The Healing (Extended version)

The Healing
By Nomar Knight

         I wheeled little Jimmy Valentine’s bed into the state’s most violent correctional facility. His bald head and frail body dipped among white sheets. He blinked and squinted when we reached the open air.
         Warden Johnson kept pace with us, fidgeting with his fingers. When he spoke his left eye twitched. He reminded me of an animated scarecrow with a permanent scowl plastered on his face. “I think this is a mistake. This is a sickly child. He should be resting in a hospital.”
         I ignored his nervous banter and continued to push Jimmy’s bed to the yard. Evil loomed large in the burning haze. The fact the sun did its best to bake the criminal population didn’t take away from their enthusiastic stint outside their cages. Muscle-heads pumped iron, athletic types played punch-the-guy basketball, and many lounged around, enjoying smokes in the sunlight.
         I watched Jimmy as he tilted his head and took in the sight before us. I wondered what he thought of men of different sizes and shapes clustering in groups since he lived a sheltered existence.
         “Warden,” Jimmy paused and coughed. “Why are they separated by color?”
         “That’s how it is here. Men feel comfortable around their own kind.”
         Jimmy slid the covers down to his navel, exposing white pajamas with red poke-a-dots. He began a coughing fit, drawing the attention of the prisoners. They stood in silence, eyes probing in the sick boy’s direction. Two officers carrying shotguns pumped their weapons and stood guard.
         The warden said, “This boy is dying of cancer and he wants to see the most ornery of you as a last request.” He scanned through the clusters of prisoners and said, “Billy Stuart and Tyrone Smith step forward.”
         I watched as each crew murmured. A group of Caucasians known as the skinheads opened a path and a big seven foot mammoth stepped to the foot of Jimmy’s bed. On the African American side, the men parted and a six-foot bald man with a bearded chin stood by the giant’s side. The rest of the prisoners closed around them forming a horseshoe.
         “Here you go kid.” Warden Johnson stared at me, ready to say something, but he bit his lip and remained silent.
         For a minute it looked like his regrets overtook his greed.
         I heard him mumble, “The things I do for money.”
         Jimmy stopped coughing and waved me to his side. “Mr. Deseo,” he said to me in a low voice, “I want them to fight to the death.”
         Billy and Tyrone glanced at each other. Tyrone chuckled as if the whole thing was an elaborate joke.
         Tyrone said, “Hey man, where are the hidden cameras?”
         Billy clenched his fists. “Don’t laugh at one of my kind.”
         Tyrone waved dismissingly at the giant.
         I glanced at Jimmy and saw his grey eyes darken. I took sunglasses out of my suit pocket and handed the boy the eye protection.
He grinned, waving me off, not accepting the eyewear. “I hope this is not disappointing.”
         Billy glanced at the boy, but with one motion lashed his left fist towards Tyrone’s head, striking him in his jaw. The men roared!
Billy, being a foot taller than Tyrone, had a much larger reach.
         Tyrone got up from the dirt floor, spat blood and ran at Billy. The huge skinhead braced for impact as Tyrone plunged his skull into Billy’s belly.
         Jimmy tapped my leg. “Mr. Deseo, when am I going to see real blood? There’s not enough hate here.”
         Billy grabbed Tyrone’s waist and hoisted him high, sending the brute over Jimmy’s bed, nearly knocking down one of the armed guards.
         The boy laughed, making my heart warm with delight. It had been two years since his mother was told Jimmy had cancer. The eleven-year-old held on to his faith, claiming his father would cure him.
         Billy crouched to pick up Tyrone when he suddenly squeezed the big man’s testicles. Loud screams filled the yard. The men gave a collective gasp as they saw their most intimidating figure beg for mercy.
         Jimmy said, “Now I feel it. Look at Tyrone’s eyes. Do you see it, Mr. Deseo?”
         “See what?” I tried to play dumb.
         The boy continued, “Hate! Look how hate oozes out of him and how Billy is making his deathbed on it.”
         “It’s just his testicles, Jimmy. I don’t think it’ll be fatal.”
         The boy coughed, quicker this time. His cough sounded drier than before, like it had less phlegm. He stopped and took a deep breath. “I wasn’t talking about Billy’s deathbed. I meant Tyrone’s.”
         When I glanced back at the fighters, Tyrone had released Billy and squeezed his neck. The kneeling skinhead’s face turned red.
         “Is your vision alright, Jimmy? That’s not what—”
         I couldn’t believe my eyes. Billy had turned the tables on Tyrone and somehow got him in a headlock. In a matter of seconds, he snapped Tyrone’s neck with a bone crunching squeeze.
         Jimmy turned his head to me and yawned.
         “Okay that’s enough!” Warden Johnson raised his hands adamantly. “The boy got his wish. There’ll be no more blood spilled today.”
         Jimmy rose to his feet while still on the bed, grabbed a handful of the warden’s red tie and pulled him till they were nose to nose. “Father said this is the only cure. Billy, kill the entire basketball team.”
         I didn’t have the heart to tell the boy his father had died because he had double-crossed someone standing in this yard.
         Billy said, “Haven’t you seen enough kid?”
         Jimmy sneered, “Another kill and I’ll be cured.” The boy squinted and grinned. “Forget the basketball team. Let’s send my father’s killer to hell.”
         The tone in his voice made my skin crawl. I swore I saw something flicker in his eyes. From that moment, I understood that his father’s assassin wouldn’t live long enough to see the sun go down.
         Billy marched with clenched fists in my direction. His cold eyes glared and his nostrils flared. The brute seemed to morph into a killing machine whose appetite for blood knew no limit.
         “What’s he doing, Jimmy?”
         The big man towered over me and with one swift motion shoved me to the ground. I felt a tear in my hand as it scraped against concrete.
         “Jimmy, stop this now!” I tried to sound forceful like an adult in charge of a spoiled brat, but saliva caught in my throat, casting my voice in a harsh whisper.
         While I remained on the floor, my chest tightened. The humidity worked to drain my life force. I swore the boy appeared to get stronger the more air I lost. It took what little will power I had to keep from passing out.
         Warden Johnson said, “Shoot him!”
         I didn’t dare look away from Jimmy’s enforcer. Billy grinned, stepped over me without putting his size twenty shoes on my body, and continued towards the warden.
         “I said shoot him, damn it!”
         The armed guard closest to Billy shifted the barrel of the shotgun to the giant’s chest, but Billy grabbed it, lifted it over his shoulder, prompting the guard to fly over me without his weapon. As I heard him land, the big man swung the butt of the gun to the other guard’s skull.
         Chills ran though my neck as I heard one security officer grunt upon landing and the other dropped like a sack of cement.
         The warden screamed, “Snipers! Shoot this son of a bitch!”
         I glanced at one of the towers and spotted a marksman dumping rubber bullets in favor of live rounds.
         Jimmy said, “Watch this Mr. Deseo.”
         The sniper screamed and dropped his rifle. Seconds later the other sniper at an adjacent tower did the same. Both men held up their hands, crying in agony as flames caught their sleeves. It wasn’t long before the snipers were engulfed in balls of fire.
         “I told you my father would protect me.” The boy hovered above the bed and pointed at Warden Johnson. “Does your greed have no limits? The dead security officer did your bidding and soon you will meet my father in hell.”
         I knew Jimmy’s dad had done evil things, but being brought up as a Catholic, I held out hope that our maker would forgive him.
         “Jimmy!” At last I found enough breath to speak. “Your dad isn’t in hell. You must have faith.”
         The boy floated to me, landing like a feather. He eyed me with a smirk on his tiny mouth. “The human you worked for wasn’t my birth father.”
         Images of a beautiful man with ebony hair cascading to his shoulders, sporting a stern dimpled chin matching dimpled cheeks, bombarded my thoughts. He laughed as misery took on a life of its own. He spread black wings, devouring humans with a never-ending thirst for blood. A constant pounding rained upon my temples. I rose to my knees, shifting my head side to side, trying to shake off the pain.
         “Stop it!”
         He placed a hand on my chin and whispered, “Pain be gone.” And in that instant, the misery lifted with the swiftness of a Band-Aid getting ripped off hairy skin.
         As I rose to my feet, I followed the boy’s glowing orange eyes and watched as Warden Johnson sprinted towards the exit, yelling for reinforcements, begging for someone to open the gate.
         “Jimmy,” I said, hoping to distract him long enough for the man to escape. “If the warden didn’t kill your birth father as you claim, then why have him killed?”
         The boy set his eyes of fire on me and frowned. I shielded my eyes, feeling the heat of anger burn against my cheeks.
         “You’re a good teacher, Mr. Deseo, but it’s time you learn from the real master.” He turned his attention to the warden and said, “Billy, bring him to me!”
         The big man fetched the whimpering warden. The men slowly inched away from us. I could tell by their frozen faces that fear splashed in every heathen present. Some of the Latino’s dropped on their knees and prayed to their God.
         Jimmy pointed at them. “These men are amusing. I’ll deal with them in a minute.”
         Billy tossed Warden Johnson at the boy’s feet.
         “Please, I did what you asked of me, spare my life!”
         “You had my stepfather killed and for that you must pay.”
         “But I worship the fallen one! Surely you cannot destroy your own kind.”
         The warden was drenched in sweat. His button shirt clung to him while his tie hung loose.
         “Don’t speak until I order you too.”
         I watched in awe as the tie wrapped around the warden’s neck as if the spirit of a strangler were present. The man’s cheeks turned red as he struggled to get the contraption off.
         “Watch this, Mr. Deseo.”
         Jimmy turned his attention to the praying prisoners. He waved his finger and summoned one of the Latino men. A small man with wide eyes and dropped jaw rose to his feet. He grabbed his legs and pulled back on his slacks.
         “Dios mio! I can’t stop my legs from moving.”
         Jimmy gestured for the man to get down and the prisoner knelt before him.
         “You cannot serve two masters. Do you relinquish all ties to your God and declare yourself a loyal servant of my father?”
         Any signs of Jimmy having cancer seemed to vanish for his skin held a golden glow.
         “Never!”
         “I was hoping you’d say that.”
         Jimmy laughed and snapped his fingers.
         The man pulled out a crucifix and smiled. “You can’t hurt me.”
         A searing of skin much like the frying of bacon drew my attention to the prisoner’s fingers. Smoke rose from his hand as the crucifix burned his skin. The man cried. “Tu eres un Diablo!”
         Jimmy answered him in Spanish, “Not exactly, that’s my father.”
         I had never heard Jimmy speak another language before. He glanced at me and spoke in other languages. Then he spoke in a foreign tongue which I somehow knew came from ancient origins.
         “Mr. Deseo, what should I do with this lost soul?” He pointed at the prisoner.
         “Tell me, Jimmy, are they all going to die?” I glanced at the terrified prisoners.
         He ignored my question. “You must request a specific punishment, my friend.” Jimmy didn’t sound like an innocent child. His voice had a sinister quality about it like the hiss of a snake.
         “Burn him.” I covered my mouth, stunned that I could suggest such a thing.
         Jimmy laughed and as his little frame bounced with delight, the prisoner shivered and shook. Smoke came out of his hair and within seconds his screams struck at my core for the flames of hell consumed him where he knelt.
         Warden Johnson pleaded, “Son, don’t kill me. I can do your bidding.”
         Jimmy glanced away from the pitiful man and eyed me once again. His pupils were replaced by flames, yet the boy never screamed. “What say you, Mr. Deseo?”
         I tried to seal my mouth in the hope of not condemning another man, but the words jumped out before I could think them through. “Treachery is like poison, lethal and cunning. He should die with a kiss.”
         Jimmy nodded at Billy who lifted Warden Johnson and kissed him in the mouth. The man desperately tried to fight off the executioner, but the longer Billy held him in a passionate embrace, the quicker his body changed. When at last Billy saw fit to stop, he dropped the corpse, revealing an aged, lifeless pile of heap.
         Jimmy smiled, “Come Mr. Deseo, we must prepare for my father’s reign.”
         Never had I witnessed such atrocities. As I followed the dark prince and his band of evil men out of the prison, I couldn’t help but wonder if his healing could be reversed. The boy interrupted my thoughts.
         “My friend, you are my disciple, but it would be of great benefit to both of us if you do not become my Judas.”
         From that moment, the fear inside me vanished and a semblance of his power brushed against my soul.
         “Hail to the prince!” I said, and the men blindly repeated my declaration as they killed anyone who stood in our way.