Chapter 2

I awoke with a start. I was laying in a bed, naked, but bandaged across my left forearm where I had cut myself. The room was very dark, and I couldn’t see a clock. My whole body felt sore. I took a few big breaths to steady myself. It had been a very realistic dream, a composite of some very bad futures, and a lot of bragging.

“Good, you’re awake.”

The universe shifted, and I remembered. “What are you doing here Matt?” I asked.

“I was in town meeting with the UN about getting UN passports for everyone in Rescue Squad. Saw you on the news. Called your security chief, and told him to get you and Albert to your plane, told them I’d meet them there.”

“Albert’s ok? What about Bess?”

“Albert’s fine, who’s Bess?”

“My new daughter. Will be born in April.”

“Moved to Tulsa. Melanie put her up in your old place at midcontinent.”

I closed my eyes to block the tears. “What is the date and time. What’s going on out there?”

“It’s ten pm, September 12th. You lost some blood, and the doctor said you were showing signs of shock and exhaustion. As for what’s going on, you are on every channel in every language on the planet.”

“What’s the tone? Good, bad? Shock, awe? Fear, hate?” I asked.

“It’s the Fucking Age of Miracles!”

“What?” I asked.

“Can you get up? You’ll have to watch it on TV to understand. I don’t think I can explain it. I don’t think anybody can explain it.”

I leaned up recognizing my location as a guest suite on the flying palace. “TV behind the cabinets across from the bed,” I told him.

Matt turned on a side lamp, softly lighting the room, and stood, walking over to the cabinet, he opened the door revealing a TV. He grabbed the remote from the hanger on the back of the cabinet door, and turned it on. CNN and Wolf Blitzer sprang to life.

“Candlelight vigils continue tonight at the Empire State Building for Melanie Cook, and Major Jackson. Melanie Cook, the hero that rescued twenty eight people from the roof of the North Tower, and Major Jackson the hero who stopped United Airlines flight 175, before it could strike its target, both losing their lives in the process.

“Similar vigils continue to be held around the world. Some also include vigils for Melanie’s husband, who stunned the world with what has been described as a modern miracle, after the collapse of the North Tower. For more on that we go to special correspondent Tom Brown.”

“The President of the United States issued a short statement earlier today. He declared that the meteorite impacts that struck following ‘the three curses’ have been determined by the attorney general to be Acts of God. The curses themselves are considered protected both as free speech, and also as a religious ceremony for the deceased.

“Calculations are still being made as to the death toll overseas, the population of Afghanistan was thought to be around 25 million people, many of them living in the strike zones. It has been reported that the northern alliance in Afghanistan has a map provided by John Cook telling them to stay out of the affected area, but so far no one has publicly provided a copy of that map, or said when it was provided.

“In the United States the death toll from meteorite impacts is low, around fifteen hundred fifty killed, all groups that were in an FBI hate group watch list for advocating the death of a particular person or group. In other places, known terrorist training camps in the Middle East, and across Africa as well as mosques, churches, and temples were destroyed, all of which have similarly been found to have promoted hate speech, defined as speech advocating or urging death or harm to others.”

The view switched back to Wolf Blitzer.

“The President has also announced that regularly scheduled flights will resume beginning at midnight Eastern time tonight.

“There has been no word from John Cook since his stunning curse, and collapse. Family report that he is resting, and grieving at an undisclosed location, and ask that he not be disturbed.

“The lightning strike at ground zero still remains unexplained by climate scientists, who insist it was not a natural phenomenon.

“Around the world flags remain at half mast, as countries continue to send messages of support to President Gore. Today at noon, Britain held a national moment of silence for the victims of the attack, now officially at 151, not including hijackers. Other European Union countries have similar moments of silence scheduled for noon local time tomorrow.”

“President Tabai of the Pacific Union has declared a month of national mourning over the loss of Melanie Cook, an American who held dual citizenship with that country. The Pacific Union Parliament has also voted to create and award posthumously its highest honor, the Star of Sacrifice, and award her and her descendants Patents of Nobility, awarding a title of Princess of the Pacific for her and Prince or Princess of the Pacific for all her descendants.”

“Turn it off,” I told Matt.

He quickly turned the TV off. “That’s nothing,” he said. There was a love parade in San Francisco today. People were waving signs, dancing in the street, most of the women were running around topless.”

“What were the signs saying?” I asked.

“Heaven killed the haters. Love conquers all. Love wins 25 million to 1. Age of Aquarius. Heaven loves us. Terrorist hate our love. It’s a big list.”

“That’s different.”

“Like I said, it’s the ‘Fucking Age of Miracles.’ That’s a quote. They had a guy on TV last night going over what you’re responsible for. People know you did stuff, but I don’t know if they ever connected that smart kid with the grown up you.

“He was claiming that you had single handedly reversed global climate change with SynFuel, saved the world from at least three recessions, cured diseases like AIDS, drug abuse, and mental illness. He said that last two men who changed the world this much at such a young age were Alexander the Great and Jesus Christ.”

“I’m not Jesus!” I shouted.

“Jesus Christ, I know that,” he said smiling.

I chuckled, I couldn’t help it.

“I’m starving, let me get a shower, and tell Chef I want a big breakfast.”

“It’s ten at night.”

“It’s morning somewhere. Now go, I’m naked under these sheets, and I’ve got to pee,” I told him.

The hot water felt good. I scrubbed thoroughly, but it seemed I’d been washed at some point. I hadn’t lost that much blood, the blade was coated with a coagulant because Melanie like to test how sharp it was. Fresh bandages were waiting for me on the bed when I got out of the shower. There were stitches, it was going to be three ugly scars.

I dressed, or at least tried to. It seemed some joker wanted me to wear Monk robes. I wrapped myself in the bright yellow robe, and headed for the private dining room.

Matt’s eyes crinkled in a smile when he saw me. “You look like Yul Brynner,” he said.

“I added ‘hair off’ to the body soap. Where are the rest of my clothes?” I asked.

“Your regular bedroom. I can get them if you’d like.”

“I’ll change after food, I’m starving,” I told him.

Chef delivered the food personally so he could express his condolences. I thanked him, but added, “Melanie has been sick and dying since the day we met. I already knew I’d lose her. In fact, we didn’t expect her to make it to the end of the year. While the events are tragic, and the pain is deep, it’s something I’ve had time to prepare myself for.”

The last piece of vegan French toast wiped up the last drop of maple syrup. I sat back feeling slightly uncomfortably full. “I hope my jeans still fit.”

“You might need a suit, the President has asked for you to fly to Washington as soon as flights resume in an hour.” Matt told me.

“If I can wear Melanie’s sword, I’ll go. Otherwise I’m heading to Tulsa to get the surrogate, and on to Ocean City.”

“I’ve got the number, I’ll check.”

“I’m changing. I’m wearing jeans and a sweater.” I told him, as I walked out of the room.

It’s only 200 miles from New York to Washington. Normally you don’t fly, you take the train, or a car. It’s almost as fast. It’s just going up, immediately followed by back down. The President said I could come wearing any religious regalia I wanted, meaning the sword. The take off woke Albert, so I held him in my arms for the short flight. He thought I looked funny with no hair.

We were directed to land at Andrews, and my motorcade of three bright yellow Tonka trucks made its way to the White House. Albert was awake, so I brought him with me. Melanie’s sword was at my side, but it was wrapped in a towel held in place with rubber bands. That’s how I found it. The sheath was missing, but I wore it as it was, strapped with a silk waist sash. I didn’t have the sheath, Melanie had it.

Security passed me with a bare word, and I was ushered up the elevator to the oval office. Al met me at the door, looking tired. He shook my hand, told me how sorry he was, and waved me to the couch. He sat opposite.

I sat, and waited for him to begin.

“First of all thank you John. I’m not sure what you did, but Congress stood on the porch of the Capitol building earlier today and sang ‘God Bless America.’”

“Don’t blame that on me,” I said.

He chuckled, “I can only imagine how the war hawks would be chomping at the bit and demanding an invasion of Afghanistan right now. Miserable place. I’ve been there. About the only thing they have are drugs and poverty.