The Priest, The Ghost and The Love

Chapter - 1 Beginning of a new End

This night was supposed to be dark, just like any other yet the streets, the Saint Peter's Square was clustered with people- people with faith. He could feel the icy breath that escaped his lips as he steered the helicopter away from the faithful people who stood beneath. His eyes fiddled between the anti-matter bomb, which was capable of destroying the whole Vatican along with a large part of Rome and Italy with it, just feet away from him and the colossal view of the crowd beneath him. Yet it was not fear that conquered his heart in that calamitous moment, it was a regret he felt. He regretted not ordering the evacuation of the City and sending everyone to safety for he wasn't sure if he could fly the helicopter high enough to save everyone from the explosion. He complied with those who refused to see the dark danger above their arrogance and it was his only mistake. Father Patrick knew his life was coming to an end and it was quite sooner than he had anticipated.

But one question haunted him in midst of this catastrophic situation- 'Was it worth it all?'

He was unaware of the answer and a large part of his heart did not desire to know the answer. Patrick knew he did nothing great other than being a pilot in the Italian Military for it was the only thing that will stay with him till the end of the line. But was he ready for the ultimate fate? Yet another question raced through his head. The Camerlengo knew the answer, he knew he wasn't ready for it. Having lost everything and everyone that Patrick ever knew there was no one to whom his heart belonged. He did want to love but he did not possess the strength to ask for it.

The narrow screen on the anti-matter bomb showed the remaining two red lights flickering for existence as if mocking him for how fast his death is chasing him. With a deep sigh, the young Priest started muttering prayers under his breath. Despite being so near to heaven, he still felt farthest away from the warmth it was supposed to offer. Everyone he lost would be there to greet him there, yet he felt unwelcome. Stealing another glance at the parachute hanging by the left side, a small part of him was ordering the young Camerlengo to jump out with it and the rational side of him complied with the same. Taking one long glance at the weapon of mass destruction, a long-repressed memory dug itself to the surface. Father Patrick McKenna could still sometimes feel the blood that covered his face twenty-three years ago when he was all but a ten-year-old boy who stood among the debris of the church, under which was buried the body of his mother. The impact of that bomb was still imprinted upon the man who had outgrown his childhood days. Although the damage from the bomb from his childhood was nothing in front of the one that lies beside him.

The last red light flickered, with every flicker bringing him face to face with his death. In those last moments, the Camerlengo felt worthless, there was a lot he wanted to do yet he was to die or maybe not. Taking a deep breath the former put the helicopter on autopilot and clutched the parachute and in the blink of an eye, the Priest was falling. The chilly winds felt like uncountable needles jabbing his exposed skin as he descended from the sky, towards the people he vowed to save the lives of.

Every eye in the crowd was fixed upon the sky waiting for the doom to strike upon them. Yet the death took longer than expected to arrive. The fate was that this explosion was supposed to consume the Vatican City. Before the light of the explosion could have filled their hearts with fear, came into sight a black figure descended the sky. Everyone looked upon the man who stood between the inevitable death and them. A zealous cheer filled the leaden air of Saint Peter's Square as they saw their angel descending towards them.

Father Patrick sensed the zeal of the crowd which forced a smile on his face but the joy was short-lived as an earth-shattering explosion happened in the air, sending its impact everywhere. The Camerlengo too felt the spine-crushing impact which knocked him out and pushed his limp body towards the roof of the Basilica. The horde saw the lifeless body of the Priest swaying down but not much life appeared in his body.

*

"The people want you and so do we, Patrick." Cardinals Baggia repeated himself as he took a step toward the young Priest who was forced to sit on a wooden chair despite his protest for his body was still weak from the impact it has endured a few hours ago.

"I am not the man who deserves this honour. It was you who were the preferiti, the first choice of God and you are the ones who deserve this title. There is nothing I did that demands a such radical change in the rules of the church, Cardinals Baggia." Spoke Patrick in an audibly pained voice. A discussion was going on for the past hour about Father Patrick McKenna and whether he should be made the Pope or not. While every cardinal present agreed to make him the new, young and progressive Pope yet it was the young man who was in denial.

While the Camerlengo himself was in a great deal of pain. He could still feel the burning sensation from the branding Cardinals Lamassé gifted him. It felt as if every bone in his body was shattered by a hammer. Wounds covered his whole body which felt like a hundred scorpions stinging him repeatedly, causing him unbearable pain. He could hear the whispering discussion that was happening between the Cardinals who surrounded him.

Yet another outburst of voices followed Patrick's answer, every Cardinal asking him to agree.

"I cannot and will not agree to this proposal. I was not raised to wrongly take anyone else's honour. I respect you all yet this proposal is one thing I can't agree to and I must ask your forgiveness for that, Cardinals." Announced the young Camerlengo as he tried to get up from the chair but the punitive pain forced him back on the chair.

*

A few hours passed as Father Patrick lay awake in the medical quarters of Saint Peter's Basilica. Blistering pain kept him from resting his gruesomely tired body. The crowd outside hailed him a hero that he wasn't. There was a change in everyone's mannerisms around him. The nurses, Swiss Guards or anyone he crossed paths with didn't look him in the eyes. Their heads bowed as they addressed him in mere whispers. He was no naïve child to not understand this change in behaviour yet he hated it. All he wanted was to be treated like the normal man that he was. The people saw a brave hero who in genuineness felt neither strong nor brave. All Patrick saw himself as was a lost man and nothing more. He decided to live but what was left for him to live for now? The very thing he stood for was contaminated with arrogance and greed.

In those moments of remorse and suffering came a call for him from the Cardinals. The young Priest was determined and there was nothing the Cardinals could do to make him comply with their wishes.