The gurney slammed through the double doors of Fairview General Hospital as the nurses wheeled in Lourdes. Blood stained bandages covered her head. A nurse removed caked blood and pressed an oxygen mask on her face.
A stocky old man in a lab coat walked towards the gurney. "What do we have?"
"Car accident, doctor," a male nurse replied, looking at a clipboard. "Severe head injuries, female, teenager."
"We're losing her, doc." a female nurse said, holding the patient's right wrist. "Pulse is fading and blood pressure's dropping."
"Injury to other major organs?" the doctor asked.
"None apparent," the male nurse said.
"Get her on life support, I.C.U.," the doctor said. "I'll be with you in a moment."
They wheeled Lourdes from the Emergency Room to the main hallway of the hospital.
The doctor walked to the corner, away from the commotion of the E.R., and took out his phone. "Hello? Yes, get me Dr. Beltrain."
With his imposing height and strong Caucasian features, Dr. Dale Beltrain stood out from the Filipino doctors in the hospital. He walked the halls of the medical facility and made his way to the Intensive Care Unit where Lourdes was placed. He looked through the room's clear glass and saw the unconscious teenager plugged into a life support system. The stocky old doctor sat beside her, writing on a clipboard. He looked up and saw Dr. Beltrain.
The old doctor nodded.
Beltrain nodded back and called on his cellphone.
It was almost midnight in Stockholm, Sweden.
Benjamin Castle III sat on his dark brown lazy boy in his cozy, classically decorated study, cigar on his right hand and a glass of red wine on the other. His shiny bald head capped a high cheekboned face covered in a thick but neatly trimmed gray beard. He looked dapper, even in his casual dark blue satin smoking robe and slippers. "Kind of Blue" by Miles Davis hummed from the floor speakers flanking a high end stereo system. A vinyl record spun on a turntable above it.
His mobile phone lit up.
Castle put the glass down and took the call.
"Yes, this is Castle speaking," he said in his thick British accent.
He pressed the phone harder to his ear.
"Where?"
He crinkled his forehead.
"How old?"
He puffed on his cigar.
"Ah, female. I see."
He scratched his chin and nodded.
"Yes, yes, keep her plugged in. We'll come for her in less than twenty four hours. Thank you."
He fingered his phone's touchscreen and put it in his ear.
"Georgia, we may have a match."
Lourdes opened her eyes. She felt groggy and her vision was blurred, but she could make out the light blue walls and about half a dozen people dressed in white gathered around her. Her eyes came into focus and she saw a middle aged woman's face very close to hers. Lourdes looked into the woman's kind blue eyes, framed by black, horn-rimmed glasses.
"Hi," the woman said.
"Hello," Lourdes replied, her voice weak and raspy.
"How do you feel?"
YOU ARE READING
Wrath Of The Butterfly: Rayah Reyes Chronicles Book 1
ActionLourdes was just a typical teenager who'd recently graduated high school, until a heinous crime left her family dead and put her in a coma. Her medical condition attracted the attention of a mysterious international security agency, which took her i...
