A Sacred Storm (45 page)

“I totally agree, Mr President,” said Perry. “Our battle is against the Middle East not the Vatican. We need to deal with them swiftly. The Iranians are liable to launch a nuclear attack on us at any time. And I suspect they're not the only ones. Our intelligence tells us that other countries are making deals as well. Soon we could be facing enough firepower to wipe out the Eastern Sea Board, if not the entire United States. I think we need to act before any of these bastard countries get hold of anything bigger than a Roman candle.”

Stella, who'd been listening with increasing anger decided to finally speak up. “Excuse me!” she said, getting out of her seat. “But have you not been listening to a word we've said? If you start launching nuclear attacks then you may as well kiss this world goodbye. The only thing you're going to achieve is more bloodshed. You'll bomb them, they'll bomb you, everyone else will join in, and that will be the end. The end of you; the end of me; the end of us all! We've come here to try and avoid all that.”

Perry nodded slowly, looking as if he was trying to hold back a grin. “I can see your point, missy,” he said. “But we're going to flatten these little states before they can do anything to us. And for once even the Russians agree with us.”

Stella's eyes and face turned scarlet. “Who the fuck do you think you're calling ‘missy'!?” she growled. “My name is Stella – or did you not catch that when we were introduced? No, I guess you were too busy looking at these, you fucking dinosaur.” She thrust her hands under her breasts.

Mackenzie stifled a chuckle and raised his hand. “Okay, okay,” he said. “Let's just all calm down. I don't think General Perry meant any disrespect, and I'm sure he's very sorry – right?”

He turned to Perry who nodded and apologized.

“Good,” continued Mackenzie. “Now if you would like to sit down, Stella, we can carry on this discussion sensibly. There's no point fighting amongst ourselves. If you've got something to relevant to say then I'm sure we'd all like to hear it.”

Humbled slightly by Mackenzie's intervention Stella apologized for her outburst and sat down. She took a deep breath and tried to gather her thoughts. “The thing is, Mr President,” she began, “we think it's still possible to stop this violence. We think it's possible to avoid unnecessary action. It's just going to take a big leap of faith from all parties concerned. You're going to have resist using any sort of force.”

“What is this?” grumbled Perry. “Stop wasting our time.”

Mackenzie put his hand up to silence the general and nodded at Stella to continue.

“A war at this point is quite possibly going to destroy the planet. The whole human race is being slowly eaten away by fear and anger and hate. The only way to stop it is for everyone to be brave and lay down their weapons.”

Perry interrupted once more. “For Christ's sake, Mr President, this is ridiculous! This is exactly the sort of liberalist bullshit that will get us destroyed.”

“Please, General,” said Mackenzie with a firm stare.

“Listen,” said Stella, facing General Perry. “I know it sounds crazy and I used to think exactly the same way as you, but look at where it's got us. This is the point of no return in human history, and if we make the wrong decisions now then that's exactly what we will be – history.”

“So what exactly are you proposing?” asked Mackenzie. “Are you asking us to engage in some kind of unilateral disarmament?”

“No, I'm just suggesting that as the major superpower if you promote the idea of a truce then maybe others will follow.”

“You know what, Stella,” said Mackenzie, “I really wish that it was that simple. I wish that we could say ‘enough already' and all get along. And if it was me on my own facing another guy with a gun then I'd take the chance and lay down my weapon first. But I'm responsible for hundreds of millions of people and I can't take a chance with their lives. The Muslims are so enraged at the moment that there's no way they're going to listen to anybody. Don't you think we've tried? Don't you think we've had our people negotiating 24/7 with them? The inescapable truth is that they're beyond appeasement. They think that the Christian West is directly responsible for the death of their Mahdi, and nothing is going to dissuade them.”

“You're looking at it too logically,” said Stratton taking the baton from Stella. “This isn't about the real world anymore, Mr President. This is about the power you can't see. This is about the universal life force. And it's infinitely more potent than all of your nuclear weapons put together. If you wipe out the Middle East then your own destruction won't be far behind I can assure you. Like Stella said – this moment in time is pivotal to mankind. You can either embrace the light or be swallowed by the dark, it's really up to you.”

Mackenzie searched Stratton's eyes and then looked away. “You're asking me to do something that my head says is completely contrary to the interests of my people.”

“What does your heart say?” asked Stratton. “What does your instinct say?”

“I don't know,” said Mackenzie. “Maybe to believe you. I'm just not sure. But it doesn't really matter anyway. I'm here to make cold, calculated decisions, not to risk people's lives on a hunch. Whatever I feel personally about it takes second place. I have to play the percentage call. And at this juncture that percentage is heavily in favour of getting behind Christiano, and also defending my nation from oblivion.”

“Exactly, Mr President,” said Perry. “I'm sure these people mean well, but as they said themselves – they're not talking about the real world. The cold, harsh reality is that we're one step away from an all-out attack on our major cities, and we have to neutralize the threat.”

Stratton shook his head. “You just don't get it do you?”

“No,” said Perry. “It's you who doesn't get it.”

Mackenzie looked at his watch. “I'm afraid we're going to have to wind this up, ladies and gentlemen. Christiano is arriving in just under fifteen minutes and I need to be there to meet him for the cameras. So if you'll excuse me.” He nodded to Greg Albany.

The table stood and watched Mackenzie leave with his Chief-of-Staff. The two generals followed soon after, and then Trent Arthur and Lionel Jones. Only Bob Tobin remained.

“Well, guys,” he said, sitting down and pouring himself a coffee, “if it's any consolation I'm on your side. This conflict's only headed one way, and I don't like the direction.”

“What can we do though, Bob?” said Grady. “You heard the President – he's already made up his mind. And so has the rest of the world.”

“Perhaps,” said Tobin. “But it's not over yet, Scott. It's not over yet.”

Christiano turned on the cold tap and doused his face with water. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and rubbed his eyes. The lack of sleep was beginning to catch up with him. He had managed to grab a few hours the night before, but the exhilaration of stopping the bullet had charged him with so much energy it was almost impossible to contain his thoughts. Each time he felt he'd reined them back another revelation would shoot forth, and then another, and then another. His brain had become a continuous sprouting of miniature shoots, with each one forming their own little buds which in turn multiplied again into infinity. At first it had been beautiful, but now it was starting to hurt and he wanted it to stop.

He splashed his face once more and then dried it with a hand towel. He wondered how long he'd been in the rest room and whether it was beginning to look conspicuous. They were waiting for him, he knew that, but he still didn't feel ready to face the world quite yet. The ever-expanding choir in his head was becoming claustrophobic and nothing was making sense. He had temporarily lost the ability to reason. He sat down on the toilet and lay his hands on his mental chakra in an attempt to calm himself.

A while later – perhaps five seconds, maybe five minutes, he didn't know – there was a knock on the door.

“Christiano!” called a female voice. “Are you alright?”

He tried to place the voice, and then it came to him. He remembered that Sophia had arrived from Italy and was waiting with Ayres and President Mackenzie. It concerned him that he had already forgotten.

“Christiano!” she called again.

“I'm okay,” he said. “I'll be out in a minute.” He stood up and stretched his arms and shook his head vigorously. He walked up to the door and reached for the lock. A sudden bolt of fear whipped through his chest and his hand froze. He couldn't do it. Drawing his hand away he retreated back to the toilet.

Sophia's voice came pulsing through once more. “Christiano!”

He rose again and tried to pull himself together, willing the darkness away from his mind. He unlocked the door and opened it a couple of inches.

“Thank God!” said Sophia. “I thought you'd be in there all day. They're waiting for you in the press room.”

Christiano edged the door open a little further but then stopped. “I just need a little longer,” he said.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” he snapped. “I just need a little longer. The media can wait. They can't dictate when I appear. I'll come when I'm good and ready.”

Sophia hung her head and then looked back up at him. Her eyes welled with tears.

Christiano's heart sank. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I didn't mean to take it out on you.” He opened the door. “Will you come and sit with me for a while?”

Sophia nodded and walked in. Christiano shut the door behind her.

“I am really sorry,” he said, drawing her in for a hug. “I don't know what's happening to me. Everything's confused. Everything's a mess.”

Sophia held him tight with her head against his chest. “Don't worry,” she said. “I'm here for you now. I'll stay as long as you want me to.”

Christiano felt Sophia's warmth run through him. He caught a waft of her flower-scented hair and breathed it in like the first fragrance of summer. The pressure on his mind briefly relaxed. He released his embrace and held her face gently in his hands, looking into her deep emerald eyes. He leant forward and kissed her softly on the lips. She reciprocated and then pulled slowly away.

“We shouldn't,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Because you have a job to do,” she said. “There are billions of people out there waiting for you to talk to them. A whole planet of lost souls waiting for you to lead them to fulfilment.”

“That's the point,” said Christiano. “I don't know if I can.”

“Of course you can. You can do anything you want. You are the Messiah – the Son of God.”

Christiano threw his hands up. “Yes, yes,” he said. “But I do not feel in control any more. They all want a piece of me: the Church, Jonathan Ayres, and now President Mackenzie. They all want me to say things that will help their cause. They all want me behind them. But is it right? Are they really acting for humanity or just for themselves. It is I who has the power, and yet they constantly tell me what to do and what to say. I need time to think for myself. I need time to decide what I want to do.”

Sophia caressed his hand. “If you need time then just take it. I'm sure people will understand. You cannot carry on like this if you are unhappy. But remember the state the world is in. People are looking for direction and if it doesn't come from you then it will come from the politicians and the Church, and they will surely lead us to destruction.”

“Perhaps that is our destiny,” said Christiano. “Perhaps mankind deserves to be wiped out. I mean, look at the world: it is full of greed and lust and jealousy and hatred.”

“Yes, it is,” said Sophia. “But it is also full of warmth and compassion and love and kindness. You cannot give up on humanity while these good things still exist.”

Christiano felt his brain careering once more. “No…Yes…I don't know. I cannot think.” His hands shot up to his forehead. “What is happening? What is happening to the world? Why can they not see as I can see?”

“What do you see?”

“I see everything! And I see nothing! Shapes, colours, stars and voids!” He spread his arms wide. “I can see creation and oblivion! Fire and brimstone! The brightest light and the blackest dark!” He closed his eyes and his body shuddered.

Sophia looked on in fear as his body continued to shake more and more furiously. “Christiano!” she yelled, trying to jolt him back to reality. “Christiano! You're scaring me!”

He juddered one last ground-shaking time, and then hit by an unseen force he was thrust off his feet and back into the door.

Sophia raced over and knelt by his side. “Christiano?” she said with concern. “Christiano.”

He opened his eyes and blinked rapidly.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Christiano nodded. “Yes, I am fine.” He sat up and blinked some more to regain focus.

“What happened?”

“I don't know,” he said. “I just started to see things.”

“What sort of things?”

“I can't explain. I'm not sure if I really understand it all myself.” He looked her in the eyes. “But it's beautiful. So, so beautiful. Just like you.”

Sophia felt herself blushing. She looked away briefly and then returned his gaze. His eyes were like two multicoloured blazing volcanoes, each one in a constant state of flux. In them she saw the depths of time and the universe. The storm raged creating and destroying indiscriminately. She wanted to look away again, but found herself hypnotized. The maelstrom dragged her forwards, floating and twisting and turning. Soon she was deep inside, lost in a world of waking dreams, overcome by the wonder of the universe, immersed in a beauty so violent it took her breath right away. Suddenly aware of her mortality she began to struggle for air, tumbling open-mouthed in a weightless free fall, her arms grasping wildly in the vacuum. She cried out silently, pleading for mercy to an unseen force. There was no reply except for the muted echoes of her own appeal. Then, just as she felt she could take no more, his eyes faded and the moment passed and she was back in the rest room at the White House. She drew in a huge rush of air.