Barry's head tilted to the side, his eyes fluttered shut, and his body went limp—collapsing neatly into Carrie's arms. He didn't move again.
"Barry—!"
Carrie's cry was filled with pain and despair.
But would crying bring him back?
Yes. Absolutely.
Because Barry's body suddenly began to shake violently, like he was having a seizure.
The onlookers gasped in disbelief as they watched him convulse. Some zombie-movie-loving Americans in the crowd immediately panicked—backing away fast, faster, fastest!
"What's happening?! Oh my God, he's moving!"
"He fell from that height—no way he's alive! Is he turning into a zombie?!"
"No, no, it's gotta be one of those emergency genetic mutations. He's becoming… Lollipop Man!"
People were throwing out wild guesses left and right.
"Make way! I'm a doctor—an experienced doctor!"
An elderly man pushed through the crowd, placed two fingers on Barry's neck to check his pulse, then watched his chest rise and fall. "In all my years of medicine," he declared, "he's not dead. There's still hope! Look, he's moving a lot!"
The crowd groaned.
No kidding, old man. We can all see that.
Then—thump, thump, thump!
Everyone's heart skipped a beat. Something weird was happening!
Suddenly, Barry sat up like a spring, faced the crowd, and smiled faintly.
"Kids," he said calmly, "I'm back."
"Ahhh!" "Whoa!" "Jesus Christ!"
A chorus of screams erupted as people stumbled backward, forming a wide circle around him.
"Barry, you're alive?! I thought you were—" Carrie froze mid-sentence.
Because Barry looked… perfectly fine. His face was flushed with color, the only damage being a few scrapes on his hands and a dirty white suspender shirt. Not exactly the look of a dying man.
"Maybe the Lord still wants me here on Earth," Barry said solemnly. "Or maybe it was your voice that called me back. Or perhaps this body, honed through years of training, refused to die."
He bowed his head, kissed the silver cross on his chest, and made the sign of the cross—like a devout believer.
This was America—a deeply religious country. A few people instantly began to pray.
But others still looked skeptical, staring at him as though waiting for an explanation.
"Well," Barry continued, "you ever see kung fu movies? This was what we call redirecting force through internal energy. It's a complex martial art principle—I used advanced energy control to disperse the impact."
He stood, waved at the crowd, and said with a smile, "Alright, show's over. Everyone go home."
Kung fu?
Yeah, sure. That actually sounded… kinda reasonable.
Now that they looked more closely, his face did have that soft, vaguely East Asian look.
So, the crowd dispersed.
Barry thanked the mother and son he'd saved, scolded the driver of the pickup truck, and even managed to get some compensation out of it.
---
A few blocks later, Barry stopped near Carrie's house.
Knock, knock, knock!
A sharp rapping on the window startled them both.
A middle-aged woman with a tired, angry face stared in from outside. The wrinkles around her eyes tightened with fury.
She clearly disapproved of what she saw—especially Barry. Her eyes screamed Stay away from my daughter.
Carrie instantly wanted to duck out of sight, but it was too late. Her mother, Margaret, had already seen her.
"Carrie."
"…Mom."
Carrie forced an awkward, nervous smile.
Great. Just her luck.
Her mom hated her spending time with outsiders, and Carrie hated people knowing her mom was the kind who could quote the Bible to the point of obsession.
But since she was caught, there was no escape.
Grounded time. Big time.
"Barry, I should go. See you later." Carrie quickly opened the door, grabbed her mother's arm, and tried to drag her away without looking back.
But Margaret wasn't leaving quietly. She wanted to speak—or more accurately, warn him.
"I don't know who you are," she said coldly, "but stay away from my daughter. Don't you dare try to hurt her."
Her sharp gaze bored into Barry's eyes, as if she could see straight through to his soul—or his supposed sinful desires.
"The Lord says the first sin is the sin of the flesh," she continued, her tone trembling with religious fervor. "I will not allow you to corrupt her."
"Lady," Barry sighed, "the Lord also says, 'Don't twist my words.' Don't go adding your own spin to the Scriptures—or you might find yourself getting jumped in a dark alley."
"Blasphemer!" Margaret snapped, trembling with rage. "I've studied the Bible for years! You think you know it better than me?! Stay away from my daughter! I won't let you hurt her!"
"Mom!" Carrie tugged at her arm, desperate to pull her away, but she wouldn't budge.
"Calm down."
Without warning, Barry placed a hand on her shoulder.
A faint flash of light flickered in his eyes—there and gone again.
Instantly, Margaret froze. Her anger drained away, replaced by a serene calm. Her hands clasped together, and her expression softened into one of awe.
She saw light.
Radiant, divine light.
Glowing butterflies of light fluttered around a pure, holy figure. A halo shimmered in the air, and warmth flooded her heart like sunlight breaking through clouds.
What was this?
Why was she seeing this?
"Margaret," Barry said softly, his voice carrying weight, "you misguided believer—you've let your ignorance twist Carrie's path."
"I, Olga, will guide her back to the light."
"Wake up, child!"
THUD!
In her vision, the holy light condensed into a giant hammer that came crashing down on her head like divine judgment.
Bong… bong… bong…
The echoes of a thousand church bells rang in her skull. The years of fear, guilt, and repression she'd carried began to fade away.
For the first time in forever—Margaret felt peace.
It was like she had been bathed in sacred light.
"Mom? Mom, are you okay?" Carrie waved her hand frantically in front of her mother's vacant eyes.
"…Carrie."
After a long pause, Margaret blinked, tears spilling down her cheeks—whether from gratitude or regret, even she didn't know. Then, suddenly, she hugged her daughter tightly.
Carrie was stunned but quickly hugged her back. Whatever her mother was going through, love was still love.
After a long moment, they pulled apart.
Margaret turned toward Barry. Her expression had softened—filled with respect, even reverence. Her gaze fell on the silver cross gleaming at his chest, and warmth spread through her heart.
Lord, she prayed silently, is this your miracle? Your way of saving me and my daughter?
Her eyes met Barry's calm, gentle smile, and in that moment, she felt like a lost lamb finally found by her shepherd.
Amen.