“È vivo!”

But now it’s alive and it’s out there.

1

“Does this hurt?” uttered Dr. Ricci, as the doctors poked, shined, and pricked every part of my being.

“No, just my head. How many times do I have to tell you? It’s just my head.”

“Well Mr. Santore, you are lucky to be alive. By some grace, you are back and doing mostly well. You will be a bit hazy but we will continue to monitor your tests. Keep us updated on any memories you get back, okay?”

Grace. If it was truly grace I wouldn’t be here. I hate it here. The doctors. Hospitals. Pills and tests. They only search to cure never to heal and fully remedy what has been lost. What a scam. Yet we depend on it.

“Am I free to go?”

“Yes, once a guardian or friend comes to sign those discharge papers you can go. See you in two weeks,” ushered the nurse before leaving the clipboard in hand.

Whilst grabbing his things, a sharp pain pounded the back of Francesco’s head a voice emanating within. “You need to leave. Now!”

“Come on! Frankie, it’s a trap, we were set up. Caruso ratted us out, and now all of the Marino family and the police think it’s you. You need to leave. Now!”

BANG.

Before Francesco could react, the doors burst open with a thundering boom as a tsunami of gunfire plagued the building. Best friend, Lorenzo got shot in the shoulder, as Frank slid behind a table retaliating in ammo as the bullets spewed from all directions. He gestured for him to come over but Dante Marino saundered in, putting the nail in the coffin, pulling the trigger, and giving Lorenzo a farewell into the afterlife.

Frank was cornered and as he loaded his weapon deciding to go out triumphantly, he got shot in the left rib falling over. He knew his time was up and all he could think was that Caruso had led them to this point. Wrong he trusted the wrong person and he will be dead because of it. Life over.

“I don’t understand Francesco, what made you want to cross my family?

No, really?

I would have given you anything, my sister’s hand in marriage, I mean, you were the godfather in my son’s baptism.

I’m hurt.

I loved you like a brother, but now. Now you are lower than the rats. Less than the fish. You are dirt. I should have known it from the moment my father picked you up from that trash heap you originated. And now you will go back to where you belong.

Bang.

“Are you alright Mr. Santore, you can stay an extra day if you need to, no man with your injuries would leave so early anyway,” urged the nurse.

My injuries, Frank thought.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Nine bullet wounds, three fractured ribs, two very close calls to the chest, and the rest of his pains in various places.

How did I make it? Someone up there must love me.

“No I am alright, thank you.” Francesco took his bag and walked out into the hall.

“Mr. Santore, I need to have a word with you.” Spoke a man in a navy suit, smelling of the authorities.

“You got the wrong guy.” Responded Francesco not losing all sense amidst waking up.

“If you’ll excuse me.” Frank turned in the opposite direction listening out for the footsteps of the man behind him.

“I wasn’t asking.” Uttered the man before throwing a jab at the back of Frank’s head.

Dodging to the left Santore dipped and threw his bag under a lounge chair, extending his leg to sweep the Man in suit.

“It’s rude to start fights in hospitals,” edged Frankie continuously weaving the forthcoming attacks from this perpetrator.

The man lunged at him and threw them both over the check-in desk, papers flying in the cataclysm of their altercation. Nurses and patients ran in opposite directions, one calling for security.

He picked up a chair and threw it at the guy, but he ducked into a doorway using both his hands to kick Frankie in the chest. Knocking the wind out of him.

As the local authorities arrived, the suited man disappeared from view leaving a mess of a lobby and Francesco Santore to take the blame once again.

“Kill me now.” Sighed Frank stood up, gesturing at a little kid to give him his bag.

- -

“Sir, come with me.” ordered a cop down a long-winded hall.

“I thought you guys took fingerprints and mugshots when criminals get caught, where am I being dragged to?”

“Quiet, you can ask your questions once the agents arrive.”

“Agents? Look lady, I’m no rodent. Not gonna get me to squeak.”

“That’s what they all say. Just sit and wait.”

The officer left him in an empty room donned with only a chair and a metal table. Since waking up at the hospital Frank never got any of the questions he had solved.

Who ratted on me? Saying what? Why did Marino think he sold them out? What happened to Lorenzo’s body? Why is he here? Who is that man in the suit, what did he want?

“Yeah, just kill me.” He muttered head pounding with unease at all the problems he must solve.

“Not yet, Mr. Santore,” walked in an agent. “We have questions and you have answers, then we can discuss how to dispose of you.”

- -

“Does he remember any of this? I mean a man doesn’t just come back from the dead without answers. Does he?” Asked agent Giani.

“He didn’t know anything, and wasn’t very cooperative either,” responds agent Enzo.

“I guess this one got messed up in production. This is why you don’t resurrect people who have obtained that many injuries. It fogs up the system.” mutters Dio the scientist behind the experiments.

“He is still a person, why are we talking about him as if he’s some lab rat?” interjects agent Enzo.

“Agent, if you can’t see that this is a creation of our doing. Our Frankenstein, then you aren’t welcome here. There is no time for sentiments. I only agreed to work with the C.I.A. because of the funding. You only oversee my operations. Interrupt me with baseless thoughts again, and I will ask for someone else. There is no room for mistakes in this business. Understand?”

“Understood.” Enzo walks out the door frustrated with the lack of morals present.

Giani steps out the door puzzled, “What was that?”

“What?” Turns Enzo. “ Do you not see that it is wrong to raise someone from the dead to infiltrate a crime family, and they don’t even know what is going on?”

“Yeah, I see it's wrong, but what better people to use than their own? I’m tired of losing our men. Remember Liam? He’s gone and now this is our mission. Get your head in the game. Deal?”

“Deal. But it doesn’t mean I have to like Dio, he’s a prick.”

Yeah, one with a god complex.

What a combo.