Authors: Samantha Towle
What should I do?
Reaching forward, I gently place my fingertip on the cut. Instantly a tingling sensation shoots up through my finger.
I jump back startled.
What on earth was that?
Curious, I again reach forward and place my finger on James’ face, wondering whether it’s his blood that causes this tingling sensation, or just him. But the moment my skin meets his, the same wondrous sensation once again presents itself, running up my finger into my arm.
Am I touching him? Is this what it’s like? Can I now feel James?
Curiosity burns every part of me.
I keep my finger on him, marvelling at this wonderful experience, letting the sensation swill through me. Then, as if slapped around the face, I suddenly realise that James' precious time is still ticking away in my mind. It hasn’t stopped. Why? I mean it should, shouldn’t it? Have I not done enough to save him?
Forty-one . . . forty . . . thirty-nine . . .
Don’t die, James. Please don’t die. Don’t leave me here all alone. If you do, then this was all for nothing.
I take hold of his body and shake him, vehemently ignoring the sensations it creates in my hands, and will him to wake.
He’s not waking up.
Panic stricken, I shake him again - but nothing.
Twenty-eight . . . twenty-seven . . . twenty-six . . .
“
James, please don’t die,” I beseech.
What do I do? I am completely and utterly out of my depth.
I lay my head on his chest in resignation and his warmth radiates through me. My face is ablaze. Wait, I can hear his heart beating. Yes, it’s definitely beating. He’s got a good, strong heartbeat. I feel a surge of relief. That’s a positive sign – isn’t it? But if he’s going live, if I have managed to save him, then why is his time still counting down?
Sixteen . . . fifteen . . . fourteen . . .
Maybe I haven’t saved him after all. I feel a sharp pain shoot right through me.
I trace my now-human fingers across his forehead, running them into his hair, something I have longed to do.
I can’t lose him. I can’t.
Making one last ditch attempt, I again take hold of his body and shake him with all my might. “James! Wake up, please!” I yell out.
Eight . . . seven . . . six . . .
His time is fast approaching its end. What if he dies here, what will happen? What will I do? I couldn’t bear it if he was no longer here. How could I take him to Heaven and part with him? Never again see his beautiful face.
The thought terrifies me.
I don’t know what else I can do, so now I’m literally willing him to live. “James,” I whisper. “Please don’t leave me.”
Two . . . one . . . zero.
Disconsolately, I lie down beside him, look up at Heaven, and plead with the only one who has the power to save him. “Please, God, I beg you. Please don’t take him from me.”
Everything seems to stop. The wind stops blowing through the trees. Animals stop scurrying around. There’s not a sound in the air. It’s so quiet. So serene.
Then I feel James stir and I scramble up to my knees.
His eyes flicker open and he looks up at me with his dark eyes.
“
I . . . know . . . you,” he mumbles. Then his eyes roll back into his head, and his lids come heavily to a close.
Chapter 4
Being Human
I know you.
I know you.
What on earth is that supposed to mean?
He knows me? How does he know me? He can’t know me. Of course he can’t, it’s impossible. He was delirious. That’s it. He didn’t know what he was saying – did he? No, of course not.
I look over at James from my seat in the far corner of the dimly lit room. He’s sleeping peacefully. He hasn’t woken yet, not since he uttered those haunting words in any case.
We’re at the hospital. As I very quickly discovered, I no longer have my abilities in this new form of mine. No extra sensory perception. No transporting in the blink of an eye. All my abilities are seemingly gone.
So I had to sit there on the roadside with an unconscious James and wait like any other human until a passing car found us. Luckily we weren’t waiting too long.
The human rang for help from his mobile phone, told us an ambulance would be there soon, and waited with us until it arrived. And it did, very quickly, as did a whole host of other humans - policemen, firemen.
James was brought to the hospital in the ambulance. The police wanted to question me about what happened. I wanted to come to the hospital to be with James, so they drove me here in a car which, might I add, was a really strange experience, and they questioned me on the way.
I told the policeman who sat in the back of the car with me that I had been walking along the road when I saw James’ car crash into the tree and instantly set itself on fire, that I pulled him from the burning car and carried him down the road, then waited there until we were found.
The policeman wrote down everything I said. He asked for my name and address. Panic ensued and I had to think fast. The only thing I could say was that I didn’t have one, which is pretty much the truth now. He looked me over and asked if I was homeless, to which I promptly replied I was. He wrote something else down, and then his whole demeanour toward me changed. No longer was I the heroic human but someone he suddenly viewed with mild disdain. He asked if there was any way to contact me, and I knew I had to say something so I said that he could contact me through James. He regarded me with a raised eyebrow and said “but I thought you didn’t know him”. My immediate response was that I don’t, but after saving his life I felt an obligation to stick around and make sure he was okay.
I could see the policewoman who was driving the car glancing at me in the rear-view mirror with a very sceptical look in her eyes. I don’t know whether they believed me or not, but right now it’s of no regard as I have far bigger concerns, like the fact that I have inadvertently taken on human form, that I now somehow look like a human not only to myself but they can see me too. I’m solid matter. Human but not actually a human. No functioning organs – well no heartbeat for starters. That is a pretty important thing for a fully-functioning human body, so I’m obviously not alive. But I’m here and still me, but not me. I can touch things, actually feel and touch them without my hand just passing through. No longer do I see a blaze of light that sparkles. Now when I look down all I see is a human body. So this does this mean I’m no longer a Bringer? But not human either.
What am I then?
I look down at my fully-clad body, wondering just where these clothes and shoes came from. Have I always worn them? And my hair, it’s just hanging there, draping down my back, falling over my shoulder. And it’s so very black, just like Arlo said. My skin, so creamy, so very human like. I poke myself in the arm. It’s beyond strange. I can actually feel myself, poke myself in the arm. This is so unbelievably surreal, but so absolutely wonderful all at the same time, that it renders me speechless. There are no words to convey just how crazy this is. And I have never been more confused than I am right now.
I have so many questions spooling around my mind. Like for starters, how did this happen? How did I come to look like a human? I remember the odd sensation I felt go through me the instant before I saved James, and how I just did that on instinct. Okay, so the change obviously occurred then, but how? Did I somehow make this happen? I wonder if it’s because I started having feelings like a human does. If so, can I take it back, can I change back? But then, do I want to? I glance over at James, my eyes lingering on his beautiful face, my feelings for him surging through me with such an overwhelming intensity that I grip hold of the chair.
I look down at my body, my new body that James will be able to see.
So I ask myself the question again. Do I want to change back?
No, I really and truly do not.
James’ breathing deepens, pricking my attention. I stand from my seat and peer over at him. He looks like he’s still sleeping and the monitors he’s attached to seem to be functioning as they should. I quietly lower myself back into the chair.
I’m not supposed to be in here. I snuck in after everyone had left. I didn’t want James to be alone. I’ll always be here for him, no matter what form I take, or whether he knows it or not.
When I arrived at the hospital, the doctors and nurses were already tending to James. The nurse had asked if I was a relative, but when I said no, he said I couldn’t be here. When I explained I was the one who had saved James, he was more forthcoming. He told me to sit in the waiting room until they were done with James and he would come back and let me know how James was doing, but after that I would most certainly have to leave.
I was waiting quite a while, all the time spent worrying about James. I could think of nothing else. But the nurse was as good as his word. He came back and told me James was going to be fine. He’s got a broken leg - well it’s broken in two places, his tibia and his kneecap - so they have potted it, and it will take up to three months to heal. He’s suffering from the effects of mild smoke inhalation, and the cut on his head needed stitches. The nurse said James had been incredibly lucky. He’s seen people come off a lot worse than that after a car collision with a tree - so have I, but I was reluctant to mention that. He went on to say that James owes me his life because if I hadn’t have been there to pull him from that burning car, he would most certainly have died.
If only he knew.
I’m beyond relieved that I saved James. I wouldn’t have been able to bear it if I’d lost him. Not that I’ve ever truly had him, or ever will. But to lose the joy of being able to see him every day would have been too much to bear. I know just how incredibly selfish of me that was, but I couldn’t help it. At the time I didn’t even think about my actions, or the consequences of them.
By saving James’ life, I have changed the natural order of things. I have committed a cardinal sin and obviously have no regard for the consequences, as here I sit. There’s no saving me now. I have crossed the line and strayed so far over it I know there’s no return for me.
But I don’t regret it. And I never will.
Because this is James and he makes nothing else matter. Everything else is inconsequential. He is, and will always be, the only thing that matters to me, and my only regret is that I hadn’t been there sooner to save him from suffering these injuries.
I know, fully and completely, that I did the right thing, but I suppose the ultimate question is – right for whom?
Then I hear James’ bed sheets rustle and see that he’s waking up. I sit up in my seat, my back poker-straight. If I had a heart right now, I imagine it’d be beating out of my chest. James is going to see me. When he opens his eyes, he is actually going to see me for the very first time. A wave of nerves washes over me.
He groans a low moan as the pain from his injuries sets into his consciousness. He tries to get up.
“
Don’t get up,” I say, moving swiftly toward him. “Just lay back and I’ll call the nurse.” I press the buzzer beside his bed and back away.
He slumps back, unable to do anything else. “Some water,” he whispers, his hand rubbing his throat. His voice sounds raspy, from the smoke inhalation I guess.
I get the jug of water off the table and pour some into the waiting glass, and hand it to him. He struggles to drink, spilling some, so I help guide the glass to his lips. He sips slowly, his eyes blinking heavily. And I step back, leaning up against the wall, allowing myself to recover from the heightened sensation I feel every single time I touch him.
I cannot even begin to describe just how remarkable this moment truly is. I’m actually here with him.
He holds the glass on his chest, lies back onto the pillows, and turns his head, glancing at me in the dim light. He’s looking right at me with his dark, impenetrable eyes, eyes that I never once dreamed would ever see me, eyes in which I’m waiting to see if there is any spark of recognition.
“
Where am I? Who are you?”
Sweet relief. He doesn’t know me.
“
You’re in the hospital. I’m –”
Confusion holds his face as he utters, “The hospital?” He reaches up and touches where the gauze sits on his forehead covering his cut.
“
You have a cut there, it needed stitches.” I glance down at his leg. His eyes follow mine. “And you’ve broken your lower leg and fractured your kneecap, so they’ve put a pot on it to help it heal.” I look back up to his confused face. “And your throat hurts because of the smoke inhalation, I believe.”
He brings his foggy eyes back to meet mine. “What happened?” He sounds more like he’s addressing himself than me. “I mean, I was driving home from Joe’s wedding and then nothing –” His eyes flicker. “Are you a doctor?”
I reach over and take the glass from him, placing it back on the table. “No, I’m not a doctor. I – well, you had an accident. You crashed your car. And I – I helped.”
“
That’s pretty modest.” I look up to see the nurse from earlier coming through the door. He leans over the bed and switches off the button that I’d pressed. “She more than helped. She saved your life. Pulled you from a burning car.” He nods in my direction, smiling, giving a knowing look to James. “So how are you feeling?” he asks James, but James doesn’t respond. He’s just staring at me, wide eyes fixed on me. “You saved my life?” The surprise audible in his raspy voice.