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I awake to some incredibly annoying snoring. Somewhat like a bull moose yodeling in pain. I have to find out who has the loud schnoz, so I get out of bed and walk carefully to the open adjoining doorway and look in on the boys to see if I can identify the culprit. My mind is flooded with images and memories and dreams, a jumble of everything going through their unconscious minds.
Let me just say, teenage boys’ dreams are definitely x-rated, and I’ll leave it at that.
I notice right away that most of Chris’s mental walls are down, making for an unusually easy mind-read. It makes sense that maintaining a mind-block is a conscious action that works best when a person is awake. During the day, when Chris is alert, his mind is impenetrable, and I can’t get through no matter how hard I try. What is he hiding? Now that his walls are down, I have a chance to explore. I indulge myself a bit and search his head for his thoughts about me. Honestly, his idea of the two of us in a relationship scares me. For him, the thought is comforting. It keeps him going and helps him deal with the stress of his position in the clan. I guess that gives him something to look forward to.
I look beyond, for the memory of the day he missed Azeel and the frustration of his failure. He almost didn’t return to the training compound then, he was so upset. More recent is his heartache when he accepts the harsh reality Azeel only became a prisoner because he had been too slow to retrieve him—because he had made a pit-stop along the way. However, I can’t tell what the stop entailed because the thought is buried too deep in Chris’s troubled psyche.
I pull out of Chris’s mind with mixed feelings.
Another loud snore rumbles through the room and I pinpoint the snorer. Jonas. I delve into his body to find the cancer growing inside him. The extent of abnormal growth is worse than imagined: cancer cells are in his abdomen, lungs, kidneys, and brain. In fact, a tumor in his upper throat restricts his airway and causes him to snore. My eyes water at the thought of his impending death. What should I do? I have to tell him. I should at least try to heal him. We have several hours to go until morning. What can it hurt to try?
I focus on the growth in his throat first, feeling the mass within my own head, reaching my mind around the cancer like tentacles, trying to dissolve or shrink the lump. I press with my mind, but excruciating pain fills my head as if the cancer is my own. My surroundings began to close in as the pain increases.
Chapter 8 - Nature’s Will