The Unlikely Savior (The Unlikely Savior Trilogy)

by T. S. Seley Elliott

  “…two, one…and lift off of the Revival, leading the nation back into Space!” The mission control voice was prominent, but dwarfed by the physical and emotional experience that swept Johnnie Carter; the unlikeliest of astronauts left the confines of Earth.

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  Patience was not Joe Blunt’s strong suit, yet he summoned impressive control as Astro Sikes entered his office. The wall to his left was covered with television screens as the king of sensational news always kept one eye open on every corner of the globe. The other side of his office consisted of floor-to-ceiling windows, although he rarely seemed to notice the spectacular view from his high-rise spot; literally, as in figuratively, the goings on of the real world were of little interest – it was the world they created and exploited that sold the paper.

  Sikes was a true lackey in Joe’s eyes, but he had learned long ago to never turn a blind ear to even the most insignificant source; the weasels and slugs of the world were closest to the dirt and dirt was his business. Astro only lacked a pocket protector in Joe’s vision of what every geek should be…but to the underling’s credit, this was the first time he had ever requested to see the big editor personally, so Joe tried to be less critical and hoped it was worth his precious time.

  He still had the notes regarding Lisa Douglas’ phone call on his desk, as well as the security shots of the JFK mystery woman they’d run in the last issue. If Hoffstedder didn’t call back soon, he’d put someone else on this and it would be one of his best. There were a lot of ugly distractions in the news these days and it would be a huge boon for the Constellation to be the first to identify the JFK angel…especially if they rolled it in with Lisa Douglas’ account. They already had Marsha Renee Schreiver, crazy bitch that blew up the airport, on the hook for an interview. With these weighty issues on his mind, he looked at the eager Astro.

  “Shoot…you got five minutes. Tops.”

  Astro showed the first few photos to the big boss, offering his best impromptu presentation.

  Joe’s initial response was not favorable. He couldn’t believe this guy came to his office about the freakin’ Revival crew! Even though the program was renewed and this was the first launch, photos during a media black-out were good, but not spectacular. Patience exhausted, he was about to blow when the very persistent Sikes bravely slapped the close-up of the unknown crew member in the middle of his desk.

  “That, Mr. Blunt, is not Bonnie Janz…looks like her and might walk like her, she might even smell like her, but I’m telling you, it is not her.”

  Still not convinced this was worth his time, Joe glanced at his watch in irritation.

  “You got two and a half more minutes and you’re outta here….”

  Agitated, Astro wrung his hands and refrained from rolling his eyes. For a top executive, this guy seemed a little slow…“Sir…Bonnie Janz was on the crew; it is unheard of for NASA to do a switch without announcing it…combine that with the media shut out, well…” He had tossed the line and the boss’ expression altered somewhat. Yes! Mr. Blunt could call a conspiracy from a mile. Astro was on a roll.

  Joe did see the scrawny man’s point. Wheels turning, he glanced at the full face shot in front of him, it was so closely cropped that the bright orange shoulders of the flight suit were even cut out; then his wheels froze. He picked up the photo and squinted…there was something about that face. It was vague, but it was there and the sixth sense responsible for his very healthy bank account kicked in.

  “I knew you’d be interested…” Astro gushed, but quickly shut up when Joe shot up a hand. He needed silence…he almost had it; he needed to think.

  Joe dropped the photo on the desk and stood, his finger to his temple in the manner of someone trying to locate a thought. In frustration he glanced at his desk and his heart suddenly surged. There it was.

  On his massive desk, five inches apart were a grainy security photo and a crystal clear image of the same person. His mind took one more leap to recall Lisa Douglas’ claims of her baby being saved by this woman…who was also a military member….

  He shook his head in disbelief.

  “Holy Mary, mother of God.” He said…not to the excited Astro, but to his imagination. “This is the same broad. It’s all one person…”

  The moment of truth was short lived; while his boss mentally disappeared into the story of the year, Astro noticed all of the screens on the wall had become the same with identical rolling text across each.

  “….not a test, repeat this is not a test. This is the national Emergency Alert System and this is not a test…”

  “Boss…Mr. Blunt?” He stared at the screens, his mouth went dry. Terrorist attack? Tsunami? He wondered as he noticed Blunt had tuned him out.

  “Mr. Blunt,” he said loudly, getting an irritated look at the precise time the office phone and both of their cell phones began to ring…

  “Well, Jesus Christ…what the f….” The powerful man stopped his tirade before it started as he reached for one phone and visually followed Astro’s gesture toward the screens. He diverted his hand from the phone to a panel on his desk, increasing the volume for the simulcasts. In the forefront of the nerve racking tone, the words both men heard were,

  “…stand by for a message from the President of the United States.”

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  Wei was riveted as he heard his son’s voice, shaken but strong, announcing a pending nuclear attack targeting northeastern United States, but demanding survival precautions for the entire nation in the event of additional attacks. The distant, but loud, wavering sirens made the impossible seem a little more possible…and real. As Byron and Margie, visibly in shock, but also in action, hustled him to the basement of the immense old home, his first comforting thought was that his dear son was probably safer than he was in this looming disaster, for which he was grateful. The second, and not insignificant thought was of that dear girl in space – they had watched the launch on television a short time ago; he prayed she was not in proximity of the airborne doom. And he wanted to believe that she was everything they’d hoped. As he stepped off the last stair into the dank cellar, he dared to speculate that if she was who and what they’d hoped, then she was exactly where she was supposed to be. And then he prayed. He prayed. And he prayed.

  North and east, but in the same state as the house in which the burdened father prayed, the entire staff of the Constellation was under siege in their Chicago offices. Even as they took required safety measures, they bent to the demands of Joe Blunt to keep working on every angle…if they survived this, there would be issues worth of stories begging to be told…

  Two thousand miles west of the Joe Blunt’s tyranny, one of his hottest sources, Lisa Douglas, remained oblivious to her country’s worst nightmare. With no television or cell phone…and living too far from any discernible alarm system, she simply moved about her small world, little Emily on her hip, cleaning the mess from the night before. After her call to the Constellation last night, she was sure she’d have another visitor soon…if not the Angel Tracker, who had so far disappointed her horribly, then another reporter. And maybe with a camera crew…

  Not too far away from Green Acres, but in another world entirely, Airman Barker and Captain Stass mechanically went through the required motions as their base entered high alert. Neither thought of their friend, or even conceived in their wildest imaginations that their brief, incredible experience was a piece of story which was in any way related to the nation’s terrible plight. Unlike many civilians who were left to personal interpretation of disaster preparation, the airmen followed specific guidance; it was order in chaos, but order provided comfort, nonetheless.

  Thirteen hundred miles northeast of Johnnie’s former comrades, officers in green flight suits worked with a fervent urgency from their spot in the frozen underground. Captain Aguirre and Lieutenant Posey were too busy to realize that th
ey, perhaps, should have gone to Vegas rather than their place of duty. The dice, tossed this single time in American history, had landed and they were among the few in the entire nuclear alert force who, on this day, would dance a well-rehearsed round of choreography…only not for drill, but for real. The captain didn’t stop long enough to, once again, question the lieutenant’s intent to act according to orders, and it never occurred to the younger man to allow the icy fear in his blood to stop the duty his heart and his word had bound him to do.

  Seventeen hundred miles southeast of the fated missile control center, James, Jeremy, and Sandy, with an oddly calm Betsy, immediately and unanimously opted to stay in the penthouse against the advice and guidance of the plethora of televised and text based announcements.

  If they evacuated at this point, they’d be in the midst of what was likely total panic and confusion in the safer bowels of the massive high rise…and they all desired communication over safety. Like their friends in Illinois, they too, had watched the televised launch of the Revival and each man was incapable of separating the mounting events in his mind. Even Sandy, resident Doubting Thomas, could not deny that Johnnie was in the center of something awful, regardless of its driving source – she was literally in the heart of the growing fire and if he couldn’t be physically by her side, he would be there the only way he could.

  Jeremy was dead quiet, staring at an invisible target, every tendon in his body stiff with tension. His only thought, even beyond his own life, was her. Just her. He gripped a slobbering dog who didn’t seem to mind; she accepted the absence of her woman, but had a place among these people for now and she took her job seriously.

  Close enough for Betsy to hit with her tail, but in another world, Johnnie’s only sibling and Mary’s only son called on everything he’d believed in his adult life…the sources of his fortune and success….simply to believe and let it be. He felt no fear, but a yearning…a burning desire to negotiate, to deal; he’d give it all away for its proof in action for this one instance. His sole focus, his only conviction – was completely focused on his faith in Johnnie. And if he was wrong…it would be of little consequence; New York was in the red zone. If he was wrong, he’d be dead within the hour.

  Across the bridge, Mary stayed in her apartment, her home. She’d lit every candle she owned, smoke alarms disabled – not that it would matter now anyway. She gripped a burning cigarette in one hand and her rosary in the other.

  “God Dammit…why her? Oh God…forgive me…but dammit anyway!” She crossed herself shakily, smoke trailing the moving hand, ashes floating away unnoticed. “O Heavenly Father, I commend my children unto Thee. Be Thou their God and Father; and mercifully supply whatever is wanting in me through frailty or negligence….Dammit…save my girl, please! Oh shit…forgive me, Father…”

  And already in the air, bound for an undetermined location, President Liang, Toby Chrone, the Joint Chiefs of Staff and other key national leaders were unnervingly swept from the capitol on the airborne operations center, otherwise known as the “doomsday plane.” It was scrambled within five minutes of their notification of the first launches from Russia, although, based on intelligence, China might narrowly skirt their “no first use policy” and follow suit with additional launches.

  Wing had held his ground until the end, but reluctantly initiated retaliatory strikes on Russia and had authorized a “decapitation” strike on China, to take out key command and control centers before the republic had the chance to join in its ally’s bandwagon. The mood in the aircraft was thick, and although well ventilated, smelled of sweat, adrenaline and fear. Wing had failed his nation, his people. Unless…

  With his last strand of sanity, he covered his face and attempted to still his heart. His mind tittered with a flash of his controversial speech given on the dawn of this crisis…they were riding the dangerous wind as he had predicted…but he and the others were riding in safety compared to countless innocent citizens on ground zero below. He felt the bile rise as he remembered his other words, stolen from Lincoln… what had happened to the “noble win?” He swallowed and barely stomached ingestion of the “mean loss”…of the last, best hope. Would it have made a difference if he hadn’t hoped on her? If he had not taken the time and energy to hope on hope? What would become of his homeland and what were its citizens feeling now?

  But the country, at large, was very, very aware of its plight, even without the sordid details known by the men flying in safety above. And in the midst of paralysis, hysteria, fear and disbelief, a typically self-possessed population was abruptly distracted. The climate of constant motion, information mania and instant gratification shifted.

  Some didn’t get it, of course; those exceptions will always exist…those souls who never see the world beyond the tip of their nose. But in a matter of minutes, the remaining, decent millions shared one fear--one heart--and they shared a desperate hope for their nation’s survival first, and their own second. The United States of America virtually hummed with prayer.

  The energy, which no one could see or feel in the world they knew, was palpable and gained force as a collective. The unseen power expanded upon itself.

  Even though Johnnie knew how quickly they would exit the earth’s atmosphere and enter orbit, she had difficulty conceiving it was really over and done within a matter of minutes. Her senses felt as if they’d been thrust from center stage of a Mayhem rock festival to a state of deep meditation. The much smaller craft minus rocket boosters floated now, the discernable motion gone, and the noise level dropped to that of the chatter about her. Her visor was up and had been since a few minutes into the launch, but she would be the last to remove her suit since her duties and value to other crew members was virtually nil.

  She had, until that second, only noted her immediate surroundings as she’d struggled physically and emotionally to endure the launch…feeling somewhat human again, she shifted as she waited for help with getting out of her gear. That’s when she saw it. She saw her planet….poised beautifully outside of the closest window and it took her breath away.

  The purest blue she’d ever seen graced the curve and surface. The sheen of the sun’s light cast off the vast oceans glistened with what she was certain was the most pristine glimmer in existence. And she only realized the irony of her next thought after it glided through her consciousness. It was too beautiful to be real….Light-headed and giddy as she was, she accepted how sad and silly her thought had been.

  That something so beautiful couldn’t be real. Her vision blurred then and her eyes felt odd and filmy and her nose burned. It took a moment to discover she had been moved to tears…but the tears hadn’t run in the state of microgravity. She rolled her eyes and blinked, causing one tear to break off. She watched it, clear eyed, in wonder as it drifted away from her…a three dimensional picture whose matted background was the orb of planet earth. At that second, Johnnie knew she’d missed the point all along…that everything that counted, everything that was most beautiful, was most real. And nothing else mattered. Everything else was small stuff.

  Her gloved hand went to her head and her throat tightened, it was not because of where she was, but because of where she had been and how she had gotten here. It was all falling…no, floating together…but she was having trouble fitting the pieces.

  Flip, now out of his most cumbersome gear, had worked his way to her to assist her liberation when he saw her face – and his softened.

  “It’s something else, isn’t it? It can be overwhelming…” He assumed her emotions were driven strictly by the view which he turned to take in for himself. But he stopped suddenly when an amplified transmission from mission control blasted through their still world.

  Johnnie’s physical senses were a bit delayed, but her gaze was fixated on Flips face, one eye still blurred. Her eyes closed as she laughed. She was obviously having an auditory hallucination…there’s no way she’d heard there were nuclear missiles en-route to the United States and …

&n
bsp; But when she opened her eyes, Flip was moving the other way, shouting commands at the others who seemed to be moving as fast as their floating state would allow.

  She watched with a slow rising panic, but stopped when it hit her. She felt something massive consume her senses. Or did she hear it? And when she closed her eyes…she tasted and smelled unfamiliar elements threating to sweep her away. No…she wasn’t going…it was coming…

  She wasn’t sure if it was the effect of space or her previous epiphany returning…but she suddenly experienced a joining of senses that defied explanation; resisting wasn’t an option.

  That floating tear shot through her mind and heart and dropped in the center of her…which was…the center of everything. The concentric ripples caused by the drop went backward and forward, expanding…

  From before came the voices; words she felt and tasted…how could she see them?...

  …A spiritual map that defies explanation….

  ….It’s all one system…it’s connected….

  ….really isn’t so mysterious…

  …Just consider – just for a minute – that there is a reason for these events…

  ….Just focus less and feel more…

  …Prayer is energy…

  And the prayers filled her…from every angle, in every way. She didn’t know her body convulsed because she wasn’t there anymore and didn’t know who or what she was…only that it was all there was. Music…in and out --- so touching and absolute; not music? Words without sound permeated her being. Prayers...countless appeals floated, entered, infused. The medium was direct….it defied language because only the meaning transfused her awareness. The fear… the confusion; the passion. The hope. The faith…Utter faith. Belief.

  ….Prayer is energy…

  There WAS power--and evil too--and it all moved soundlessly but so…so fast. A streak in the calm, still space…but…it was power…white power; sheer power…only evil if…