ASBO-Boy - The Saint

Omen couldn't believe his eyes. The whole of the parade ground was full of people, taking up every space inbetween all the tents and caravans. Men, women and children draped in drab and dirty clothes for the most part. Omen had never seen people this poor before. Many were lying down on the gravel and patches of dirt. There were cries of pain over the din of activity and all the while the Sandfields blossomed with fire and smoke in the distance.

"When did this happen?" He stammered. Swarm shook his head, he eiher didn't know, couldn't speak or both. Omen took a tentative step forward towards the nearest group. An old woman spotted him and grabbed his arm.

"Help me! My son is burned!" She dragged him fiercely over to a man lying comatose in the mud. His age was unreadable as a massive burn ran from his head to his waist, the ruby wound glistening angrily.

Without thinking, Omen began to drag the man towards the caravan. Swarm and Locus stumbled over to help him, too stunned to speak. Between the three of them they managed to get the man into the caravan and onto Omen's bunk. On auto-pilot they swept around the impromptu staging area and gathered the worst of the wounded and carried them into the caravan. Soon the cries and moans of pain filled the narrow and cramped space of the caravan while the families hovered outside.

"We need a healer." Locus muttered, her eyes flitting over the wounded.

"The paramedics are all busy." Swarm muttered in reply.

"No, I mean a Healer. It'll take the Authorities ages to get through them all. We need someone who can…" She didn't finish. They were drawn by the sound of commotion outside. A hush rippled through the parade ground, spreading like wildfire.

Omen cornered a lost looking woman and asked her what was going on. She merely pointed to a crowd gathering in the distance and shrugged. "The Saint."

Omen shared a quizzical look with Swarm and Locus. A blue form wriggled its way through the throng and loped over towards them.

"It's a girl, she's walking around healing people." Spout gasped inbetween breaths. "Some of them were nearly gone, but she stepped over them and just touched them – taking away their pain."

They set off without a word and moved quickly through the crowd to get to the girl. As they got closer they met more and more resistance as people were clammouring for her to help them. The noise became unbearable and the sense of panic threatened to break down into an all out riot, but eventually they pushed through to the front. The atmosphere of the mob changed dramatically the closer they got to the centre; no longer were people shoving for attention, they were just standing and watching. A hush descended as they reached the middle and found a small girl in a jet-black skin-suit.

Omen felt his legs go numb. It was Malady, a girl he only recognised because he'd seen her in a dream.

"What?" Swarm asked, frowning. "You said something… malady?"

Malady turned her head to where Omen and the others were standing.

"Yes?" She said, her voice small and weak. Despite the calm veneer the girl was pale and wan looking, her legs and arms shaking, her skin red and blotchy.

"Your name," Omen began, "I'm right, aren't I?"

Malady nodded. The woman at her feet groaned and rolled over, holding her head. Her family rushed forward and helped her to her feet. Every other word they whispered tearfully was 'thankyou'.

"We need your help." Omen said, sounding glib and heartless among a sea of people with the same request. Malady merely shrugged. "We can help you, we're Others like you."

The crowd who were watching this with unease seemed to back away from the mention of the word.

"Others…"

"When you're done we'll need to hide you. The Authorities will take you away." Of this, Omen felt certain. Part of him wanted to blurt everything out at once, but he felt the eyes of the crowd on him.

"Gather all you can. I can help them better when they're all together." She said, dismissing them with a nod. The crowd parted like water to allow them to work. A buzz gathered pace among the people as an organised spirit drove the effort to gather all they could into the closest possible space.

When the work was done, Omen slipped away and watched for the approach of the Authorities. They'd sent a token effort to deal with the casualties, but the bulk of the effort was centered around the Sandfields wall where fire crews were pouring water into the blaze. But the streets were too quiet, there simply weren't enough of them.

Spout appeared at his side and gestured back towards the circle of penitent observers, silently watching the miracle unfolding before them. "Who is she?"

"Remember my dream of you and the sea?" Omen replied quietly. Spout nodded uncomfortably. The memory was still raw and fresh in their minds. "I had another one and she was in it." Spout nodded again. This was all the explanation he needed.