******
New York City: Jokertown
From far away, from under a league of water or perhaps a thousand yards of cotton batting, Fortunato heard someone call his name. But he couldn’t answer. He was wrapped in a cloak of weakness, a cocoon that isolated him almost completely from the world.
And all of his senses told him one thing: pain. Horrific, mind-numbing, soul-eating pain that should have killed him but ironically was helping him cling to the edge of life. Pain, and from somewhere far away, insignificant insect-like vibrations that touched the edge of his consciousness.
“Father! Father Squid! Jesus Christ, come here, quick!”
There was a momentary cessation of vibration, then the whole floor quivered as if something very heavy was approaching very quickly. Then there was peace again.
“Is he still alive, Father?”
Pressure on his face, gentle, as if tendrils of a willow tree blown across his features by a soft wind that smelled faintly of the sea.
“He is.”
Fortunato was still hiding too deep in his consciousness to understand the surprise in the voice.
“It’s a miracle, Father.”
“I don’t know about that. That mental cry for help must have penetrated nearly every corner of Jokertown. Only a powerful ace could have done it. Only a powerful ace could survive a beating like this.”
“Then the old Fortunato’s back?”
“I don’t know about that, either, but if we don’t get him some help fast, we’ll never find out.”
“It took a long time to find a single man hidden in a falling down building, even if he was just across the street from Our Lady.”
“We did the best we could for him, now it’s out of our hands. Call 911. Tell them to get here quick. I’m afraid to move him ourselves.”
There were shuffling vibrations along the floor of comings and goings.
“But, good God, Father, what happened to these others? It looks like they’ve been torn to pieces by wild beasts. There’s Carlos... that has to be part of that big guy... they’re all from that gang.”
The smell of the sea receded. The floor creaked as massive weight shifted upon it.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe the old Fortunato is back. And the Bruddas bit off a little more than they could chew...”
There was an eternity of silence. Then the pain that he thought was ultimate agony exploded into agony multiplied exponentially as gentle angel wings lifted him up and brought to mercifully peaceful, painless Heaven.