Savior

The day was hot as they are in Texas during the summer months. The Sun ricochet off the highway concrete as if it were a mirror blinding the motorist that previously travelled along it. Waves of heat rose from the surface of the highway so that it was not only felt, but visible. The summer heat of Texas must be an awful lot like what hell feels like.

It was difficult to tell how many vehicles were involved in the pile up. Flashing lights from numerous police cars and ambulances spun swiftly. The rescue personnel and paramedics worked feverishly moving from one body to another. People lay on the concrete highway sporatically waiting for medical attention. Well, some were waiting for medical attention. Others were already dead.

Victor Torres sat in his old pickup truck eyeing what was happening several yards in front of him. He was among the many vehicles held up by the awful wreck that involved several cars and had no doubt taken lives and injured others. Victor prayed as he waited patiently for people to receive care, the damage to be accessed and the wreckage to be cleared.

For a brief moment Victor opened his eyes, looked straight a head, and could see the body of a young child. He knew the child was dead because he had a sheet pulled over him. The child lay on the hot cement set aside from the rest of the chaos. The boy's name was Ethan.

Victor was startled momentarily for realizing the boy's name. “How do I know his name?” he wondered. He was correct, the boys name was Ethan and he was seven years old. Victor had never met him nor had ever heard of the boy before now. But he knew much about the boy like he had spontaneously known about so many others before today. Although at twenty-four he had accepted his power of 'knowing' things, it always was a bit startling when he realized what he knew.

Victor's mother, Elizabeth, was sixteen when she became pregnant. She resided in a small Mexican village that had no legal name just on the other side of El Paso, Texas. She knew nothing about sex and claimed that she never had sexual relations, but had become pregnant. The people in the tiny village did not believe her and wanted to take her baby once born to sell. Elizabeth escaped the small village, crossed the border into the United States and took up residence in El Paso. She took any job she could for cash, learning how to survive and provide for herself and her baby, Victor. She knew he was special and she would work to cultivate his gifts, which she did.

Victor stepped out of his truck, his lean, tall body drenched in sweat. Dressed in a white tee-shirt, faded jeans, a cowboy hat and heavy boots, he had an unassuming nature. He was a proud man, but not too proud. He had learned to move deliberately, but slowly in order not to draw attention. There would be a time when the world should know, but not just yet.

Victor knelt down over the deceased boy and removed the sheet. It was immediately apparent that Ethan had been thrown from one of the vehicles on impact. Several bones were broken including his neck. Bruises and scratches covered his body as if he'd been drug across the concrete for an extended period. The boy never had a chance to be saved. That is until now.

Victor placed his hand over Ethan's face. “Oh, Father, repair this child. Make him whole again

and bring him back to life,” he prayed. Within seconds Ethan began to breathe. There were no broken bones anymore and his skin had cleared from all the bruises and scratches that previously existed. The concrete underneath his body was cool and comfortable.

Victor stood up and waived to the closet paramedic. “This boy is alive. Come, he needs your assistance.”

“Who are you? What are you doing over there,” the paramedic asked in an accusatory tone.

“I saw this boy move while sitting in my vehicle and could tell he wasn't dead. He is alive.”

The paramedic slowly walked over to Victor. “That is impossible. I checked him earlier and he was definitely dead. Now you need to go back to your...” His voice stopped before finishing the sentence. As he looked down at the young boy his face lost all color. In disbelief, he searched for something to say; for a reason that this boy was alive. “But he was dead; I know he was.”

“Maybe you made a mistake. You should tend to the boy,” Victor replied, almost sorrowful to cause this fine man confusion.

Victor turned to walk back to his truck. From behind him, he heard the paramedic ask, “Who are you?”

“Just a concerned citizen,” Victor replied.

The paramedic watched momentarily as Victor walked away. Fleetingly he wondered if this person was an angel, but quickly dismissed the absurdity of that. Well, for the most part he dismissed it, but not completely. Before he realized that the words left his mouth, he yelled, “God bless you, sir.”

Hearing what the paramedic said, Victor replied, “He already has. And he has blessed you as well.” Soon the world would know who he truly is.