Beyond Armageddon V: Fusion (72 page)

Nonetheless, the estate felt peaceful. Relaxed. And, admittedly, a little dull.

I could use a little dull for now.

Dull did not describe Trevor’s trip to Montreal the day before where he addressed the global congress of hundreds of representatives from around the world; the people who responded to his invitation to build a better future.

And what did they do?

They bickered. They argued. They demanded. They protested. Some proposed and some rejected. One big mob shouting and pointing at one another.

Trevor had felt certain that the relief of having survived the invasion would result in cooperation. He hoped for a communal spirit that would lead almost immediately to all kinds of treaties, a commitment to one world government perhaps based on a global federalism, and a format for electing representatives: a post-Armageddon constitutional congress that spoke for the entire world.

He had given a speech saying as much, detailing how the old world’s political in-fighting and an overbearing bureaucracy failed man’s nations when the invasion began. He spoke of our common bonds, the insignificance of superficial differences, and the need to reject the pre-Armageddon divides that had made civilization susceptible to outside attack.

They smiled. They nodded. They clapped at the right moments and in the end roared with a standing ovation. So moved were they that a vote to create a ceremonial position of ‘Emperor’ passed without a single objection.

And then the arguing began anew.

All the old ‘isms’ made the rounds: socialism, capitalism, communism, despotism, along with monarchy, oligarchy, and anarchy. Trevor heard them all. He sat in on the discussions for three hours until a headache forced his retreat to a transport. He left Jon Brewer behind.

Trevor had realized as he fled the convention center that he did not know how to handle the debate because debate had never been a part of his mission.

Evan Godfrey, where are you when we need you?

And there was the irony. If only Evan had been patient. This could have been his moment. His ability to inspire with speeches, to boil politics to their essence, to find common ground—it would have been something to behold and Trevor would have gladly handed the reins to him now, with the world safe.

Instead, chaos ruled in Montreal. The old lines of divide reared their ugly heads: nationalism, ethnicity, religion, tribal loyalties and a plethora of other excuses to divide groups into further divisions.

Trevor came to realize that the concept of one great world government providing peace and prosperity for a re-building planet would not arise from the conference. Still
something
would come of it. Something better than the old status quo. Something that would recognize the common interests of humanity.

It had to. It must.

Or we did not learn the lessons of Armageddon.

Trevor felt his fingers instinctively moving to pinch his nose and forced them away. He did not need to worry. These problems belonged to someone else. Perhaps Alexander would form a consensus. While not as political savvy as Godfrey, Alexander’s track record at Camelot proved he could bring disparate parties together.

Trevor’s problems had finally changed to a more personal nature. Humanity would need a new leader for this new age.

He lived in the estate by himself. Ashley’s things were long gone, her bags somewhere with Gordon Knox’s bags on a well-earned respite to someplace south. Probably Miami. Trevor had not asked. He had met with Ashley long enough to convey the events in Russia the previous year. She accepted his account without comment although her contempt for Trevor’s actions came across in the glare of her eyes. He could not blame her. She was a mother, and a mother would gladly let the world die instead of sacrificing her child because that’s what mothers do.

He could not hold any of that against her. She had played her part. Indeed, she may have suffered more than he. Now she reached for a life of her own. He wished her well.

Trevor eyed the view. How often had he gazed out that glass over the years? In the early days he had pulled the curtains shut at night to hide. He had stood on that balcony on one fateful morning and watched sunrise knowing his canine soldiers did his dirty work at New Winnabow. And he had returned from another Earth to the surprise of Evan Godfrey in that same room.

The old world might have been a dream. More than a decade past since he changed from Richard to Trevor yet—yet it felt like yesterday
and
like an eternity ago at the same time. A contradiction, but also a truth.

He heard the creak of a floorboard and turned his head expecting to see a courier bringing tidings from either the politicians in Montreal or the hunters on the frontier.

“Hello, Trevor.”

She stood there on the far side of the room in jeans and a casual black shirt, not the usual military uniform. Something else appeared amiss, but he could not tell exactly what.

Nonetheless, he hid his surprise and answered with his best, formal voice, “Oh, hello, it’s good to see you Captain—“

Trevor stopped as he realized what else seemed different about her. Instead of a ponytail, her hair lay to her shoulders.

He tried again, in a quieter voice.

“Hello, Nina.”

He watched her close; studied her blue eyes for signs of ice or warmth. Nina strolled slowly—drifted, nearly—around the desk and toward him with her eyes focused on the sights beyond the closed glass door.

Trevor’s skin erupted in goose bumps, a reaction to an energy that came into the room with her.

Nina stopped and eyed the sun sparkling off the lake waters.

“I remember. I remember standing here—watching the sun rise that last day. I remember being—
feeling
…” her lips pressed together tight to control the echo of an intense emotion. “I remember envying you because you would remember for the rest of your life and I would remember for only a few more hours. I remember the night before, we sat together and talked about a dream world all of our own with no obligations, no titles.”

Trevor stumbled for words: “How—that’s not possible…”

“You said once that memories make us who we are. Maybe the reverse is true, too. What happened last year was part of it. When I—when I helped you, images came across the bridge to me. Feelings. Emotions. The things you lost. The people.”

She turned and faced him. His lips parted, but he found no breath.

Nina said, “After that day—that last day—I woke up without a year of my life. In all the time since, I felt something missing. But I didn’t know what. I could never open up to anyone. I always pushed people away. My daughter was a help. With her I found a little part of what went missing, but I always knew there was more.”

Her brow crinkled. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second and then opened them wide again, fully focused on him.

“And there you were, my Emperor. My commander. Those times when you came to see me yourself, for a mission or whatever. I—I felt special. You respected me. I could feel the trust you had in me. When I looked at you I saw a man who had a purpose like I always had a purpose. I saw—I saw…”

“What did you see?”

“I saw a man
imprisoned
by that purpose,” she said in less sure words, as if worried he might take it as an insult. “I was always afraid that soldiering and killing and fighting were all there was to me. And there you were. I could see determination and strength—and loneliness.”

Her hand reached and tentatively touched his cheek as if the touch would serve to prove the image real.

Nina said softly, “I saw a reflection of me in your eyes. Then when I thought you had been assassinated—that missing part of me hurt. I felt robbed. Cheated. Something personal had been taken away.”

“You brought me back,” he pointed out. “Without you I would be dead or insane.”

“Yes,” she agreed, withdrawing her hand and speaking in a surer voice. “When all that confusion and fear came from you in to me, I realized how hard a life you led. And I realized that I could help you. Not anyone;
you.
When we came together I felt whole. What I’m saying is, for the first time in my life I felt like a complete person. That’s when I finally started to understand what that missing part of me was. It was you. It has always been you.”

She tilted her head and confessed, “Look, Trevor, do you understand? I fell in love with you a second time. They stole my memories. You sent me away farther and farther and I
still
fell in love with you all over again.”

Trevor trembled from head to toe. He swallowed hard.

Nina spoke in the mother’s voice she honed raising Denise, “I’ve waited nearly a year for you to come home and before that I spent months trying to understand what we once had and why it was taken from us. Now I know. But for you—oh, Trevor, you didn’t have the luxury of forgetting. I know how you felt about me. I can feel it,” she held a hand to her heart, “in here. I can only imagine how hard that must have been for you. All those years…”

He felt his breath grow shallow; a pain in his chest where his wounded heart raced.

“Nina, I would have done anything to keep you. If it hadn’t been for your memory loss, I think I would have abandoned the world to be with you.”

“But you couldn’t,” she knew. “Because you had a purpose, like me. You had a responsibility.”

“Responsibility?” He rolled the word around on his tongue and he felt a sting build behind his eyes. “The weight of the world—he told me the weight of the world was coming down on my shoulders. Until I lost you, I had no idea how heavy that weight could be.”

She held her hands out and offered, “You’ve carried it by yourself long enough. I helped you before. Now let me help take that weight from your shoulders.”

He gazed into her blue eyes and his legs wobbled. Trevor collapsed to his knees and buried his head into her body. She clutched him with arms so tight they would never let go. Not again.

It flowed out of him. The loss. The sorrow. The emptiness that had threatened to turn his heart black. It poured like a river from his body. The man who had been strong for humanity found the woman—the only soul—who could be strong for him.

“It has been so hard all these years—so alone…”

“Not anymore,” she growled as if warning the powers of the universe not to dare try to part them again. “I put my life on hold to be a soldier. It was all I knew. Until now.”

She slid to her knees and faced him. Trevor ran a hand through her blond hair.

Nina said, “I want the rest. I want it all.”

His answer came in a kiss. A soft press to her lips. He felt her quiver. He felt a tremor of energy himself. A brief, sweet kiss. Merely a taste of things to come.

But, as is often the case with two people who have loved each other for a long time, a strong hug felt even deeper. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled tight, feeling the rhythm of her heart and the warmth of her breath on his neck.

She slid her arms around his back and closed her eyes. She let herself be swept away in his grasp. Nina trusted Trevor with her heart; she could drop the shield and let him in with no fear of injury.

Her strength would always be there, it lived in the nature of her being. It would be there in her arms and her strong shoulders for those dark nights ahead when the memories of his personal nightmares came to haunt. As Nina had told him so many years ago, she would hide with him in the dark if needed. That, of course, is part of being in love.

Their embrace pulled back and they sat on their knees staring at one another.

“He came to see me,” Nina said and she did not need to clarify who.

“What—what did he want?”

“He told me he had something for you. Or maybe us. I’m not sure.”

They got off their knees and stood in front of the sliding glass door that led to the balcony. A shadow cast by the mountain behind the mansion grew across the grounds and reached for the water’s edge.

“He said something about a fourth gift.”

Trevor and Nina moved through the woods hand in hand. Odin—once Trevor’s pet now an old dog in Nina’s service—trotted along in front as if leading the way.

The darkness of the evening and the dampness beneath the canopy of green conspired to chill the air but the excitement of the moment kept any discomfort at bay.

A slight rise in the land gave way to a dry streambed. As Trevor expected, the Old Man sat there on a slab of red rock alongside a flickering campfire with his wise old eyes studying the flames and his mouth moving gently as if chewing a last pinch of snuff. His familiar—a brilliant white wolf—lay at his feet enjoying the warmth of the fire.

Trevor and Nina descended the bank and walked into the sphere of heat radiating from the flames. Odin sat near the wolf. The Old Man tilted his head and eyed the newcomers with what might by a grin tugging at the edges of his lips.

“Surprised there, Trevvy?” The Old Man greeted.

“No,” Trevor shook his head.

“Kinda all got started with me. Makes sense for me to be here and wrap it up, don’t you think?”

“You know,” Trevor wagged his finger at the Old Man, but not harshly. “I’ve been thinking a lot about you. About why you were so upset back when you first heard about Nina and me that first year.”