Desired Life

Chapter 3: Help from a Healer, Outsider Categorization, and Capture & Escape

Chapter 3: Help from the Healer, Outsider Categorization, and Capture & Escape

  I wake up in the school infirmary. Grindel stands above, I notice. He isn’t staring down at me; he is talking with the doctor beside me.
  “He says this stuff has been happening ever since the building incident. What do you think this would be?”
  “Well Grindel, John has no damage visible or anything. This is, most probably, his powers.”
  “But, Luke, that didn’t happen to me as a youngster, you know.”
  “Well, it works different for some, especially the types of John.”
  I lay in the bed, weakened by the power exertion earlier on. I slowly move my hands and touch Grindel’s leg as if to make him see that I’m awake. He turns around and look at me worriedly, then grasps my hand, nods, and lets it go.
  I fall back on the bed and close my eyes.
  “What do you mean the types of John?”
  “Grindel, you must know that John isn’t an ordinary Outsider. He’s not like you, not like any other Outsider. At least, not like the ones that have been checked. In my whole hundred years that I have lived, I have never seen an Outsider of this magnitude.”
  “You’re not talking about...you surely don’t mean...but he can’t be one of them, can he?”
  “Well, as you must’ve seen, that was something dangerous. His reactions will become more and more reckless and, after some time, he will improve in strength and who knows? Someone might end up dead.”
  “Well, yeah. That’s ordinary in Outsiders, isn’t it? I mean, sometimes we get out of control and someone gets hurt, but that’s why we train our powers.”
  “You’re not quite getting what I’m saying. Grindelwald, he’s a Berserker. You know Berserkers can’t be handled. We need to get to some place. Probably get him into quarantine. You know how dangerous Berserkers can be. Your father, that’s why he died.”
  “But John, he isn’t of that nature. He wouldn’t go on killing people all of a sudden.”
  “From what I’ve heard, he may. And Grindel, not even a Mental like you can see into other people’s personalities, can you?”
  “Well, not really, but I’ve known him for most of my life!”
  “Grindel, you were gone for seven years. People change,” the doctor ends.
  What are they talking about, berserkers and mentals? I ask myself.
  I move my hand to take Grindel’s and he grabs it and then...a sharp pain shoots down my body. I grunt in pain and fall to the floor. My eyes flutter open as my hands clench into fists, my nails digging into my palms, blood springing from the wounds that my nails open. I see Grindel and the doctor turn around. With a sudden uplift, I am being taken into the lobby, or so I think. Then, Grindel nods at the doctor and he disappears in the spot, carrying me in his arms.

  We spring into existence in a lonely street. Grindel walks to the end of the street, still carrying me in his arms, and, as he approaches the door, he kicks it open. People inside turn around, most of them bringing guns from behind tables and counters; others bringing old school weapons: bows, knives, swords, slingshots, and some other things I don’t recognize.
  The pain suddenly subsides and I fall limply on a table as Grindel flips me down into it. My eyes close as I take a break from the pain, but then, the pain comes back, this time stronger than last time. My back arches as the pain is to strong. A blood-curling scream escapes my lips as the pain races all over my body. I can barely hear some people speaking. Why are they speaking instead of helping me? I could be dying, and these people do nothing more than stand at my side, speaking and watching me die? I hear someone say, “Get Jazmin, quick.”
  The pain stops again, but this time, it brings up blood. I cough up blood as my insides writhe with pain. My chest heaves, blood gushes from my mouth and then, a cold hand grasps my neck. I feel a strangling sensation and I grasp at the hand with a surprising strength. The hand stays in my neck as a soothing, feminine voice whispers in my ear, “Stay put.” My body obeys as it instantly falls into an intense paralyzing feeling. I still feel the pain, but now it feels like a soft tingle in my chest. “Open your eyes,” the voice whispers in my ear. My eyes flutter open as I stare intensely at a woman looming above me. Her face looks mutilated as it has scratches and wounds here and there. Her hair is all tangled into a dirty dark red knot. Her lips are bloody and cracked as they slowly move and form words unrecognizable to any language that I have ever heard. “Surrexit ergo, et sanabit. Surrexit ergo, et sanabit. Surrexit ergo et sanabit,” she repeats over and over. I recognize the words as I rack my brain for an explanation. Where have I heard these words? I ask. And then, it suddenly pops into my mind: Latin. She is speaking Latin. How come I had not recognized the Latin? And then, the meaning of it rises in my mind. “Rise and heal” are the words that she’s saying. I notice my whole body sweating, as my shirt has been ripped open and she presses her hands against my chest. And then, a tingling sensation trickles in my body. She stops and walks around me as she inspects my body. Then, I look at her eyes. Oh, such eyes as I have never seen! She has beautiful golden honey eyes. The beauty is such that it creates an enticing view, as to gaze at them for all that your life is worth. And then, I see it: the vision attacks my mind: people scream and shout as a girl, the same girl that appeared at my bath reverie, fights; she lunges and kills as she protects her city; she is trapped and taken away; she stands in a tub full of some green liquid which I notice is acid; she screams and screams as her wounds close and re-open because of the acid. Then, she moves her eyes away from mine and I no longer see what I was seeing. I pant and then try to accommodate my head in the table.
  “He will be okay for now,” she says to Grindelwald, who stands a few feet away, looking worrisome and struck by my pain.
  Grindel nods and slowly walks to my side, buttoning my shirt and then taking a seat beside me. “Is it true?”
  She nods in response and keeps walking around the table. “He is one of the few, but he seems to be able to learn control over himself. Of course, his powers may come out of hand at some occasions, and they will come out hand sooner or later. But for the meantime, I would advise you to take watch over him and yes, train him in his powers. He must learn before they begin to strike; they will strike sooner than you think. He must be prepared.”
  I groan and try to speak, and then, I finally manage to utter, “Prepared for what?” It comes out as a wheeze at first, but then, it comes stronger as it sounds like a whisper, barely audible, but stronger than a wheezing.
  “I’m sure Grindelwald here must’ve told you,” the woman says.
  “Yes, I did tell him, Jazmin,” Grindel answers.
  “About the war?” I whisper.
  “Yes, about the war. John, we need your help. We need you to lead us. You are stronger than-“Jazmin says.
  “-Than I thought. Yes, I know, but I can’t do it,” I mutter as I grip the table and manage to sit on the table.
  “John, we already spoke about this,” Grindel tells me.
  “I agreed on training, not on being your leader,” I reply.
  I cough a little and compose myself. I blink a few times and then jump from the table onto the floor.
  “Where do you think you’re going?” Jazmin whispers in my ear.
  I turn around and, surprised, see that she is standing exactly where she was. “Home,” I answer.
  I keep on walking and when I reach the door, I try walking through it, but an invisible force pushes me away from it.
  “Let me out, please,” I say calmly.
  “You’re too injured to be running around the city. Plus, it’s too late,” Jazmin answers me.
  I decide to take on another road and say, “Louise Pattinson. That is your real name. You’re not Jazmin. You’re Louise. Am I right?” I turn around and look at her face, wide in disbelief.
  “How do you-?” She inquires.
  “What is he talking about?” A bedraggled man asks as he scratches his brawny hair.
  “You can’t know. Nobody knows,” Louise says.
  “I know,” I answer.
  She breaks into tears and starts muttering, “It was ten years ago.”
  I turn around in shock. I had definitely not expected for this to happen, but I decide not to say anything against it.
  “My town was under the siege of the Government,” she continues. “There was nothing I could do. But then, I just got out of control and killed everyone. The Government took me after they had killed my whole family. And I just...I escaped. And yes, I am Louise. I can’t remember the details of it all. I just know that I turned out to be a Healer and well, here I am.” She then looks at me and asks, “How did you know my real name?”
  “I just...I don’t know. I was daydreaming one day, about this girl that had your name. And, well, she looked like you. Of course, younger, and without all those...scars. And her eyes, they were dark brown,” I reply.
  She looks at me and smiles. Then, her eyes turn a shade of hazel. And then, her eyes turn dark brown, exactly the color that I had seen in the girl. “I am also a Changer. I can change my facial features and else. I can’t change my whole body and make a new person, though,” she mutters, moving her hair out of her face, head bent low.
  “Couldn’t you change your face to one without scars?” I ask her as politely as I can.
  “I prefer to stay with them. They remind me of my family and everyone I lost. I could also heal them, being a Healer and-“she says as I interrupt.
  “What’s up with all those names? Healers, changers, berserkers, mentals...what do they all mean?” I inquire, the question finally jumping out, the pressure being too strong to keep that question for myself.
  “Wait, where did you hear the last two you just said?” Grindel asks quickly.
  “I heard you and the doctor talking about those things. He called me one of those: a berserker. What does that mean? He said I was dangerous and that I had to be kept in quarantine or else I could kill many,” I answer, my eyebrows knit together.
  “You shouldn’t have heard that. It’s too soon for you to know what that is. I only told you your true nature because I knew that your powers were rising. It is hard when powers go out of control, and yours, sir, are way out of control. Especially from what I saw today, it is evident that we must start your training. You have to learn how to canalize your powers before something happens,” he mutters rapidly, more to himself than to anyone else.
  “What does that mean?” I repeat.
  “John, it is not the time for me to tell you. You’re just beginning to learn. We can’t just-“he says.
  “I’ll tell him,” the bedraggled man says. “Starters first; my name is Orson. I’m a Lunar. You see, there are different types of Outsiders, each classified either by their personality or the type of powers they have. Some are hard to know by their powers, and so they are classified with their personality.
  “I’m a Lunar, and so I transform into a wolf. I’m not a Shifter, like some might say. Shifters can change into every animal possible, mythological creatures included. I can only transform into a wolf, and that’s basically the whole of my powers. Then, there are plenty others: Healers, basically they have healing powers; Changers, as Jaz...Louise, told you, can change their features; Seer, who can penetrate the depths of time and see what is, has, and will happen; Illusionists, masters of illusions, they can basically play with your mind. There are many other types of Outsiders like the Benders, masters of the elements; the Kinect, masters of force and any other thing that has to do with science and stuff; and infinity of Outsiders. Those are the most commonly heard of.
  “There are stronger, darker, cleverer Outsiders with a different control. These are eight masters: the masters of Sound; masters of Minds; masters of Hiding; masters of Light; masters of Dark; masters of Lore; masters of Souls; and at last, the Berserkers.
  “The Sound masters control, as said, sound. Masters of Mind can twist your mind in ways that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Masters of Hiding have the highest capability of surviving in any grounds thanks to their capability of camouflage. Master of Light can use the light against you, as do the Dark masters. The masters of Lore control everything that has to do with the ground and stones and metals. Masters of Souls can render you useless with a single glance, thanks to their ability to control your soul. And last but not least, the Berserkers.
  “You should know that we are not quite sure what Berserkers are masters of. They are not the strongest when at peace, but when they turn angry or overwhelmed by feelings themselves, they turn berserk. That’s the reason of their names. These are the strongest, since feelings are quite easy to bring to surface with a single thought. But with strength comes the lack of control. They aren’t able to control their powers really well, especially when angry. Some call them masters of Feelings, but that sounds stupid, and so we just leave them at Berserkers. They are quite a reduced quantity, since most die because of their powers. They simply can’t handle what they do, and they end up dead. They are quite good leaders.
  “Now, from what I’ve heard, you’ve had an episode recently. Would you mind telling me how it felt?”
  I am amazed by the knowledge of the man, but I quickly answer the question. I recount the episode and he stares at me with a frown. He puts his chin in his hand, which stands in his knee, face taut in concentration. He opens his mouth as if to talk a few times, but then he falls silent. Finally, he says, “I would say you’ve got enough proof there of a Berserker looming in you, but you don’t seem to be quite an ordinary anything really. Berserkers would’ve killed, whilst you managed to stop. Ordinary Outsiders wouldn’t have turned even to harm in that amount. You’re quite an interesting character, I must say.”
  He falls silent yet again, and after a couple of minutes of silence, he sighs and stutters, “I would say you’re a Berserker, but it is hard to be sure with what you’ve told me.” Then, he looks at Grindel and, after stretching, says, “I would train him if I were you. It’d help in discovering his true nature. We need to know his true nature, and quick. The hunt is starting, Grindelwald. There have been two murders reported already. One of them was Holly Forlon, our spy.”
  “No way! But she was working with the Government, wasn’t she?” Grindelwald says in sudden surprise.
  “You said it. She was; past tense. After they found who she was helping, they cut her off the chain. Heard she died in when a mysterious fire sprung inside her house,” Orson replies.
  “Probably set fire to her house themselves,” Louise says.
  “Oh, they did. I went to her house after it happened. There were two spots without any burning mark upon them. One of them was the place where Holly kept the information that she later handed to us. I actually searched that one,” Orson tells us.
  “Did you find anything?” Grindel asks.
  “Empty. Not one spot of information left in it. And then, the other spot, it had some letters imprinted on it. ‘C.H.’, the letters said. Never heard of something similar; could be anything, really. Those are quite common letters for anything,” Orson replies.
  “We could ask Kate if she knows,” Grindel advices.
  “Kate? Yes, we could. But remember she is Seer. If she does see anything, it still could end up in no answer,” Orson answers.
  “Ask me what?” A young girl says as she walks into the room. She looks barely a year older than me, that being sixteen years old, but she looks quite menacing and confused as well.
  “We need to know what some letters mean. But we would have to go to Holly’s house, though. Are you up for it?” Grindel inquires.
  “Yeah, sure, haven’t gotten out of this place since a couple of years ago. Fresh air would be great for my lungs,” Kate says.
  “Well then, let’s get going,” Orson commands.
  As we get out of the place, I notice that it is big enough to house about some thirty people in it without any space problems. But as we get out, I notice that there are only five of us. Then, I remember my training and ask Grindel, “Hey, weren’t we going to train today?”
  He looks down at me and nods. “What better place to train than in the real world?” He transpires. We walk a few houses down and, after finding an empty corridor, we squeeze in it.
  “What are we doing?” I whisper in Grindel’s ear.
  “You’ll see,” he answers.
  As everyone grabs hold of Grindel’s hand, I make out for his hand, but they pop out of existence just as my hand touches his. I am left alone in the corridor and I sigh. I sit down and wait for them, if they even dare come back for me. Then, I hear a soft pop! as Grindel appears. I look up at him, my eyebrows raised in question. He offers me his hand and I take it. He lifts me up, and as soon as my feet are planted on the ground, we disappear. A tingling sensation runs down my spine. As we appear in front of the other three, I notice a burnt brick house standing behind their backs.
  A big, elegant house looms above our heads. Hints of blue streak across the now burnt-red walls. There is no door where there should be one. Instead, there is a heap of ashes where the door should be. The walls seem sturdy, yet damaged by the fire. As we make our way inside the house, pain flares in my head.
  Visions attack me: A squat, handsome lady stands in a kitchen, preparing food for a whole family as she hums. Then, she’s sitting with the family in a long wooden table as they all laugh and enjoy the food. Afterwards, she appears preparing for something, dressed in black when all of sudden, men break into her house. She streaks across the house and starts fighting with the men. With surprising speed, she controls water and kills several men. Soon, she gets cornered, and finally the men get hold of her. She appears back at her bed, restrained and unconscious. She opens her eyes and struggles to break free as she screams behind her mouth-gag. And then, the whole house is set ablaze. Men with uniforms bearing the letters C.H. stand there, laughing at the screams uttered by the woman.
  I lay across the floor as the visions stop. I slowly stand up. And as I look across the hallways and else, I notice that it is not as it was just a few seconds ago. I walk across the kitchen, taking a knife in my hands, then running up the flight of stairs. As I reach the second story, I notice Kate lying on the floor, her throat open, blood gushing out of it as she clings to life, slowly drifting away. I crouch besides Kate and press my hand against her neck, trying to prevent the blood from running. As my hand touches her skin, I notice that she quickly inhales and her eyes flit sideways.
  “Quick, there’s someone here. Run, don’t stay. Run as fast as you can,” she quickly says.
  “I can’t leave you. How’s everyone else?” I ask her.
  “They’re fine. We shouldn’t have come. They’re looking for someone. Someone important,” she mutters as terror runs over her face.
  “Who are they looking for? Is it Grindel?” I quickly inquire.
  “It’s you. It was you all this time. Oh, John, please. Get out of here,” she answers as her eyes fall on mine.
  I stand and, as I release my grasp on her, she starts gurgling on her own blood. Just as I reach for her, her whole body goes stiff; her eyes wide open in terror. I feel eyes staring down at me and a tingling sensation on my neck. Just as I am turning around, I feel a huge hand knocking me down as it hits me hard on my left temple. I look up at my aggressor. I notice it’s a woman by the way she stands and is dressed. She scoops me up and flings my body onto her shoulder with surprising strength. Out of a corridor, I hear shouts. Grindelwald runs straight at me and throws something at the woman. She just turns and thrusts her hand at the air in front of the incoming object. I notice it’s a knife, and then, just as it was directed at the woman, it suddenly flies straight at Grindelwald. He dodges just in time, but it is enough to let the woman escape. As she runs out of the building, she crosses past the entrance and then, I don’t know if by a trick of the eye or a real thing, I notice two giant scorching gold letters: C.H. And then, as if by exertion or the force of the blow that comes after, my body turns limp on her shoulder as I become unconscious.