulled in and would never find his way out.

Chapter
Thirteen

              Mark didn't register Ben marching out of the room, even though he shoved Mark to the side, and nearly knocked Abby over in his haste to leave.  His eyes were locked on Abby, seeing her full on and properly for the first time in the year he'd known her as a friend and colleague.

             
The secret was out now, and there was no turning back.  The contact lenses felt like little globs of jelly in his hands.  Ruined, he suspected, but it didn't matter.  Leaning to the right, he tipped them into the trash bin, still meeting Abby's firm, questioning gaze without hesitation.

             
“Mark,” she said very slowly, taking two steps into the room, paying no mind to the fact that she was walking into a large puddle of spilled coffee.

             
“Abigail,” he said in response, giving her a nod. 

             
She frowned, waving her hand in the direction of his face.  “So this was... I mean... it's not, you know, like Ben?”

             
Mark glanced back at the still unconscious body of Yehuda lying on his back, and then sighed.  “No.  This is not like Ben.  My blindness was a necessary falsification.  Were I to be injured or disabled in any way, I'm afraid that he,” Mark nodded towards Yehuda, “would not be able to heal me.  I suspect, however, that I will never need his healing.”

             
Abby licked her lips, her dark eyes narrow and though she looked confident, the trembling in her hands betrayed her fear.  “So, what is going on?  Who is he?  Did he heal my brother?  Why did you lie to me?!”  The more she spoke, the faster and more hysterical her words became.  She brought a hand up to her pale cheek.  “Mark,
please
tell me what's going on.”

             
Mark reached out for her, but Abby pulled away almost violently.  A pang of sadness flooded through him and he dropped his hand.  “It's a long and very complicated story, Abby, and I wish I had time to tell it here, but I don't.  Suffice it to say, this man here is not just an ordinary man.  He's not a god, by any means, but he did heal your brother by a power that, in all my years of walking this earth with him, I still don't understand.”

             
Abby shook her head, her eyes teary, but she wasn't crying.  “So...” she rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms.  “I'm so confused.  I think I need to sit down.”

             
Mark quickly pulled a chair out for her and she sat down, her eyes downcast, hands clasped in her lap.  Mark took a seat on the end of Yehuda's bed, one hand resting on Yehuda's leg.  “I have no right to ask your forgiveness, but I'm asking anyway.  I care for you, Abigail and I never meant to hurt you.  If I could have told you the entire story the day I met you, I would have.”

             
Abby looked up, her face a mask of hurt and betrayal.  “The funny thing is, Mark, whatever is going on, I probably would have believed you.  For years I went rushing around the world in search of an honest to God miracle, only to face disappointment after disappointment when they turned out to be false.  Now you bring me to a man who actually healed my brother, who performed one of these miracles, and… and… you could have just told me the truth,” she finished with a defeated sigh.

             
Mark felt the sting of her words, because what she said was all true, and he knew it.  The problem was, he had no idea how to express the danger to her, the danger he faced in telling people the whole truth of who he really was, and who the unconscious man strapped to that hospital bed had once been.  “You aren't wrong,” he finally said to her.  “I could have told you and you would have believed me, but Abby, people who believe me, eventually pose a danger to me.”

             
“I would never hurt or betray you!” Abby said fiercely.

             
“I know,” Mark said in a rush, “it's not you I fear, Abby.”  He shook his head.  “The story is so long, and so complicated.”

             
As Abby's fear and anger began to subside, the trembling in her hands calmed, and after a minute, she stood up.  Mark watched as she took a few steps toward him, staring at his face intently, and then she peered around him at the man lying in the bed.

             
“Are the restraints necessary?” she asked, reaching out to touch the buckle on the one holding down Yehuda's wrist.

             
Mark looked down at the restraints and sighed.  “Probably not, but he did hurt a man, though I'm sure it wasn't intentional.  He's not in his right mind at the moment.  More than likely he won't wake for some time.”

             
“Is it because he healed my brother?”

             
Mark shook his head, giving his friend a soft smile.  “Healing someone against his will exhausts him, but the state he’s in now is the years of wandering alone.  This isn't the first time he's gone off on his own and ended up some place like here, restrained and comatose.  He'll recover, and he'll be okay, but it's going to take some time.”

             
“So um... who is he?  This man?  Why can he heal people?”

             
Mark shifted off the bed, standing over Yehuda, staring down at him.  He reached down, brushing a stray lock of hair from Yehuda's forehead and he smiled.  “He's family, the only family I have left, really.  Not blood, we met when I was a child, when my mother and I lived in Alexandria.”

             
“Like Alexandria, Egypt?”

             
Mark smiled and nodded.  “Yes.  He and his brother were there, his father trying to find work, and from the moment I met him and his brother, I knew my life would never be the same.  They left before my mother and I did, but eventually we met again, when we were young men on the verge of adulthood.  Sometimes I wonder, if I had known what my life was going to become, would I have just stayed in Alexandria with my grandfather?  Then I realize if I had done that, he would have been alone today, and I can't bear that thought.” 

Mark stopped and looked at Abby again
.  He realized she wasn’t following a word he was saying, so he answered her question as simply as he could.  “His name is Yehuda, the name I'll always have for him.  The Roman Catholic church, however, took it upon themselves to villainize him and bastardize his name, so you know him as Judas Iscariot.”

             
Abby gave the smallest gasp, her hand flying to her mouth, fingers pressing against her lips.  She stared down at the pathetic figure in the bed and then up at Mark.  “I don't... I mean...”

             
“You think me crazy, and rightly so,” Mark said to her with a nod.  “The story you know of this man, of Jesus Christ, and of me, Abby, is so wrong, and yet telling the truth is so dangerous.”

             
“Who are you?” she breathed.

             
Mark hesitated for a long time, terrified to say the words aloud because it had been so long.  Over the course of the last two thousand years, many people had asked that question, of both himself and Yehuda.

             
Mark could count the number of times he had revealed his own identity on one hand, and each one of those times led to a particular form of religious disaster, death, war, and pain.  Abby asking now, terrified Mark beyond all reason.

             
However, something about this time felt different.  Something about this time made Mark want to tell her.  A sense of relief threatened to wash over him, if he just said the words to her, if he just opened his mouth and revealed his story in its totality, for the first time in two thousand years.

             
Abby took his hand suddenly, as he stood there, his head bowed, eyes fixed on the straps holding down his ancient companion.  “If you can't tell me, it's okay.  I just want to understand.”

             
Mark was startled by the words, open and honest.  For the first time since Mark received this curse, someone had told him that his secret was okay to have, and he would not be betrayed or pushed away.

             
“My name is Mark, once known as Markus by Romans, and by the Hebrews called Makabi.  I was half-Hebrew, half-Roman, and I...” he hesitated, unsure he could just say it aloud.  Taking a breath, he looked her straight in the eye and said, “I wrote the gospels.”

Chapter
Fourteen

              It was about an hour later when Abby and Mark came downstairs.  Ben had gone through his entire pack of cigarettes, two soft drinks from the vending machines, and was now drinking a tepid, bitter coffee from the little cart vendor patronizing the entryway of the hospital.

             
He saw the pair coming out the front doors from his little stone bench, Abby looking like she'd been crying, Mark on her arm with dark glasses on his face, and his white cane swishing from side to side in front of him.

             
Ben rose and approached the pair as they came to a stop.  “Still doing that thing, are you?” Ben asked, gesturing at the cane.

             
Mark gave a shrug.  “It's a necessity for the moment, Ben, and while I'm not asking you to believe anything I've said today, I would beg you to please not reveal my secret.”

             
“Look, if you want to stumble around as a blind man wearing creepy contacts, that's your business.  I'm just going to ask you that you keep that hokey, religi-nut healing crap to yourself.  This trip has been a complete waste of time and I'm not in the best mood.”

             
Mark bowed his head in acquiescence, but Abby's face flared up, angry eyes boring holes into him.  “You're such an ass sometimes, Ben,” she snapped.  “You didn't bother to let him explain a single thing to you, and I'm not sure what, exactly, was such a waste of time about today!”

             
“How about driving all this way only to have your crazy friend here tell me the man lying in the bed up there is Judas Iscariot!  What the hell am I supposed to tell the department when I get back?  Oh yeah we found out who the guy is!  He's a two-thousand year old Catholic bad guy who apparently is still roaming the earth knocking people out and, oh and by the way, heals cancer.”

             
Ben stormed off without waiting for a reply, feeling irritated by the sound of Mark's tapping cane as they followed him into the parking garage and to the car.  Abby climbed into the back, so Mark accepted the front seat once again, saying nothing as he folded up his cane and buckled his belt.