Approaching Zero (16 page)

“There must be something there to help us, Suri. Look carefully.”

“There is nothing, Kathy. It is plain room with window only.”

“Who’s keeping him there?”

“He is alone, Kathy.”

“Can’t you do that thing where you kill the man who’s taken him?”

Suri opened her eyes and looked at Kathy with a curious expression that was becoming familiar to her. It was a sympathetic look, but it told Kathy that what she said was strange or wrong. “If I kill man then little boy will die. He is alone and tied by hand and feet. He will not be able to escape. But I do not know man, Kathy. He is not there. I need photo to have any kind of power. Or I need to be with him. I can do nothing, except…”

“What?”

“I can give boy power to make affliction.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have only done this kind of thing one time before, Kathy. It is kind of remote psychic touch.”

As soon as she said the words, the strange Indian website came to Kathy’s mind again. What did he say he could do? Remotely blocking psychics? She would look again later. This was all completely alien to her.

“I have idea,” said Suri excitedly. “When bad man come in contact with Joshy he will be struck with bad illness. It will make it so he cannot hurt the boy and has to go to the hospital.”

The delight on Kathy’s face grew as Suri unveiled her plan, then she blurted out, “We should make his dick feel like it’s full of needles.”

Suri blushed a little before considering the idea. “This is a good idea, Kathy. We will see man at hospital with this kind of pain and we can tell the police.”

“Bollocks to the police,” Kathy told her. “We’re getting this one ourselves.”

Chapter 15

In Malaysia, the old woman had been true to her word; she had returned with a precious necklace for Suri—the value of which greatly surpassed anything the family could ever dream of owning—in payment for saving her granddaughter. Aisyah protested, but the old woman only wished she had more to give. True to her word, she also hadn’t mentioned a single murmur of the miracle to another living soul. However, as it always is with secrets, word slowly gathered momentum of its own accord, rumors of a miracle child capable of great healing, and as predicted, the life of this small Malaysian family slowly began to change.

For the first few years, occasional, desperate visitors, much like the old woman, would arrive at their home, often at night, seeking healing, which Suri gave indiscriminately before she had even gained the language skills to articulate what exactly it was she was doing or the intellect to understand it. As she slowly developed, however, she would casually chatter to her mother and father about it as if it were the most commonplace thing in the whole world, as if everyone could do the same thing. She had absolutely no concept of how special she was. She called it the heartlights, and she was also beginning to take control of this great gift rather than it controlling her as it seemed to when she was little more than a baby.

By the time Suri was ten, their lives had changed completely. Suri’s name was synonymous with the word miracle and the occasional visitor had been replaced by a queue outside the home, which was now on the outskirts of the village, the waterside dwelling no longer appropriate. Suri, herself, was becoming more of the child that Kathy would recognize—the petite features forming and sharpening and the trademark smile still ever-present. Mohammad and Keajaiban still fished for their pot and for those in the village less fortunate than themselves, but there was no longer a pressure to provide. Aisyah now stayed at home with her miracle daughter and although they asked for nothing in return for the healing Suri gave, not a single visitor left without leaving something, even if it was simply a handful of rice. Consequently their home, although still modest, was far more comfortable than anything they could have aspired to previously and included the technology that was to become so precious to Suri—the TV and video player.

One early morning, after Mustapha and Keajaiban had left for the river and Aisyah and Suri were setting about their household duties for the day, there was a knock on the door. This wasn’t unusual, even at the early hour, but they had both hoped for a little more time before the rush began.

When Aisyah opened the door she was greeted by a plump Indian woman who spoke to her in English. Although Aisyah couldn’t understand, TV and movies had been a great teacher for Suri and they exchanged words. The woman was accompanied by two children who were also fatter than any person Suri had ever seen, coming as she did from a place of lack.

“Please, I need your help,” the woman began in a thick accent.

Suri smiled her illuminating smile and beckoned the woman into her home and onto a chair. The two young boys bounded in after her. They seemed completely oblivious to the serenity and calm of the space created by Suri and her mother, or in fact that their mother was obviously suffering, as they squabbled and squealed and fought with each other, all the time cramming pakoras into their mouths.

“It is my leg,” the woman pleaded and pulled her bright sari up to her knees to show Suri the problem. What she revealed was a wound that, although not deep, had clearly become infected. “I am here visiting family and was told that you would be able to help me.”

Suri was about to answer when a chunk of pakora hit the back of her head. When she turned to face the boys they were looking the other way, giggling to themselves. Suri rose above the obvious torment and said, “You were right to come, but this really is nothing to worry about.” Suri and her mother had developed great knowledge in the field of medicine over the years as the majority of visitors were in need of good healthcare rather than magic. They also now had a stock of health supplies so Aisyah set about cleaning and bandaging the wound as the woman spoke to her daughter.

“But I have heard that you are Suri of the Heartlights. I have come for healing.”

“My mother will make you a herb to drink and some to take with you,” Suri answered. “This is incredibly easy to–”

Thunk! Another slap of food on the back of her head and now the boys were beside themselves with laughter. Their mother seemed not to notice their behavior or their existence at all, and continued her plea.

“But I came to be cured by you. My leg will die and be parted from my body, this I know, Suri. You have to help me, please. I will die if this is not dealt with. The pain is enough to send me insane.” On and on the woman pleaded and all the time the two boys fought and swore and threw food at each other and at Suri. They then managed to smash an ornament given to Suri in gratitude by an incredibly frail woman who simply wanted to have no pain for the last few days of her life.

“Okay,” Suri finally conceded. And Aisyah immediately recognised what she was doing. It was not uncommon for those visiting her daughter to crave the spectacle of miraculous healing, even when there was a simple salve or herb to take away their suffering. They could usually be dissuaded and leave thankful for the valuable healing that they had received, but occasionally Suri went through the motions and put on a show just so they would leave happy. The Indian woman smiled contentedly and settled back in the chair, now showing no sign of the pain that she was so desperate for Suri to take away. And the boys behind were oblivious to everything and seemed to have found yet more pakoras to gorge and waste. Suri had seen nothing like this before in her short life.

Suri moved over to her cushioned area in the corner of the room and seated herself in the lotus position, upright, with her eyes closed and her hand on her heart. She had come to realise that she didn’t really need to do any of this for the heartlights to work. But for cases like the Indian woman, it was essential. She had also discovered that there were other conditions that needed no healing at all but for which the theatre of a miracle had great effect. She was yet to understand this kind of psychosomatic illness, but she understood the cure well enough.

As she expelled a hum and lightly and rhythmically moved her head, her patient closed her eyes as if receiving healing and her face seemed to light up, filled with a hopeful placebo. They stayed in these positions for some time but then the sound of desperate choking cut through the silence. Suri opened her eyes to see that one of the boys was on his hands and knees, his face was purple and he was trying to force out the chunk of pakora that was obviously stuck in his throat. Beside him, his brother started to sob and slap him on the back. “Help him,” he cried, and now the mother was by his side, moving surprisingly quickly for an injured woman and slapping his back even harder than her son could manage.

“Help us, please,” she begged Suri, but it was Aisyah who stepped forward and gripped the boy from behind. The boy was now silent but for the faint gurgling sound of panic and his bulbous eyes were glowing red and flowing with tears. Aisyah squeezed the boy in her arms, forming a fist with her hands. She pumped him three or four times before the morsel of pakora flew out of his mouth and landed on the colourfully weaved rug of which Aisyah was so fond. With the food came a forceful splutter and the miraculous return of the boy’s colour. Then came the tears.

“She did this!” he cried at ten-year-old Suri, who had been beside her mother the whole time, urging her to save his life.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ibrahim,” her mother scolded. “This young girl is a healer not a killer. Apologise at once.”

“I will not!” the boy spat and marched out into the intense heat of the day, followed closely by his brother, who didn’t miss the opportunity to scowl at Suri.

“What did he say?” Aisyah asked, but Suri simply shrugged.

“How much do I owe you, my child?” The woman asked, who was now moving as if she had been completely healed or there was nothing particularly wrong in the first place.

“We do not charge for healing,” Suri told her and smiled warmly once again.

“Oh.” The woman looked around the modest room, clearly not sure of what she should do next. “Well, thank you very much then,” she finally said and followed her sons into the day.

When the room was empty, Suri lowered herself back onto her cushion and stared at the spot where the small boy had choked.

“He thought that you were responsible, didn’t he, Suri.”

“Yes, Mother,” she nodded sadly.

“And were you?”

Suri thought for a moment before nodding her head sadly. “Yes, Mother.”

Although this was the first time she had done anything like this and certainly the first time her mother had seen Suri inflict pain on anyone with her powers or otherwise, Aisyah appeared less surprised than she should. Perhaps she had simply seen it all since first witnessing her daughter’s gift and then playing host to mankind in all its varying colours, conditions, and dispositions since opening her doors to those in need. Or perhaps it was because deep down this young girl was still her daughter and at ten years old she didn’t need her mother to be shocked by her; she needed guidance.

“You must never do that again, Suri. Do you understand?” Her face was stern but not unkind, and Suri’s big questioning eyes absorbed every word she said.

“Yes, Mother.”

“You were put on this earth to heal not harm. Promise me you will never do anything like that again.”

Suri nodded slowly, receiving the scolding as if she had been caught watching TV after dark, or she was late in from playing with her friends.

“I mean it, Suri. Promise me.”

“I promise,” she eventually said and it was a promise that she would keep until the day of her sixteenth birthday.

Chapter 16

Suri and Kathy had been sitting in the noisy, crowded waiting room at A&E for just ten minutes when a dark shadow loomed over them belonging to a man who would definitely have trouble getting that stomach into that uniform on a daily basis. Looking closer, it was clear that he was hospital security and as he spoke, it also became obvious that his imposing figure was deceptive. He was huge but he was the kind of man that any kid would love to have as an uncle—softly spoken with kind eyes and a body like a bouncy castle.

“Are you ladies okay here?” he asked in a thick Birmingham accent that made him all the more amiable and took away any trace of danger than may have remained.

Suri and Kathy looked at each other, not quite sure what to say. They had walked into the drab A&E without really thinking that they might look suspicious. It was a public place after all.

“It’s just that we need you to sign in with reception. You’ll be sat here all day if you don’t.”

“It’s okay,” Kathy began but then Suri interrupted.

“Thank you,” she said. “We will do this right away. Come now, Aunty,” and she stood up from the orange, plastic chairs—A&E clearly sharing a supplier with the police station.

The security guard nodded warmly and held his hand out in the direction of reception before leaving them to it.

“What are you doing?” Kathy asked.

“There is four hours wait time, Kathy. Our bad man will come before this. We can leave before four-hour wait.”

Kathy was now on her feet too. “But there’s nothing wrong with us. What can we say?”

“You look like you should be here,” Suri said and pointed to her own face to show what she meant. It was true; Kathy didn’t look out of place in the waiting room with the bruising to her face, alongside bloodied noses and broken bones.

“But it’s fine.”

“They do not need to know this,” Suri answered and Kathy saw for the first time that she might actually be enjoying this. Alternatively, the young girl simply enjoyed everything, whether it was being in a hot car for hours, driving back from the airport, eating an egg sandwich or staking out a paedophile with a septic penis at the local hospital. Her default setting was glee and she deviated from it rarely and only ever briefly.

They made their way over to the reception desk and were met by another friendly face. The hospital was obviously very good at finding comforting staff for front of house duties.