XVIII.
I’ve been in this cell for seven hours. I have the rest of my life to go.

Paul Whitlow recalled waking up in the holding cell. He had gathered from a guard that he was at the Weasel Point Police Station. He remembered having shot up his high school, and then Joel Fuselier had talked to him. The librarian attacked him, Joel was shot and probably killed, and that was the last thing he remembered.

Well, I survived my massacre after all. There’s really no way to kill myself in a prison cell. No sharp objects, I don’t have a belt or anything on, and even if I did, I have nothing to support a noose. There certainly aren’t any guns here. I’ll probably be tried, my mother will be horrified, and I’ll be charged with whatever I get charged with. I managed not to actually kill anyone, despite my best efforts, so maybe I won’t get a life sentence. Still, I’m not going to last five minutes in juvenile hall or the nuthouse or wherever I get sent. Christ, Joel, couldn’t you leave well enough alone? Now you’re dead, and I’m doomed.

Paul was angry, but now he had no one to be angry at but himself. He’d spent the past seven hours wasting time in the cell. The only other people around were a guy who was pulled over for drunk driving and a guard. Paul sat on the bed and thought to himself. He knew that he was a fuck-up. He fucked up his gift, he fucked up being popular, he couldn’t even manage to kill a mass of people correctly. All he did was get a famous doctor killed, and that wasn’t even by his hand. Paul tried not to cry. He wasn’t able to. He just shook his head. He was scared of what would happen in juvenile hall, and he doubted any of it would be worth living. It’s not like I have a choice. Paul had played and replayed the scenario out in his head. He worried that if Harry Wilds died, then he would really be in deep shit. But Luann couldn’t afford a decent lawyer, and who’d take on the case? Few lawyers wanted to represent a nut who had shot up a high school. Any attorney would likely be court-appointed.

As for getting out of this cell? Forget it, the bail was set at fifty million. There’s no way Luann could come up with that kind of money. Even our house isn’t worth nearly that much. I doubt all of our assets added up would total a million dollars. I’m fucked. I’ll be found guilty, and I’ll spend the rest of my life in prison. And even if I do get any leniency, I’ll still be in jail for a long time.

Paul sat and sighed. He was now learning what true hopelessness was. Joel had tried to help him, but he doubted his gift would be very helpful now, if anyone else even knew about it. Luann probably didn’t grasp it, and Joel was the only person who truly knew. Wasn’t he?

He could hear voices coming from behind the door that led to the holding cells. Someone muttered something. Paul tried to listen.

“What the hell? That’s a lot of money!”

“Sergeant, count it.”

“I am. Lessee…Christ I didn’t even know they made bills of this denomination. Where’d you get this?”

“I have my sources.” This voice sounded female. It almost sounded like…Cassie?

“I’ll count it. Go get the twit.” The door opened, and two officers came in. Paul looked out at them.

“Paul, come with us.” One of the guards unlocked the cell door, and opened it. Paul wasn’t sure, no, he had no idea what was going on. He imagined that the police would kill him out of rage. None of the cops treated him well, and he didn’t think he deserved anything else. Paul shuffled with the two guards to the main office. Two more officers, along with a redheaded teenage girl, were inside. There was a suitcase filled with money on the desk. The girl turned around, and Paul swore he was seeing things.

“Cassie?” Paul asked.

“Paul? Are you all right?” It was Cassie Fuselier. Paul just stared at her, unsure of what was happening.

“Uhh.” He couldn’t form words. He was speechless.

“Okay men, let him out. There’s fifty million in here. Ms. Fuselier, I don’t know where the hell a teenage girl gets more money than the entirety of our annual budget, but here it is. Fifty million buckaroos. Paul Whitlow, you’re out on bail. I don’t know what’s going on, but fifty million is fifty million.” The officer took the suitcase, and Cassie led Paul out of the station. Paul still had his clothes on, not even the orange jail uniform that inmates wear. She took him to her Ford Ranger, and they got in.

“Where are we going?” Paul asked.

“The hospital.” Paul decided not say anything else. He found a sheet on paper near the gearshift, and looked at it. There was writing that read:

DAD’S GRANT PIN

40119851922

Whatever that means.

Paul set down the scrap of paper though Cassie didn’t seem to mind him looking at it. He decided to try his best to ask what was going on.

“Why are we going to the hospital?”

“Dad told me about what you can do. If he was telling the truth, I think you can do me a big favor.”

“Anything. You let me out, after your dad got killed. Thank you.”

“Even Jesus died with the thieves.” Cassie smiled. Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of Weasel Point Medical Center. Cassie walked inside, with Paul following. A man in a white coat greeted them.

“May I ask who you two are?”

“My name is Cassie Fuselier. This is my cousin Josh. Can we see my father? He’s here, his name is Joel Fuselier.” Wait, Joel is alive?

“He’s in room 343. I can take you there. My name’s Todd, by the way. I worked with your father.” Todd led the two into the elevator.

“How is dad doing?” Cassie asked.

“He’s in bad shape. He was shot seven times. It’s a good thing you two got here when you did, he’s got no chance of making it through the night barring a miracle.” Todd said.

“I think we can supply a miracle.” Cassie replied. Todd sighed, thinking that Cassie was quite polite and kind considering what a dickhead her father was.

As for Paul, he was just now realizing what had happened. Cassie knew her father was still alive, and Paul had guessed that he would be healing Joel. But Joel is the reason my rampage, my revenge, didn’t work.

Yes, but he’s the only person who knows the details of what you can do, and either you heal him, or you’re going to the federal pound-me-in-the-ass prison.

Paul was used to voices in his head. It was something he lived with, but this voice was a new one. This voice sounded calm and clear, with none of psychotic ramblings of the others. This voice was a voice of reason. And Paul immediately knew to obey it.

The elevator climbed up, and Paul decided to heal the surgeon. They reached the third floor, and Todd led them to a room. The cardiogram was giving off a steady beep, beep, beep. Paul saw Joel with the IV and the oxygen mask. He was on life support.

“Just to let you know, Cassie, the hospital requires the patient show no signs of improvement for forty-eight hours before we can pull the plug.” Cassie just smiled in response.

“I don’t think we’ll need to.” Paul said. He looked at Joel’s body. He was still, and he knew what to do. Meanwhile, Todd excused himself to other matters.

“Here he is, Paul. Work your magic.”

Paul’s anger rushed to the surface, like an Army private rushing to hear the drill sergeant’s orders. Paul was familiar with anger, but not it responding so quickly to his thoughts. Maybe I’m learning how to control it at last? My anger can cause me to do great things, and now I can make it do what I want. I control my anger, it does not control me.

Paul aimed his anger, and never did the laser analogy he told Cassie once seem so fitting. He directed it at Joel, this lifeless corpse lying on a hospital bed. His mind imagined a red light being beamed at Joel. The light, this new light that felt so good, covered Joel. He didn’t move, so Paul raised the intensity of his rage. Murderous fantasies came, but they no longer disturbed Paul. He knew the horrors that came with the healing power, and he knew now how to deal with such horrors. They were a part of him, and logic told him that if the anger could heal the world, then the fantasies were good. He knew now that he could not defeat his demons, but he could negotiate with them, and he could come to terms with them.

As said before, in most battles the result is not black and white. Shades of gray surround life to the point where black and white are often invisible. Paul’s anger wasn’t an enemy, but it wasn’t an ally. It just was, and he knew how to deal with it. He would control it. He dominated it. It did what he said. Paul had one more blast, and sent it toward the surgeon.

The man’s body lifted at the middle. The cardiogram went toward that steady tone of death, but after one hellish second, it began beeping again, this time wildly. Finally, the glass of the screen cracked, and the cardiogram gave off one last loud beep before shorting out.

“What was that? Someone get to room 343 stat!” Someone yelled from the end of the hall. Joel looked up, and his eyes blinked open. The bullet wounds had closed, leaving tiny pink scars. He gave off a breath, and gazed toward the ceiling.

Joel turned his head toward his daughter. In true Joel Fuselier-style, he asked “What the fuck? Where am I?”

“Dad! You’re alive.” Cassie said, as if she was surprised by the result. Paul just looked at them with a grin. He felt sure of himself for the first time in his life.

“Yes, I’m alive. Give me a moment.” Joel reached over and pulled the IV out of his arm. He tossed the thing on the floor.

“CODE BLUE AT ROOM 343!” Someone outside yelled. Paul shut the door and locked it. This is a special moment. I think we can afford to stop anyone from interrupting it.

“I’m alive again it seems. Cassie, Paul, if you ever get a chance to go on life support, don’t.” Cassie laughed, and hugged Joel. Paul approached them.

“Looks like I did it.” Paul said. Someone knocked on the door.

“Who is in there? Hello?” Joel recognized the voice.

“Fuck off, Todd!” He said with a laugh. Todd replied by banging even harder. Joel was busy hugging Cassie. “Come here, Paul. As far as I’m concerned, you’re part of the family now too.” Paul laughed and smiled for the first time in a long time. Joel hugged him. After that was over, he leaned back, and thought about things.

So now I’m healed again, and now I can let the world know of Paul’s power. I can picture the first steps, me letting in Todd and letting them see me. Then I tell the reporters. After that, who knows? But that’s for tomorrow. Now, just relish the moment. I’m back alive again, and Paul just got himself out of whatever trouble he put himself in.

They always give the cliché about people like me, atheists for life, finding some reason to believe God exists. I’m still not convinced that God exists, I’ll never believe in Christianity, but damn it, something had to give Paul the status of Ragehealer. Maybe he’s got some kind of psychic power, maybe he’s a new form of human, maybe he’s the next step in evolution. We’ll learn the truth one day, but for now, just be happy. He’s got a power, and he and Cassie and I all stand on the edge of a new dawn in Earth’s history. Regardless of what Paul did in his previous life, Earth will never be the same after this moment. We’ve reached a pivotal point in history. And I’m the one who discovered it. But really, that’s all I’ve done. It’s Paul who has the gift.

My suffering is over. My rage that plagued me, I still have it, but now it is mine. It will obey me, not vice versa. I am in control of my mind again. And perhaps I may end up famous for this gift given to me by as yet unknown forces. I imagine the secret will come out one day, but that’s then.

Yeah, the nurses and guards are banging on the door, demanding to know what’s going on. They don’t know, but they will. Whatever pain they have, is about to be gone forever. I was given the gift, I will use it, and one day understand it.

Tomorrow, they all thought. Cassie, Paul, Joel, all wanted to think about tomorrow. But regardless, this new dawn in the age of man, a new era of healing and the disappearance of pain and disease, was coming. Paul knew it wasn’t here yet, as did Joel and Cassie, but it was coming. Paul waited for whoever was outside to break in and see Joel happy and alive. But the moments of the present are what we savor. Paul understood that when they got in, the world would know. But he was in control of that. He knew, and only he knew. And he controlled, and only he controlled.

Paul smiled at Joel, and Joel nodded back. Cassie laughed and gave both a smile. Paul put his hand on the lock and twisted it unlocked.

He put his hand on the doorknob, and opened the door to the future.