A Sacred Storm

by Dominic C. James

  “I don’t know. Only if he wants to help himself, I guess.”

  Sophia ran towards the altar. “Christiano!” she shouted. “Christiano! Stop this – please!”

  Christiano carried on oblivious, continuing his petition to the unseen Creator.

  Stratton looked at the baldacchino and followed its spiral columns skywards into the dome. His eyes fell upon the inscription along its base: TV ES PTRVS ET SVPER HANC PETRAM AEDIFICABO ECCLESIAM MEAM. TIBI DABO CLAVES REGNI CAELORVM. Stratton remembered the translation in his head - ‘You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church…I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven.’ As he looked up at the mighty eight-foot-high letters, he suddenly wondered if God really did exist in the form that the Church believed, and whether his own tenets were fundamentally flawed.

  He drew his gaze down once again to the altar. Sophia was now next to Christiano, grabbing his shirt and pleading with him to return to the real world. Her cries, however, were falling on deaf ears. He reached one arm out, and without touching her, thrust her across the floor and crashing down into the sunken chapel – the Confessio.

  The blow shuddered through Stratton’s body. He could feel the whole world descending into chaos. Images of bloodshed and panic shot through his brain. He saw men and women and children being slain. He saw bombs flying through the air, and petrified faces staring blindly at mushroom clouds of dust. Everything he’d ever known and loved was collapsing under the interminable weight of fear and hatred. He dropped to his knees and clutched his ribcage. The ground beneath him started to shake.

  Jennings and Stella watched helplessly with Cronin and two Swiss Guards. The rumbling grew louder until the whole building began to tremble. It came to all of them that they and the world were standing on the edge of oblivion.

  Cronin got down on his knees and started to recite the Lord’s Prayer. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…”

  The Swiss Guards joined him.

  Stella looked to Jennings. “Perhaps we ought to start praying too.”

  Jennings saw the fear in her eyes and pulled her close. And as he stood there with her in his arms, everything made sense. He couldn’t explain it, but his brain suddenly clicked and the universe opened up in front of him.

  He pulled away and held her gaze. “We don’t have to pray,” he said. “We don’t have to be afraid.”

  Stella furrowed her brow. “What are you talking about?”

  “Just trust me, Stella. I love you more than anything or anyone, and I’m telling you – we don’t have to be afraid. We don’t have to be scared. Do you understand?”

  Stella watched as Jennings’ eyes dilated and began to shine like mini suns. At first she recoiled, but then she felt his love burst through and finally grasped what he was saying. It was simple; so simple that it made her smile to think how stupid she had been all her life. He was right – there was no need to be scared.

  High above them the dome started to crumble. Small pieces of stone fell to the floor. Jennings raced across to the Confessio and hurtled down the stairs. He picked up the unconscious Sophia and carried her back up into the basilica. The debris falling from the roof grew larger by the second. A six-inch piece of masonry shattered by his feet.

  “Come on!” shouted Stella. “Let’s get out of here!”

  Jennings looked round and saw Stratton struggling to get off the floor.

  “It’s alright!” yelled Stella, above the deafening quake. “I’ll go and get him. Just get the girl out!”

  Jennings watched her leap to Stratton’s aid and then started for the main doors. Cronin and the Swiss Guards were still knelt on the floor praying. “Come on, Pat!” Jennings shouted. “Let’s go!”

  Cronin looked up solemnly. “No!” he hollered. “We need to pray! Don’t you understand? This is the end, Jennings! The end of all things! This is Armageddon!”

  Jennings shook his head. “No, Pat! This isn’t the end. Not if we don’t want it to be. This can be the beginning! We don’t need to be afraid any more!”

  Cronin held Jennings’ bright eyes briefly and saw the truth in the words he’d spoken. A fresh surge of hope pulsed through his heart. He got to his feet and pleaded with the guards to go with them.

  Michelangelo’s beautiful, iconic dome was disintegrating rapidly. Huge chunks of masonry crashed to the ground like giant grey hailstones. Stella helped Stratton to his feet and looped his arm over her shoulder for support. They moved away slowly towards the nave, Stella checking upwards for danger every couple of steps. Ahead of them she saw the others running through the main doors and out into St Peter’s Square.

  “You’d better run,” said Stratton. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll get out.”

  “I’m not going to leave you!” she yelled, forcing him onwards.

  A six-foot piece of stonework fell from the roof of the nave and shattered on the floor in front of them. Stella checked herself and manoeuvred round the rubble. Just behind, a statue toppled from its recess and closed off the passage. She looked ahead and saw Jennings running back down the nave. He reached them quickly and took Stratton’s other arm. With his assistance they progressed rapidly.

  They were almost at the door when yet another piece of stonework crashed before them. Jennings and Stella clambered over the fragments with Stratton dangling in between. Then, out of the corner of his left eye Jennings sensed something move. He turned quickly to see the statue of St Teresa bearing down with increasing speed. The next thing he knew he was being thrust forward by a strong hand, the momentum forcing him into the clear. He stumbled awkwardly out into the square with Stella beside him. They looked back in unison to see the figure of Stratton trapped underneath the giant sculpture.

  Jennings raced back inside the church.

  “Get out!” Stratton shouted. “Just get the fuck out!”

  “I’m not leaving you!” yelled Jennings, struggling to make himself heard.

  Stratton waved his hands towards the door and barked: “Trust me! Just go!” For a brief moment he stared harshly at Jennings, then he smiled and his eyes lit up. “Like you said, ‘there’s no need to be afraid’!”

  Stratton’s look told Jennings everything he needed to know. In that instant he realized that he could do no more. He flew back through the doors and out into the square again. He grabbed Stella’s hand and pulled her clear of the crumbling basilica.

  “What about Stratton!” she screamed. “We’ve got to help Stratton!”

  Jennings shook his head. “No! We need to get clear! There’s nothing more we can do for him!”

  Stella took one last look back. The doors had slammed shut. She closed her mind and followed Jennings away from the carnage. After two hundred yards they reached Cronin and the guards and stopped and sat down and caught their breath.

  “Look!” cried Stella, pointing to the sky above the basilica. “Look up there!”

  Jennings couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The storm clouds above the dome had parted in an almost perfect circle, letting through a dull grey glow. As they watched, the light grew brighter, and began to filter slowly down to the basilica. The ground beneath them shook ever more violently. Stella gripped Jennings’ hand tightly. And then, in an instant, the light hit the tip of the dome and flashed with such a ferocious intensity that it sent them flying backwards into space.

  Jennings found himself floating through the air in a sea of pure white. Time appeared to stand still as he hovered between colliding worlds. He wondered if this was what it was like to die, and waited for his life to flash before his eyes. But it never did. There was just a moment of sudden realization, and then blackness as his head smashed against the floor of St Peter’s Square.

  Chapter 94

  Paul watched helplessly as the crowd bore down on Jenna and Tariq. How they had escaped being shot by one of his company he had no idea. There was something about them, though, that filled him with strength. What it was, he didn’t know, but wat
ching these two lay down their lives somehow gave him hope. And in the midst of all that was going on he allowed himself a tiny smile. Then he looked up to the sky and saw it.

  Far above the furious clamour the clouds had parted. A brightening circle of light shot through and headed downwards. Paul shielded his eyes and followed the beam towards the ground. It touched the top of Tariq and Jenna’s heads and then flashed so intensely that it was impossible to avoid its brilliance even with closed eyes.

  Paul was thrown back against the hospital wall. His head crashed against the bricks. He slumped to the floor, but remained conscious. As the light died down he opened his eyes and tried to focus.

  In the middle of the car park Tariq and Jenna were still sitting there, hand in hand and bathed in white. The rioters had been cast back, and were either lying on the ground or walking around in a stupefied daze. None of them looked remotely like renewing their attack.

  To his left Paul became aware of a groaning. He turned to see Graham lifting himself from the floor into a sitting position. “What the fuck was that?” he murmured.

  “I don’t know,” said Paul. “I just don’t know…” his voice trailed off.

  Graham felt around on the concrete. “I don’t believe it,” he said.

  “What’s that?” asked Paul.

  “My gun, it’s disappeared. I had it in my hands when that thing hit, and now it’s just gone.” He looked down the line of bewildered soldiers and saw that the entire company had been disarmed. “What’s going on mate? What the fuck is going on?!”

  Paul rose to his feet and held a hand out for his friend. “Who knows,” he said. “But let’s just enjoy the peace while it lasts. Come on, we’ll go and see if anyone needs help.”

  They walked slowly across the damp tarmac and breathed in the calming air. The storm had passed and in a few hours a new dawn would be on its way.

  Chapter 95

  James Mackenzie held his daughter close and stroked her hair. His previous serenity had gradually waned as the missiles drew closer. Now his calm demeanour was only an act to strengthen the spirit of his staff, and to keep his little girl from breaking down in tears. As the enormity of what was about to happen hit home, he wondered what the hell he had been thinking when he decided not to take action against the Muslims. The theory had been sound, but the reality was that he had just consigned himself, and the nation he’d sworn to protect, to certain oblivion. He winced as the clock ticked down towards the first strike on New York City. 10…9…8…7…

  …As the clock reached 6 he began to shake. At 5 he felt his stomach turn. 4…3…2…1. The missile disappeared from the screen and he hung his head.

  For a few seconds there was silence, and then one of his junior aides began to shout. “I don’t believe it! I just don’t believe it!” he hollered excitedly.

  Mackenzie turned and gave the aide a confused frown. “What are you talking about?”

  “They’ve gone!” he whooped. “Look! They’ve all gone.”

  Mackenzie looked at the screen and tried to fathom what was causing the commotion.

  The aide grabbed his arm and pointed. “Look, Mr President! Look! The missiles, they’ve all disappeared!”

  Mackenzie inspected the screen once more and realized that the aide was right: it was just a blank map without any blips. He tapped the monitor to check it was working. “Where have they gone?” he asked. “They can’t have just vanished into thin air. Someone get New York on the phone and find out if it’s still there!”

  The room buzzed with activity as operators and military chiefs made calls to posts around the nation, attempting to verify the condition of the attack. It was quickly confirmed that New York was indeed very much still standing, and that all missiles had disappeared completely.

  For a while Mackenzie was too stunned to speak. Like the rest of the room he was finding it hard to come to terms with what had just happened. They had witnessed the impossible: a full-blown, bona fide miracle.

  General Perry came over and offered his palm. “Well, Mr President,” he said. “I guess I owe you an apology. You were right. God dammit, you were right.”

  Mackenzie smiled and shook his hand. “There’s no need to apologize, General. I’m just glad we’re all still in one piece.”

  His daughter tugged at his sleeve. “Does this mean we’re going to be okay, Daddy? We’re not going to die?”

  “No sweetie, we’re not going to die, nobody is. Not today.”

  Chapter 96

  When Jennings came to the world seemed particularly dark. A crowd had begun to gather round and were gazing ruefully at the shattered remains of what used to be St Peter’s Basilica. He could hear them muttering in Italian, but had no idea what they were saying. He sat up and tried to refocus his vision.

  Next to him Stella was still unconscious. He reached across and gave her a small nudge to wake her up. Her eyes fluttered lightly and she lifted her head. “What the hell was that?” she muttered.

  “I’ve got no idea,” said Jennings. “But it’s laid waste to the basilica. There’s hardly anything left of it.”

  Stella sat up and rubbed her eyes and stared out into the rubble. She started to cry. Jennings put an arm around her shoulder. He wanted to say something but couldn’t find any words.

  “It’s only a building,” said a voice from behind. “It’s not like anybody’s died, is it?”

  Jennings whipped his head round, almost ripping his neck from his body. Above him, smiling as if nothing had happened, was the familiar figure of Stratton. A little bit dusty with part-shredded clothes, but definitely Stratton. Jennings opened his mouth wide.

  “Did you see the light?” asked Stratton. “It was amazing wasn’t it?”

  Stella looked back through watery eyes and saw him standing there. She paused for a moment taking it in, and then leapt to her feet and threw her arms around him.

  Jennings got up and stretched his legs. “How the hell did you get out?” he asked.

  “Through the front doors,” said Stratton.

  “But I saw them slam shut,” said Jennings.

  “They did,” said Stratton. “But when the light hit they opened again. I was thrown out with the rest of the debris. It was quite cool actually. A bit like flying.”

  Stella loosened her hug and wiped her eyes. “What about Christiano?” she asked.

  Stratton shook his head sadly. “He’s gone.”

  Jennings moved his head from side to side to free his stiff neck. “So what exactly was that light then?” he asked. “Was it God?”

  “Perhaps,” said Stratton. “If that’s the way people want to perceive it. But to me it’s just energy. Christiano called on it, but he just couldn’t cope with the intensity. He was too twisted inside. Corrupted by his own power.”

  “Poor bloke,” said Jennings.

  “Yeah, it’s a shame. It wasn’t even his fault. If it wasn’t for this power-hungry Church then he’d still be alive. Still, I think their days are numbered now.”

  “You think this is the end for them?”

  “Perhaps.”

  Jennings stared at the flattened basilica. “It’s a shame about the building though. It was absolutely beautiful.”

  “It was,” said Stratton. “But it symbolized something that had become rotten to the core. It’s foundations were built on fear, and as you said – there’s no need to be afraid anymore.”

  Jennings saw Cronin and Sophia through a gap in the crowd and headed over to see if they were alright. Stratton and Stella stood side by side and watched as the police and fire brigade approached the basilica.

  “I wonder if they’ll rebuild it,” she said.

  “I’m not sure they could,” said Stratton. “It’d probably be too expensive. It wouldn’t be the same anyway.”

  Stella sighed. “So what do we do now? Is this the end of it all?”

  “It is an end. But mostly it’s a beginning. It’s a time to start again.”

  “Does
that mean for you and me as well?”

  “For everyone.”

  “I meant…”

  Stratton turned to her and smiled. “I know what you meant. But I don’t think that’s what you want anymore, is it?”

  “I just thought maybe—”

  He took her hand. “We’re done now, Stella, you and I. We live in different worlds. I know what you want, and it certainly isn’t me. You want to be married, have children, and enjoy a normal life. I can’t give you all that anymore. And even if I could, can you honestly say that you’d want me to?” He paused. Stella remained silent. “I think if you delve down deep enough into your heart you’ll realize that you’ve moved on already. The only reason you’re confused is because of some misplaced loyalty to me. A history doesn’t oblige you to love someone more than another – love doesn’t know time.”

  Stella looked into Stratton’s eyes and for the first time in ages her emotions were perfectly clear. He was right, about everything. “Thank you,” she said, and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Don’t mention it. Now, why don’t you go and start the rest of your life.”

  Stella kissed him once again and hugged him. Then she turned and made her way through the crowd.

  Jennings watched Pat Cronin accompany Sophia onto the ambulance and then walked out into the square for some fresh air. The crowd was now almost a multitude, and it was becoming impossible to think. His head still hurt from the flash of unbearable light, and the questions kept bouncing through his brain. So many questions. Too many questions. And on top of it all there was Stella. It came to him that in the heat of disaster he had openly declared his love for her. At the time it had seemed the natural thing to do. But now, in the aftermath, it felt like the biggest mistake of his life. What the hell had possessed him to say such a thing? It was abundantly clear that she was in love with Stratton, and that he, Jennings, was just a ‘good friend’, maybe more like a brother to her than anything else. And even that link would disappear now that he’d opened his big mouth. Everything between them would be stilted and awkward, with Stella feeling uncomfortable around him. Perhaps it would be better if he just disappeared. Perhaps he should just walk out of the square and never look back, like Bogart at the end of Casablanca. Determined not to hang around like a lovesick fool, he steeled himself and began to do just that.