Time Ghost

Chapter 23

~beep-beep~

Here I am.

I have to lie on the hospital bed once more. A thunder strike upon the head apparently estimated as deadly for the Presidential office staff around me. My face, Marcel Dubois and his old-and-dreary brown skin that encircled the beak-shaped nose of the man, has been presented across the entire country in every headline news available. Reporters have been snooping within the hospital for small but significant chunk that they could retrieve off my current condition. Thankfully, these state-confirmed bouncers have done an excellent duty to keep them at bay.

They are responsive and always in alert mode against any dreadful menace that could exist within range. No intruders beyond seven meters, including the hospital corridors and its quarters, alongside three-layer permission that was required for an exclusive coverage of my presence beforehand. I was told that there are snipers outside the hospital for essential take-down maneuver when it was indispensable to do so. Most shrouded figure on the hospital ground will be examined thoroughly, or to be shot at if they possess dangerous weaponry under their belt and refused to cooperate.  

I’m not comfortable with all these security protocols. Unfortunately, no plain words are capable to ward off any potential intruders from entering my private domain. Military service of the country will be condemned heavily by the press if President’s safety is at stake. No wonder, who would believe our Government when its national security has failed to save their President’s ass from harm?

Three hours at the Ginorno State Hospital has been expended to provide full-body investigation that the Presidential staff has requested. Each session takes one and a half hour respectively as the President roamed around the corridor within the circle of black-suited personality. For the first on the line, the head doctor performed verbal examinations to mull over several health issues that could be arisen from such tragedy.

After performing Glasgow Coma Scale for deducting injuries that occurred upon the head, the second examination procedures are based upon the first. The doctors considered CT scan for insurance of the previous test. Marcel Dubois has secured 15 in the respective consciousness trial. But the President’s perfect marks required foundations of profound mechanical device afterwards.

Thus, the neurologists proceed to gather information of the President’s physique by MRI scan examination. Marcel Dubois have to recline upon the green-tinted bedding before the magnetic tube. Two black-suited security guard waited outside the area to intercept anyone who would encroach the President’s examination procedure without prior consent of the man.

Khufar Ahmed and his colleagues were lingering beyond the machine, as well. They reside behind a separate room with transparent glass pane connected to the MRI machine area. By the table on their front, The head doctor patted it for a test before then speaks, “Please be still, Mr. President. I will conduct several snapshots to your entire body.” He muttered.

His two assistants consequently carried on with their duty to alter the built-in cameras angle for accurate positions of the scanning procedure. Of course, they have done so in silence for the duty of explaining things is burdened to the head doctor in charge. Khufar Ahmed continues to bring forth several instructions as the tube whirls. It was all about staying motionless and breathe control. The President must take a deep inhale several times before a number of pictures taken close to the chest.

----

Finally.

I can grab a burger for lunch. It was exhaustive sessions for me, but I can conclude one thing. These occurrences were miraculous to everyone around the victim. Let alone Chuck and his sudden outburst, my vessel has had to suffer from various predicaments caused by the lightning strike.

Ah, here they come.

Natalie has returned from the vending machine. She brought the President’s order of beef burger with American Fries across the edge. Without a doubt, the woman was enveloped within a full circle of black-suited security guards for means of absolute protection, “Here, Mr. President.” She handed over the order as Her chest bent down slightly.

U-la-la.

I can anticipate her fragrance. For Goodness knows who, this woman is too valuable to become personal assistant of a President. She is gorgeous! Look at those bright-looking crust. Illuminations reflected from that buns….

I can taste them from a kilometer away.

Ah, dang it. The doctors are also here for some reason. He might want to take a bite.

The President took a glance towards the southern side of the corridor. In a clear opposite from where Natalie has landed, Khufar Ahmed and his colleagues held numerous, yellow-colored document holders on their chest. Perhaps by personal request, no squad of black-suited personnel could be seen around them in circle. There are options for the guards to fend off terrors in earlier occasions, and it seems to be situated ahead of the doctor’s arrival this time around.

“After our lengthy examinations, we found no issues towards the brain cells or its functions. It performs as normal as it could ever be.” Khufar Ahmed explained. His two assistants then gave Natalie the complete document for further examination,” These are the written descriptions about the President’s case. I still can’t believe you made it, Mr. Dubois. A lightning strike should be fatal to majority of humans.”

His eyes go widened afterwards.

“I can assure you. It’s purely God’s deed for me to guide this country for prosperous future.” The President responded in brief, " It's a good sign from our Lord in Heaven. We will survive!"

It’s pure autopilot. This man’s political muscle has conquered my own thoughts. I can’t even fathom of that sentence I have said.

The head doctor offered another hand-shake gesture. Yet, due to previous encounter against the guards, He appeared reluctant to do so.

Ah, my man here is being fearful. I must do that ‘diplomacy’ thing for his sake. Or else, Marcel Dubois’ next term could be abolished due to solid disgust from the doctors somehow.

As Marcel Dubois noticed of the head doctor’s advance, he chooses to present his right hand before him instead, “Thank you so much for your support, Mr. Ahmed. I am lucky to have you as a doctor.”

Black-suited personnel leaves him be and kept their attention to surroundings in its place. Then, before it takes too protracted and grows awkward, Natalie intervenes the President’s amicable gesture by a whisper.

“Time for your conference, Mr. President. Your wife will be waiting inside the helicopter.” She murmured,” I will try my best to cover what we were doing yesterday.”

Say what?