by James Burke
She then addressed the audience.
‘Unfortunately, that’s all the time we have tonight. Our guest has to visit the White House where he will have a one-on-one discussion with the president,’ she said. ‘So, on behalf of everyone here at the club I’d like to thank you Mr. Goyette for taking time to share with us your thoughts and insights, no matter how unsettling they may be.’
As the clapping began Goyette began to blush in embarrassment. It wasn’t because of the applause. It was due to his picking up on what had occurred on the other side of the globe. War had just vanished and now everything had changed.
Still behind the podium, he sheepishly raised his hand and interrupted the ovation. After the clapping died down he spoke.
‘I beg your pardon madam president, there’s one more thing,’ Goyette said. ‘Actually, it’s somewhat a big thing which may get a mixed reception as it negates much of what I’ve just said tonight. You see the end of the world is a complicated and volatile thing.’
Goyette paused for 10 seconds to ensure he had everyone’s full attention and once he felt that was the case he continued.
‘You see, it’s like this, in the past couple of centuries or so there has been earlier attempts by several other Four Horsemen types to bring about humankind’s demise. Why there always had to be four of them I don’t know, but I do know on each occasion at least one of them found a reason for not completing their mission,’ he said.
‘One of whom?’ someone yelled.
‘One of the earlier Four Horsemen kind of characters,’ Goyette repeated.
‘Why would they do that?’ yelled another.
‘Usually it’s a case of one of them finding compelling evidence that mankind does in fact deserve another chance,’ Goyette said.
‘But are you the false messiah?’ a reporter yelled.
‘Look, that’s certainly not important now but what I’m trying to say is that doomsday, once again, has been called off,’ Goyette said.
There was a collective gasp from everyone in the club.
‘Never before has it come as close, so consider yourselves lucky,’ Goyette said. ‘Now as per my end of the world guarantee, the paying members of my temple will of course have their money returned. This will be overseen by my team who I cannot praise highly enough,’ he said, looking at his stunned staff seated around a table to the side of the platform.
The press began yelling more questions that Goyette ignored.
‘As for me, I will humbly leave you to your own devices. Lastly, I can only advise mankind to avoid complacency because one day your time will certainly come, be it in the form of A.I. or pollution, something will kill you off, so do not forsake decency.’
He stepped away from the podium and gave the dumb-founded club president one last look.
‘It’s been a blast my dear,’ he told her.
And with that he too simply vanished and did so in full view of everyone in the club and for anyone watching the globally broadcasted event.
For the other two called Death and Famine everything now was similarly different. They may not have been at the press club or watching TV but they, like Goyette, sensed what had transpired in China.
Death, not that long off her flight from Rome, was in New York City’s Times Square looking for a place to plant her mystical timer when she instead disappeared as per War and Goyette.
The incantation-mumbling Famine did likewise in outback Australia. Just as he crossed a small bridge over a dry gully he disappeared and, as he did so, he gave a world-weary sigh of relief.
The Tree Line
With his fighting pole back in his possession, Kai moved nimbly along a limestone ridge. As he ran, he could hear the sloshing of spring water in his canteen and feel War’s sketchpad jostling around in his backpack. He was now a couple of miles away from where he said goodbye to the three friendly foreigners who had flown off in a helicopter, the one that Marx had originally landed in which had auxiliary fuel tanks that could get them to Thailand.
Upon approaching a line of pine trees, the boy slowed his pace and eventually came to a stop. He knew that once he was among the trees he’d be in cover and out of sight for anyone above. Before he disappeared into it, he looked back up at the mountain. He could just make out the sanctuary and the figure of the bad man who was stuck to the spot. The boy’s attention was then taken by movement further along and at the top of the mountain’s peak — it was the White Dragon. He doubted his mystical friend could hear from so far away but nevertheless he shouted his farewells because it felt the correct thing to do. He knew they’d meet again. Once things settled down, he would return.
Then something down in the valley caught his attention.
It was the Red Dragon. It was grounded; injured and crawling in a pitiful manner. Its bat-like wings were ripped and at least two of its seven heads appeared lifeless. Those heads still alive screamed in rage at the Heavens. The monster began to flap its damaged wings and after a minute it managed to lurch itself into the air. As it cumbersomely fled the valley it cried furiously at anything good. The awful sounds reverberated through the valley, forcing Kai to cover his ears.
Once the dragon was out of sight, Kai pulled his hands from his ears. He could no longer hear the beast’s screams, but instead he heard the buzz of helicopters. It wasn’t long until he saw five more Z-9s flying at speed towards White Dragon Mountain. Each was filled with PLA soldiers wanting the chance to kill meddling foreigners. Kai took this as his cue to disappear into the trees and continue his journey back to his grandparents.
Protruding Ears
Marx still couldn’t move as this new group of Z-9s arrived. The Quintus-inflicted paralysis still had him fixed to the spot. Given the lack of space on the sanctuary’s terrace only one of the five choppers could land and from it six soldiers alighted. It wasn’t long before a couple of them were guarding him while others searched the area. He wanted to tear them apart, especially the one dousing the lifeless bodies of Vacher and Irfan with fuel.
But of course, Marx couldn’t, so impotent was his situation.
Once the soldier finished drenching the bodies with fuel his commanding officer approached and handed him a box of matches. Marx’s attention quickly went from the soldier lighting up the cadavers to the fresh-faced officer, a young man with protruding ears. As the officer came his way, Marx realized who the officer was many lifetimes ago — the young soldier Meng killed in the one-sided swordfight.
Marx broke out into a sweat and pissed his pants, two indications the paralysis was lessening, not that it mattered at this point. When the officer reached Marx, he promptly unholstered his pistol and put it to the foreigner’s forehead and didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.
BANG!
Hell’s Pit
Marx’s ghost was dragged down to the netherworld where the 13 Demon Kings of the Pit waited. When his senses returned, he found himself laying naked in the center of a pentacle carved into the stone floor of a steaming-hot dark chamber. It was quiet until 13 voices screamed in unison from somewhere in front of him.
‘We provided you with everything Marx, yet you failed us. All you had to do was join the dots. A 4-year-old could have carried it out!’
Marx was about to yell excuses, but it wasn’t going to happen. A metal muzzle instantly clamped onto his mouth, gagging him.
‘We’re not listening to your pathetic pleas or explanations,’ said the voices which Marx now saw belonged to a line of hulking demons seated on rocky thrones cut from the chamber’s wall.
‘You currently feel no pain only because we want you listening with undivided attention,’ the demons said. ‘Do we have your attention?’
Marx could only nod and the demons proceeded.
‘Soon you will suffer and do so in full knowledge that your rival, the Roman has now been scrubbed from the list of the damned!’ they yelled.
‘When the Roman killed you in 1871 our venture seemed assured, but you spoiled it to the
extent that your mistakes brought a God into our realm to perform divine intervention.’
Indeed, not long before Marx was killed, a divine being, wearing a bright yellow robe, visited a netherworld chamber that stored the identities of those doomed for damnation. The demons were incapable of stopping the deity who scrubbed Quintus’ name from a ledger. Due to his good works, his name had been fading for some time, so it did not take the divine being much effort. You could even say it was a mere formality. The final decision by heavenly beings to clear his name came after he freed the prisoners — the Falun Gong practitioners and others — from the military hospital.
So it was now Marx’s fault, the demons claimed, that Quintus succeeded.
‘You helped him fulfil a half-baked, half-forgotten prophecy, you placed him in a position to again prove his bravery and kindness!’ they screamed. ‘Ultimately, it was you who aided and abetted him.’
A muted Marx could only shake his head in protest.
‘You should have slaughtered the Roman when you first had the chance! If you had you would be sitting up here with us judging him where you now are,’ they said. ‘Instead you returned him to China. What were you thinking?’
Marx of course could not reply.
‘You made us fools in front of our master. For that you must pay.’
The demons had now finished what they wanted to say, and the only thing Marx could do was dread what would come next. First the metal gag disappeared from his mouth and then he was sucked through the floor into Hell’s lowest level for an eternity of inexpressible woe.
CHAPTER XIV
House by the Lake
Kristen had heard enough Idaho talk-back for one day, so she switched off the old radio on the kitchen bench. Be it local or nationwide, most American media were still preoccupied with how the world nearly came to an end two months earlier.
From a trouser pocket, she pulled out her iPhone and placed it next to the radio, away from the area she was going to make bread. It wasn’t long before she was listening to her Dean Martin collection from it and kneading dough at the same time. The combination of bread making, Dean Martin, and the view from the kitchen out onto the expanse of Lake Pend Oreille made it easier for her not to think about what occurred in Asia.
Not that the experience scarred her.
She felt fortunate to survive what they went through, a feeling somewhat soured by the over-the-top interest in their adventure first by U.S. consular officials in Thailand and then the FBI and CIA when they got stateside. Quintus, Tina, and Kristen had nothing to hide. They told the truth and Kristen had video from her phone to show the officials some of what occurred in China.
There were still others who wanted to know what they went through in China. A team of Canadian researchers wanted to speak with Quintus about the organ harvesting in the Chinese military hospital while an FBI agent in charge of dismantling Marx’s financial empire sought to interview Kristen. She was due to speak via phone with that agent in the days to come.
For the past three weeks, she had been staying at the lakeside holiday house recharging her batteries, figuring out what she would next do with her life but that was pretty much looking like it would be a shared decision. As she kneaded the bread and looked out the window she could see Quintus repairing the property’s small jetty that jutted out into the lake. For reduced rent, the elderly landlord, agreed to let Quintus fix the jetty and do some small renovations to the house. ‘You two young’uns can stay as long as you like,’ the landlord said after seeing the quality of Quintus’ work.
Their time together at the lake had so far further cemented what began not long after they arrived in Thailand from China via helicopter. Kristen had never felt so comfortable in anyone else’s presence as she had with Quintus.
Yet she had never met anybody like him, in this life at least. This man and his ways amazed her. He was rugged yet kindhearted. He was incredibly capable yet humble to the extreme. He was unconventional yet traditional, especially when it came to romance. They both had separate bedrooms in the holiday home. ‘If we got married, that would change,’ he told her.
‘Well hurry up and ask,’ she replied good naturedly. ‘I’m not getting any younger.’
The Dilemma
A shirtless Quintus waded into the cold autumn water and made his way to the side of the jetty walkway to fasten replacement planks of wood. Using a hammer, he began thumping in the nails. Whilst he worked his thoughts focused on War’s final words; the ones warning mankind and how he should help them return to traditional values.
He wasn’t sure how it could be done, but a path would reveal itself in time, he believed. He additionally thought about how War said he would again meet Kai to reteach him what was needed. The opportunity to do as much would similarly present itself when the Gods thought it was ready, Quintus believed. Fata viam invenient, he thought. ‘Fate will find a way.’
As he moved onto fixing a second plank, he began thinking about his recent decision not to tell Kristen about their shared past life and how they were all previously family. Revealing such things was no small matter, he rationally felt, and it would not be an easy sell. For weeks he mulled over scenarios, as he did way back in the 1960s, on how he could at least tell Kristen without freaking her out. In the water under the jetty he again told himself it was impossible. The truth was too fantastical.
Several days later, however, Quintus couldn’t hold it back. He began to carefully tell her everything, something that would take decades to complete.
Closure
I hope my telling has done justice to this story and the people in it. There is only so much I can share, and I’m of course limited because of who I am. Nevertheless, even explaining what occurred in such a rudimentary manner wouldn’t have been possible if I, your narrator, the one referred to as Ivan but mostly as War, hadn’t walked among you as I did, albeit only for a month or two.
The demon kings chose me initially because of my role in creating armies and they saw something in me that gave them the impression I was willing or at least worth taking a chance on. After centuries of helping you tear each other apart it was only natural that I became despondent about you all and my role in that. It was this whiff of hopelessness that drew the demon kings to me, thinking they could use it to have me become part of their nefarious plot.
Such creatures as the demon kings are unable to leave the netherworld, and they required others to fulfil their plans; hence why they needed me, the three others, low-level spirits, and the likes of Marx to do their dirty work.
It was their master Satan who allowed them to have their shot at destroying humanity, despite him having separate plans himself for the very same endeavor. The Great Deceiver initially didn’t think the 13 could actually pull it off but when Rome was demolished, he thought they might actually have a chance
But you see some all-knowing divine beings were one step ahead of the demon kings and they approached me earlier, telling me of the demon kings’ scheme. It was probably more out of respect for such divine beings than my love of humanity that I then agreed to their request to subvert the demons’ goals.
Actually, it was touch and go there for a while. That’s how the universe is, and the continuation of humanity often dangles on the edge of a knife. Because of the principle of freewill there was always the risk that I could have instead gone along with what the demons had envisaged.
Thankfully for you, through the likes of Quintus, Kristen, Tina, Kai and others, I realized that there is hope for you. Indeed, after my time in your realm, I remain buoyed by such faith, that there are those of you worth saving, worth the effort, worth risking everything for. You’re more special than you could ever fathom.
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to Teresa Sutakanat, Kate Burke and Craig Skehan for offering editorial advice and spotting typos. A big shout out also to Cameron Burke for his suggestions and support in the creation of Book of Bravery. Many thanks to Don Mark Noceda for his
illustrations.
About the Author
Australian-born James Burke is a family man who has worked in the media for much of his professional life. He is currently working as chief of staff/editor for a news website covering current affairs in Asia. His first media experience was in the Australian film & TV industry during the 1990s mostly working in the camera department. He has a university degree in modern history.