Chapter 1

The first time it happened, I had been leaving my local hospitals Accident and Emergency (A&E) department. I had been hit behind my right ear by something. It had hurt like blazes and blood was everywhere. I was sure that I had been hit by an airgun pellet but, after examining me, the doctor said that there was only a very minor cut and then proceeded to lecture me about wasting A&Es valuable time. I held up my ruined jacket, absolutely soaked with my blood, and told him to fuck off. I was trying to find the WRVS* café for a cup of tea and sandwich while I waited for the bus home when I saw them.

She was lying on a trolley, hair matted with sweat, face almost pure white. Her husband stood beside her, as she lay wracked in agony, looking on pale and trembling as he watched the one he loved die. They were holding hands. I could see her knuckles whitened with the pressure caused by her pain. His fingertips I saw were being crushed by her grip and I knew he would never, ever, complain about the 'little' pain his broken finger gave him.

How did I know that? I have no idea; I just knew that his right index finger was broken.

I looked down at her greying complexion, and knew she was dying. She had been left in the corridor to die. Why, again I don't know, probably to minimise the paper work. Maybe it was to prevent the other patients on the wards being upset at the death of one so young. Or, perhaps, just to prevent another death showing up on the ward statistics. Whatever the reason, it seemed cold and heartless to me. It was an accountant's decision.

Unable to stop myself, I walked over and lay my hand on her stomach. Oblivious to everything, to their cries and protestations, I concentrated on her pain. Through the blanket and sheets, I felt the heat from her skin; she was burning up. Then I felt 'it'. Deep inside her was a foetus, and it was in the wrong place. She had an ectopic pregnancy, and her baby was killing her.

Closing my eyes, I 'felt' deeper and felt the fallopian tubes and the top of her womb. I 'told' the baby that she had to move (for it was going to be a girl baby). Slowly it moved, complaining and moaning, the tiny form moved along the tube and into the womb. The proto-child and I could feel the comfort of being in the right place. The foetus settled onto the wall of the womb and the placenta started to form immediately. The mother's cries had stopped and she looked at me with hope in her eyes.

Suddenly hit by an overwhelming rush of exhaustion and dizziness, I fell to the floor.

"Donald," she called to her husband, "help him."

Donald looked from me to his wife. He could see that she was no longer in pain, but didn't want to leave her side.

"Help him!" She cried getting off the trolley.

Donald was torn; he tried to keep his wife on the trolley but was too shocked by the sudden change in her condition to do anything coherent.

I looked up at her and saw the concern in her eyes, and then everything went black.

I opened my eyes and saw the curtains. I was in a cubical, A&E again I thought. I wondered if I was due for another bollocking. I tried getting to my feet and was almost successful. Though the noise I made knocking a chair over must have attracted attention, for a tired eyed woman doctor strode through the curtain.

She started talking as soon as she saw me, wanting to know what I had done to one of her patients? What had happened to me? I looked at her and for the first time noticed an aura around her. I could see that it flared brilliant red over her right breast.

"You've got cancer, breast cancer." I told her.

She stopped and stared at me, slapped my face, then ran out of the cubical crying.

Alone again, I made sure I was dressed properly and went through the other door and into a corridor. Time to go home, I thought.

British hospitals have lots of corridors. They are so good for storing things you don't need immediately, like piles of patient records or gas cylinders or dieing patients. You know; the things that just get in your way. I wandered along this one for ages, stopping every now and then to rest and get my breath back. Soon though, I felt much better almost normal. I wondered what on earth was happening to me.

The answer to that question didn't come. But all too soon something else did and in a way that shocked me.

I finally found an exit door and was walking through it to freedom when a panicking mother thrust a limp child into my arms, she was screaming for me to help her child. I looked down, looking into her throat, and saw that the blockage was caused by a piece of apple. Without a second thought, I reached into the child's throat, through her neck and removed the blockage. Immediately the child sucked in a huge gulp of air. I set the girl back on her feet as her mother stared at me, and the soggy apple in my hand. I looked at the girl, her aura was good except around part of her brain. She'd been without air for a little too long I knew. I placed my hand on her head and concentrated hard. This was much more difficult than picking a piece of apple out of her throat. Soon though I felt her brain perk up and a 'rush' of activity and emotion flooded through her. Moments ago she had been a few seconds from death, she would be fine now.

"How did you do that? How ... You put you fingers right into her throat, you can't do that. My baby, how did you do that for my baby?" I thrust the child back into her mother's arms and walked quickly away. I found the bus stop and, surprisingly a bus, which I boarded and let it take me home.

I closed the door behind me and collapsed on the sofa. Then I slept.

Someone knocking on my front door woke me. Opening the door, I saw the doctor from the hospital. She had looked tired earlier in the evening, now she was almost dead on her feet.

"Come in." I said and moved to let her in.

She walked into the front room, looking around her, examining my home, as though she could learn about me from the state of my home.

"How did you know?" She asked without turning.

"Know what?" I replied. I was still unsure what was happening.

"How did you know about my cancer?" She turned and I saw tears running freely.

"I can see it." I replied. I pointed to the, to me, obvious red flare over her breast.

She gasped and covered her breast with her hands, shaking her head in disbelief.

"You can't know, you can't," she said. She almost fell into a seat. I sat opposite to her and waited while she cried.

"They can't operate." She said. "It's going to spread further and I'm going to die." She looked at me. I was shocked, she was so young, 30 or so, such a short life. She was much too young for this.

"At the hospital you took this out of a girl's throat." She held up the piece of apple that had been choking the child. Glancing at her breast she asked, "Can you take this ... thing ... out of me?" She looked desperate, at the end of her tether. "Please can you?" Trembling, she pulled aside her blouse, buttons springing off to fly across the room, baring her breast to me.

She looked down.

"I can't wear a bra anymore, it hurts so much. Please, can you help me?"

As I looked at her, the bright aura almost dazzled me and I began to panic. How could I, how could anyone, just reach in to her breast and pick out the tumour that was sucking the life out of her? Then a feeling of calm enveloped me and I relaxed. I could see the large lump that had invaded this young woman. Concentrating on this mass and looking for any tendrils reaching out from it, I reached forward and cupped my fingers around the lump.

I ignored her gasp as I carefully scooped up the whole tumour ensuring that nothing was left behind. I dropped it onto the coffee table with a loud, wet squelch.

"Stand up." I ordered her. She did. I pulled off her blouse and she helped get her hands out of the cuffs.

She stood naked from the waist up as I carefully watched her aura. The brilliant red was fading rapidly and I was looking for any signs of remaining problems.

"Turn round." I said. She slowly turned.

As I reached to her skirt, she unzipped and dropped her skirt and panties to the floor. Unashamed, she stood naked before me. I examined her carefully. The aura was a warm cream but something still disturbed me. A wounded feeling from her ovaries, they were both damaged, sterile.

"Your ovaries are hurt," I said, "Do you want me to fix them?"

"What about the cancer? Is that all of it? Has it gone?" There was desperation in her voice, but it was now tinged with hope.

"Yes the cancer is completely gone." I knew this to be a fact. She would never suffer breast cancer again.

"What about your ovaries? Quickly now." I was almost falling over again.

"Please heal me. If you can, please, please heal me." She was begging now.

I reached forward and held each small organ in finger and thumb. I closed my eyes and let my fingers 'feel' what the small, hurt, organs needed. I 'fed' them some of my life force and felt the spark jump into the closely packed mass. I felt the sudden surge of force as both ovaries became viable again, as the eggs, those mature and those forming 'cried out' in hope.

"You have to be very careful, you're very, very fertile now." I said, and then I collapsed.

It was dark when I woke. I was in my bed. I looked round, had everything been a dream? It had been so real.

Good dream though, imagine me being able to heal people. Wow! I quietly laughed to myself.

I woke again, looked at the clock, 7:30. I was on holiday so I could sleep in. I wasn't going anywhere. I was divorced and couldn't afford to have a real holiday, I could barely afford to sleep indoors and eat daily. It wasn't that I didn't earn good money. It was just that the courts had decided that my adulterous ex-wife deserved more of my earnings than I did. The fact that she was living with another man, a quite wealthy man too didn't seem to matter at all.

I would have been at work only my boss had told me straight.

"You haven't had any time off in three years and you look like shit. And now your work is suffering so two weeks off. Two weeks!" he'd said. "Two whole weeks, and your external access into the company network is shut, HAVE A BREAK!" Then he smiled. "Come back rested. Then I can work you to death again." And he laughed.

So I was 'enjoying myself'. Yeah right.

I lay down again staring at the ceiling. It needed painting. I loathe house painting.

Then I smelt cooking. Bacon, coffee – good coffee, how I wished it was for me, but I haven't been able to afford coffee for years now. Ah well a cup of cheapie 'own brand' tea and a small bowl of cornflakes. I think I have some cornflakes left. If not then my breakfast would be a piece of dry toast. Again. How the rich and famous live. I smiled to myself.

The bedroom door suddenly opened.

I screamed.

The young woman who had opened the door also screamed, and she dropped her tray then ran down stairs.

I got up and went to the door I looked at the mess on the floor, a full English breakfast, with all the trimmings. I also noticed something else. I was naked. While I usually sleep naked I couldn't remember going to bed last night. And who was that young woman, and why was she delivering breakfast in bed to ME!

I heard footsteps running up the stairs. Then the woman doctor from last night came into view. Memories started coming back.

"We're sorry, Sir. Judy didn't mean to frighten you." She dropped to her knees and started to clear up the mess.

"Donald is preparing another tray, Sir." She continued. "Would you like it in bed or downstairs?"

I was stunned. I had woken to a dream, or nightmare. People don't bring me breakfast in bed. When I cause a mess, I get yelled at, I did not have a doctor clear up and tell me Donald is making another tray!

My god, am I going nuts?

Who the hell is Donald?

And who on earth is Judy?

"What's going on?" I asked, quite sensibly I thought.

She looked me in the eyes.

"Don't you know?" She asked puzzled. "You saved three lives yesterday. Susan and Judy would be dead now if you hadn't saved them. I had only weeks to live. I was sterile from the drugs and medication. You gave me my life back. We want to try to pay our debts."

"What debts?" I cried out, almost shouted.

"Perhaps you'd better come downstairs." She paused going pale. "We can all come upstairs if you want Sir, I didn't mean to tell you what to do..." she was rambling, panicking.

"STOP!" I shouted. I held her shoulders, gently though.

"I'll get dressed and come downstairs." I smiled at her. "I'll have breakfast downstairs and you can all explain yourselves while I eat."

An hour later I sat stunned, my breakfast lying cold on the plate.

The five of them had found where I lived, thank you doc, and they decided to become my disciples, or servants, or slaves. Whatever I wanted, anything that I wanted.

I have never had a mother, Gill, tearfully beg me to take her body, as thanks for saving her daughter, Susan's, life. Nor have a husband, Donald, swear to do anything I wanted for saving his wife. His wife, Judy, stripped naked and offered herself to me, mentioning that she was already pregnant but would gladly bear her next child for me. Carol, the doctor, took off her blouse and grasped her firm breasts.

"I never thought I would be able to offer another man my breasts, but I am yours whenever you want me." She turned to the others. "You have a precious gift, we saw how much it hurts you to use it, so we want to look after you and help you."

They all nodded and murmured their agreement.

Carol quickly got them all organised to clear up my small house which gave me a little time to think and a chance to finish my, now cold, breakfast. Donald stayed behind for a moment.

He looked at me sheepishly.

"I mean it, you know. When you want Judy, she will be glad to share your bed. I will be glad too. I will join you if you want, or if you want", and here he stood straight up, "you can have me."

His offer and obvious embarrassment humbled me. Could I make that offer if my loved one's life had been saved? Then I realised, I had saved his wife and unborn daughter together. I am sure that I too would have given my life for them.

I laid my knife and fork on the table, humbled to silence by this generous man.

I leaned forward and touched his arm, peace and calm flooded through him.

"Donald, thank you, but I do not ... make love to men." I said, a little sheepishly I think.

"Thank you." He said as he turned and left for the kitchen.

I sat with a cup of tea. So, I could heal people. How, I did not know. I didn't know why it started either. I thought that the blow to my head might have been the cause of this. I was sure that I'd been shot with an air rifle.

And if I ever find the little fucker who had shot at me, I would strangle the bastard.

And then I could heal him too. I smiled at that thought. Some of the little sods around here needed throttling to death two or three times just to teach them a bit of a lesson. Their parents never taught them anything.

Well, if I was going to heal people, and I didn't feel that I could not use this gift, where would I start? Where else could I start but the children's ward of the local hospital? Carol, being a doctor there, could get me in, and I'm sure my little gang would think that the sick kids would be the best place to start.

Carol said that this was a bad idea, a very, very bad idea.

She took me to the hospital though and she helped in every way that she could. She made me wait in the car while she got an official looking badge and stethoscope.

"At least you look like a doctor." She said as we entered through a side door. A quick walk later, we were in the children's ward. Carol left me and went to deal with the ward staff. I went to the first child, a boy of 5 or 6 years.

"Hello." I said brightly. Wearily he raised his head.

"Hi Doc." He managed before his head fell back. I concentrated and looked for his aura.

The dull brown glow that weakly surrounded this boy showed me how ill he was. Within two or three days, this boy would be no more.

"I'd like to examine you, if I may?" I asked. He nodded and opened his pyjama jacket.

I lay my hand on his chest feeling the weak rise and rapid fall as he breathed. I could 'see' little red markers in all of his bones. Leukaemia, I thought. I closed my eyes and concentrated. I 'pushed' a little of my life force into him and told it what to do, to find all of the 'red' markers and 'change them over'. It would take a few days to complete its job, but he would live. I knew I took some of the 'badness' of his Leukaemia into myself.

I know that I'm not describing this very well, but English doesn't have words for what happens when I examine and heal someone. So forgive me if my explanations are a little 'odd'.

The next patient was much easier, a young girl with a broken leg.

That took only seconds to fix. I just held the small toes poking out of the plaster cast and tickled her for a few seconds while she laughed and squirmed. When I'd finished not even a post mortem would find any evidence of a break.

The next also a girl, a young teenager, was in traction. A car had hit her and smashed her legs and pelvis. She was not expected to walk again.

Before I could finish healing her, a nurse passed by and demanded to know who I was and what I was doing. With a tremendous effort of will and guts, the girl reached forward and grabbed the nurse with one hand. With a grip of steel, the teenager held onto the nurse and kept her quiet while I finished the healing.

I staggered on to the next bed. The boy lying there watched me approach with little interest. I stood at the foot of his bed and smiled down at him.

"Hello." I said weakly.

"Hi," he replied. "My heart's messed up." He said. He looked along the beds I had visited. "Can you fix me too?" His eyes were filled with desperation

Too tired to speak, I undid his pyjama top and lay a hand over his heart. The pain crashed through my hand and arm smashing me to my knees. I cried out in my anguish.

How the hell had this child coped with such pain and suffering?

I gasped as I forced my hand to remain there touching him though the pain kept smashing through me in waves. Slowly he healed, his heart valves strengthened, the muscle itself thickening and growing. He gasped out loud as I collapsed. I knew he was healed, but I also I knew I was in trouble. I felt worse than ever before and was losing consciousness rapidly. To make matters worse, I couldn't see Carol anywhere.

This time when I woke I was unable to move. My arms and legs were secured to the hospital bed. At first this frightened me, then it infuriated me and I glared at the thick leather strap securing my right wrist. Suddenly the strap cracked, wrinkled and decayed before my eyes. I watched as the thick leather crumbled to dust. I looked around and found that all of the straps had suffered the same fate. I was free.

While I was free of the restraints, I was also naked and I expected the door to be locked.

I checked the bedside cabinet. It was empty. Ah well, a sheet wrapped as a make-do toga would have to do.

And now to try the door.

To my immense surprise it wasn't locked. However there was a guard outside the door. I should have guessed, but there again I'm new to this superhero lark, I can't think of everything. As the guard turned and reached for me, I touched his finger. He staggered backward coughing and spitting out thick, dark, rank smelling, mucus. I hoped that he would be alright, but I wasn't going to wait around and see.

Wrapped in my toga, I started off down yet another hospital corridor. This one though didn't have any patients parked in it.

It was nighttime when I left the hospital. I started walking home, dressed in my toga I could always say that I had been to a fancy dress party. Anyway where else was I going to go?

Before I got a hundred yards down the street I passed a tramp slumped under the hedge.

"Paul! Paul!" The tramp called out.

I stopped and looked at him. His aura bothered me, it shone, it was too clean, he was too fit and well. I leaned over to touch him.

"Leave me!" He hissed. "Go to the red car at the very end of the road. The keys are in the ashtray." He turned and huddled into the hedge. "And for pity's sake, try to walk normally, there are concealed CCTV cameras along this road!"

This was not what I was expecting. I almost went back into the hospital, and then I remembered the guard. The red car was an old Ford. Just like millions of others, just the sort of car to remain anonymous in. I found the keys and started the engine, the tape player started up and I almost cried when I recognised Carol's voice giving me directions. An hour later I pulled up in the grounds of a large farmhouse 15 miles out of town. Carol was waiting by the door for me.

I hugged her and finally felt safe. Her body knew that there was no danger here, whether or not she knew it. I followed her inside and into a spacious kitchen. My small group were all there, smiling and happy; and there were three other women there. Carol made the introductions –

Maggie, whose husband Frank was the tramp I had met in the hedge, they were both serving police officers, and the parents of Jamie the boy who was now completely cleared of his Leukaemia.

Julie, whose partner Sam was currently under another hedge on the east side of the hospital, mother of Carl the boy whose heart had never let him run. And who had cried for two hours after she first saw him run to kick a ball with his Dad.

Susan, her partner Peter, had a skip (no hedges available) on the north side and who's youngest daughter, Nikita, was so horribly injured by a hit and run driver, and who's elder teenage daughter, Rebecca, and her boyfriend had 'arranged' for the cars. Yes there had been a car waiting for me in each direction I might have gone from the hospital.

Chapter 2 »