2084 The End of Days

by Derek Beaugarde

  *

  Earthdate: 10:00 Monday April 14, 2081 GMT

  Jill was mad at herself. She felt that she should not be allowing this. As they walked into St Bart’s she looked at Ruthie, her left arm in a blue medical sling and her face still showing signs of healing lacerations from the tiny glass shards.

  “For God’s sake, Ruthie, this is madness. Why don’t ah just go and see the consultant that ah went to last week?”

  Ruthie put her right arm around Jill’s shoulders and pulled a funny face.

  “Stop worrying about my mother, Jill. She wants to be back at work and she is fine enough to see you about your amnio today –“

  Jill still looked concerned.

  “But, for God’s sake, Ruthie – look at the state of you – you’ve just lost you’re dad and your mum’s just lost her husband –“

  “We Jews are far more philosophical about death than you Christians – both historically and religiously. My father is now with our beloved Jehovah and he is at peace. My mother also needs her work – it is the one thing that she can cling to which makes her believe that Rolf did not die in vain.”

  As they took the lift up to the Human Fertilisation and Embryology Department the two girls stood musing in silence. Jill now started to feel a little concerned, more about her amniocentesis results. She felt that little niggling fear of the unknown that creeps into the subconscious. Ruthie felt a small wince of pain in her left shoulder. She had damaged it against the smashed up hot dog stand when she was thrown backwards by the bomb blast. It made her think back to that warm afternoon in Cambridge. In some ways she could be thankful that only two people were killed in the blast. Mosab Ali Youssef was blown to bits by the powerful nail bomb when the fateful call came through from President Suleiman, ironically trying to get the Palestinian to call off his terrorist attack. Rolf Venters had taken a murderous impact of nails, glass and debris. Although, he actually fought to live for two hours after the blast. Surgeons at the Harvard Medical Center battled valiantly, but in vain, to save Rolf’s life. The black security guard was critically injured. He lost his right gun-toting arm and the lower part of his left leg, but he was now out of intensive care and expected to recover well in a couple of months. The CIA agent on the hot dog stand suffered severe injuries to his face and chest but he had recently been discharged from hospital. Ironically, Marcie had only suffered severe concussion, shock and a few cuts and bruises. Rolf’s body had shielded her from the blast and she was able to be discharged from Harvard after only four days. That was even before her daughter Ruthie, who had been about a hundred yards away from the explosion. Ruthie thanked God that no other person had been killed or injured, although CIA planning also had a big say in the small number of casualties. Ping! Ruthie snapped back to the present as the lift came to a halt.

  “Here we are, Jill.”

  The pair walked along to the reception area and they sat waiting for Jill to be called. Dr Marcie Venters walked out five minutes later and Ruthie introduced her mother to her colleague. Jill was astonished at how little evidence of any injuries showed on Marcie’s body. She had attended the scene of the bomb blast at Windsor and had seen the devastation that could be wreaked on a human body. Jehovah obviously had other work still in mind for Dr Marcie Venters.

  “Ah’m so sorry for your terrible loss, Dr Venters – but ah can’t believe how well that you look after what you’ve been through.”

  “I believe that through my dear husband Rolf, God has spared me for my important work, Jill. But he did allow the blast to impair my hearing. My left ear drum was shattered by the noise of the explosion. So when God’s clarion call finally comes I may not actually hear it!”

  Marcie gave an amused smile at her little joke but Jill paled at the thought.

  “Ah can assure you, Dr Venters - we are all going to hear His clarion call.”

  As Marcie waved Jill towards her office she looked at her daughter. They both gave each other a quizzical look and shrugged their shoulders in bemusement. Marcie asked Ruthie to wait outside and she took Jill into her office. As they both sat facing each other Marcie started looking through Jill’s notes.

  “Jill, of course you know why you are here today? We are going to talk over the results of your 15 week mandatory ultrasound scan and amniocentesis test. Yes?”

  Jill nodded and her stomach flipped. Marcie spoke slowly and deliberately.

  “Jill, I am afraid the results are not ideal –“

  Jill tightened her stomach muscles to stem the rising swell of nausea.

  “Just give it to me then, doctor.”

  Marcie looked unnecessarily down at the notes to give herself a moment to prepare herself. She breathed in deeply and then looked directly into Jill’s moistening eyes.

  “Jill, the ultrasound shows your baby developing normally in the physical sense, but unfortunately, the amnio shows that your baby has signs of two genetic defects – Downs Syndrome and, ahem, I’m right in saying that the father was of Middle Eastern descent – a Kuwaiti -?”

  Jill’s heart sank.

  “Y-yes.”

  “You see, Jill, studies have shown there are a very significant number of new genetic defects – syndromes and variants which have been delineated in the Kuwaiti population. Many of these variants are the result of homozygosity for autosomal recessive genes –“

  “Homo what for auto what – can you give it to me straight, Doctor?”

  “Jill, along with the Downs Syndrome your baby is also suffering from the effects of inbreeding – something that has become increasingly prevalent in Kuwait’s close-knit family culture.”

  Jill felt nauseous again.

  “What does this mean?”

  Marcie spoke calmly and unblinkingly.

  “Jill, I regret to say that my professional advice to you would be for a termination. For your own sake and the baby’s sake. Your baby, if born, would have a very poor quality of life indeed. However, the law does not compel you to have an abortion – it is only there to give you an informed choice.”

  Jill sobbed quietly.

  “Doctor, ah have lost the man who was the father of my baby. Ah man that in the end ah did not really know. Now ah stand to lose his baby – my baby - that now ah may never know.”

  “I am truly sorry, Jill. However, you must take the time to consider all the facts. I will give you some information for you to take away and consider. Ultimately, the final decision will be yours.”

  Ten days later Jill, believing her world had come to an end, went to a clinic in Harley Street and had the abortion performed privately.

  *

  Earthdate: 13:00 Thursday April 25, 2081 EST

  The three men strolled out calmly and seemingly confident to face the huge barrage of the world’s press crammed onto the White House lawn. There was a spontaneous round of loud and excited applause from the crowded media. Josh Trueman placed President Suleiman to his right and UN Secretary General Gupta-Chaudry on his left. Trueman stepped forward to the podium arrayed with microphones.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, my fellow Americans and to all peoples of the world – ah am proud to announce that this is truly a momentous day in the history of our planet. A few minutes ago ah was able to sit down with my friends President Suleiman of the LOIN states and Secretary-General Gupta-Chaudry of the UN. Ah am delighted to say that we have today signed the ground-breaking World Peace Accord which effectively consigns the differences between the UN and the LOIN to the dustbin of history.”

  The White House lawn rippled with another loud round of applause and the incessant flashlights of the myriad of photographers. Trueman egged Suleiman forward onto the podium and the smiling bearded Mullah did not take much encouragement. He spoke crisply and clearly with his Oxford-educated accent.

  “Mr President – Secretary-General – I would like to thank you both for ext
ending your cordial invite to me in order that we could fully discuss and alleviate our past differences. I too am delighted that the UN and the LOIN have been able to finally resolve these differences and indeed we have today affixed our seal to the World Peace Accord. I am also truly pleased to announce to you all that by June this year the LOIN states will again be able to take our seats again in New York and to be a worthy part of the world family of the United Nations.”

  The three men shook each others hands vigorously as the shots were beamed all around the world. They all smiled broadly for the cameras but deep down they all knew in their hearts that the peace of the world that they had just signed would be shattered soon enough. It had been agreed in advance with the press that there would be no questions following the leaders’ announcements. However, an eager young cub reporter on her first White House briefing from the Washington Post got carried away with her self and cried out vigorously above the hubbub.

  “Mr President – Mr President – do you see this as a lasting peace for the world?”

  The noisy media became silent, fully expecting an answer. Trueman thought for a moment. Then he put his conciliatory arms around Suleiman and Gupta-Chaudry and spoke slowly and clearly.

  “Ah think that ah can safely say on behalf of the American people and my two good friends here today that this peace will last until the end of days!”

  The photos of the three world leaders cordially clinching on the White House steps would be on the lead webpage of every major bloid proclaiming inflated headlines such as “World Peace to End all War”. Of course, most editors were putting Trueman’s vastly over-optimistic statement down to his lack of Presidential experience. On the other hand, William ‘Buck’ Buckley of the London Times, watching a televised broadcast while attending a press dinner, knew exactly what Trueman was hinting at. The usually tough hard-hitting editor baulked at the knowledge that he and only a few other people in the world were still keeping secret. He called his wife on his mobile.

  “Darling, I just want to say how much that I have always loved you – and I will do so forever.”

  “Oh, Bill, darling, for goodness sake, have you been drinking too much Scotch. Go back and enjoy your dinner you silly old fool!”

  Chapter 17

  Earthdate: 10:30 Monday September 22, 2081 GMT

  Jack watched blankly out of the window as the train pulled away from the beautiful historic Georgian English city of Bath and he was soon zipping through the rolling hills of the Somerset countryside. Jack was attired in the full dress uniform of a NASA Space Commander. He was due to fly up to Alpha Base in four days time and then take the newly commissioned Oceanus II on its maiden voyage to Mars. He had not actually been scheduled to return to Mars until late November with Oceanus. However, Top Brass had requested that he take the Oceanus II trip as he was the best and most experienced Commander in the Fleet. NASA seemed to be churning out production on the huge Oceanus-type transporters - big style. Jack had asked Irene DuPré what the hell was going on. Irene had told him that all she knew was budgetary provision had been found to start expanding the Mars bases as a consequence of collateral damage during the fly-pass of the Schenkler comet. Jack had not pushed it, although he had thought it was all a bit strange. However, his astronaut buddies all seemed to be getting much the same explanation and he thought that if the US Government had decided to start reinvesting in space exploration then it could only auger well for their future careers. Since Jack returned to Earth in late July he had not yet been able to see Peggy Sue or his two sons. When he had arrived back at his Lexington farm Jack found that his two farmhands Paddy Maguire and Ricky Esposito had been left by Peggy Sue to run the business and they had been looking after the farm without any major problems. All that Paddy and Ricky had been told by Peggy Sue was that she was moving with an RAF fighter pilot called Justin to the south of England. Paddy Maguire was apologetic about their lack of information.

  “Sorry, boss, but that’s all she told us – she jest up an’ took off!”

  It took Jack a good few weeks digging with the help of a Private Investigator in England to track Peggy Sue and his sons down. He learned that she was living with a guy called Justin Smythe, an English fighter pilot based at RAF Lyneham in Wiltshire. The PI discovered that they were actually staying in the nearby tiny village of Cucklington in Somerset at Justin’s family home at Bainley Lane Farm. Jack had managed to phone a surprised Peggy Sue a couple of days ago and said he was flying over to see his sons and to talk things out with his wife. At first she was reluctant but after saying that Justin was abroad for a few days on a Ministry of Defence sales mission in Saudi Arabia, she agreed that Jack could see the boys at Bainley Lane Farm, but only for a short time.

  “But ah’ve made up my mind, Jack, ah ain’t comin’ back to ya –“

  Jack was determined he was not going to give Peggy Sue Milner up that easily. During the train journey, through the glorious and golden early autumnal rolling landscape of the Somerset Downs, Jack opened his travel bag and felt inside underneath his packed clothing. The gun that he had bought on the black market in Bristol felt cold to touch and he shivered. He asked himself why had he bought it - what did he need it for? He did not really know the answer to that, but he had felt compelled to have a gun with him. The electronic train announcement startled Jack and he quickly zipped up the bag.

  “The next stop for this train will be Gillingham. Please remember to take all luggage and belongings with you. Gillingham next stop.”

  The small market town of Gillingham in Somerset had the closest station to the village of Cucklington and Jack prepared to alight as the train pulled up to a stop at the platform. It was going to be a warm afternoon, he thought, as he stood in the autumn sun on the platform looking around for an air-taxi. A voice attracted Jack’s attention.

  “Want a taxi, sir?”

  Jack nodded politely at the taxi driver with a thick West Country accent and he was guided over to a thirty year old Hyundai hybrid car, which was still in pretty good condition. Jack commented on it as he got in the back seat.

  “Very quaint – ya don’t see much ah these back in the States –“

  “Oh yar, still goes like a dream. Now – where be thee going to, sir?”

  Jack asked to be taken to Bainley Lane Farm and the driver, knowing it well, set off in a northerly direction out of Gillingham. The journey took less than ten minutes and Jack quickly found himself standing in front of a quaint little farmhouse with a small, tidy and attractive English garden fronted by a dry stone wall. He entered the gate and rang the front door bell. Momentarily Peggy Sue opened the door and she had obviously been expecting his arrival.

  “Hi, Jack, ya better come in.”

  They both looked grimly at each other and the tension was thick and palpable. Jack looked around the front room of the small low-ceilinged cottage.

  “Where are the boys, Peggy Sue?”

  “They’re still at school, Jack. They won’t be home till a half after four.”

  Jack quickly computed that was still nearly four hours away. There was a pregnant pause and neither quite knew what to say.

  “Can I get you some English tea, Jack?”

  Jack ignored the question and cut straight to the chase.

  “Jeez, Peggy Sue, what in hell happened? What did ah do to drive ya away from me -?”

  Her eyes dropped to the floor.

  “You didn’t do anything. Ah just couldn’t take being a Black Widow – the wife of a long-haul astronaut – anymore. I’m sorry, Jack, but ah feel happy and loved again with Justin. Ah never felt that way with you.”

  Jack quickly grabbed her shoulders, forcing Peggy to make eye contact.

  “You’re right, Peggy Sue. In some ways this is ma fault. Ah never told ya that ah loved you. But ah was comin’ back from Mars to tell ya just that. That ah truly love you, Peggy Sue Milner Crossan!”


  Jack moved his head forward to kiss her but she quickly spun out of his grasp.

  “No, Jack! It’s too late for all that. All these years and now ya try an’ tell me ya love me. Ah’m sorry Jack but ah’ve found happiness here with Justin. He’s also a man who isn’t away from me for four an’ five months of the year. Ah’m a woman with woman’s needs an’ you weren’t there for me!”

  Peggy Sue’s rising voice shocked Jack. Something told him that maybe he really had lost her love. But now all he could think of was that he was also about to lose his two sons too.

  “So that’s it then. We’re finished, washed up? So, what about ma boys, you takin’ them away from me too? Just like I lost Isabella and Xavier?”

  Jack felt an unexpected temper begin to rise in him and an old stranger from his past crept into his subconscious. The man in the room with the gun.

  “No, Jack, we can arrange visitations. You can see them some when you are back here on 3R. But they like it here and they are staying here with me in England an’ ah am prepared to fight you on that one!”

  “No way, Peggy Sue! I want ma boys back in Lexington –“

  Jack’s anger grew and he felt his hand slip into his bag and touch the cold steel. My God, he thought, am I the man in the room with the gun? Peggy Sue taunted Jack.

  “Over ma dead body, Jack! Ah have taken legal advice an’ with you up on Mars five months at a stretch your chances of keepin’ the boys are zip!”

  Jack slipped the gun out and pointed it straight at Peggy Sue, whose eyes almost popped out of their sockets with fear.

  “For God’s sake, Jack, what the hell are you doin’. Have you gone crazy?”

  Jack could not speak and a tremor began in his gun hand. The thought kept thumping away in his head. Am I really the man with the gun? Am I really him? Peggy screeched wildly at him with her arm shielding her face from the impending shot.

  “JACK!”

  Jack stared at her and then at the gun shaking in his hand. Without a word he spun on his heels and he ran out of the farmhouse into Bainley Lane, tears blinding him. Peggy Sue stood transfixed as he ran off. He kept running along the farm lane between tall beech hedges until he came to a large gap in the hedgerow which led into the recently harvested wheat field. He slumped down in a rough furrow leaning against the beech hedge and he stared blindly across the rough stubbly field. The rising sun caught a reflection of something which glinted in his eye. He looked down and saw that he was still clenching the steel gun. My God, he thought, was I really going to kill the woman that I loved. How could I have even thought about doing that? A great wave of loss, helplessness and desperation flooded his senses. Then a terrible thought crossed his mind. Could this be what that boyhood dream had meant all these years ago? Is this what the man with the gun was to come down to in the end? Slowly, inexorably, Jack raised the gun to his temple.