Continuing the story of Patient #307. - Parce
The still, salty air of the Quarry filled my nostrils and the copper-colored sand piled around my hooves. I couldn’t tell you which burned more. The sensations were so vivid that I had to remind myself I wasn’t physically there; Dreamer and I were visiting this place in Whisper’s memory.
The sun was just about to touch the ocean beyond the cliffs. The sky was almost as red as the sand.
“Leave her alone!” someone was shouting. “I’ll work harder—I’ll do extra shifts—whatever you want!”
We ran to the end of the street, where the village ended and the work area around the mine began. At one of the last houses, a group of dogs pulled young Whisper through the doorway and out of the desperate grasp of her parents.
“You’ll do that,” said one of the dogs, “but it won’t help her.”
“What do you want?” Whisper’s mother pleaded. “What does Scurvert want?”
“You should have asked yourself that question before you decided to be a couple of slackers.” The dogs dragged Whisper away over the protests of her parents.
I shook my head. That was just an excuse. It always was. The real reason Whisper was being taken was because Scurvert needed to scratch his itch.
We followed the dogs back down the road to Scurvert’s house, the biggest of the clay huts and the only one with a basement. They pulled Whisper into the alley around the side. The lead dog used a key on his collar to undo the padlock and open the cellar-style door. They tossed her down the steps and then slammed the door again.
As it was Whisper’s memory, our perception followed her down the stairs and into the dungeon. She sat frozen with terror in the middle of the cold concrete floor.
Dreamer had been here before, and I had seen it when she’d shared her memory of it with me by accident. This torture chamber looked the same; one wall covered with a grid of chicken-wire cages for Scurvert’s victims. Three of the cages were occupied. The opposite wall had a workbench and a shelf both lined with tools for crushing and cutting. Behind us were the stairs to the alley, and in front of us were the steps into the house. The back corner underneath the outside stairs was the killing floor—the wall was spattered with dried blood and there was a drain in the center. Ropes hung from the ceiling and chains were bolted into the walls. One of these had once held Dreamer in this place.
Only one detail in this room was different, and it caught my eye. At some point between the attack on Dreamer and this attack on Whisper, Scurvert had mounted a trophy on the wall beside the stairs into his house.
If you remember what I told you before, Doc, Scurvert’s torture of Dreamer had been interrupted by her father Shiver bursting into the house. The pig had let them live, but he’d taken Shiver’s horns off with a sledgehammer. I knew Scurvert had let the ram walk around with bleeding shards in his head as a warning to everyone else. It had never occurred to me that Scurvert would actually keep the horns. They were nailed to a wooden plaque.
The far door opened, throwing a shaft of light down the stairs, which was quickly blocked by the fat body of the pig himself. The steps creaked under Scurvert’s weight. His stained shirt and pants looked like they were about to fall off of him. The extra folds of pink flesh under his chin and arms glistened with sweat. He picked up Whisper by the neck and threw her into a cage.
“He kept her there for a couple of days without any food or water,” Dreamer said. “We can skip that.”
“Please do.”
The memory jumped ahead, not that you could tell by any change in scenery. Scurvert came back down the stairs. The stirrings and pleading of the other captives woke Whisper. Scurvert’s face was flushed, and a rill of drool ran through a gap in his yellow teeth and down the furrow of his jowls. He stopped in front of the cages.
“Eeny-meeny-miney-moe,” he rasped. “Who stays here and who will go?” He banged on the cages with no coherent pattern that I could discern. However he did it, he landed on Whisper and yanked her out of her cage. Then he chained her to the wall as he had done with Dreamer, then shuffled over to the workbench and ran his grubby hands over his tools.
A sharp crackling sound hit my ears. All of a sudden, we were out of the basement and Whisper was back in her own home, covered in cuts and teeth marks as she had been when she first came to my clinic. But that vision only lasted a few seconds before jumping back to Scurvert’s chamber.
A horrific screech rang out and the scene around me turned clouded and grey. I turned to Dreamer to see what was going on. She was paralyzed, her face aghast and some kind of static interference running through the violet glow of her eyes.
“What’s happening?” I waved my hoof in front of her face. She didn’t respond at all.
I realized this was it. She had brought the memory up to the point of the damage, and now she was trapped in it herself. It was up to me to figure this out from here.
I walked around the room, trying to interact with anything I could. Nothing made any difference. I couldn’t leave, and I couldn’t get the memory to move forward. Like Dreamer had been before I physically interrupted the connection, I was caught in this loop of Whisper’s traumatized thinking.
“What do I do?” I asked out loud. But Dreamer couldn’t answer. Neither could Whisper. They were trusting me to get them out of this. As messed up as it sounds, I found myself getting angry at Dreamer. Why did she bring me in and risk us not being able to get out again? What did she think I could do here that she couldn’t?
That was when I hit on the answer. Of course there was something I had that she didn’t. My healing power.
I turned it on the chained image of Whisper in front of me. Here in the mental plane, it didn’t just look like a green filter over my vision. I could actually see an arc of green energy, like a bolt of electricity, going from me to her. But it didn’t do anything.
Running out of ideas, I tried using my power on Dreamer instead. Once I did, I immediately understood that this was the answer. She was the connection between me and Whisper, after all. The green energy ran from me into Dreamer, and then an arc of green mixed with violet jumped from Dreamer to Whisper. Everything turned white, and then I was back in the clinic.
I looked around. Dreamer and Whisper were still in the psychic trance. Whisper’s mother sipped her coffee and watched from the kitchen. There was no outside indication that anything unusual had happened.
Dreamer straightened up and blinked. “There.”
I turned to her. “Is everything OK?”
She smiled. “See for yourself.”
Whisper looked around. “Am I all better?”
It was the first time I’d ever heard her voice. My heart skipped. I felt my eyes welling up a little. From the corner, there was a sob.
Whisper’s mother dropped her cup and ran across the room to embrace her daughter. “My baby!”
“Hi, Mama.”
“Oh, my Whisper. I never thought I would hear your voice again.” She turned to us, wiping her eyes. “Thank you, and bless you. Bless you both. If there’s anything I can do for you…”
Dreamer smiled and shook her head. “It’s what we’re here for.”
“That’s right,” I said. “I hate to say it, but you two need to get going or you’ll miss the last train.”
“Of course. And I’m going to tell everyone what you did for my baby.” Whisper’s mother stood. “Your daddy’s going to want to hear your voice. Are you ready to go home?”
“Yeah. Let’s go home and see Daddy.”
Dreamer and I stood at the gate and watched Whisper and her mother heading for the railroad. Once they were out of earshot, I asked, “What was that, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” Dreamer answered. “All I know is, once you were able to heal it, I could do the same thing I did for the miner. I could walk Whisper through the rest of the memory. I have to confess I might have, I don’t know, dimmed it a little in her mind. Glossed over some of the worst of it. But I was able to show her that she was past it.”
“Not really,” I said. “Nothing is stopping Scurvert from hurting her again.”
She sighed. “The point is that we can help them now. This is new, this thing you and I can do together. Maybe we can try this on my dad.”
I nodded.
“A whole new treatment method,” she said. “We should give it a name.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
She smirked. “Dreamhealing?”
“Seriously?” I laughed.
To my surprise, she pouted. “Well, I think it’s a good name.”
“It is good. We can call it that.” I watched the passenger car light up before the train pulled away. Satisfied that my patient was safely on her way home, I turned away from the gate and walked back toward the clinic. Dreamer followed.
“It’s getting late,” I said. “You sure I can’t get you a ride back to University? Classes are probably back on tomorrow.”
“You’re still trying to push me away,” she said. “After what you’ve just seen. After you were the one to invite me here in the first place. Why did you do that, if you’re going to act like this?”
I stopped with my hoof on the front door. “I don’t know. Look, with everything that’s going on, I think I’m about to lose this place.” I glanced up at the Charlie Chugg sign on the front of my building. “If I’m going to lose it all, I may as well enjoy it for a little bit.”
“No, that’s not it. Stop that. I said on the phone there was something important I needed to tell you, and now you’re acting like you hope I forgot. Quit playing games with me, Healer, and tell me what you want.”
After a few seconds of thought, I opened the door and motioned for her to enter. She went inside without a word. I locked us in and she watched quietly as I deployed the window shutters. Then I rejoined her at the door.
“I don’t want you to leave,” I said. “But I also want what’s best for you. The problem is that those two things are incompatible.”
She took a step closer to me. “What if being with you is what’s best for me?”
“Away from school?”
“I’ll figure out school. Caper’s a believer now. He’ll work with me, like he’s working with Swifter. It’ll be fine.”
“Not according to your dad.”
Now her forehead was against mine. “Don’t worry about my dad. Once he sees how dreamhealing works, he’ll understand. I’m going to ask you one last time—do you want me here with you or not?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then stop worrying about everything else. We’ll make it work.” Dreamer kissed my cheek and backed up a step. “Is this where we’re going to talk?”
“No. I thought we could go upstairs.” I motioned to her backpack, still on the bottom step. “Can I carry that for you?”
“Please. Just be careful with it.”
I shut off the lights and led her up, away from the clinic and into my little living space. I pointed out the bathroom and closet, then set her bag down by the sliding door. I opened that up and brought her out onto the balcony. It faced into the mountains.
Not so long ago, I would have worried about carrying on any conversation out here. Cloned ospreys and other agents of the Chugg Corporation used to fly overhead, listening for dissenters. But not anymore. The birds had broken free from Chugg, and they ruled these skies now. Especially the northern part of the plains, which was closest to their home.
Ptera Peak loomed on the right. We were too far away to hear the soft roll of its waterfall, but the moonlight made the water sparkle.
“Oh, Healer,” Dreamer said. “This is beautiful.”
“I think about you every time I sit out here,” I said. “The night we climbed all the way up there and Optera gave you your gift.”
“It wasn’t a gift,” she said. “She gave me a lightning bolt. That’s a weapon. And I don’t want it.”
“She trusted you with it for a reason.”
“Now you sound like Caper.” She stood up on her hind legs to lean on the railing. The breeze picked up the long golden wool on her head. “It’s not my gift we need to talk about, anyway. It’s yours.”
I joined her at the railing. “What do you mean?”
“I learned something this morning. Whatever Ponder is doing, he needs to stop. The pigs are going to get him.”
“This is what we planned for,” I said. “He’s not going about it the way I wanted, and my business is going to suffer, but he’s taking action against Chugg. I just have to trust him. He’s the one with the power of Karkus, not me.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Healer. He doesn’t. Not all of it. He and Mauler only have two of the missing pieces of Karkus. The third one is in you.”
I turned to her. “Me? How is that possible?”
“I don’t know.”
“Karkus was talking to the two of them as if they had his complete power,” I said. “Where did you hear this?”
Dreamer faltered.
“I can answer that question,” came a voice from inside the room. I jumped. Almost went over the railing, in fact.
“Who’s there?”
Dreamer headed for the open sliding door. “It’s OK, Healer.” She vanished in the darkened bedroom and came back out with her pack, which she set down gently on the wooden slats. Then she opened it and brought out her potted orchid. The center of the flower glowed with white light. She set it on the rail next to me.
“I don’t believe it,” I said.
“You should,” said the flower. “For Dreamer speaks the truth. A truth which I shared with her. Do you know who I am?”
“Arghast,” I said. “The Father Orchid.”
“Yes. Karkus is my creation, just as all other demigods are. He yearns to be reunited with his Optera, and she with him. But he does not possess the powers of vision that she and I do. Karkus is weak in his current state and has limited senses. He only knew that his missing pieces were assembled before him. His full might resides not in Ponder and Mauler, but in the three of you combined.”
I stammered like an idiot for a few seconds. “What should I do? How do I find them?”
“Fear not,” said Arghast, “for they will find you. The most important thing you and Dreamer can do is stay together. Ponder and Mauler will need you before the end.”
I didn’t understand. I felt almost like I did when I’d been forced to take that first dose of Dopemol. My face wouldn’t move. I couldn’t feel my feet.
“I was there,” Arghast said. “I watched Karkus choose you as his herald. His scattered pieces were drawn to you as you grew, giving you power, ferocity, and the will to fight back against the tyranny of the pigs. But something happened that was not intended—the old ram saw himself in you, and he grew to love you as his own son. You loved your adoptive father, and thus events took a turn that young Karkus did not intend. The Trampler’s death broke you. That terrible will, given by the teeth of Karkus, departed from you. It found a new home in Ponder on the mountain.”
“Ponder…” I had to sit down.
“But Karkus was too proud to place his hope outside of his dogs altogether,” said Arghast. “He handcrafted a beast and gave it to them, hoping to give them an example of strength they could all aspire to achieve. But the corrupt elements of dog society won out, and Mauler was imprisoned, mistreated, and used for experiments.”
“Dopemol,” I said.
“That’s right. Your vitality, your very ability to take action, was stolen from you by that poison. The heart of Karkus left you after that first dose. But it found Mauler, restoring him to life at the moment that he was succumbing to the medicine himself. The piece of Karkus from you gave him understanding, memories, and even speech.”
“Mauler is only alive because of the heart of Karkus?”
“Yes. Neither of them should be alive. The pieces of Karkus sustain them. But they are incomplete, and without you they will lose their way. That is because the last piece still lives in you.”
“The hand,” I said. “The restraint.”
“Now you understand,” said Arghast. “Ponder and Mauler lack the discernment of Karkus, that keen sense of when to show patience and when to use violence. They need you for that.”
“Will they even listen to me anymore?”
“Yes, they will. Never forget that they are following your plan. Everyone close to you was profoundly affected by what they saw from you last year. They all look to you to lead them out from under the Chugg Corporation’s heel. Even—no, especially—this girl.” Arghast’s writhing air roots gestured toward Dreamer. “She is here because she believes in something greater than the promise of her education or even the authority of her father. She believes in you.”
Dreamer blushed a little and put her hoof on mine. My guts crawled with shame.
“It was my plan,” I said, “but they’re running the show. Ponder and Mauler will lead the fight. I was just waiting for an opportunity. But all I’m here to do is heal. I can’t fight, even though Shiver is trying his hardest to teach me. I can’t even chase these pigs out of my own house.”
“You don’t understand the extent of the gift you’ve been given.” Arghast’s eye flared brighter for a second, making me squint. “Tell me, when you use your healing power, what do you see?”
“Cells,” I said. “Like living tissue under a microscope. All I do is accelerate the cells’ natural healing processes.”
“Is that all you did when you healed Dreamer’s face? What about Mauler’s?”
“No, those were older wounds.” I thought back. “I had to break down the scar tissue in Dreamer’s cuts first. And I had to break apart a clot that was going septic in Mauler’s sinuses. Where are you going with this?”
“You can break tissues down just as easily as you can mend them,” said Arghast. “You could cleave these pigs into pieces with a touch if you so desired.”
I wasn’t opposed to the idea of pigs carved up, but the thought of using my power to do harm turned my stomach a little. “I couldn’t use it that way. Not as an attack.”
“I know. Not as you are now. When you lost the heart of Karkus to Mauler, you lost your ability to do violence in any form.” Arghast brought his eye closer to my face. “Ah, Healer. My heart aches to think of the warrior you would have been. I foresaw it. Your father did too—and it gave him great distress.”
“My father.” I looked through the railing at the concrete path, near the front door. I hadn’t marked the spot in any way, but I remembered exactly where Old-Timer had died. “He never would have wanted a warrior. He wanted me to sit in an office.”
“The Trampler lived a warrior’s life,” said Arghast. “All he knew was defeat. The experiences of the Canine-Avian War wounded him deeply. He did what he could to protect his people from abuse, but he thought overcoming the Chugg Corporation was impossible. And, without interference from Karkus and Optera, he was right.”
“Maybe he still is.”
“You will know soon enough. Do you want to know how much the Dreamer cares for you? She asked me to let you see your father again. And I have promised her that you will.”
“But how…” I turned back to Arghast, but the center of the orchid had gone dark. Another light nagged at the corner of my eye. I glanced up. Over the mountains hung a star that wasn’t usually in the night sky. Like the sun, it was too bright to look at directly. But from that glance I could tell that it had four points with the longest one at the bottom, like a cross. Now I know it was the same star that had looked down on Dreamer and me in the plains when I had healed her face. At the time, though, I didn’t understand it. I thought it was Arghast or some other unnamed god glaring at me.
I retreated from the light, still weak in the legs and shaky in the guts. This was too much. Ponder and Mauler were only alive because of what had happened to me. Did that mean that they had to die if I was ever to become more than what I was? I couldn’t stand the thought. I collapsed onto my bed and tried not to be sick.
I heard the sliding door closing and the blinds being drawn. I turned over to see Dreamer, silhouetted by the thin rays of light coming in between the slats. She locked the door, leaving her orchid out on the balcony. Then she slid into the bed next to me.
We embraced without a word. Eventually, the star faded from the sky, leaving us with no light in the room except for the violet and green from our eyes. Shut away from the sight of the gods, we transformed as we had that evening in the field. Once again it was just her and me, with our sheep bodies left behind somewhere, where we had little else but hearts to bare and eyes to behold and fingers with which to reach out and touch.