by Alton Gansky
Rachel, her hands still bound behind her, nodded over the side where Haman and Adam fell, then screamed, “Adam!”
A short distance away the limp body of Adam was floating facedown, rising and falling with the ocean swells. Greene stripped himself of his jacket and shoes, and handing his pistol to one of the crewmen, leaped into the ocean; two Coast Guard crewmen followed him into the water.
A few moments later, with the help of the others, the body of Adam Bridger lay on the deck of the boat. His face was blue and deep purple marks circled his neck.
Even to the untrained eye, it was obvious that Adam was not breathing.
“Cut me free!” she shouted. “Hurry!”
A crewman produced a knife and cut the duct tape binding Rachel’s hands. Oblivious to the pain, she ripped the tape from her wrists and threw it to the deck. Racing to Adam’s side she quickly checked for a pulse but found none. Her instincts as a doctor took over as she administered CPR. Another Coast Guard crewman joined her, tilting Adam’s head back and blowing air into his lungs.
“Come on, Adam,” she said, as she compressed his chest with her hands. “Don’t leave me.” Tears rolled off her cheeks and fell on the still form beneath her. After a minute of compression, she felt for a pulse. She resumed the procedure knowing that she was attempting the impossible. He had been gone too long, but she had to try and bring life back to the only man she had ever loved.
“It’s over,” Greene said quietly. “There’s nothing more you can do.”
Rachel continued compressing Adam’s chest.
“Dr. Tremaine, it’s hopeless. I know it hurts, but you’ve got to face it—Adam is dead.”
She stared down at the lifeless eyes that gazed at the blue sky above. The life of Adam Bridger was gone. Unashamedly she began sobbing. David and Ann Lorayne wept in silence as they stared at the lifeless form that had been their pastor.
Quietly, almost imperceptibly, a man in a white sport shirt stepped through the crowd and gazed at Adam’s body through tear-filled eyes. Then, kneeling on the deck, the man extended a hand and gently laid it on Adam’s unmoving chest. At first, Rachel felt compelled to tell him not to touch Adam. She said nothing.
Silence cloaked the ship, even sea gulls overhead seemed to know that this was a moment to be still. The only sound in the air was the soft slapping of the ocean against the hull and the resonant thumping of the helicopter a short distance away.
The man closed his eyes and a faint blue aura surrounded his hand. Then, before the astounded eyes of all, the purple bruises on Adam’s neck lightened until they disappeared altogether. A moment later, Adam’s body went rigid, jerked in spasms, and he coughed. Rachel leaped to her feet and covered her mouth with her hands, stifling a scream.
Epilogue
THE LARGE ROOM AT the rear of DaVinci’s Restaurant was filled with those who only a few days before had stood together on the deck of R.G.’s boat, preparing to die. Now, they and the others caught up in the events surrounding the Healer sat at a long table eating and laughing.
Adam took a bite of lasagna and shook his head. “I don’t remember a thing after passing out. Last thing I recall was seeing Haman’s ugly face; the next thing I remember seeing was Rachel’s face, which I thought was a considerable improvement.”
“I should hope so.” Rachel smiled. “What do you suppose happened to Haman?”
“Drowned, probably,” Greene said, twirling spaghetti on his fork. “We were too far out for him to swim back. The Coast Guard expects his body to wash up sometime.”
“Can we talk about something other than floating bodies?” Priscilla Simms asked.
“Sorry,” Greene replied.
“And what about the Healer?” Priscilla asked, taking another bite of her antipasto salad.
“Gone,” Greene said. “He quit talking, or signing should I say, as soon as he did whatever he did to Adam. When we got back to port, he disappeared in all the excitement. I sure had a lot of questions for him. We checked the address on his driver’s license. It turned out to be an apartment building, but he hadn’t lived there for six months, and no one knew anything about him.” He shook his head in disbelief. “It appears that our Healer has become invisible again.”
“A deaf and mute Healer,” Art McGinnes said. “Now that’s irony for you.”
“It also explains why there was no message,” Adam said.
“Message?” Priscilla was puzzled.
“Adam believes that miracles are always accompanied by a message from God,” Rachel replied for Adam. “It’s driving him crazy.”
Adam looked deep into Rachel’s eyes. They had spent the day together, strolling along the walk at La Jolla Cove and drinking cappuccino at a nearby coffee house. As they walked, Adam shared his heart with Rachel. He spoke of his feelings for her and also of spiritual things. He talked of the hope of his faith; and for the first time, Rachel listened without interruption. Occasionally she asked questions and spoke of her attraction to him. Adam was as honest as a man could be. When he told her that he loved her, he also told her of the conundrum his affection caused. She understood the difficulty.
“You know of my faith, and I know of your firm atheism,” Adam had said stoically.
“Not so firm,” Rachel had said.
“I don’t understand,” Adam replied.
“My atheism isn’t so firm,” she said taking his hand. “I’ve seen things that cannot be explained. I don’t know for certain that God is the cause of it all, but I can no longer dismiss that possibility.” She had reached up, put her hand behind his head and pulled his lips to hers in a gentle, warm kiss. “I don’t know if all that you say is true, but much of it makes sense. I promise you this, Adam: I will consider what you’ve said, and I will remain open to your God.” She was surprised as Adam removed his glasses and wiped away a stray tear.
“Well, maybe this will help,” Greene said. His words brought Adam back to the present. Greene extracted an envelope from his suit coat pocket. “The Healer paid some kid off the street to bring it to me and asked that I give it to you.”
Adam opened the plain envelope and pulled out a small handwritten note addressed to him. He read the note aloud, “I’m sorry that I couldn’t stay. I imagine we have much in common, but my task is immense. I’m sure you have many questions. I assure you that those questions will be answered soon. Wait for the others who are to come, and listen to what they have to say. They have the message. Malachi 4:5.”
“Malachi 4:5—what’s that?” Priscilla asked in true reportorial fashion.
Adam thought for a moment and then recited, “Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the great and terrible day of the Lord.”
“What’s that mean?” Rachel asked.
“I think he means to say that one greater than he will be coming, and then . . .” Adam broke off mid-sentence.
“And then the end?” Greene asked reluctantly.
“The beginning,” Adam replied.
The silence was broken by a beeping sound.
“My pager,” Rachel explained. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Sgt. Reedly, Priscilla’s date for the evening, moved away from the table to give her enough room to get out.
The conversation continued after she left.
“What’s going to happen to Paul Isaiah?” Adam asked.
“Well, his ministry is finished, that’s for sure,” Greene replied.
“But I don’t think he’ll do any hard time. He didn’t have anything to do with the abductions—that was all R.G.’s doing—although he did admit he was a charlatan, at least part of the time.”
“Part of the time?” Adam asked.
“Yeah,” Greene continued. “He’s a real case for the psychiatrists. It seems that he lost his wife and two kids in an auto accident. He was a young preacher then, and the accident made his mind snap. He blamed God for taking them. He couldn’t understand how God could do that to him when he was preaching His mes
sage. So he decided to get even, but since he couldn’t attack God directly, he decided to do it through His people. The odd thing is that there were times when he thought he was doing God a favor. At times he would be working against God, at other times working for Him. That’s where R.G. came in. R.G. simply took control. He was able to play Isaiah like a fiddle, saying just the right things to swing Isaiah’s fragile mind whichever way he wanted.”
“That’s sad,” Priscilla said.
“His lawyer is going to argue diminished capability,” Greene said. “The worst that will happen is that Isaiah will be ordered to get professional help.”
Rachel walked back into the room. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. There’s been another healing.”
“Healing?” Adam said. “I thought the Healer left.”
“Well, if he did, he left us something to think about. Anyway, I’ve got to go. The hospital wants me there right away.”
“I’m coming with you,” Adam said to Rachel.
The long table at DaVinci’s emptied with astonishing speed. Adam, Reedly, and several others hastily threw money on the table to pay the bill and then raced from the restaurant. Priscilla was already on her cellular phone by the time Reedly opened the car door for her.
ADAM AND RACHEL WERE the first out of the parking lot and the first to arrive at the hospital. A moment later they stood in the hospital lobby. Neither spoke, for what they saw astonished them. The lobby, formerly the habitat of the hurting and ill, was in joyous tumult. The crippled were dancing, the blind were looking at magazines, and the dying were leaping for joy. Some sang aloud, others wept. Families embraced and doctors stood dumbfounded.
Adam looked around the room in disbelief. Along the walls were the tangled masses of walkers, wheelchairs, and oxygen bottles, the wreckage of lives formally devoid of hope. As they stared in stunned silence, a movement caught Adam’s eye. Looking down he saw the child whose formally sinuous spine was now straight and normal. He walked to Adam and said cheerfully, “Hi, Mister.” Then he hugged Adam’s leg.
Tears rolled from Adam’s eyes. Across the lobby the boy’s mother stood with hands clasped together and pressed to her mouth. She wept with a joy born of great affliction. Adam understood.
Placing his hand on the boy’s head, Adam said, “Hi, Buddy.” The boy smiled, then giggled an infectious little boy’s giggle. And then he giggled some more. Soon Adam giggled, then laughed. His laughter was joined by the boy’s mother, then Rachel, and soon the lobby echoed with peals of thunderous joy.
Adam knew that neither he, nor the world, would ever be the same.
END
Author’s Note
I WROTE BY MY HANDS in the early 1990s. It was my first novel and proved to be quite the training ground. I could not have imagined then that I would write over 40 books, fiction and nonfiction. Returning to one’s first book is an eye-opener. Writers hope the next book will be better than the last so looking back can be a fearful thing. In fact, for many years, I refused to read any of my books after they were published. I always wanted to tweak something here or there. Returning to something I wrote at the beginning of my career was terrifying but compelling. There are many little things—things readers usually don’t notice but writers do—that I know longer do. Nonetheless, I left many of those things in as a reminder of how it used to be. Still, I couldn’t resist touching up the manuscript. In that sense, the book is new.
The two main characters, Adam Bridger and Rachel Tremaine have remained with me through the years. They were the heroes in Through My Eyes and play a role in my most recent novel, Wounds. I hope you find them as interesting as I do. I had great fun in preparing this Twentieth Anniversary republication of the book that started it all for me.
About the Author
ALTON L. GANSKY is the author of 24 novels and 9 nonfiction works, as well as principal writer of 9 novels and 2 nonfiction books. He has been a Christy Award finalist (A Ship Possessed) and an Angel Award winner (Terminal Justice) and recently received the ACFW award for best suspense/thriller for his work on Fallen Angel. He holds a BA and MA in biblical studies and was granted a Litt.D. He lives in central California with his wife
To learn more about the author and his books visit http://www.altongansky.com.