The SPECTRE Of The VATICAN ©

Chapter 2 - The Aftermath.

Time: Modern Day
Location: Sydney, Australia

The stars were replaced by the faces of concerned onlookers. Patrons had fled the restaurant fearing a mass shooter, or worse, a terrorist attack. Australia had been on high alert, ever since its involvement in Iraq.

"Hey isn't that the guy on TV?"
Another voice said, "Shit, it is, it's Carter Cheval. Get the medics over here quickly."

It was a nice night, warm, Spring evening, but now Carter was getting cold. The concrete pavement wasn't comfortable to sleep on, and the wet warmth on his chest was turning chilly. He wondered how the homeless fared in Winter if this was what it felt like to sleep rough in Spring!

The medics arrived. One was called, and pushed, directly to Carter despite there being several casualties in need of attention. One of the perks of being a celebrity, he thought to himself. He ripped open Carter's shirt and said, "Oh Jesus!"

Funny how we call on God only in the face of death, or during sex, Carter thought. The medic removed the bloodied little gold cross, his mother had bought him years ago, from about his neck.

"Are you a Catholic mate? I thought I saw a priest here. Where's the priest, someone get the priest!" he shouted.

But the priest was already a block and a half away. He pulled off the collar, tied it neatly around the silencer of his gun and turfed the lot into the harbour at Circular Quay.

Carter's bright blue eyes were turning dull. They had stopped the bleeding as best they could, placed him on the stretcher and loaded him into the ambulance. As they dropped the stretcher into the locking mechanism, Carter was amused to find that he had floated off the stretcher, and was now looking down on the back of the neck of the paramedic. He was trying to see who the medic was working on.

He noticed something strange. A deep blue laser was piercing through the chest of the paramedic. It was a beautiful blue "umbilical cord" that seemed to be emanating out of his wounded chest. It was travelling towards whoever was on the stretcher.

He wished the paramedic would move over a bit so he could see the person under him. At last the medic reached for something from his bag. Now Carter could see the pale faced recipient of the medic's attention. It looked like his twin brother. Only he didn't have a twin. It was him!

The medic was radioing ahead. "I'm losing him. I'm losing him!"

The ambulance pulled up at Emergency, sirens blaring. They rushed him from the ambulance and into the hospital.

Carter was dragged along by the blue umbilical cord of energy just floating along about three or four feet above the medics' heads.

Into the operating theatre they went. He ducked his head at the swinging doors. He needn't have bothered as he passed right through them.

He felt a stab as the surgeon plunged the adrenalin needle into his heart. The blue cord buckled down, and sparks flew out from the entry point into the lifeless body below. "We've lost him." The surgeon threw his bloody gloves into the corner.

A woman screamed. It was Layla Elise Hart. She had been watching from the observation deck. Carter waved to her but her head was buried in her hands; she couldn't see him even though he was only feet in front of her, in front of the thick glass panel.

Carter was wheeled out of the theatre into a darkened adjoining room. He floated above his body slowly coming to the realisation that he would not walk the streets of his beloved Sydney again; not in the broken body below anyway.