Praetorian Series [4] All Roads Lead to Rome (67 page)

“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 particularly 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.

Not very Christian of me, I supposed.

I took in a deep breath and glanced at my hands clasped in my lap.  Perhaps it was best to simply reconcile myself with the fact that I’d never understand why I’d had to go through such an experience, and that I’d have to live with the memories.  There simply wasn’t a choice in the matter.  Maybe I simply needed to accept it and move on, but if there was ever such a place to ask the simple question
why
, this was it.

Why had it all happened?

Why had it happened to me?

What had any of us done to deserve it?

And yet… nothing.

I let out my breath and prepared to leave, unsatisfied, but then a hand fell on my shoulder and I jumped.

“Apologies,” came a steady voice, deepened with age and with a light accent I couldn’t really place.  “I did not mean to frighten you.”

I looked to my left and saw a small man in the aisle beside my pew.  His face was old and craggily, and the hand upon my shoulder was wrought with thick veins and the pockmarks of age.  I looked back at his face, but while I couldn’t exactly recognize him, as I’d only met him once very briefly and it had been many years ago, I immediately realized who he was.

“Your Hono…”I started, but then shook my head stupidly, “I mean, Your Excellen… Your Holiness.  I’m sorry.  It’s been so long, I…”

“It is quite all right,” Pope Gregory XXI remarked as he removed his hand so that he could playfully wave it at me, enticing me to scoot over.  When I did, he sat beside me heavily and with a deep sigh as though in pain, and placed his hands upon his knees as he continued.  “I understand you have been through a great ordeal, Jacob, so, for the time being, please, Father Gregory will do.  I am still a priest, after all.”

I smiled at his droll tone.  “Of course, Father.  I apologize.”

“No need, my son,” he said, turning slightly so that he could regard me.  “As it is I who should apologize to you.”

“Father?”

He frowned.  “I apologize, Jacob Hunter.  Wholeheartedly, for it was I who decided to form your team of soldiers under the guise of active protectors when, in truth, you were designed to search for the orb.”

My eyes widened.  I’d almost forgotten completely about the papacy and its role in all this, how it had been aware of the blue orb all along.  And now they were aware of the red one as well.  I wondered what they’d do with that information.  I imagined a scene of an enormous warehouse beneath the Vatican, the red orb secured within one of a billion boxes, lost forever.

Such a reality was more than I could hope for, really.

Pope Gregory appeared to notice my sudden apprehension and pushed on.  “I assure you, Jacob, as I understand Vincent must have informed you as well, we intended nothing malicious with the orb.  It was simply a preventative measure to ensure the wrong individuals did not obtain it.  And I’m thankful that one did not.  I now thank God regularly that it was you who took ownership of it.”

A flare of anger sparked in my chest.  “How can you say that?  You must have read our report.”

“Jacob,” he said soothingly, “I cannot imagine what you have gone through, although I read the testimony given by you and your friends numerous times.  It is unfathomable.  And it is extraordinarily unfortunate.  But… you must understand that it is only because of your tireless efforts that, in fact, the wrong individuals never took control of it.  No one will ever know for certain, but it is quite possible you were responsible for staving off great disaster.”

“I had a lot of help,” I mumbled, not wanting to accept his gratitude.

“That you did,” Pope Gregory said, nodding in agreement.  “But not just anyone can garner that support so easily.  Your friends
chose
to help you.  And they had good reason to, despite the mistakes you made.  You are, after all, only human, Jacob.”

My head flung into my hands all on its own and I did everything I could to contain my emotions.  I refused to accept his words, to believe that I was deserving of any gratitude.  After everything I’d done, all the horrible deeds enacted at my hand or by my order, I couldn’t possibly live with the idea that I was some grand hero responsible for saving the universe.  I’d played a small role in averting a disaster I’d been responsible for to begin with.  I was no better than Curious George, who was always rewarded and praised for saving the day at the last second, even though it had been his own innate, stupid curiosity that had led to near disaster to begin with. 

I’d never known why that series of stories had never sat well with me… until just now.

“How can you say that, Father?”  I asked, tears in my eyes.  “I didn’t hold anything back in my report.  I recounted everything. 
Everything!
  You
knew
Vincent.  And I murdered him!”

“You did no such thing,” he argued, his voice hard.  “Your mind was not your o…”

I flung myself backward, slamming my back against the pew.  “How can you say that either?!  How can you so easily accept the orb and what it can do?  How can you accept Merlin?  And Romulus and Remus?  Concepts of a civilization that predates them, so advanced as to have the ability to travel through time and dimensions.  How does that not challenge everything you believe in?  Everything you hold sacred?”

The Supreme Pontiff of the Universal Church was quiet for a few moments, his silence alone settling my anger, a reminder of just how much I appreciated those who took time to think.  Finally, after some more time, he spoke.

“It very much challenges my beliefs,” he said slowly.  “How could it not?  Blind faith is not true faith at all, but we believe in what we believe because of a reasoned faith, Jacob.  We hold dear many sacred principals, foremost among them that there is more to life than what we experience here on the mortal plane, and while the information you have brought with you is certainly interesting and of great concern, it does not directly contradict anything I understand to be true.  It is something I will reflect on for all my remaining years, but it will only strengthen my resolve, not weaken me.”

“I guess…” I said childishly.

He frowned again.  “I will not patronize you, Jacob.  I will not tell you how you should live your life.  I will not offer you spiritual guidance if you do not wish for it.  You have experienced too much.  But, in time, your wounds will heal and you will come to understand that you have nothing to be ashamed of.  God’s champion or simply humanity’s, a champion for righteousness you still are.  I hope you will come to understand that.  I consider myself honored to know you, Jacob Hunter.”

I sighed, trying to accept and appreciate his words.  “Thank you, Father.”