The Awakening (8 page)

“This can't be possible.  It can't be him,” he whispered alo
ud to himself, trying to dim his emotions somewhat, but he allowed himself a small bit of hope.

~*~

Mark wasn't a huge fan of the way Abby drove, he decided, as she barreled down streets, taking corners sharply, throwing him against the door of the car several times.  Mark hadn’t been a fan of motor vehicles since their conception, and even less so now that people took even more liberty with racing them down narrow streets.

             
They arrived at the hospital, Mark grateful to be in one piece, and Abby squeezed her small automobile into a space between two rather large trucks inside an impossibly dark parking garage.  Mark got out, shaking off his nerves, his contacts firmly in place, cane extended out, and his arm eventually on Abby's elbow.

             
“Okay so I told him I was coming by,” Abby said as they walked through the parking garage, her voice and their footsteps echoing off the stone walls.  “I didn't tell him I had you with me, and honestly he doesn't know a lot about you.”

             
“Okay,” Mark said as they got into the elevator and Abby pressed the button, taking them up to the hospital entrance.  “Do you believe your brother will open up about the church incident with me?”

             
“I don't know, but it's worth a try,” Abby pressed.

             
“Do you have the article about the homeless man in the church with you?”  Mark had been itching to get his hands on the actual newspaper article, to attempt to make out the face of his lost companion from the grainy ink. 

             
“Yeah, it's in my bag.  He won't read it though,” Abby said.

             
“I'll make an attempt to get him to read it,” Mark vowed.  It was no longer Abby motivating him to get her brother's story, but the idea that he might be close, and Ben might be able to lead him to wherever his friend was.

             
Abby led Mark down the hall, past the nurse's station where she checked in on her brother's status.  “He's doing well, he's awake and the pain isn't so bad today,” the friendly woman said.  “He was asking about you earlier, so I think he'll be happy you're here.”

             
Mark gave a tense smile in the direction of the nurse, and then was pulled along by Abby, her footsteps hurried, her breathing hitched with excitement as they walked towards Ben's room.  The room was bright, just about the only thing Mark could see through the contacts, and he was surrounded by the sound of beeping machines and the quiet puff of an oxygen tank somewhere near the hospital bed.

             
Though his vision was impaired by the contacts, Mark could sense something different about the man in the bed.  He carried with him an almost vibration of someone who had been touched by otherworldly powers.  Mark had experienced it before years and years ago, when they had walked the earth with Yeshua, and the healings were all around them.  He had seen it happen when Yehuda had touched people and their afflictions had disappeared as though they had never been there.  It was an almost spark of light, electric, humming deep in their souls.  This man in the bed had that.  There was not a doubt in Mark’s mind.

             
“Uh hi,” came a rough, deep voice from Mark's left.  “You brought a friend?”

             
“This is Mark,” Abby said, giving Mark a little shove in Ben's direction.  “I told you about him.  He's the teacher I work with.”

             
“Right, the blind guy,” Ben said.

             
“Ben!” Abby gasped.

             
Mark chuckled.  “He’s not wrong, Abby.”  Mark held out his hand for Ben's, taking steps forward until he met the bed and Ben's clammy, cold fingers.  Ben's handshake was short, but friendly and firm.

             
“Nice to meet you,” Ben said.

             
“Your sister told me your surgery went well.  Good news, considering the alternative prognosis,” Mark said.  He felt to his left and found a chair which he sat in, clasping his hands in his lap. 

             
“Best news I could have gotten when facing cancer,” Ben said.

             
“Hey I'm gonna go grab some coffee.  Mark, you want anything?” Abby piped up suddenly.

             
“No, thank you,” he said with a smile in her direction. 

             
“Okay, well you boys be good, be back in a bit,” she said, and before Ben could argue with his sister, she was bounding out the door.

             
From Ben’s silence, Mark figured he was taking in his appearance.  Ben would see someone young. Mark’s hair was stark black without a hint of grey, and his skin still carried a rosy hue of youth.  His features were large, almost Middle Eastern, and his milky-white eyes were likely a little unnerving for Ben when they were locked on his face.

             
He heard Ben shift on the bed, trying to sit up a little more, and suddenly he said, “Abby wants you to convince me that my tumor disappearing was a religious miracle, doesn't she?”   Ben had clearly figured out the reason why Mark was there.

             
Mark chuckled and gave a little shrug.  Ben was no idiot, Mark could tell that right away.  He would have to tread carefully if he was going to get any real information from the detective.  “She wants something of the sort.  I, however, have no desire to convince you this was a religious miracle, because I do not believe it was one.”

             
Ben let out a short breath, clear he was trying to determine whether or not Mark was telling the truth.  “So... why are you here, then?”

             
“Because your sister asked, and because I think I may know this homeless man you ran in to and I wanted to ask you a few questions about the incident,” Mark replied simply.  That was not a lie, but he wanted to reveal as little as possible about his true intentions.

             
“Okay,” Ben said slowly, “what kind of questions?”

             
“As I said before, I have no intention of convincing you that you suffered at the hands of religion,” Mark began with a slight smile, leaning forward slightly in the chair.  “It is, however, quite important that you describe to me the sensations you experienced when touching this man.”

             
“Well honestly” Ben started slowly, “it was kind of like being electrocuted, in a way.  I remember a weird humming in my ears.  It was loud, I couldn't hear anything else, but no one else seemed to notice it.  There was this huge flash of light, and when I tried to pull my hand away from him, I couldn't, like I was locked there.  I came to right before I was about to hit the floor, and when I looked around, no one appeared to have noticed anything happen.”

             
“And after?” Mark asked, his face unreadable.  “Did you feel as though you could sleep and sleep, and perhaps never wake?”

             
“Yes!” Ben said, wincing when he leaned forward too far.  “I was so damn tired, but when I woke up...” Ben trailed off, unwilling to finish his sentence.

             
“Your vision was clear?” Mark asked, trying to keep his voice calm and neutral, despite his desire to jump up and scream, demanding more answers.  “No need for your corrective lenses any longer?”

             
“Did this happen to you or something?” Ben asked in a low tone.

             
Mark shook his head.  “Your sister explained to me about your eyesight, but the rest I am familiar with.”  He took a deep breath, trying to decide how to proceed.  It was Yehuda, there was no other possible explanation for it.  He didn’t want to appear too eager, however, because Ben was already suspicious by nature; that was in his job description.  Mark knew he needed a fool-proof plan, and he knew then his position with the Church might come in handy then.  “Do you know what might have happened to this homeless man once he was taken by the ambulance?”

“No idea, really.
  I think he was probably arrested and admitted to a hospital.  He clearly wasn't in his right mind.”

             
“No, he wouldn't be, would he?” Mark said, almost to himself.  He seemed to realize he'd said that aloud, and shook his head.  “Forgive this question but, would you be able to find out where he was taken?”

             
Ben frowned over at Mark, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.  “Why would you want to know that?”

             
Mark hesitated a moment and then said, “The church has a certain stake in people who display qualities of sainthood.  It would benefit us greatly if we could keep tabs on him.”

             
Ben let out a sigh and then said, “I’m sure I could find out if you really need me to.  Look, I’m starting to hurt pretty badly, do you mind if I doze off?”

             
“Not at all,” Mark said swiftly.  “I’m sorry I bothered you with this right after a surgery.”

             
Ben gave a weak cough and after a few moments, his breathing evened out and he slept.  Abby returned a short while later, pressing a cup of warm coffee into Mark’s hands and together they crept into the hallway.

             
“Well?  Do you think he was healed?” Abby all-but begged.

             
Mark hesitated before answering her.  The truth was, he did believe Ben was healed, and though it wasn’t a miracle from God, it was still something outside her understanding.  Mark knew, however, for his own safety and for the safety of his companion, he couldn’t tell her the whole truth.

             
“I believe the storm for your brother has passed,” Mark said eventually.  “He’ll rise from this strong and healthy, and you can definitely stop worrying so much.”

             
Abby let out a huge breath of relief, and without warning, threw her arms around Mark.  She buried her face in his neck and let out a small sob.  “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice muffled by his sweater, “I was so damn scared.”

             
Mark pat her back awkwardly, but smiled at the affection.  “It’s going to be okay.”

             
Eventually Abby released him and let him take her arm.  “I’ll drive you back now.  I figure he’s going to sleep a while and he probably wants to be alone anyway.”

             
Mark didn’t say anything until they got in the car and Abby had pulled out onto the busy street.  “Your brother was willing to talk quite a bit about the incident, and seemed willing to tell me where I could find this man.  Would you be able to remind him for me, once he’s feeling better?”

             
“Uh sure,” Abby said, her voice dripping with curiosity.  “Why do you want to know where the homeless guy is?”

             
“I want to talk to him, if he’s able, make sure that this man isn’t afflicted with anything the church should know about,” Mark lied.  “It’s nothing you should concern yourself with.”

             
“Okay, but if you need my help, let me know.”

             
“I will,” Mark said, though he had no intention of ever involving her.  Having an ally wasn’t a bad thing, but Mark knew he was better off alone.  They arrived back at Sacred Heart within a few minutes, and though Abby offered to go inside, Mark declined, and told her he would talk to her later.

             
He waited until he heard her car pull away before he went inside and sat down on his sofa.  He knew it was Yehuda, he was certain.  Abby’s brother carried the markings all over him, the tiny specks of healing light that shone from people once they’d been touched by powers no human ever truly understood.  Mark knew it was him, and he would do whatever it took to get what he needed from the detective.

Chapter
Ten

Ben appreciated the weather getting colder, though in San Francisco, it never really got hot.  The space where his head had been cut open weeks before was itching, almost unbearably so, but Ben was doing his best to ignore it. 

             
Sitting back on the park bench, Ben had his legs stretched in front of him, ankles crossed, his hot coffee nearly burning through his gloves, and he was people watching.  There was a couple across the way, sitting on a second bench, arguing.  He couldn't make out what they were saying, but the woman looked bored, and the man was enraged.

             
“Testosterone problem,” Ben muttered to himself as he watched the man's face grow redder, his expressions more exaggerated, his arm motions wider and sharper.

             
The woman reached into her bag, pulled out a cigarette and, with what appeared to be deliberate action, blew her first puff of smoke into the man's face.  The man, angrier, slapped the cigarette out of her hand and stomped on it. 
Here's where it gets ugly
, Ben thought, but the woman, instead of getting angry, pulled out another cigarette and lit it.  The cycle continued until the woman had one left in her pack.  This one she lit slowly, and then moved along the bench, just out of arm's reach.