Divine Healer: Rise of Charlie Kirkland

CHAPTER 2 — Exile into the Wild

Charlie woke to a hard pull at his chest. His arms were locked at his sides, bound by light that pressed into his skin. The transport talisman hummed under him, cold and flat.

He tried to move his hands. The light tightened and burned. His fingers went numb.

Wind tore past his face. The sky above was pale and empty. No walls. No roof. Only open air.

Shapes stood around him as the hum slowed. Boots scraped stone. Metal rings clinked.

“Still breathing,” one voice said.

“Doesn’t matter,” another replied. “He won’t be long.”

Charlie turned his head. Three enforcers stood near the edge of the platform. Their cloaks snapped in the wind. Their faces were calm. “How far is far enough?” one asked.

The tallest enforcer looked out over the land. Red rock stretched to the horizon. No roads. No towers. “Here is fine,” he said.

“Too close?” the first asked.

The tall one shrugged. “If he crawls back, we’ll hear about it. He won’t.”

Charlie opened his mouth. His tongue felt thick. No sound came out.

The talisman jolted. His body slid across the stone. The light cut off at his wrists and ankles.

A sack hit the ground near his feet. It split open. Dried food spilled out. A flask rolled away and cracked.

The enforcer kicked the sack farther. It tumbled down a slope and vanished between rocks. “Supplies delivered,” he said, smiling.

Charlie pushed himself up on one elbow. His arm shook and gave out. Another enforcer stepped forward. He planted his boot on Charlie’s shoulder and shoved.

Charlie rolled. The world spun red and white. He slid down a rocky incline, scraping skin and cloth.

Laughter followed him. Stones rattled as he fell. He hit a ledge and stopped. Pain pulsed through his ribs. He lay still, tasting blood.

Above him, light flared. The talisman’s hum rose once, then cut off. Charlie listened. Nothing followed. No voices. No wind from above.

He lay there until the light in his eyes faded. Then he rolled onto his side and pulled his knees in. The air felt thin. Each breath came short and sharp.

He pushed to his hands and knees. One wrist bent wrong. He bit down and set it straight with a grunt.

Blood ran from cuts along his arms. Dirt stuck to it. He looked up. Red rock walls rose around him. The slope led down into broken ground. No paths. No signs.

Charlie checked his legs. One boot was gone. His foot was already swelling. He reached inward, out of habit. He tried to pull Qi from his core. Nothing moved.

He tried again. He focused harder. Nothing answered. His breath sped up. He stopped and pressed his palm into the dirt.

He tore a strip from his sleeve with his teeth. He wrapped it around his forearm. The cloth darkened fast.

His hands shook. He tightened the knot until his fingers went numb. He stood. The ground tilted. He leaned against the rock until it steadied.

The sun hung low, harsh and white. Heat pressed down, then faded as clouds crossed.

Charlie took a step. Pain shot through his foot. He shifted his weight and limped forward.

He followed the lowest ground, moving between rocks. His breath scraped in his throat.

He stopped after ten steps. He leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees. He tried again to circulate Qi. He closed his eyes. Nothing. He opened them and moved on.

The land opened into a flat stretch of stone and dust. Sparse plants clung to cracks. No water. No shade.

Charlie crouched and checked his bandages. Blood seeped through. The skin around the cuts looked dark.

He pressed his thumb into the flesh. It stayed white longer than it should. He tore another strip and wrapped again. His fingers slipped. He wiped them on his pants.

A buzzing sound filled his ears. He looked around. Flies gathered near his arm. He waved them away.

He walked until his legs trembled. He stumbled and fell to one knee. The sun dropped behind the rocks. The air cooled fast.

Charlie forced himself up. He moved toward a line of darker stone. It dipped down into a ravine.

He slid down the side and sat against the wall. The ground was dry and cracked.

He checked his wounds again. Swelling had spread up his arm. The skin felt hot. He touched his forehead. Sweat clung there despite the cold.

He pulled the remaining food from his pocket. Most of it was crushed. He chewed without tasting.

He tipped the flask. Only a few drops fell. He licked the mouth and capped it. The light faded. Shadows swallowed the ravine.

Charlie hugged his knees. His teeth chattered. The temperature fell hard. His breath fogged in front of his face.

He stood and tried to stamp his foot. His leg buckled. He caught himself on the wall and slid down to the ground.

The buzzing returned, louder now. He shook his head. Voices rose from the dark.

“Unstable,” one said.

“Reckless,” another answered. 

Charlie pressed his palms over his ears. The voices cut through anyway.  “Failure,” they said together.

He crawled forward until his hands hit loose dirt. He clutched it and held on. His vision blurred. The rocks shifted and leaned in.

He blinked hard. The ravine was empty. He tried to stand. His body refused. He slumped back. Cold crept into his joints. His hands curled tight.

He checked his arm again. Red streaks climbed toward his shoulder. He tore off the bandage. The wound oozed thick fluid. The smell hit him.

He gagged and turned his head. His stomach heaved. He wrapped the arm again with shaking hands. The knot slipped. He tied it again.

The voices returned. This time they were close. “Send him out,” one said.

“He chose this,” another replied.

Charlie scraped his nails into the dirt. His chest rose and fell fast. He looked up at the sky. Stars cut through the dark, sharp and cold.

His breath slowed. He lay back. The ground felt hard under his spine. He shifted and stopped.

The cold pressed in. His teeth stopped chattering. He curled onto his side and pulled his knees in.

A shadow moved at the edge of the ravine. He lifted his head. Nothing was there. He closed his eyes. The voices faded to a low murmur.

He opened them again. He stared at the dirt inches from his face. He reached inward one last time. He pushed hard. Nothing answered.

Charlie let his hand fall. He stayed still. The night deepened. The wind whispered over the rocks.

He lay in the dried ravine, breathing thin air, waiting for morning or nothing at all.