Praetorian Series [4] All Roads Lead to Rome (68 page)

“You are welcome, my son,” he said.  “Now, will you pray with me?  Perhaps we can begin your healing together.”

I shook my head.  “I’m not sure I’m up for that…”

He nodded.  “I understand, but perhaps you would be content simply to listen?”

I looked at him and couldn’t help but offer him a slight smile.  “Who am I to reject a pope’s prayers?”

***

Two weeks later…

If there was ever a moment when I’d completely gone full circle since returning home, it was now.  Seated in the belly of a C-130J “Super” Hercules transport aircraft flying high over the Atlantic, I had just about returned to the very beginning of this story.  The only differences being that I was flying west, instead of east, I wouldn’t have to jump out of the plane this time, and seated beside me was Santino while Felix stood harnessed at the center of the plane’s enormous cargo area.

Our time at the Vatican had come to an end yesterday, when Santino, Wang, Helena, and I had been transported to a local American air base, split up, and sent to our respective countries for another round of debriefs.  Helena and I had fought it for hours, but, technically, we were still in the military and had a chain of command to follow, no matter how hard it was to remember that.  Our respective militaries wanted us home, at least for a debriefing, before our true fate was finally decided.

Not that the American, German, or English militaries would have much say in the matter.  The Pope had personally sent out missives to each detailing his thoughts on what should be done with us, particularly, that we should be allowed to live our lives however we chose, whether that meant remaining in the military or checking out the next day.  It had been a tremendous gesture, one that showcased just how responsible he too felt over what had happened to us.  I, for one, appreciated it greatly, and had personally thanked him on our last night in Rome during our last nocturnal meet up in St. Peter’s Basilica.

Most nights, little was exchanged between us.  He’d simply sit with me for a few minutes before returning to his chambers while I remained, sleepless.  It was a profound gesture, as I knew how difficult it must have been for him to perform his daily duties with such inconvenient nocturnal interruptions.  But on the last night, we’d spoke for an hour, and I felt truly blessed, not just lucky, to have had such an amazing springboard to discuss my feelings. 

It had helped a lot, although the guilt would never go away.

“So what’ll you do now?”

Santino’s voice cut through the silence like a knife, and I opened my eyes and pulled my head off the headrest behind me.  We sat side by side, with a vacant seat between us, facing inward toward the opposite side of the aircraft, and were the only two individuals in the cargo hold besides Felix and a few crewmen near the cockpit.

We’d also been on board for six hours, and now was the first time he’d decided to say anything.

“Well,” I said, finally turning to face him, “I’m certainly not staying in the military, that’s for sure.  I’ll go home, debrief, demand a discharge, wait for Helena to arrive, and live my fucking life the way I should be living it.”

He smiled.  “Yeah, I figured all that.  I meant, what are you actually going to do with your life?”

“Go back to school,” I said almost immediately.  “Become an academic and spend the rest of my life like a hermit in a university office surrounded by books and house plants.”

“Oh, yeah? I’m sure Helena will love that.”

I smiled.  “Well, luckily she’s got the same idea.”

He scoffed.  “Yeah, right.  Her, a teacher?  A professor?  She’ll make mincemeat out of those kids.”

My smile turned into a grin.  “I’ve a feeling she’ll be known as the
tough
one.”

“Oh, for sure,” he said with another chuckle.  He looked to his right and tossed his head in that direction.  “What about your horse?  I still can’t believe they let you keep him.”

“You’re just bitter they didn’t let you keep most of your loot.”

“It’s not fair!”  He complained.  “They let me keep a few things, but how am I supposed to live the life I deserve as a self-made millionaire without all that loot to sell?”

I ignored him.  “I’ll probably have to find a place to stable him.  Give him a safe and enjoyable place to live out his life.  With the pension the Vatican’s agreed to give us…”

“Hush money,” Santino interrupted.”

“Yeah, basically,” I agreed, having come to the same conclusion myself.  The Vatican had agreed to offer us sizable yearly payments for our… services, which clearly had been a way of implying that we’d better keep our mouths shut – not that there was ever any risk of that.  Besides, whenever I finally wrote my book series about the past seven years, creative license would allow me come up with just about any story I wanted.  “Anyway, I’m sure I’ll be able to find a nice place for him to live.  Wide, open pastures and all that”

Santino nodded and didn’t say anything else.

“What about you?”  I asked.

“I think I’ll stay in the military,” he said after a few seconds.

“Really?  After everything we’ve been through?”

“Yeah, why not?  I’ll see if I can find a training detail for a while; I’m sure some school or another could use a guy like me, but… who knows, field work may come a calling again someday.  I’m not sure I can just sit around and ponder the meaning of life.  I need to stay busy.”

“Yeah…” I said, knowing exactly why he felt that way.  I paused for a moment, and then said, “You know, it’s all right to miss her.  I do too.  You’re allowed to think about her.”

“I know,” he admitted, looking my way again.  “It’s just hard, you know?  I’ve never really had to miss anyone for a long, long time.”

I nodded, understanding completely. 

Figuring our conversation was over, I settled back in my seat and closed my eyes again.

“What about you and Helena?”  Santino asked now, his tone mischievous.  “What’s next for the two of you?”

“You know…” I started, opening my eyes and turning to face him again.  “I was just about to bring that up.  I’ve got a job proposition for you.  It’s only temporary.  One day only.”

Santino grinned and winked at me before he started whistling a cute little tune that was a rather familiar schoolyard rhyme, picking up the lyrics on the second go around.  “First comes love, then comes…”

***

Three Months Later…

“…Hell, my friend.  Hell.  You do this, and your life will slowly descend into the deepest, darkest layers of everyone’s least favorite vacation spot: Hell.  You don’t need to do this.  Cherish your freedom.  Live your life.  Be the man you’re meant to be!”

I turned to Santino, hands clasped before me, and glared at him.  “John, I know it’s your job to try and talk me out of this, but you were supposed to do that hours ago… not
now
.”

“Ignore him, Hunter,” Wang said from beside him, Stateside for the occasion.  “He’s doing it on purpose.”

“Of course I am,” Santino said loudly, straightening his tux jacket, looking annoyingly dashing in the entire getup.  “Hell, Jacob.  Think about it.  Hell.”

I glanced to my right and gave the priest a reassuring smile.  “He’s clinically sane.  Trust me.  They’ve tested.”

The priest’s face suggested he wasn’t nearly so convinced, but he didn’t say anything as he rocked on his heels just slightly as the music suddenly picked up, people started to stand, and my heart jumped into my throat.  A bit of movement many, many steps away drew my attention, and a statuesque figure clad in white revealed herself at the threshold of ornate double doors that were opening at the same moment.  All that was missing was a beam of light highlighting her frame and a swarm of doves being released by harp wielding cherubs.

Her face was concealed, but it wasn’t like I needed to remind anybody who she was.

A sniffle from beside me again drew my attention, only this time I was on the verge of growing violent.  I glared at Santino but was surprised to see that his sniffle had been real, and that he was in the process of wiping away a single, real tear.  He noticed my look and quickly tried to play it cool.

“What?”  He asked.  “Everyone cries at weddings.”

I ignored him and glanced at my sister across the aisle, clad in purple like the rest of the bride’s maids.  Seeing her for the first time a few months ago had been haunting, and she’d been confused as to why I hadn’t been equally thrilled to see her.  Our entire ordeal in Rome was heavily classified, and even I, disenfranchised though I was, couldn’t tell her everything. 

It had been difficult to be around her, and still was at times.  I remembered everything about my sister as she’d been before my time in Rome, but I couldn’t separate her face from my memories of Artie 2.0.  A part of me wanted to simply associate them as the same person, cut my losses and choose to believe nothing had happened to Artie, but I couldn’t.  They were two different people, and while I loved them both, I couldn’t help but feel upset whenever I looked at the woman who stood so supportively nearby.

Clearing my throat, I pushed Artie – both of them – from my mind and turned back to my soon-to-be-wife, noticing that she was now halfway down the aisle.  I took in a deep breath and steadied myself.  Keeping my own emotions at bay had never been a particular strength of mine, and while I wouldn’t care in the slightest if I broke down now, I did what I could to maintain my composure and ensure Helena’s wedding was perfect.

She was only a dozen steps away now, but despite how special this moment was supposed to be, Santino still couldn’t keep his mouth shut – but at least he whispered this time.

“Jacob. Hunter,” he said like he was narrating a movie trailer.  “Slayer of great beasts.  Scorer of the great beauty.  Savior of the universe… all of them.  Controller of his own destiny.  What could possibly be in store for him next?  I mean… seriously, you can’t end your story with a wedding.  Unless you
want
to torture your audience to death, I guess…”

A large smile spread across my face, his comment only barely registering in the back of my mind as Helena’s veil-obscured face came into view and I saw the happy expression behind it.  She stopped just a step away and allowed her father to perform the age old tradition of unveiling his daughter and giving her away.  I’d only met the man a few days ago, but despite Helena’s reservations about him, I’d found him extraordinarily charming, although it certainly helped that he, for some reason, seemed to like me in return.  Helena’s mother, on the other hand, standing in the front row across the aisle from my own father, hadn’t quite warmed up to me yet, but I didn’t blame her.  One look at her made it abundantly clear of the genetic lineage between mother and daughter, and Helena hadn’t warmed to me immediately either.  It had taken a while.

Like mother, like daughter.

But as Helena’s father completed his simple task, giving his daughter a kiss on the cheek and placing her hand in my own, I couldn’t help but think on Santino’s comment.  It snuck out from the back of my mind to linger at the forefront of my thoughts, but as I looked into Helena’s beautiful green eyes, highlighted for perhaps the first time since I’d known her with colorful and tasteful makeup, I realized there was only one direction our family could possibly go in next.

***

Thirty Nine Weeks and Four Days Later…

The wait was killing me.

No, it was destroying me.

Who tells someone that a simple procedure with only a
slight
risk of
severe
complications would take twenty five minutes, but then let it go on for over an hour without providing an update to all concerned parties?  Me, for example.  Me, alone, actually.  These nurses walked around here like they were on some kind of power trip, lording information over the rest of us like…

I noticed that my right leg was bouncing up and down on the ball of my foot uncontrollably, so I placed a hand upon it to get it under control.  It took a moment, but finally it went still, and I breathed deeply.  Reaching a hand into my pocket, I retrieved a slim, rectangular slate of glass that the kids these days used as a communication device.  Calling it a cell or smart phone would raise many eyebrows among the youth of today’s world, but despite its slick appearance and fancy interface… it was basically just a phone.  As it had been for the previous two decades, innovation seemed to revolve around simply updating appearance as opposed to any actual innovative breakthrough.

Little had really changed.

I pressed a thumb to the screen and it unlocked, revealing and endless stream of text messages from two names in particular, sporadically interrupted with a sensible one or two inquiries from other individuals. 

“Status.”  “Update.”  “Sitrep.”  “Report.”  “Who does he look like?”  “Does he look like me?”  “Did you finally agree to name him after me?  Remember?  Wang Hunter?’”

Obviously I had no need to look at the names to see who ninety nine percent of the over three hundred messages were from, but I had to scroll through them none the less to individually eliminate the notification icons that annoyed me beyond measure.  It seemed like such a regressive function considering how easy it used to be to do the same task in the past, but it was just like “innovation” to take four enormous steps backward for every single step forward.