Healer’s Wrath

Each drop slapped the windshield like glass beads hurled by an angry god. Fred Miller gripped the steering wheel tighter, eyes flicking between the road and the dim outline of his phone buzzing on the passenger seat.

Rhea: “If you’re late again, don’t bother showing up.”

Her message flashed, cruelly precise. He muttered under his breath, “Story of my life.”

Headlights blurred against the torrent. The wipers groaned. He’d worked twenty hours straight, back-to-back ambulance shifts, a body running on caffeine and guilt.

Then, A horn screamed. A truck burst from the opposite lane. “Shit!”

Fred jerked the wheel. Tires screamed, the world spun, metal crunching, glass exploding, weightless chaos. The last thing he saw was his own reflection in the rearview, calm, almost relieved.

Then nothing. Voices came first. Distant. Warped. “Pulse dropping!”

“Clear!”

“Again!”

White flashes cut through the dark. Pressure on his chest. Air that wouldn’t come. “Time of death”

No. The word echoed inside his skull, though his lips didn’t move. A pulse, faint, alien, hummed in his ears. A sound beneath sound. Not a heartbeat, but a vibration, deep as the earth’s own rhythm.

Do you want to live? Fred’s mind grasped at the voice, half-female, half-electric. Then take it back. The vibration surged through him.

The monitors screamed. His body convulsed. The medics shouted, but the sound drowned in a blinding light that ripped through his veins.

Then, silence.

He woke to the smell of antiseptic and static. Everything hurt. His skin felt like it had been plugged into a socket. A nurse flinched when he moved. “Jesus, you’re awake?”

Fred blinked. “How long”

“You flatlined for seven minutes.”

Seven. The number stuck in his head like a nail. “Where’s the driver of the truck?” he asked.

The nurse hesitated. “Didn’t make it.”

Fred stared at his hands. “Lucky me.”

But when he closed his eyes, he could still hear it, faint humming, like dozens of overlapping heartbeats vibrating in the air.

Do you want to live? The voice whispered again, softer now, almost teasing. He tried to sit up, and pain lanced through his ribs. His chest monitor spiked, beep-beep-beep.

The nurse turned. “Careful”

She tripped on a cable and gashed her wrist on a metal tray. Blood welled instantly. Fred reached out on instinct. “Wait,  you’re bleeding”

His fingers brushed her skin. A shockwave of warmth burst through his palm. Light rippled under her skin, the cut sealed before her eyes. She froze. “What the hell was that?”

Fred stared at his hand, trembling. “I—I don’t know. I just”

The machine behind him wailed as his pulse crashed. His vision blurred, colors bleeding into static. He slumped. The nurse screamed for help.

Hours later, the hospital room was quiet again. He woke to a figure sitting by the window, a woman in a gray coat, legs crossed, posture military-straight.

“Fred Miller,” she said calmly. “You died seven minutes. That’s rare.”

His throat was raw. “You a doctor?”

“Of sorts.” She rose, walking closer. Sharp eyes, no name tag. “I’m Rhea Cole. I study what happens when people like you come back.”

He blinked. “People like me?”

“Near-death survivors. Some wake up with... unusual consequences.”

She glanced at the chart in her hand. “You healed a nurse’s wrist with a touch. We have video footage.”

Fred’s pulse quickened. “That’s impossible.”

Rhea tilted her head. “So was your survival.”

She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “What did you feel, right before you woke?”

He hesitated. “Like… the world was humming. Like everything alive had a rhythm.”

She smiled faintly. “You heard the resonance.”

“The what?”

“The pulse of life energy.” Her gaze sharpened. “It’s what makes your blood move, your cells repair. Most never sense it. But those who die and return… sometimes they can manipulate it.”

Fred’s head spun. “Manipulate it how?”

“By choosing what to amplify.”

Rhea extended a gloved hand. “You can give life, or you can take it. Both come with a cost.”

He laughed, sharp, disbelieving. “You sound insane.”

Her eyes didn’t flinch. “Tell me, Fred. When you healed that nurse, how did you feel afterward?”

He remembered the hollow drop in his chest. The sudden weakness. “Like I’d just lost something.”

Rhea nodded. “Because you did. Every time you heal, you burn your own resonance. Give too much, and you’ll vanish. But there’s another way.”

Her tone darkened. “When you harm someone, when you take, the energy flows back into you. You live longer. Stronger.”

Fred’s stomach twisted. “So what, I kill to live?”

She smiled softly. “You balance. That’s all resonance is, balance.”

He stared at her, searching her expression for a lie. “You’re serious.”

“I am.”

Rhea turned to the door. “There’s a group that can help you understand this. If you stay here, doctors will call you a miracle and cut you open to find out why. My people can teach you to control it.”

Fred hesitated. “Your people?”

“We call ourselves the Order of Resonance.” She paused. “We were all dead once, too.”

He swallowed hard. “And if I say no?”

Rhea’s eyes glinted. “Then I hope your next seven minutes are peaceful.”

She left without another word. Fred sat alone, heartbeat pounding like a drum. He could still feel it, that low vibration crawling under his skin. The sound of life itself.

Then, somewhere down the hall, a scream. He swung his legs off the bed, still dizzy, and limped to the doorway.

Nurses shouted, alarms blared. A patient on a stretcher convulsed violently, blood spraying from a gash across his neck. Fred’s instincts screamed at him to stay back.

But that hum grew louder, unbearable,  like the universe itself begging him to act. He staggered forward, pressing his palm to the dying man’s chest. “Hang on”

The world exploded in white light.