The nameless Italian security goon remained impassive, but a moment later, he stood from his chair and walked to the door. He knocked a few times and then the door opened. He moved to step out.
“One more thing, Antonio.”
He turned, his voice and face emotionless. “That is not my name.”
“Who cares?” I asked rhetorically. “There’s one more thing I want before I say anything.”
He lifted his thick eyebrows, but while he didn’t say anything, he also didn’t leave.
“I want a pizza,” I said bluntly. “Hot and steamy. All the toppings. I don’t even care if it’s a piece of crap pizza from Dominos. I want one and I won’t talk until I get one.”
The man didn’t move for a moment, maybe wondering if I was serious or not, but when I held his glare steadily, he finally rolled his eyes and walked through the door.
“Thirty minutes or less, right?” I called after him as the door shut. “Right?”
The man behind the door locked it, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
“Crap,” I mumbled to myself. “Didn’t they discontinue that deal when you were a kid? Yeah. I think they did. Assholes…”
***
Thirty three minutes later…
The door opened again and the Italian man returned, the sweet, sweet smell of a pizza preceding him.
I glanced at my watch. “You’re three minutes late, amigo.” I caught myself again. “Ah, shit… that’s Spanish, isn’t it?”
He looked at me with a mixed look of impatience and anger but didn’t say anything as he tossed the box on the table. It slid and almost fell on the floor but I managed to catch it before any precious cargo was lost. I looked at the box.
Dominos.
I looked up, a scowl on my face. “Really? It’s the year 2025 and you bring me Dominos? In Rome? Dominos?! You’re telling me the Ruskies didn’t blow up their HQ or something? Did any good come of that big war we just had?”
The Italian man left.
***
Five minutes later…
The pizza may have been crap, but it had been the most delicious crap I’d ever consumed. I was just in the process of licking my fingers clean, having polished off the pizza in record time, having sped up the process by eating two slices at a time stacked on top of one another, cheese to cheese – I’d learned that trick back in college – when the door opened again.
In stepped a man, but unlike the Italian goon I’d recently been in contact with, this man wore military style cargo pants, tucked into his boots and bloused professionally. He took only a single step into the room, leaving his face shrouded by the poor lighting, and I squinted at him.
“Don’t look so embarrassed, Hunter,” the voice said. “I’ve known you to down bigger pizzas than that in far less time.”
My eyes widened. I recognized that voice. I recognized that voice… again. And like last time, I didn’t believe my own ears.
The man must have read the shock all over my face. He laughed lightly. “Nice to know you remember me, Jacob.”
“You…” I stammered. “You can’t be alive. You’re dead. I saw you die!”
The man stepped forward and into the light, revealing himself to be none other than Paul Archer. A curious look crossed his face as he took another step forward, slipped around the vacant chair, and sat in it. “Oh, did you now? Odd. I don’t remember you being there when my team was wiped out in North Korea and SOCOM left me to rot in deep, dark hole for over two years.”
“You… you…” I stammered again, but then I regained control of my mind again. “Wait. You made it out?”
He nodded. “I did. A Chinese spec ops team sprung me not long after you disappeared. It was a joint venture with your former Team, in fact.”
“My Team?” I asked. “My SEALs?”
“Good guys…”
“Yeah, they were… but with a Chinese spec ops team?” I asked myself, my face scrunching in confusion as it jerked back on its own. “I thought they were allied with the Koreans. Or… at least neutral.”
“You’re way out of the loop, my friend. Way out.”
“Yeah, obviously…”
“But enough about me,” Archer said, folding his hands on the table. “What about you? Mind telling me where you’ve been the past four years?”
“So I really am home then…” I mumbled, breathing in a deep sigh of relief after the near scare that was a living Archer when he had been assumed dead. Then another thought hit me. “Wait… I’ve been in Rome less than an hour. What the hell are you doing here?”
He spread his arms wide before dropping them into his lap as he leaned back in his chair. “I’m a Praetorian now. Well. I will be for the next three months until my stint is over and I’ll head back to the Navy.”
“You…” I shook my head, growing upset at my inability to comprehend what was going on. After everything I’d been through in Ancient Rome, one would think I’d have little problem following a little, probably irrelevant, side story. “Wait… but you’re not even Catholic.”
He shrugged. “Who, me? Hardly. Episcopalian. Lapsed, honestly.”
“Then how are you even here?”
“Religious orientation wasn’t much of a priority after your team went dark. Besides, I gave a hell of an interview.”
“You had to interview?”
“You didn’t?”
“No, they asked me.”
“Well, lucky you.”
“Hardly…” I mumbled, memories that were far too fresh still stuck in my mind. “But why interview at all?”
“Because of you.”
“Me?”
“Because of the operation you planned to come get me before you joined up with the Vatican. The one SOCOM rejected.”
“You heard about that?” I asked, almost embarrassed.
“Not until I came home, of course,” he indicated with a shrug. “I was touched, believe me, especially after the way we had parted ways. I deserved that ass kicking you gave me, and I had a long time to reflect on it during my time in Korea. Then word got out that your team had gone dark, and I wanted to help find you. So I petitioned to join the Pope’s little band of high speed door kickers.”
“Papal door kickers,” I said, smirking. “I like that…”
He smiled. “Does have wonderfully ironic ring to it, doesn’t it…”
“Sure does.”
I found myself smiling full bloom now, amazed at the level of camaraderie Archer and I almost immediately fell into. Maybe it had something to do with the time I’d spent with his doppelganger combined with his own, apparent, self-reflection, but I found myself immediately liking the man.
“You…” he started, the one to look a bit embarrassed this time. “You should know that when we lost contact with you, your sister took it really hard. She and I… well, we reconnected. It was good for both of us. Time heals, and all that. I can’t even imagine how she’ll react when she sees you.”
I lost my smile immediately. “You two aren’t…”
He shrugged. “Kind of…”
“Great…” I muttered. “That’s just great. When did that happen?”
“A few years ago, but, look, this isn’t getting us anywhere. I’m here to talk to you because you wanted to talk to someone associated with the program. So here I am, but now isn’t the time for bullshit. You really spooked the Swiss Guard back in the square, and, as you can imagine, they’re pretty jumpy when something spooks them in the Vatican.”
I looked at the table, searching my mind for questions. “What about the war? What happened?”
“You first. We’ll get to that later.”
“What about Helena? Where is she? And the guys?”
“They’re fine,” he answered, growing impatient. “Speaking to the rest of my team, just like you are.”
“They’re all right?”
“They’re fine, Jacob.”
“And Felix?”
“Who’s that?”
“My horse.”
“Oh. He’s fine too. Stabled. Now, Jacob… where have you been?”
I took in a deep breath, preparing myself to spin the greatest yarn of my life. “Well, you’d better have that grumpy Italian fetch us something to drink, and maybe another pizza or two. We’re going to be here for a while.
***
Four hours later…
I hadn’t stopped speaking since I’d started, only taking small breaks to take a drink of wine or a bite of pizza. Between Archer and me, we’d polished off two bottles of vino and a trio of pizzas, this time from a local joint that made a pie almost as good as any I’d had in the States. It had been quite a treat, even if the story I’d just told had left a sour taste in my mouth.
Archer hadn’t said much, only asking the random question every so often. They’d been good questions, and I’d elaborated when I could, but I mostly kept to the script I’d developed in my head: the truth. I’d tried to cover everything, details about Agrippina, my time spent with Merlin, the fact that Romulus and Remus were more than history remembered them, and the fact that I’d once possessed orbs that had allowed me to travel in time and hop across realities.
There’d only been one thing I’d left out about the story: the fact that, as far as I knew, the red orb from this timeline was still buried deep beneath the Temple of Lupercal. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust the Vatican, but… well, it was that I didn’t trust anyone. I had to assume that with this knowledge, they’d try and find it, and while I wanted to believe they’d do the right thing with it, I knew it was probably for the best to just leave it be.
For now.
Archer hadn’t seemed impressed, especially since we couldn’t provide any evidence of the orbs’ existence, but at least he’d sat patiently while I’d spoken, doing his best to remain emotionless even after I’d told him about Archer 2.0 and Diana 2.0, and their particular fates. Now that I was finished, his silence continued as he mulled over my words, occasionally glancing at the notes he’d taken along the way. Tapping the screen on his fancy solid slab of glass that served as his computing device, he shut it down and glanced up at me.
“Some story,” he remarked.
“You’re telling me,” I said with a shake of my head.
“And all of it’s true?”
“Every word.”
“Even the part about how you manipulated a beautiful sniper to fall in love with you, how you bathed with an equally beautiful empress of the Roman Empire, and made out with a British queen who moonlighted as a body builder?”
I sighed, leaned back, and crossed my arms. “I guess I should have left out a few details…”
He waved a hand at me. “No, that’s okay. I like juicy details. Besides, you’re actually pretty lucky.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I believe you,” he said, leaning back in his chair as he held his hands along the edge of the table. “Your friends, on the other hand, will have a more difficult time convincing my troops.”
I lifted my chin. “You know about the orb.”
He nodded. “Believe it or not, but the fourth Praetorian team is my team. I know about the orbs… well, I knew about the blue orb, at least. When you disappeared, it was one of the many possible reasons we’d considered, but it was near the bottom of our list. For all we knew, you’d simply been killed in action and your bodies stolen. It seemed far more likely.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I bet it would.”
Without prompting, Archer smacked the table and rose to his feet, jolting me. He looked at me smugly. “A bit jittery, are we, Jacob?”
“You would be too if you’d just gone through all that.”
“Probably, but I guess we’ll never know.”
“Guess you’re right.”
“But the orbs, Jacob,” Archer said, suddenly serious. “You aren’t lying about them, are you? They’re gone, disappeared, just as you said?”
“Where the hell would I have hidden them?” I asked. “Those Swiss Guardsmen weren’t very polite when they frisked me.”
Archer smirked, nodded, turned, and opened the door.
“Wait,” I called after him, and was lucky that he turned back around and stepped back into the light. “What happens now? And what about the war? What happened? Who won?”
“The world won,” he answered immediately, tossing a hand into the air while the other held his glass slate. “The war isn’t over, not by a long shot, but it’s come to a dead halt across much of the world.”
“How?” I demanded. “Why?”
“Too many reasons than I could possibly go into in a day, but two stick out. First, China intervened against Russia. Kicked the shit out of them. Second, India nuked itself,”
“It what?”
“It was an accident,” Archer clarified. “Some kind of mistake at one of their nuclear installations. Three nukes right next to each other went off in tandem. Big boom. It was crazy, Jacob. Imagine Nagasaki and Hiroshima on steroids, captured on video by hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of cell phones and other video capture devices – those that survived the EMP shockwave, that is. It lit a fire under the world’s collective asses. Video was relayed all over the world seconds after it went off, and people started to realize the futility of it all, even the dipshit politicians with any decision making power. On all sides. Like I said, there’s still pockets of conflict out there: Central America, Africa, Eastern Europe, and others, but for the most part… it’s over. Life has rebounded. The world still hates itself, but after seeing what happened in India, no one wanted to be responsible for more of that. And the humanitarian relief effort has been almost equally unbelievable. Over the course of a year or so everyone just sort of backed off. Things are still tense, but, so far, our forward progress hasn’t stalled.”
“Wow…” I uttered, truly amazed.
“Definitely.”
Archer turned to leave again, but I stopped him.
“Wait!” He turned, but he didn’t look annoyed. “What happens now? To us?”
“Now?” He thought about it for a minute. “Now, you’ll be able to see your friends and… girlfriend, but you’ll be confined to the Vatican grounds and kept to certain areas. You won’t be able to return to our barracks, but suitable accommodations will be found for you.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re saying all this as though you knew about it hours ago.”
He grinned. “Well, that’s because I did. In fact, these orders come directly from the big guy. You know who. He recognized your name the second it was uttered in front of him. I just wanted to hear your story for myself.”
And with that, he left, while the original Italian man I’d first dealt with entered.
“Well, arrivederci to you…” I muttered, looking up at the Italian man. He gave me a nod and a thumbs up, and I smiled. “It’s all coming back to me…”
***
Three days later…
It was very early in the morning. I didn’t know when exactly, sometime between two and four if I had to guess. My watch had been confiscated along with every shred of clothing, gear, and personal items I’d brought back with me from Ancient Rome – Felix included. We’d been given sparse, priestly quarters with zero accoutrements besides a bed, a dresser filled with clothes that would have made Roman ware the height of high fashion, a wash basin, and a crucifix over the door. Worst of all, each room was designed for a single priest, and its bed was barely large enough for even that. Helena had been forced into a room of her own, but at least it was right next door and we were only locked in at night. During the day, we had plenty of leisure time to visit the Vatican grounds, although, again, we were confined to its interior and kept under guard.
But I wasn’t currently in my room at this ungodly hour, in this, perhaps, most Godly of places. The locks on the door weren’t exactly difficult to pick, and the bed with its surprisingly soft mattress and equally comfortable pillow weren’t particular
ly inviting. They were too comfortable, and I’d laid away for hours on my first night before thinking to jimmy the door and explore without the Swiss Guardsmen masquerading as our security detail in tow. I’d thought of waking Helena that first night, but a quick peek into her room had showed her fast asleep, enjoying a truly peaceful slumber, the kind she hadn’t had in years. I’d let her be and wandered the Vatican, surprised at the lack of security raining down to apprehend me.
But instead of being cautious, I’d simply sauntered through the halls before I’d found myself in St. Peter’s Basilica itself. I’d never seen it in person before, but I’d seen a million pictures, although not a single one had done the structure justice. Opulent and breathtaking, enormous and cavernous, it was truly a sight to see. Built upon the indulgences of unsuspecting Christians, many had complained – and always will – of its unscrupulous foundation, but it was hard to deny its magnificence and grandeur now.
I’d needed something pretty. I’d wanted something quiet. I’d thought the largest house of God that I was aware of would have been perfect, but as I’d sat in the structure over the past few nights, hour after sleepless hour, I’d found my mind and heart rather empty. It just didn’t do anything for me, and last night I’d started suspecting why.
I wasn’t sure if I cared – or even believed in – any of this stuff anymore.
How could I when I’d played God myself? When I’d sprung an entire reality from my hands like Athena being born directly out of Zeus’ forehead? I’d literally been responsible for the creation of an entire universe of beings, ones that simply wouldn’t have existed had I not intervened. If that wasn’t playing God, then I didn’t know what was.
I pondered these thoughts tonight in particular as I sat on one of the thousands of pews in the basilica, placed here these past few days in preparation for a celebration of sorts set for tomorrow. I hoped I’d be able to attend. I wasn’t too hollow inside to have no interest in seeing something I had once thought to never see again, even if I felt empty, confused, and dazed by experiences I wish had happened to someone else. It seemed wrong to wish such a thing on anybody, even the most fiendish of fiends, but still I did.
Praetorian Series [4] All Roads Lead to Rome Page 53