Be Realistic

Chapter 2

Flashing blue and red lights.

People screaming and crying.

It had looked like the end of the world.

Rubbish everywhere.

Bodies everywhere.

People limping everywhere.

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"There's two more people over here!!" A gentle young voice called as she cautiously walked into the cafe.

Two paramedics had followed her in.

"Check for a pulse." the taller of the two commanded.

The girl and the shorter paramedic rushed through the rubbish until they reached the sides of a girl and a boy.

"There's a pulse here," the shorter paramedic said in a muffled voice, laying next to the female body.

The faces weren't recognizable. It was all just hair and fabric and blood.

Bricks and cinder and cracked tiles and broken tables and chairs covered the floor. Maneuvering the area was difficult and depressing.

The bodies.

The destruction.

It just wasn't ethical here.

In the city of love?

No way.

Why?

A young couple?

Yeah, and 400 other people.

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"So here we are talking with Dr. Sprille of the largest hospital in Paris." A lady said in a saddened voice; introducing a middle-aged man in a white trench coat.

"Yes and here we are after the suicide bombings in the south side of Paris, we have over 150 people severely injured and in either ICU or elsewhere in the hospital caused by the bombings that day. I believe we have three patients in coma's, being carefully monitored of course. Many people are predicted to heal, that's good, but many people are also paralyzed, which is not good."

"Wow, three people in commas?"

"Yes ma'am. I believe a young child, whose family is surely grieving and young male and female, who we think were on a date of some sort in a little cafe."

"That's horrible. A little boy I presume?"

"Indeed."

"And that's that on 6 and 8 news, we'll see you guys at eight."

The show had ended.

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Here in a room with tubes and monitors everywhere lay an unconscious young women; her eyes open lazily, staring vaguely, at nothing in particular. One pupil dilated more than the other. The monitor beeped normally. Every few hours, nurses would enter and shift the girls the position.

A floor below, with tubes and monitors everywhere, lay an unconscious young man; his eyes opened lazily, staring vaguely, at nothing in particular. One pupil dilated more than the other. The monitor beeped normally. Every few hours, nurses would enter and shift the boys position.

A silent struggle. Each of them scoring a nine on the coma scale. Expected to wake up in their current state.

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And the world continued on without them.

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A very smart little girl, walked through the crowded streets full of people. Her mother (soon to be un-mother) had of course not cared where she was or what she was doing. She was 11. She had known that she was suppose to be adopted by a young couple in 2 weeks time. But she hadn't known who they were to be.