Read Still Bleeding (A Jack Nightingale Short Story) for Free Online

the structure of the Catholic Church?’ asked Ricky.
    ‘Not much. I
know the Pope’s the big guy, obviously.’
    Ricky flashed
him a tight smile. ‘You’ve got the laity at the bottom. The people.
Then you’ve got the deacons who help out at mass. Then you’ve got
the priests and above them the bishops and above them the
archbishops and above them, the cardinals. And right at the top,
the Pope. It’s like an army. Hell, it is an army. And if any member
of the army can perform miracles then they are fast-tracked to
sainthood. But if anyone outside the army starts showing miracle
tendencies – then it’s treated differently. The church regards it
as terrorism. And they stamp it out.’
    ‘Stamp it
out?’
    ‘They kill
them, Nightingale. Sometimes they make it look like an accident,
sometimes they just disappear. But they die. They have to die
otherwise their existence makes a complete mockery of the Catholic
Church.’
    ‘How do you
know that?’
    ‘Because I’ve
done my research. I’ve spoken to people. I’ve looked into the last
fifty cases of reported stigmata and I can tell you this much – the
ones that aren’t shown to be hoaxes either die or disappear. And
that’s a fact.’
    Nightingale
said nothing. His mouth had gone suddenly dry and he sipped his
Corona, but that didn’t seem to help.
    ‘That’s why I
need to know who your client is,’ said Ricky. ‘If you’re working
for a newspaper or a magazine, or some reality TV show or other,
then that’s fine. If your client is sick and wants Tracey to lay
her hands on him, okay, we can talk about that. But if you’re
acting for the Vatican, then we’ve got a big problem, Nightingale.
One hell of a big problem.’
    ‘What are you
saying, Ricky? Are you saying they’ll kill her?’
    ‘I’m saying
that when non-Catholics start to report miracles, it doesn’t end
well.’
    ‘But if the
miracle proves the existence of God, the Church would welcome that,
surely.’
    Ricky sipped
his lager. ‘Do you believe in God, Nightingale?’
    ‘That’s a tough
question.’
    ‘It’s actually
a very simple question.’
    ‘Doesn’t make
it any less tough.’ Nightingale picked at the label of his bottle
with his thumb. ‘I believe in devils,’ he said. ‘And angels. ‘And I
believe in The Devil. If I believe in The Devil then I have to
believe in God. You can’t have one without the other, can you?’
    ‘You’re asking
the wrong person,’ said Ricky. ‘I’m an atheist. Have been for
years.’
    ‘Seriously?
After what Tracey’s been through?’
    ‘Our mum was a
Catholic and Carla and I were both baptised. When we were not much
older than Tracey, she got cancer. We prayed, Carla and I, we
prayed for hours on end, begging God to save our mum. He didn’t of
course. I became an atheist at her funeral. Carla did the
same.’
    ‘Understandable,’ said Nightingale.
    ‘There’s no
such thing as a God,’ said Ricky. ‘Not as an individual entity.
It’s impossible, how could one being control everything? The
universe is huge and scientists can explain pretty much everything.
God is a matter of faith, pure and simple.’
    ‘But Tracey’s
stigmata?’
    Ricky shrugged.
‘Psychosomatic.’
    ‘And the Virgin
Mary?’
    ‘Only Tracey
sees her. No one else has.’
    ‘You think
she’s making it up?’
    ‘I don’t know.
And I don’t know where she’s getting it from. Her dad Dave’s a
confirmed atheist as well. There’s no religion in the house. And
none at the school, obviously.’
    ‘I think that
Tracey truly believes that she is talking to the mother of Christ,’
said Ricky. ‘I think somehow her belief is somehow manifesting
itself in the stigmata. And while I can’t even come close to
understanding or explaining it, she can somehow cure people who are
sick. But whatever she’s doing, and however she’s doing it, I don’t
think for one minute that God has anything to do with it.’ He took
another pull on his lager and wiped his