The Prince

I know that I've left you guys with a few cliff hangers in the last couple of chapters, but there is not one at the end of this chapter! I promise!

So anyway...as usual, you can email me with any comments or questions that you have. The address is thefuturecanadian@yahoo.ca. You're also free to join my yahoo group if you'd like...the address is http://ca.groups.yahoo.com/group/futurecanadiansgroup. Enjoy this chapter!!!

david :)

Paradise Chapter 11 "Choices, Part II" (A.K.A. "Ordinary Day")

JD fell to ground after the last shot pierced the side of his body. His head hit the pavement as blood ran from his wounds. It seemed like a lifetime passed as Lindsay and Jen applied pressure to the area where the second bullet entered his body. It was, after all, the major of the three wounds. Tyler was on his right side, tightly gripping his hand as he cried, begging JD to be strong for a little while, until they could get him to the hospital. JD remembered seeing Tyler remove his shirt to give to them the girls to use to apply pressure. In the distance, he could his mother's wails as she tried to get out of her car and run to her baby's side.

He remembered blinking a couple of times and the feeling that his chest was getting heavy. He could consciously feel his heartbeat slowing as it became harder and harder to breathe. He blinked once more, opening his yes to see Tyler crying so hard and Lindsay still in a state of shock as she tired to stop the bleeding. But his eyelids became heavy, and with what he thought was a blink was actually his eyes shutting as he faced the blue sky. He felt his final breath and his heart stopping. He could feel as Tyler pinch his nose and start breathing into his lungs. Tyler stopped for a second and started pushing his chest.

"Come on, JD," Tyler screamed as he looked down onto his man's face as it seemed as though the life was slipping away from him.

"Damnit! I wish the blood would just stop!" Lindsay said as the shock finally went away and she realized that she was losing one of the two strongest people in her life.

"You can do it, JD," Jen encouraged as she walked around to his shoulder to apply pressure there.

"MY BABY!!!" Maxima yelled as the members of the Presidential Guard attempted to hold her from the gruesome scene before her. She could see two dead bodies, but she was only concerned about one.

Tom was speechless as he looked at his niece and the man who might as well be his son-in-law working to make sure he was alive. He should be over there with him, but he couldn't. He couldn't move. It was a good thing, too, as Lidia fell onto him as she looked at what was going on.

"OH GOD!" Tammy said as she saw the scene. "My baby," she said as a feeling of guilt washed over her being. Bob was there for her as she started crying into his shirt, uncontrollably.

Ronnie and Kevin were shaking. They had been at a gay bashing twice in the last two and a half months. Memories of that day that were repressed deep into the recesses of their minds suddenly resurfaced as they began to wrap their minds around what all had happened.

In Morovia, everyone watching the parade on Morovian State Television held their breath as the broadcast was cut. A few were crying, but most of them were angry and in shock that anyone would do something so gruesome. Not even Guil Santiago would have permitted such a thing to occur.

Inside the Presidential Palace, Zhola had been watching the parade in her suite alongside the Chamboros. Within seconds of the cut of the broadcast, she was receiving calls asking what was going on.

"I need to see the head of the Presidential Guard," she said as she walked outside to where a couple of assistants had assembled.

"Yes ma'am," one of them said as she walked off. Already, there were tears of mourning, for it seemed that all of them knew, even if only in the back of their minds, that something horrible had just happened in Paradise.

Zhola turned to the other assistant, "Get Princess Maxima on the phone as soon as possible."

"Yes ma'am," the second lady said as she walked in a different direction from the first.

"You..." she said to one of the guards that was standing at her door. "Find the director of the TV Service and get him here immediately."

"Yes ma'am," he replied. Normally, there were to be two guards standing outside that door, by protocol, but the guard knew that she needed more than just the two women could provide right then.

"When he gets back," she said to the other, "get the Information Minister here."

"Ay ma'am," he answered as he continued to stand at attention.

As Zhola arrived, the ambulance was arriving at the scene to escort JD to hospital. The EMTs that responded were both Morovian, and there was nothing that they wouldn't do to make sure that JD pulled through. They pulled Tyler off the body as soon as they arrived, loaded it onto a gurney, and took it away. They permitted one person to travel with the body, but they wouldn't let Tyler go. He asked Lindsay, since she was family, to go and keep him updated every few minutes.

As the Ambulance rolled away, Tyler began feeling sick. Jen grabbed him just before he fell to the ground and began throwing up. Buckets of vomit came from deep within him as Maxima, Tom, and Lidia came over to check on him.

Tyler stood again as his parents, brother, and Ronnie arrived over there. There was so much pain that had grown and begun to fester deep within them over the course of those few minutes. All remembering both Ricky and JD at the same time, they wrapped themselves into a hug. Their beings were as one as they each regretted being able to pull Ricky back from the edge of where he was.

As the coroner arrived to take the body of the shooter away, Maxima stopped them from completely zipping the bag until the family had a chance to say goodbye to him. As they walked over to the bag, Tammy lost it completely. If it hadn't been for Bob, who was strong but crying himself, she would have fallen to the ground. Ronnie and Kevin were hugging each other tightly, beginning to wonder if something in their karma was causing horrible problems for everyone around them.

Tyler was the only whose eyes weren't filled with tears. Tyler was angry at him still, angry for what he'd done to JD and angry for what he'd allowed others to do for him. Don't get anything wrong, he was hurting so much for his little brother, he just wasn't able to express it in the way that they all were.

He looked into Ricky's still open but lifeless eyes. He silently said a little prayer for him, reached up, and closed the eyes. With that act, he looked at the coroners, who zipped the bag and put his lifeless body into the black car that they'd brought.

By the time he turned around, Maxima and Tammy, two ladies who had only days before even met, were consoling each other. They both feared that they had the ominous distinction of losing a child well before his time was up.

"Highness," one of the members of the Presidential Guard came up to Tom.

"Yes?" he asked.

"The hospital has been secured. We should get you there, sir," he said.

"OK," Tom responded.

"Also, the President is trying to get in touch with Princess Maxima," he said.

"Do you have her number?" Tom asked.

"Yes sir," the man said as he handed Tom a piece of paper.

"Thank you. If you will, get her a message that I will have the Princess contact her as soon as we're at the hospital."

"Yes sir," the man answered as he respectfully bowed toward Tom and pulled away from them.

"Max," he said. "We need to get to the hospital."

"OK," she said.

"Ms. Maxima," Kevin asked. "Would it be OK if we came with you?"

"Of course," she answered as they piled into several cars and headed, under local police escort to the hospital.

As they drove, each of them recalled so many vividly awesome memories of JD; each of them thought about how incomplete their life would be if he didn't make it through this, if he didn't come back to them.

In Morovia, Zhola awaited the arrival of all the people that she'd called. The first to arrive was the Director of the Presidential Guard, a formidably tall man who scared most people that he encountered.

"Ma'am," one of her assistants said as she entered. "The Director of the Guard."

"Thank you," Zhola said. "Mr. and Mrs. Chamboro. Would you please leave us for a moment?" Zhola was looking out the window as she had been for the previous several minutes. She didn't bother turning around for the man.

"Yes, Madam President," they said as they slipped away from her.

When she heard the door click, Zhola waited a second before speaking. "In the presence of the President, you stand at attention."

"Your father..." he said.

"I am NOT my father," she barked calmly yet forcefully. The man stood at attention and stayed there for several minutes as Zhola thought about so many things: about the nephew that she'd yet to meet but who might be dying, for all she knew, about a sister that she'd only met once but for whom she felt great pain in that moment, about a nation that wasn't ready to grieve the loss of another leader. "What is happening in America?"

"According to my reports, ma'am, the Crown Prince and Mr. Hall were walking down the street, against our requests for their protection. The assailant, who was identified as Mr. Hall's brother, Richard Hall, pushed past a barricade and opened fire. We do know, from reports, that Prince Joseph wasn't the target, but rather Mr. Hall was. Prince Joseph pushed him out of the way and took the bullets himself," the man reported.

"How many?"

"Bullets?"

"Yes," Zhola answered his question.

"Three were fired before one our agents could get a single shot. The assailant was killed where he stood, ma'am."

"Is it not the job of the Presidential Guard to ensure the people know the details of their security measures?" Zhola asked.

"It is, ma'am," the Director answered. "His Royal Highness, however, requested that the car be stopped. My men were unaware of his actions until it happened."

"If it were me who did that, what would have been the course of action?" Zhola asked.

"With all due respect, Madam President, you wouldn't have done that."

"But say I did," Zhola said, thinking of just how awesome an act JD had just done minutes before by climbing out of the car.

"We would have kept an eye on you, which is exactly what our agents did in Paradise."

"Obviously not well enough, though."

"Permission to speak freely?" he asked.

"Denied!" she barked turning and walked toward him. "And I will tell you two things. First, I want the agent driving the car and the agent who fired in my presence by sunrise!"

"They are one and the same ma'am."

"Then get him here!" she ordered. "And second. If Prince Joseph does pass away as a result of this, you will resign your position. You will take full responsibility for this...irresponsible act. Do I make myself clear?" she asked.

"Crystal, ma'am," he said.

"Now get the hell out of my face before I decide to fire you myself!" she ordered, pointing to the door. He bowed, turned, and left the room.

"The Minister of Information," the second assistant said as she showed him in.

"Zhola. Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she answered. "What are you hearing from Paradise?"

"Not much yet, ma'am, just that Prince Joseph was shot and that he's on his way to hospital."

"Keep in touch with the Hospital's press liaison, if they have one, and get me a condition every half hour. Even if there is no change, I want to know."

"Yes ma'am," he responded as he took a notepad from the inside pocket of his coat and jotted notes. It was the reporter in him to do so.

"And before anything goes to press, I am to be informed and given a half hour with the information. Even if agencies in Paradise are reporting things and you're getting questions..."

"I understand, ma'am," the portly minister noted. "Is there anything else at the moment, ma'am."

"I'm going to need some speeches."

"What instances?" he asked.

"Any that you can think of," Zhola noted.

"Yes ma'am."

Like the Director before him, the Minister bowed and walked from the room to quickly delegate the tasks that Zhola had assigned to him. As she waited for the others that she'd called to arrive, she walked back to the window and thought about things. She regretted not having asked him and Princess Lindsay to come to Washington D.C. with their mothers. In whatever way, she felt that JD was slipping away from a world that needed him to be OK.

In Paradise, the Royal Family arrived at the hospital, along with Jen and the Halls to find Lindsay standing silently in the waiting room, waiting. As Lidia walked in, she rushed over to her daughter, whose clothes were drenched in the blood of a cousin that she so adored.

Lindsay just cried into her mother's shoulder as her did everything in her power to soothe her soul. Jen and Tyler walked over after a second and joined in their embrace.

Maxima walked directly to the lady who was working reception. "I need information on Prince Joseph Barrington, please."

The lady typed away for a second. "I don't show that patient listed, ma'am."

"Could you please find out?" Maxima asked as Tom and four members of the Presidential Guard stood with them.

"Ma'am. When the computer is updated, I will know something," she said to Maxima, rudely.

"You do not understand," Maxima said.

"No. You don't understand, ma'am. I do not have that patient listed, therefore I know nothing about him."

Maxima planted her firsts firmly on the reception desk. With eyes that had been seen by so many witnesses in court and even the nine justices of the Supreme Court of the United States, she glared at the woman. "Then get off your fat ass, go find someone who would know, and come back out."

"Ma'am, if you don't get out of my face," the lady said.

"DO YOU have ANY idea who I am?"

"I really don't care..." the lady started.

"I am Her Royal Highness, Maxima Cristina Barrington, Crown Princess of Morovia. In this hospital is the man who, in four days is supposed to become King of Morovia. His name...again...is Joseph David Barrington. Now. If you do not get up, walk back to find me information, I will take these hands and rip your throat out. And I have diplomatic immunity so they will...never...prosecute me," Maxima said, getting a look of serious fear from the woman sitting on the other side of the table.

"Security!" the lady called. As the fat security guard walked over to where they were, two members of the Presidential Guard stopped him from walking any closer to Maxima.

Maxima's gaze never broke. Not only was she an attorney and royalty, but she was a mother. She was a mother whose baby was God-knows-where inside that gargantuan building.

The lady cleared her throat, stood from her seat, and walked back to the main part of the Emergency Department to find out the information that she requested.

"There is some lady outside claiming to be the...Crown Princess of Morovia," she said as three doctors and four nurses jumped from their seats and ran outside, into the waiting area, to check on her and to give her whatever information they had.

The lady returned to her station to find Tom standing there. "I want to apologize for my wife," he said, "but you should also apologize to her, because you really were very rude to her." He didn't wait for her response, though, just walking away from where he stood.

"Right now," one of the doctors said, "he's in surgery. They're removing his left kidney and also doing some other things to explore and find the extent of the damage. That's all we have right now."

"Alright. Thank you. As soon as you know something, would you please let us know?"

"Yes ma'am," they all agreed.

"Thank you," Maxima said.

"Max," Tom said.

"Yes?"

"Zhola called. She wanted to talk to you as soon as you were free."

"OK," she said, pulling her cell phone from her pocket. She scrolled down until she found the name for which she looked.

It took a moment to connect, but after a moment, the familiar sound that one gets when they call to Europe came blasting through the headset.

"Hi," Zhola answered. "How are you holding up?"

"I don't know how to answer that question yet," Maxima said as she walked into the ladies room to find something to wipe her eyes.

"And JD?"

"He's in surgery to remove his kidney now," Maxima said before she just broke down, crying. "I don't know what to do, Zhola. My baby is quite possibly dead or dying."

"I'm not going to tell you that it will be OK, because I don't know what you're going through, but you won't have to deal with anything or anyone you don't want to."

"I'm sorry for being emotional," Maxima answered.

"Maxima. It's not a problem, seriously. I'm your sister," Zhola said in the presence of the Chamboros, the Minister of Information, who had returned to the Presidential Suite, and the director of the Morovian Television Service.

"I know. I appreciate it so very much," Maxima said as she sat in one of the stalls, talking to Zhola and wiping her face.

"So would you like to talk about something?"

"Like what?" Maxima asked.

"Anything you want to talk about?"

"What if JD dies? What's going to happen to the restoration?"

"Princess Lindsay," Zhola answered. "If she's not willing to accept it, then I don't know. I have a feeling, though, that JD will pull through. I mean, if he's strong enough to live through the shit my father said about him, then he's strong enough to deal with this."

"He really is," Maxima answered. "I remember one time, when he was younger," she recalled between sniffles, "he asked me why Guil hated us so much."

"What did you tell him?" Zhola asked.

"I told him that Guil didn't hate us, that he just had different ideas about how Morovia should be run than we had."

"How did he take that?"

"He said that he understood. Even though he was just six or seven, he understood things that most grownups can't even contemplate," Maxima told Zhola. "During his childhood, he was... a big kid. People used to make fun of him all the time, but he never let any of it bother him. Then, when he was thirteen or so, he asked to join a gym, and that's all that she wrote." There was a momentary pause. "Zhola, I wish that you could have met him. He was more like Papa than anyone else that has ever been on the planet. Sometimes I think that he might BE Papa, reincarnated or something."

"It will be nice when I do get to meet him," Zhola said, trying to keep Maxima's spirits high from that side of the globe.

Maxima's call waiting beeped after a second. It was Mary calling. "Zhola. Can I call you back in a little while?"

"Is everything OK?"

"Yes. There's a call coming in that I should take."

"OK. Just call me back and keep me updated."

"Alright. Zhola..." Maxima said.

"Yes?"

"I am so proud that you are one of my sisters," she noted.

"Thank you, Maxima."

"Call me Max. Everyone else does!"

"Alright...Max. Call if you need anything."

"I will," Maxima said as she swapped over to the other line. "Hello?"

"Maxima! I just heard," Mary said. "What can I do to help?"

"Well. I know that Tom and I could use an extra set of clothes. If you want to go shopping for us, that would be amazing."

"Of course. Should I come up there and get everyone's sizes?"

"That would be good. There are so many of us here, and I'm sure that they'll need something soon. I don't really anticipate that any of us will be going anywhere for a while," Maxima answered.

"Alright. I'll be there shortly," she noted.

"OK," Maxima said as she heard the door closing and locking.

As she walked out of the stall, she saw Tom standing just inside the door of the large lavatory.

"What are we gonna do, Max?" he asked as she walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, allowing her head to rest on his chest.

"My guess would be that we're going to be doing a lot of crying and a lot of hoping, at least until we know something," she said.

"You know," Tom said as he put his chin atop Maxima's head, "I was just thinking about the day we found out that you were pregnant."

"Oh God!" Maxima said as she fondly remembered the day.

It was a hot as hell summer day in Paradise. It was one of those days that felt like a record temperature was set. Every day for the previous two weeks, she had been sick but couldn't explain why. The only thing that she didn't throw right back up were those omelets that Tom could prepare so meticulously. As Tom was working during the day, Lidia and Maxima went to the doctor. Maxima cried when she found out. She had been on birth control; Tom had used a condom, but it burst under the force of the orgasm. She cried when she found she was pregnant, but it only took a few minutes for her to go from upset to happy to nervous. At that point in time, he worked for a particular firm. She worked as a public defender and the two lived in an apartment in Baursville. It was far from what they had on the day when JD was shot.

They recalled how she went into labor almost two days before JD actually graced them with his presence. It was a hard labor, but it was expected, given his size. At one point, Maxima yelled at Tom that once she was able to get off that table that she was going to cut off his penis and put it inside on of his omelets. He smiled, knowing that she wouldn't actually do that; she liked it too much. JD ended up being 23 inches long and weighed almost 10 pounds. Maxima refused to have a c-section unless it was absolutely necessary.

"You're crying?" Maxima asked him as they stood in the bathroom.

"Yeah," he answered. "I can't stop thinking of the what if's."

"Like?"

"What if he makes it, but his injuries leave him paralyzed or something? What if he makes it, but he's not the same person that he was? What if..." he stopped.

"If it's any consolation, Zhola feels like he's gonna be fine, and she doesn't know him at all."

"That is comforting. I hope to hell she's right."

"You and me both, Tommy," she said, using a name that she'd not used for him in a very, very long time. It was a name that he detested until she used it for the first time.

"How do we make this up to them if JD does die?" Tammy asked Bob as they stood outside, flanked by Presidential Guards.

"I don't know," Bob answered. "What are we gonna do about Ricky?"

"I don't know," Tammy answered in kind to his question. "We don't have the money to bury him."

"I know," he answered.

"Hey guys," Tyler said as he walked outside, walking up behind them, flanked by two more members of the Presidential Guard.

"Hey sweetie," Tammy said, trying to act as she wasn't mourning so that she could be strong for him in his hour of need.

"Hey, bud," Bob said as he looked away. The guilt that both of them felt kept him from even looking at Tyler.

"Y'all doing OK?" he asked.

"I just wish I could go back a few days," Bob started, "and still know what I know so that I could stop it. Or better yet...a few months...so that we could keep him from meeting...that girl."

"Yeah..." Tyler and Tammy agreed.

"I need to talk about something," Tyler told his parents, "and I can't tell any of JD's family."

"What is it, sweetie?" Tammy asked.

Tyler looked at the guards standing around them. "Guys. Could y'all spread out for a few minutes? I need to talk to them in private."

"Yes sir," the lead officer said. "We need to check the perimeter anyway."

"Thank you," Tyler said as they spread out. They all still had a close view of what was going on around Tyler, but they couldn't hear what was being said. "I have this gut-wrenching guilt inside me right now."

"About what?" Bob asked.

"JD wasn't the target," Tyler said. The thought of losing Tyler as well as Ricky suddenly became a reality in Tammy's mind of minds. "JD pushed me out of the way."

"Come here," Bob said as he took Tyler into an embrace. Tammy was rubbing his back as he cried and cried. Over almost a half hour, he just stayed there, crying.

At one point, one of the guards walked by to make sure that everything was OK. He was moved at the sound of Tyler's crying and the way his family was consoling him. The guard in particular had never understood gay people. In fact, when he was working as a police officer in Casteló province, he recalled arresting a few and being disgusted by them. Tyler, though, wasn't like that. He wasn't like those gay guys. His feelings for Morovian's future king were genuine and real. He could feel the love that Tyler had for JD, and even though he couldn't understand it, he found himself respecting it and still willing to give his life, if necessary, for this man that JD had chosen to have in his life.

In Morovia, Zhola was preparing to address a nation still waiting for news from the Presidential Palace. Usually, the address would be given in the main foyer, but she felt it appropriate to do it from the suite in which she'd spent most of her life, the Presidential Suite, the suite that she was planning to give up in a few days time to a man that was lying in an operating room, struggling to live.

"My fellow Morovians," she started, "earlier this afternoon, Prince Joseph, the man who was scheduled to become our King on Monday, was the victim of a shooting at the parade being thrown in Paradise to celebrate his return to our homeland. Other than the fact that he is in surgery and that his condition is listed as very critical, there is no other information being released at this time. I ask, though, that you join me in praying for Prince Joseph, and all the members of the Royal Family, as they work through this tragic event. With regard to the transition of power, a decision will be made when the time comes. For now, let us celebrate him and the sacrifice that he was willing to make for Morovians the world over. In the best interest of our national security and to give the Family time to formulate a formal response, I have ordered that the transition be postponed. I know that some out there probably feel that I am giving up on the idea of restoring democracy completely to our nation, but I assure you that I am not. I still stand beside and behind the idea of restoration, and I hope that it happens soon, for the sake of our nation. Further, I stand beside and behind the Royal Family in this, their hour of need. To Princess Maxima, Princess Lidia, Princess Lindsay, Lord Thomas, and Tyler, I extend my sympathies on this day that was supposed to be a celebration rather than the day of uncertainty that it has turned out to be. Thank you for your time." The cameras stopped broadcasting, and Zhola quickly pulled the microphone from her chest.

"Where are you going, madam?" the Director of the Guard asked.

"To the park," she said, grabbing a small prayer candle as she walked by him.

In Morovian tradition, like that of the Catholic tradition, people like candles as they say prayers. The church across the park had already reported that their candles were all lit and they were asking people to light candles across the way, in the middle of the stone park where Lindsay had walked just weeks before.

As she walked out, she found crowds of people standing in the streets, all holding candles and praying that they wouldn't need to say prayers for his ascension into the gates of heaven.

When she walked through the front gates, people turned to look at her. One man with a long candle was holding it in front of himself. "May I?" she asked.

"Certainly, Madam President," he said as he held down the candle and lit the one that she was holding.

"Thank you," she tried to smile as she continued to walk down the path that was created for her by the people that were there. There were so many candles in the park already that when she stepped to the edge of the sidewalk, there was no place to set the candle but on the edge, in what seemed to be the last space there.

"Blessed Mother, St. Lisa, St. Malissia," she said as she closed her eyes, still kneeling before the candle, "protect him." She stood and turned.

The eyes of those people, and through them, the eyes of the nation, were all on her. "Madam President," one lady called through the silence.

"Yes?" Zhola answered.

"Will you stay with us?" she asked.

She looked at the Director of the President Guard as he stood close beside her. "Yes," she answered.

"I'm scared," another woman said close by.

"As am I," Zhola commented as she went to the woman and locked herself into an embrace. In that moment, it wasn't a president consoling her subjects. It wasn't a conservative consoling a liberal. None of those labels seemed to matter. The only one that did matter though was that they were all Morovian. The sight of the President consoling another Morovian was simply taken as one national consoling another in a time of great mystery and uncertainty.

Hours passed as the tension grew exponentially for everyone with an interest in JD's recovery, no matter how minute. It was a painful time in which every single member of the family, along with Tyler's family relived happy moments that JD had brought. Tom and Maxima remembered the day that he graduated from high school; Lindsay remembered their first road trip. Tyler recalled the sex, but not in a pervy kind of way. Bob, Tammy, Kevin, and Ronnie, in addition to thinking about Ricky, recounted the way that Tyler lit up at just the mention of JD's name.

"Highness?" JD's surgeon said as she came into the waiting room where all of them stood. Maxima held onto Tom's hand. Lindsay held Lidia's; her other arm was wrapped around Tyler. Jen held Tyler's other hands as his family stood behind him for emotional support.

There were a few seconds that passed, and the doctor's face was emotionless. "Yes?" Maxima found herself asking after clearing her throat.

"JD is out of surgery. The next few hours are critical, and so we're keeping him in ICU, but...it is my opinion...that he will be OK."

Tears of joy came from every single one of their faces. People that didn't know them; people that weren't Morovian but who had seen them moving around were even applauding and congratulating each of them. The lady who had been so rude to them earlier even came up to them and congratulated them; Maxima took her into a hug as the lady profusely apologized for her earlier actions.

Maxima had one call to make and then they were going back to see him. They could only stand outside his room, but that was good enough for them, in that moment.

"Hello?" Zhola said as she mingled in the crowd outside the palace. The people around her hushed instantly.

"Your nephew will be OK," she said.

"Really?" she said as the people around her looked at her, wondering to whom she was talking.

"Really. He's still listed as critical, and they're watching him closely for the next few hours, but yeah...he's gonna be alright!" Maxima answered, a sound of relief washing over her. The two said quick goodbyes as Zhola turned to those around her.

"Pass this around the group please," she said to those around her, "Prince JD is OK and will be coming home soon!" she declared as the crowds around her erupted with applause and cheering. Their prayers, the prayers of generations, really, were answered by that one simple phone call and those two simple letters. As they applauded, they cleared a space for her to reenter the palace, where the news was spreading from outside.

Using the same set up in the Presidential Suite, she quickly addressed a waiting nation to give them the news. "The next few hours are critical," she told the nation, "but I am confident that with our continued prayers and thoughts, he will make a speedy recovery and will be joining us as soon as he is able to."