Nothing changed though, except for the worse. And it all fell apart so quickly. The newly formed US Department of Peace’ decision to separate Iraq along ethnic lines kept the blue/red divide wide open at home. In Mesopotamia, America’s decision was taken as an excuse for each side to wage war. Shia, Kurd and Sunni went at each other with genocidal abandon. The DOP’s refusal to meddle in Iranian affairs was used by Israel as an excuse to bomb Ahmadinejad’s nuclear facilities. In retaliation, Iranian troops then poured across the border into Iraq, bogging down the efforts to pacify Iraq and withdraw the troops. The war enlarged and the Middle East came apart at the seams as riot and revolution erupted in country after country. Despite the government’s every attempt at a peaceful resolution, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan ground on for another three years past the impeachments of Bush and Cheney.
Worse yet, it never really ended. Instead, the war came home. Jihadist cells began executing attacks within America’s borders with greater frequency and ferocity. It began with the Carnival Carnage of 2010 which killed nine hundred and nine people in a series of coordinated attacks across three southern states. Many jihadists joined forces with Mexican drug warlords and militant Reconquistadores in the Southwest. Homegrown militias like the Minutemen and others, dissatisfied with the government’s handling of the escalating violence, took matters into their own hands. Border state Governors defied the Federal government and marshaled National Guard troops to the ‘southern front.’ The Mexicans militarized their ‘northern front’ and skirmishes between the two began. President Pelosi summoned a Pan American Peace Summit in Panama in the hopes of negotiating a cease-fire for the contested border. She never got the chance to offer her proposal. During the opening ceremonies of the summit, the great hope of peace went up in smoke, ash and flame, destroyed in a mushroom cloud over the great canal.
Pelosi, Mexico’s Calderon and other leaders were incinerated in the attack. Soon after, in the vacuum of leadership on both sides of the Mexican-American border, war broke out in earnest. Sadly, the tragedy in Panama did nothing to bring Americans together. Neither did the fighting on the border. In the country’s interior, all the while that bullets flew and blood spilled, fiscal conservatives, angry at the government’s expansion and spending, clashed in the streets with public workers’ unions over threats of budget cuts and austerity measures.
The years 2012-2015 were some of the darkest the nation suffered since the civil war. Things have since settled, but the peace is an uneasy one, both at the border and in the interior. The center, like the poet warned, is not holding. Extremism rules the age. Narrow ideologies continue to grow narrower and nastier by the day. Protests and rallies devolve into riots at the drop of a slur. Blocs of states are openly threatening secession. The population seems split between the helplessly polarized and the hopelessly demoralized.
The dream of that long-ago spring of endless promise was stillborn.
On the television screen, the pundits’ debate reaches an all too common conclusion. One of the talking heads rises from the table in a burst of anger. He rips the tiny microphone off his lapel, throws it down and storms off the set.
The Congressman decides he needs another drink.
23:36:54
Across town, Carlton Quinn is on his belly atop one of the hangars at Andrews Air Force Base. The sniper rifle is cradled in his arms. He adjusts the scope, focusing on a piece of tin foil that has blown on to the tarmac. Light gusts blow at random but otherwise the wind will be cooperating with him today. Not that it matters much to Quinn. He has taken out many a target from tighter spots and from greater distances. Three tours in Afghanistan had, long ago, helped Carlton perfect his deadly craft.
This will be the easiest shot he will ever make. It will also be the most important shot of his life. It will be heard around the world, Quinn thinks with a smile. He pulls his hand off the rifle’s grip and crosses himself.
“In nomine Patris,” Carlton whispers to himself. “Et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.”
Carlton quietly recites the Pater Noster, The Our Father prayer that Jesus Christ first shared with his apostles.
Our Father, who art in Heaven…
He has been waiting six years for this day.
Hallowed be Thy Name…
Through six years and two presidencies Quinn waited for the word.
Thy Kingdom come…
The order was issued this morning.
Thy Will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven…
And now that the word was given, the world would change.
Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us…
The old order will fall!
And lead us not into temptation…
One shot is all that Carlton needs to alter the course of history. Just one shot. Once he takes it, his fellow Secret Service agents will know where it came from, and they will know almost immediately. Their helmets’ CommLink ears are hitched to one another in a network of acoustic sensors. They will pinpoint the source and trajectory of the shot in nanoseconds. The visors on the helmets will then draw soldiers’ eyes to the source with a soft, pulse of light. There will be no escape. Within minutes scores of M-16 toting MPs will descend on him, every one of them locked and loaded and itching for a reason to tear him to shreds in a hail of automatic gunfire.
But deliver us from evil…
The prospect doesn’t frighten Quinn. At his age and after all he has been through, the only fear Carlton knows is the fear of God. No other fear is possible before it. No earthly need, no concern of the flesh can frighten the man that lives in the fear of God. Truly, it is the beginning of wisdom! It has seen Carlton Quinn through worse circumstances than the one he is about to propel himself into tonight. It will see him through whatever else will follow.
…Amen.
23:22:21
Felix Culpa is a Christmas extremist!
His facebook status post says so.
The bio on his profile page further informs the Cyberverse that Felix Culpa is a super hero, a sidekick & squire to The Holy Ghost, a Knight Templar, an Arch-Deacon of The New Inquisition & both president & founder of The Hair Shirt Club for Men. It goes on to say that Felix Culpa is also a highly skilled shifter of paradigms & a master manipulator of The Matrix. The profile lists two jobs for Felix Culpa: Crusader & Church Organist. The page claims that the latter is only a part-time job. Hard Knocks University is named his Alma Mater. The cyber sketch also states that Felix Culpa is Catholic, a Missal card carrying member of the One & Only True Religion. Politically, the site declares that Felix Culpa is a Theocrat!
Yes, with an exclamation point.
What part of ‘Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done on earth as it is in Heaven,’ don’t you understand?
The question is proffered as an explanation in the sub-slot box of text off of Felix Culpa’s disclosure of political identity. In the box for Favorite Activities one finds, God’s Will & fighting evil is named first among Felix Culpa’s interests. Scotch, cigars & dancing come in second, third and fourth.
This is all news to the people at facebook headquarters. It is, in fact, alarming news. The posting breaches every firewall they have. Felix Culpa is instantly friended by everyone in the network. This heretofore impossible feat sets off every alarm in the company. Scores of techs scramble to their consoles only to find they can do nothing about the breach.
Felix Culpa is Ralph Golden. Ralph Golden is Felix Culpa. Ralph Golden is the secret identity & Felix Culpa is the super hero’s nom de sacre guerre.
Ralph has just finished updating his alter ego’s facebook status with a quick posting from his room at the rectory of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. Ralph stepped out of the shower, feeling as clean as Christmas, spoke the words and his PalmPal personal computer plucked them out of the air & uploaded them to Felix Culpa’s facebook status bar at Golden’s command to, “Post it, Gracie.”
The PalmPal is the latest in po
rtable computing. It is small & sleek, the size of a playing card & even with its Mother of Pearl shell, the device is no thicker than a quarter. The PalmPal’s state-of-the-art Nano circuitry delivers up every bell & whistle a cybernaut like Ralph Golden could want.
“Show me what’s going on, Gracie,” Golden says & the small device, on his bedside table, projects a three by two foot holographic screen in the air above itself. Accessing hundreds of cameras scattered throughout the city, the Palm-Pal creates a ghostly, slow-scrolling slideshow of video clips from sites Golden asked it to keep an eye on.
It begins with the high altar of the basilica. Servers are dutifully preparing it for the next Mass which will begin in a little over twenty minutes.
“Television on,” Ralph orders & the small flat screen mounted on the wall clicks to life. “Vatican.”
The television finds the channel broadcasting the Christmas Mass from the Holy City. The Bishop of Rome is at the pulpit finishing his sermon. Ralph keeps one eye on the flat screen & watches the holographic projection with the other in the full length mirror hung on the bathroom door.
“…So we take heart,” the Pope says, addressing the congregation & the world in Italian. “We proceed boldly into the future, trusting in our Lord’s promise that He will be with his beloved church unto the end of the world. Tyrants & heresies have come & gone & our Church has survived them all. Every malicious machination of every hostile regime has been powerless before the Holy Spirit that guides & guards us. We will thus fear for neither the stones of our churches or the bones of our bodies. Like the martyrs, who are the glory of Christendom, we know that they are both ephemeral, bound, in time, to be ground into dust. The Church, however, the mystic body of the bride of Christ will endure beyond the worst that this world can do. We, the Catholic Church, will always prevail because our God is The God of eternal life. Our God is He who knows the way back from the grave.
“Be of good cheer then, my brothers & sisters in Christ. Ours is The One & The Only True God. We cannot fail. We cannot fall.”
“You tell them, Pops,” Ralph Golden says.
With the sermon completed the Pope shuffles back to the altar.
Ralph picks up his scapular from the bed post over which it is draped. The scapular is a sacramental, an outward sign of an internal reality. It is made of two, small squares of brown, woven wool connected by two woolen strands. The scapular is a badge of the confraternity of Holy Mother Mary, a sign of Grace & a defense against danger & everlasting fire for those who wear it devoutly. It is a gift from the Queen of Heaven to Her beloved faithful. The Carmelite Saint, Simon Stock who received his from the holy hand of the Queen of all Saints, called the scapular the Jugum Christi, the yoke of Christ.
Ralph Golden gathers the sacramental up in the palm of his right hand & crosses himself. He then kisses the scapular & puts it on over his shoulders. The Jugum Christi, as advertised, is easy & light indeed!
“Credo in Unum Deum…” The Holy Father leads his faithful through the Nicene Creed. “I believe in One God…”
“Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with thee,” Ralph hears the angelic salutation as the view on the holographic projection pans out past pews of the faithful in the basilica. The footer on the screen informs him that Hawaii is leading the congregation through the second Joyous Mystery, The Visitation.
“Blessed are thou amongst women & blessed is the fruit of thy womb...” They chant the words of Saint Elizabeth to her cousin, Mary. Elizabeth exclaimed them when Mary’s greeting from the door caused the baby within her womb to leap with joy. Elizabeth the mother was filled, in that instant, with the Holy Spirit & her child who would grow to be John the Baptist was, through the divine virtue of Charity associated with the mystery, immediately cleansed of the stain of Original Sin.
“Jesum Christum, Filium Dei...” The worshippers in Saint Peter’s continue through the Credo.
Ralph gives each of his armpits a few dabs of an antiperspirant stick.
“Holy Mary, Mother of God,” the congregation responds as one to the Hawaiian delegation. “Pray for us sinners, now & at the hour of our death. Amen.”
“Hail Mary, full of Grace,” Idaho begins the second bead.
Ralph pulls his camel’s hair shirt off the bed.
“The Lord is with thee.”
“Deum verum de Deo vero...”
The shirt is his creation as founder of the Hair Shirt Club for Men. It is close fitting with sleeves that reach to the wrists. The outside is soft, calf leather & the inside is made of large, coarse tufts of camel hair that provides the wearer with maximum irritation. From Saint John the Baptist to Saint Thomas Moore, all of Ralph Golden’s heroes wore hair shirts. It is mortification he enjoys offering up to God in their honor during the penitential seasons of Lent & Advent.
The PalmPal gives him a quick tour of the Church’s crypt where young priests & nuns recite the Rosary, knelt in adoration before the Eucharist.
“Blessed are thou among women & blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.”
Over the hair-shirt, Ralph hangs his gold Miraculous Medal. The little, gold oval bears the image of the Blessed Virgin Mother on one side, arms outstretched with the words ‘O Mary conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to you.’ On the other side, the sacred hearts of Jesus and Mary are crowned with an arc of twelve stars before the cross & the letter M. Miracles beyond reckoning have been attributed to the medal since the design for it was revealed to Saint Catherine Laboure in 1830.
“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now & at the hour of our death. Amen.”
Leaving the crypt, the PalmPal proceeds to give Golden a 360 degree viewing of the church grounds. The National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception is the largest Catholic Church in the country, the tenth largest in the world. It was built in honor of the Patroness of the United States, Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception. The church is also Ralph Golden’s forward operating base against the forces of darkness.
He has been living at the rectory since the first week of September. He came to play the church’s wonderful Moller organ for the feast Mass of Saint Peter Claver. That was on the ninth of September. Two days later, the courts ordered the covering up of the nation’s religious heritage. Two days after that the call was put out to Christendom to gather in Washington. Ralph Golden cleared his schedule for the rest of the year & volunteered to stay and help handle the logistics of the protest. Less than a month later, across the Atlantic, the Italian military lay siege to the Vatican.
Satan upped the ante on Ralph.
Golden was unfazed. The showdown has been a long time a-coming & Ralph was ready, eager even.
The PalmPal shows him the fleet of twelve mini-buses filing into the parking lot on time. The buses are filled with worshippers, the elderly & the handicapped, for the second of today’s Christmas Eve Masses.
Ralph pulls his tuxedo out of its garment bag & smiles in admiration of it. It is an eye-popping, startling, one-of-a-kind, thing of beauty! The Cutaway tux is white & overlaid with fist-sized hound’s tooth in Christmas green & red from collar to cuffs. He slips on its pants as the holographic projection flickers, changing from church to city cameras. It displays the scene outside the Supreme Court building. Twenty thousand fellow Catholics fill the grounds behind the Capitol building, sitting in neat, tight rows, reciting the Rosary, state by state, in unison with their fellow faithful in churches throughout DC, the country & the world.
“Hail Mary, full of Grace,”
Ralph sits on the edge of the narrow bed to put on his socks. One is red and the other is green.
“The Lord is with thee…”
He watches the images from the National Mall roll across the ghostly screen as he rolls his socks up past his calves. The park is packed with their fellow Christians, concentrated at the moment in & around The Ellipse across from the White House.
Ralph rises & puts on a silk, dress shirt. It has golden buttons & is green o
n the left & red on the right. He buttons the shirt and tucks it into his pants. His suspenders, cummerbund & bow tie are also green & red but they invert the colors against the silk shirt.
As he dons them, the computer shows him footage from the cameras in & around Lafayette & Mount Vernon Square as well as Franklin, Stanton & Lincoln Parks. Ralph Golden’s enemies, atheists, anti-Christians & nihilist agitators have occupied those sites. The news estimates their numbers at twenty-to-forty thousand & most of them seem to be back at their litter-strewn camps, resting up for tonight.
“All quiet on the Western front,” Ralph declares to his computer. The holographic screen disappears.
Golden puts on the tuxedo’s long-tailed jacket. He then snatches the matching cane & top hat off his dresser. He does a little dance with hat & cane, admiring his outfit & the toughest & tallest five foot nothing of a man wearing it. He puts the hat & cane back on his dresser top. There will be time enough for them later, he tells himself; it’s not Christmas yet. From the closet, Ralph pulls out an Inverness caped coat. Its wool is Advent violet. He puts it on, covering the riotous Christmas tux. He then slips his feet into a pair of matching violet loafers. Standing before the mirror, he gives his dark & waxed handlebar mustache a quick curling & himself a wink of a steely, gray eye.
“T.V. off,” Golden says & the flat screen goes dark.
Ralph then pulls his Rosary off the Crucifix over his bed. It is made up of American Revolutionary era musket balls strung through with a slender, iron, link chain. The Crucifix at its end is made up of three Civil War era railway spikes arranged in a cross, the bottom end sharpened to a pencil point. A solid 24 karat gold Corpus Christi, body of Christ, is mounted to it. The Rosary is Ralph’s favorite sacramental & the source of much of his power. He kisses the feet of his Savior & places the Rosary into his coat’s right pocket.
The House of War: Book One Of : THE OMEGA CRUSADE Page 5
