Inside him, he felt a strange butterfly-like sensation as Schistlings withdrew from infected humans. He couldn’t see it, couldn’t touch it, but he could feel it. The victims were cured.

“But we have a question, Father. We feel this Sky Amoeba speaking to you, and the Sky Amoeba is saying that you want something more. He’s saying that you want us to cure more than just the Black Virus. He’s saying that, while we’re here, you want us to cure something else, too.”

“Well…” Gabriel smiled. “Now that you mention it…”

Chapter 52:

Cure

Gabriel explained everything to the Schistlings, everything he wanted them to do. And once he finished, he sat up on the surface of the cloud. He considered lighting a cigarette—he’d discovered that the soggy pack in his pocket had dried out, and he hadn’t had one in weeks—but he decided against it. His vision had cleared again, and he didn’t want to spend his last conscious moments with smoke in his lungs.

Instead, he wanted to focus on something beautiful. So he crossed his legs, raised his head to the sky, and gazed at the glowing shape of the Sky Amoeba. “So have those Schistlings gotten started yet?” He smiled wistfully.

If only he could’ve watched the Schistlings do what he’d asked. But even though he was rapidly becoming part of the collective consciousness, the part of him that was still Gabriel Schist was quickly disappearing. To delve deeper into the growing Schistling core within his mind would be to abandon good old Gabriel even faster.

“It’s okay,” he said. “As long as I know they’re doing it, it’s fine.”

His body started shaking. His joints sharply and painfully twisted in ways that he had no control over. His brain was dying. Strange, indecipherable thoughts popped into his head and then disappeared. He focused all of his attention on the amazing being before him. He stared deep into the nucleus, looking for answers.

The nucleus flashed white, and warm energy rushed through Gabriel’s body, charging him like a battery. He became a part of the warmth, a part of the Sky Amoeba. He saw Michael, Raphael, Victor, and all the slugs. Smiling, he waved at them, and they too were absorbed into the Sky Amoeba’s golden amorphous shape. They were with him.

Gabriel laughed joyously, as his consciousness was pulled skyward in a spiraling path, as if he were caught in the center of a warm, electromagnetic tornado. He saw the glow of the nucleus. He was rushing toward it. It was waiting for him. And inside it…

Inside it, he saw Bright New Day from every angle: above, ground level, outside, and inside. The sun was peeking out over the horizon. He was watching the world from the human level but also from the atmosphere, seeing it as the Sky Amoeba saw it.

The Black Virus was gone. It had been cured instantaneously, as if by a miracle. Inside the Amoeba’s nucleus, Gabriel saw the virus like a rush of black water dispersing into mist. He heard the nurses talking about it. Dana hugged one of the cured residents. Harry stepped back, a hand covering his mouth, both flabbergasted and overjoyed. Doctors gasped with amazement. Administrator Bloemker laughed with joy. Gabriel heard sighs of relief, he saw tears, and he felt love radiating from the loved ones of the infected.

I want to see someone. You know who. I need to see her one last time.

Immediately, Gabriel was inside a small brick house in New Hampshire. Seated on the edge of a double bed in a dark room was Melanie. Her eyes were swollen with tears. She was holding a photograph, a picture of him from his younger days.

She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “I’m sorry, Dad. God, I’m the worst daughter ever. God. I’m such a stupid, stupid screw-up.”

Gabriel swooped closer to her. She couldn’t see him, but she looked up, startled, somehow knowing he was there. She would deny it later, he realized. But she’d know, deep inside, that he had been there. He pulled open the shades, just enough to let in a little light. He didn’t have a cure for her grief and sadness, nothing he could create, nothing he could send the Schistlings to do for him, but perhaps he could still help her in some way.

“I know you can’t hear me, Melanie,” he said, “but if you can somehow, just know I love you. And I’m more proud of you than you could ever realize. Stop being so hard on yourself.”

She stood up and looked around, then she knelt and peeked under the bed. Laughing, Gabriel wrapped his invisible arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

“Dad?” she whispered. “Are you there?”

“Take care, kid,” he said.

As he was absorbed back into the Sky Amoeba’s golden light, he saw Melanie touch the top of her head. A smile dawned on her face, a confused smile, but the kind that said she enjoyed life’s little mysteries.

The Sky Amoeba carried him across the East Coast, through hospitals and nursing homes, watching hundreds of Black Virus victims waking up. They were cured. There were smiles, cheers, and celebrations.

That’s the first cure, and it’s great. But what about the second cure? The cure they promised me?

He felt another rush of wind, and he was plunged deep into the nucleus. Swooosh! Thousands of scenes, people, images… all of it hit him so fast, in such a warm, tingly rush that he couldn’t understand a thing. With great effort, he narrowed his focus.

Former Olympic runner Paul Sampson, his bedbound roommate on Level Five, was sprawled out in bed, unmoving, his teeth bared in a grimace. Paul stared up at the ceiling with his cataract-covered eyes, consumed with agony. A female LNA in pink scrubs was preparing to give him a sponge bath.

As she turned to him with the wet cloth, Paul’s eyes moved, and his mouth snapped shut. He blinked. His translucent skin cleared, once again becoming a lively, flesh-toned color. The wrinkles were still there, but the excruciating decay was gone.

Paul jolted upright, and his eyes darted around the room. Slowly, a smile formed on his face. The LNA dropped the washcloth, and it hit the floor with a wet splat. She put her hand on his shoulder and ran it down the length of his arm, as if trying to confirm that he was real. Paul reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m free?” Paul asked. “Oh, oh my lord. I’m free. I’m free!”

Welcome back, Paul.

Gabriel’s consciousness flew deeper into the Sky Amoeba’s nucleus. He focused his attention on Mickey Minkovsky, the bald New York ladies’ man. Mickey had fallen and was struggling to get up. His roommate, sitting in a wheelchair beside him, was trying to help.

“Help!” Mickey cried. “I’m stuck! Please, someone help me!”

Mickey jolted as if he’d been shot with electricity. He sat bolt upright and looked around in shock. He snapped his fingers and laughed. “Holy shit!”

Mickey slowly got to his feet. He held his hand up in front of his face and kissed his wedding ring. With an enormous grin, he walked over to his bedside phone and dialed a number.

“Hi, honey!” he said. “Guess what, dear. I’m ready to go home!”

Gabriel plunged farther into the nucleus. The colors surged and brightened. He saw colors he hadn’t known existed and experienced sensations he’d never felt. Keeping his focus squarely on Bright New Day, he watched as more and more residents woke up—really woke up—for the first time in years. They had their minds again. Their thoughts. Their identities. The Schistling collective was using its power to repair instead of destroy.

Bernard Ulysses Huffington the Fourth was standing in his room. He had no pants on, as usual, and he was struggling to stretch on a white V-neck shirt. Bernard stared ahead with the same blank expression he always had.

Suddenly, light returned to Bernard’s eyes. He stopped fighting with the shirt and looked around the room with the amazed expression of a blind man regaining his sight. For the first time since Gabriel had met him, Bernard blinked.

“Well, damn,” Bernard said.

Bernard looked down at the shirt around his neck and then over at his hamper, which was stuffed to the brim with identical shirts. He laughed and easily stretched the shirt on over his abdomen. He still didn’t bother with pants, but as he walked over to his chair and plopped down in it, he grinned. “Heh, something new every day!”

Gabriel watched dozens and dozens of faces brightening, and the residents rediscovered their minds. Henrietta didn’t struggle with her seatbelt. Bob Baker didn’t hear voices in his head anymore; he still ate his cubed hot dogs, but eccentricities were hardly a disease. People had their lives back. They’d been cured from the incurable. Gabriel wanted to cheer. He saw everyone, all of his friends, getting the one gift they wanted more than any other.

Well, almost all of his friends. Someone was missing.

A deep sadness flowed through him. Please don’t be dead. Please, no. Not her. She deserved this gift. She’d been through so much pain, so much heartache. He searched through the faces of Bright New Day.

He found Edna Foster in her room. She was sitting up in bed, shaking from her Parkinson’s.

“Mooommmy… Moommy…”

The Black Virus was gone. But her dementia and Parkinson’s symptoms seemed worse than ever. She looked moments away from pitching forward onto the floor.

“Mommy, pleeeease. I’m gonna miss the bus. ” Her normal scowl was replaced by a terrified, anxious expression.

Gabriel waited tensely. C’mon, Edna. C’mon.

“Moommmm—huh?” Edna froze.