Healer

6

     "Well, what do you know?" Pzinski called when Matt arrived at the training room. "He's actually walking! You owe me a twenty, Truman."

     "I'll pay you later," Truman sighed. "I bet on you being either in bed or a wheelchair after you collapsed on us yesterday, Reynolds."

     "I wish," Matt sighed, approaching the two. "Imbago's trying to kill me, I swear. I think maybe she succeeded, and I just haven't figured it out yet." Things that he hadn't realized were there before were hurting Matt. He had a whole new appreciation of the human muscular system. "Has anyone ever considered the fact that we have an indoor track?" he wondered. "Why are we running out here?"

     "Good question," Truman grumbled, his breath fogging as he spoke. "It's colder than a cast iron commode out here."

     "You complain too much," Imbago complained. "Go on, laps!"

     Matt groaned and somehow managed to start a slow, painful jog.

     Pzinski and Truman fell into step on either side of him, appearing annoyingly at ease. "So, were you still in medical when they brought in that suicide?" Truman asked. "Surprised anyone would jump into the engine of the new jet!"

     "No, I missed that," Matt lied. "Kind of glad I did, though. Must have been a hell of a mess."

     "You know what I don't get, though?" Pzinski complained. "Why would they even bring a mess like that in? Don't get me wrong, if the guy or girl or whomever it was wore a grey coat..."

     "I actually heard they stripped naked and then jumped in," Truman interrupted.

     "Truman, close your dick hole for a moment and let me finish! As I was saying, if it was a Hunter, then they certainly deserved some respect and dignity. But when the Foundation loses someone, it has a big pyre right outside the lighthouse up there."

     "Hunters are, just like you said, deserving of a lot of respect and dignity," Matt said, thinking fast. "They probably had their own ceremony or something we're not privy to."

     "Maybe." Truman looked doubtful. "But I suppose you wouldn't have had anything to do with it either way. Not like you could heal dead."

     "Certainly not!" Matt agreed.

     The three jogged in silence for a time.

     "Hey, we were talking," Pzinski began, "and we're a little worried. What are the chances you'll wash out and get neutralized?"

     "Zero," Truman said confidently. "He's too powerful of a healer for them to neutralize. If he washes out, he's learned his lesson and returns to being a healing Artifact."

     "I'm not going back to that," Matt snapped, irritation letting him pick up the pace a tiny amount. "If I don't make it as a Hunter, then I want to be neutralized."

     "Dude, you do know that means you're dead, right?" Pzinski asked, looking somber.

     "Yes, I do, and I'd rather be dead than go back to just being a tool used for healing. Imbago probably saved my life yesterday after some fathead almost killed me, trying to force me to heal past what I could do."

     "You're trying to force yourself past what you can do," Truman said. "Let's face it, Reynolds, you're not cut out for this."

     Matt stopped in his tracks. "You don't think I have what it takes to be a Hunter?"

     "It's nothing personal," Truman explained as he and Pzinski also stopped and turned to face him. "It's just, well, look at you." He indicated Matt. "Five miles, and you were throwing up all over the place before you passed right out. We had to carry you back inside. Now today, you just started to jog, slower than a snail, for the record, and you're already shaking and pale. Pzinski and I were both athletes before we were brought here. You clearly were not. You can't do this, Reynolds. You need to give it up."