The Unlikely Savior (The Unlikely Savior Trilogy)

by T. S. Seley Elliott

  So many prayers!

  ….proximity...and belief... the greater the need – the greater the power…

  …Don’t do…just feel and believe….

  And she did. And it was beautiful…it was white and pure and she felt it all. She knew all the answers, but didn’t care about the questions any more. Just the energy…the white energy to answer the prayers…It was hers to use. She became the energy and everything joined in brilliance.

  Had her orange-suited companions not been busy with contingency actions, they may have noticed their mysterious crew member’s apparent seizure. They may have noted that she went rigid just before the cab, the atmosphere…in fact the world, was washed in a blinding radiant blaze. But they couldn’t have known because for them, and the globe below them, and every living creature--for just one second-- everything stopped. And everything changed. One second of time that could never be explained or recovered. It simply was.

  Part IV

  After

  Nor shall derision prove powerful against those who listen to humanity or those who follow in the footsteps of divinity, for they shall live forever. Forever.

  --Khalil Gibran

  The music was far, far away. She couldn’t feel it, like before…but floated toward it and as it teased her consciousness, and so too, did a very slight tinging sound. Was that the sound of angels? Soooooooo… heaven did have music and angels, she thought without real care because it was easy not to care here. Except now there was a feeling…was it weight? Was that her body? So close, personal. Oh…and achiness. What?

  As her senses left the quiet peace, they were involuntarily pulled toward the music that she realized couldn’t be heaven. She heard her own groan. No….she didn’t want to go…

  You know the day destroys the night

  Night divides the day

  Tried to run

  Tried to hide

  Break on through to the other side

  Break on through to the other side

  Her reluctant mind translated the lyrics…But she didn’t want to break on through. The droning song yanked her through anyway though, and she realized it was not an angelic choir but…“The Doors?” She croaked the surprised question rather than speaking it; her mouth and throat were so dry. Her body felt like dead weight…then she heard the tinging, more loudly and definitely nearby. But it was the close up voice that caused her eyes, sandy and heavy, to open.

  “Say what? Did you say something?”

  As her vision cleared, she could see an oddly familiar face just inches from hers.

  Bad dream, said her awakening brain alarm and she slammed her dry eyes shut. She could swear a slimy and grayer version of George Clooney had loomed over her. The addition of his unkempt stubble gave her startled mind the idea that she’d awakened in the midst of the weird comedy movie, Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? How ironic…a biblical kind of title, but it, like this, it all was so ungodly, so unlike heaven… To her immediate disdain, he spoke again.

  “I know you said something and you opened your eyes! It’s me, my Little Fritter. It’s your papa.”

  It was not a bad dream. It was a nightmare. Little Fritter?

  She didn’t know where she was…and she felt as though she’d been run over by a truck. But as soon as he said those words, she knew it was true. She squinted into the very bright light, and saw an older version of the man she’d met as a teen…the guy who had left his kid because she was crazy.

  She didn’t want to talk to him…she didn’t want anything but a drink of water and to remember how she’d gotten here. Where was she anyway?

  She strained and remembered being aboard the Revival; she started to sit bolt upright with the memory, but her body wouldn’t cooperate and she fell back weakly.

  “Careful there, little kitten…you’ve been out for a long time…” Although her many ailments hadn’t included nausea, she thought she might be sick if she had to listen to him call her one more endearing name. But first things first…

  “Water?” Her voice, barely above a whisper, was several octaves below what it should have been as she tried to prop up on her elbows. Shit! She had an IV in her arm and it pulled and stung with the movement. She became aware of other very uncomfortable intrusions in her body; she shot a glance around her, taking in the hospital room.

  She slid her eyes sideways at the tinkling sound she’d earlier mistaken for angels. He held a glass; it was the ice cubes she’d heard, which was disappointing, but she really wanted that water. It was his, but under these circumstances, she’d take it…grateful he’d stuck a straw it before stuffing it in her mouth.

  He grinned from ear to ear and, even in her state, her years old impression of him returned with a vengeance. She tiredly waited for a sales pitch because it seemed like the most likely thing to come from those shiny lips.

  “Well, girl, I’d call this a miracle…you know how long you’ve been in a coma? And I hear you’re in the miracle business anyway…”

  She could smell stale cigarettes and felt his breath.

  Still a little foggy and confused, she wondered if they could get a nurse or anybody else in here and get him out, when, as if on cue, he simply jerked back, almost like a marionette whose strings were violently contracted. The look of surprise, accompanied by involuntary spittle, was the last she saw of his face as he flew from her view, replaced by a most welcome sight.

  She laid still in shock and her heart pounded with relief-- and something else-- as she watched Jeremy Christensen slam Dean Carter against the closest wall. The rolling bedside table blocked the view from their waists down and the curtain near her bed concealed what must have been her papa’s terrified expression. But she could see Jeremy’s stern face and couldn’t miss his Popeye-like bicep as he pinned the other man back.

  She was awake now…wide awake.

  “Who the hell are you…and what do you want?” Jeremy snarled and shoved a little harder, causing a squeak to emit from the older man.

  Johnnie wished she had enough energy to sit up…not so she could intervene to save the slime ball, but to get a better view.

  “I’m her father. And I want SECURITY!” He yelped the last part and, again, on cue, armed security cops rushed in. Johnnie wondered, for a second time, if she’d awoken in the midst of a movie. What was this? Were they waiting outside?

  Jeremy pushed away, but held Dean Carter against the wall with one hand when he looked at the cops crowding around him.

  “Mr. Christensen, relax…he’s her dad, he checked out.” The largest cop put a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. His jaw relaxed and he seemed to come out of a spell, shooting a look to Johnnie – only then aware she was awake. The anger left his face, but he kept one hand on Dean’s neck, almost absently. He stared at her in disbelief.

  She raised a few fingers and waived with a cracked smile. Her voice was still low, but had more volume now as she asked,

  “So if I say it’s not so, will you keep up the show?” But by then, the cops had extricated her father from the threatening grip, and he brushed himself off indignantly as if he’d been horribly violated. Jeremy flushed and backed away, rubbing his hands against his jeans as if to rid himself of contamination. He spat an obligatory, “Sorry,” in Dean’s direction was he walked toward Johnnie. Before he made it to her bedside, a gaggle of medical personnel rushed in and stopped.

  Everyone stared as she stared back.

  “Was it something I said?” she asked weakly, wincing at the toll the last five minutes had taken on her.

  It was all she could think to say before they were on her like flies.

  The intense medical probing had exhausted Johnnie and she had no idea she’d gone to sleep again until she woke up. The room was dim, with no overhead light and she was alone as, with some effort, she successfully turned onto her side. The IV was gone, as well as the catheter and various other appendages she had seemingly grown while she was “away.”

  She knew now she was at Bethesda Nava
l Hospital in the Washington D.C area…she knew, although she hadn’t quite accepted, that she had been in a coma, or a coma-like condition for a little over nine weeks. She’d ascertained the staff’s knowledge of the events leading to her admission were limited since they clearly had no idea what she was talking about when she asked about “the others…” When she clarified with… “the real astronauts,” they’d exchanged knowing looks as if it was typical for post-coma patients to suffer from delusions. She had been allowed to take in a small amount by mouth, but judging by the war in her stomach, suspected it would take a little time to get her digestive system back into the swing of things.

  What had happened? She remembered everything up to and including the launch…even things she wished she couldn’t remember. The foggy, first recall of the blasting voice in the Revival about the nuclear attack had sickened her, but even that gauzy memory sunk in as less traumatic now. She was back on terra firma, and obviously…there was still an earth—at least Washington D.C. had survived, so what had happened?

  It was not what she remembered after that…for she really didn’t remember anything, but what she felt upon reflection that told her whatever had transpired it had not ended badly. Straining to comprehend, all she readily understood was it was simply not attainable to her mind…but it was something good beyond description, because deep inside she felt an amazing peace; a residual calm. The closest thing she could compare it to was what she’d felt in the moment she’d seen the earth from the shuttle window. Beautiful and perfect.

  Now, alone in the quiet, she attempted to truly pin it down—what had happened--in her mind and heart. It wasn’t long, however, before she realized it was like a blind person trying to see; she simply did not have a way re-experience it, at least not now. But she was filled with an incredible tranquility in the process, she simply knew it was okay. And that’s really all she needed to know for now.

  She heard the whispery whisk announcing the room door opening and, still laying on her side, shifted her gaze just in time to see Jeremy walk in, coffee in one hand; the other hand temporarily held the door as he looked at her and smiled.

  His eyes rested on her for a matter of seconds before he continued in, releasing the door behind him.

  “I’m sorry if you’re looking for another fight…I just don’t think I have it in me right now.” Pleased her wit was still intact, she was just too tired to sit up again, so she slid her flattened hands between her face and the pillow as he sat in the chair by the bed. They were nearly at eye level and he looked down at his coffee with a slightly rueful smile. He raised his eyes and said,

  “Sorry about that. Got a little carried away…” He grimaced as he said it, but didn’t really look like he was all too regretful. “Is he really your dad?”

  “So they tell me,” she answered with a wistful look. But a husky chortle escaped as she remembered the cops nearly having to peel Jeremy off…and the respectful way in which they’d addressed him.

  “Mr. Christensen around here, are you? Hoity toity…” He looked at her evenly and did not seem to notice what a weak, pale mess she was. He had waited weeks for this moment, which he had only hoped would come. But he also knew her enough to refrain from too direct an interaction. At least for now.

  “Why…yes.” He cocked one eyebrow and struck a self-impressed tone, “Myself and Mr. Sanders…you would know him as Sandy?...and Ms. Betsy, a local celebrity, have been on vigil…”

  Just the mention of the other names seemed to activate the very thin woman… she was propped on her elbow in second.

  “Betsy? And Sandy is in town? How did she get in here? Where are they?” She by no means wanted her current companion to leave, but longed to see her other friends; it never occurred to her how much she had changed from the Johnnie of not that long ago. Nor did she attach any significance to the fact that Jeremy had apparently been by her side. A lot.

  “They’ll be here soon…and you’ll see.” He leaned back and just smiled. She looked back at him and suddenly felt self-conscious; almost naked…she remembered their only other times alone and all the feelings rushed her. So she did the only thing that made sense. She changed the subject quickly, not just to find a safe place, but because even with her roller coaster feelings, she also trusted him implicitly and there was much she needed to know.

  She found the controls and raised the top of the bed to an inclined position. Then she rolled onto her back and turned her head to face him.

  “Jeremy…please tell me what happened.” She sighed, turned away and looked at the dim unlit ceiling and closed blinds. She had no idea what time it was or what day it was. She looked back at him.

  “What happened then, you know…and since. Would you tell me?” He looked at this woman and thought he’d jump out of the window if she’d asked…but this was a much easier request.

  So he began and she listened.

  White Day. In a very short time, yet another critical day in history had been given a name. Unlike “D-Day” or “9-11,” however, this day was truly universal, and while the initial events were infamous—the outcome was more, well, mysterious.

  Although the multiple targeted nukes would not have had a direct effect on the entire planet, the moment their energy met an unknown mitigating factor in the atmosphere around earth, every corner of the world was bathed in brilliance. All wireless communication was disrupted, billions claimed to have simply lost time without explanation until the light faded.

  Many had believed it was the great Rapture, and to those of lesser known or no specific faith – simply that it was the end of world. Of course, millions still subscribed to the theory of alien influence. Most, of course, were aware that the event coincided with unprecedented nuclear actions…but only a very small group understood the significance of the outcome – that independent technology-based war maneuvers with independent, classified sources had simultaneously failed. Or at least failed to deliver the intended effects, but succeeded to work together to negate, entirely, the intended devastation.

  That deployed nuclear ballistic missiles operated via targeted and complex guidance systems which could not be stopped after launch was a decades-tested fact. The odds of malfunction, interception or failure were so slim it was incalculable. Yet, not one of the weapons re-entered the earth’s atmosphere, and, to a missile – regardless of its origin, the tracking failed the moment the still un-explained phenomena occurred. Whether or not they had detonated, or simply redirected into space was still a matter of debate. The invisible sphere around the earth, however, became visible, as satellite images later showed. It was layer of sheer light, although the source or cause was not explainable or clear.

  “…well, not explainable to all but at least to all but a few people. I guess you know all of them.” Jeremy said to Johnnie, whose long-sleeping synaptic connections were firing erratically. As he spoke she’d felt inklings of that indescribable last moment…the thoughts or sensations before simply giving in to the power. The prayers from nowhere…from everywhere. The sense of bright energy. An emotional surge rose from the pit of her belly and she knew it was too much and shook her head to stop it.

  “But what about the conflicts…President Liang was certain it was going to be another world war, and…”

  Jeremy placed his hand on her arm, as if to calm her.

  “It’s done.” She looked at him, not understanding.

  He took a breath, trying to pace it for her but to be thorough enough so she would truly get it. To make it so that somehow, she would see that she had helped deliver the impossible.

  “Look, I’m not even going to try to understand or explain exactly how the world state got from complete catastrophe to a place of negotiation…but when the President got the message today that you were awake, he just asked that we tell you he’d like to see you as soon as possible, but for now he’s in Vienna…they’re all in Vienna, at a massive summit to work some kind of compromise. He said you’d understand…”

 
Silently, she remembered the President sharing his original plan for her “proximity” to effect change. He’d wanted to have the summit to prevent the awful events that almost transpired anyway.

  “China...and Pakistan? They’re all playing?”

  He took his hand from her arm and raised it with his other to emphasize the remarkable advent.

  “They are all playing…OPEC, as a body, the U.N., as a body…all acts of aggression have been suspended. From what is leaking out…the summit hasn’t exactly been a big round of Kumbaya or group hugs. People are people, you know? It’s tense…but I think what happened, or maybe what almost happened, scared the hell out of everyone. Or maybe it was something deeper. At least for now. Honestly I don’t know. But more personally for you, the President is doing everything in his power to uphold his end of the deal…do you remember your conditions?” He looked at her hazel eyes, trying to read what she thought. What she felt. She squinted, with a distant look. He hoped they weren’t overdoing it.

  Not looking at him, she said, to the room, as she remembered her time with Wing Liang.

  “I wanted to be anonymous. And I wanted my life back.” She sighed after saying it, realizing how naïve her demands had been. She almost felt guilty for having asked. She clasped her hands over the sheets and sighed. She looked back at the intense gaze which hadn’t left her face.

  “Kind of silly, huh? In the light of the circumstances…” She hadn’t realized her earlier self-consciousness was gone. It was intimate, this exchange; completely uncharacteristic for her and, unaware, she was lost in the moment. As was he.

  Jeremy leaned forward, still wanting to ease her way. He was spoon feeding her; he’d stay all night if that’s what it took to give her peace.

  “No. And, listen. He heard everything you said…”

  Jeremy was grateful for his law training…the edge it gave him as an exceptional and logical communicator allowed him to synopsize and package, for Johnnie, the events – interventions and efforts affecting the terms of her life. And her desired life.