The Healer’s Code

Rain was falling sideways in the city, sharp, cold, and relentless. It beat against neon signs, hissed in gutters, and turned the streets into mirrors of blurred lights.

David Foreman stood beneath a flickering awning outside the clinic that had just fired him. His cheap white coat hung over one arm like a defeated flag.

“Hey, Doc,” the security guard called, lighting a cigarette. “Guess miracles aren’t your thing after all, huh?”

David forced a thin smile. “Guess not. Maybe next lifetime I’ll be able to afford the kind of miracle that keeps me employed.”

He turned away before the man could reply. The rain hit his face like punishment, but at least it drowned out the noise in his head, the patient’s flatline, the senior surgeon’s lies, the board’s decision that he “wasn’t fit for hospital practice.”

He hadn’t done anything wrong. Except believe he could make a difference. He walked with no direction, passing diners and alleyways glowing with the ghosts of streetlamps.

Then a sound stopped him, three muffled pops, sharp and close. Gunfire. David froze. A car screeched away at the next block.

In the middle of the intersection, a man was on the ground, clutching his stomach. Blood spread fast across the wet asphalt. “Someone call” David started, but the few people nearby ran the other way.

He sighed, muttered, “Of course,” and sprinted forward.

“Sir! Hey, stay with me!” David knelt beside him, pulling off his jacket to press against the wound. The man’s pulse fluttered, weak and fading.

“Don’t… call cops,” the man gasped. His accent was heavy, his breath shallow. “They… finish… job.”

“I’m not letting you die in the street,” David snapped. “Now shut up and breathe.”

He pressed harder, trying to remember every trauma procedure he’d learned before the hospital kicked him out. But this was bad. Too deep. Too much blood.

“Come on, come on…” he muttered, checking the carotid. The pulse vanished beneath his fingers.

“No, no, no, hey! Don’t you dare.”

The man’s head lolled to the side. No response. David’s heart pounded, the world narrowing to the echo of rain and his own ragged breath.

He had no tools, no backup, just instinct. He laced his hands together, began chest compressions. “Stay with me!”

He pumped once. Twice. A third time. Then, something shifted. A warmth bloomed behind his sternum, spreading through his arms.

It wasn’t adrenaline. It was… energy. Flowing from him into the man. The air around them hummed, subtle but real. “What the” He froze. The man’s chest jerked, pulse fluttering back beneath David’s fingers.

The wound began to close. Not completely, but the bleeding slowed, veins knitting like silk threads. The glow faded as quickly as it came.

David fell backward onto the wet concrete, trembling. “That’s… not possible.”

The stranger groaned, coughing weakly. “You… saved me.”

David blinked, chest heaving. “Yeah. I think I just broke a few laws of biology.”

Sirens wailed in the distance. He staggered up, looked around, and saw blue lights reflecting off the puddles.

He looked down at the wounded man. “I’ll send an ambulance from the payphone, all right? Just… don’t die again.”

“Rough night?” the waitress asked, dropping a refill.

“Yeah,” David murmured. “Lost my job, saw a guy get shot, possibly performed a miracle.”

She blinked. “That last one’s new.”

He managed a smirk. “Yeah, well, it’s been a long night.”

The bell above the diner door jingled. A tall, older man in a gray overcoat stepped inside, dripping rain. His eyes scanned the room once, sharp and deliberate, before locking onto David.

“Mind if I sit?” the stranger asked.

David frowned. “Do I know you?”

“No. But I know what you did.”

David’s blood went cold. “Look, if you’re a cop, I”

“Relax,” the man said, sliding into the booth across from him. “Name’s Elias Morrow. I used to be a surgeon. Still am, in some ways.”

David stared. “You followed me?”

“I followed the impossible.” Elias leaned forward, his voice calm but heavy. “The man you saved shouldn’t be alive. I saw the footage.”

“Footage?” David blinked. “Someone filmed that?”

Elias pulled out his phone, showing a shaky video of the alley. The faint glow from David’s hands was visible.

Elias tilted his head. “Light doesn’t repair severed arteries.”

David pushed his mug away. “You don’t know what you saw.”

“I know what I’ve seen,” Elias said quietly. “Once, long ago, I watched another man do the same thing. He had your eyes. Your name, too.”

David froze. “What did you say?”

Elias smiled faintly. “Your father. Michael Foreman.”

David’s throat tightened. “You knew my father?”

“Knew him? I trained him.” Elias leaned back. “Before he disappeared. Before he was killed.”

The diner seemed to fade, the noise, the rain, even the faint hum of the city. Only Elias’s words remained.

David whispered, “Killed? My father died in a car crash.”

“That’s what they told you,” Elias said. “But the truth is much darker. He was murdered… because he learned how to do what you just did tonight.”

David stared, mouth dry. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” Elias said with a small chuckle. “But if I’m right, then you’ve inherited more than just his name. And if you don’t learn to control it… others will come for you. The same ones who came for him.”

David ran a hand through his hair. “Control what? I don’t even know what happened out there.”

Elias slid a small card across the table. It was blank except for an embossed caduceus symbol and an address scrawled beneath: “The Aegis Clinic, Warehouse District.”

“Come tomorrow at dawn,” Elias said. “If you want answers.”

David stared at the card. “And if I don’t?”

Elias stood, buttoning his coat. “Then I hope you’re faster than the men who’ll start looking for you tonight.”

He left before David could speak. The doorbell jingled once, then silence.

David looked at the card again, thumb tracing the faint symbol. Outside, lightning split the sky, and for an instant, the city’s reflection in the glass looked alive, veins of light pulsing through every building.

He whispered, “What the hell did you get me into, Dad?”

The rain outside fell harder, as if trying to wash away the question before the answer could find him.