Reno Arrival

When Quintus killed Chivington and the mad twins, Reno had just come into existence. Today it's known for its casinos and the nearby great outdoors. It may have been just over 150 years since Quintus was last there, but I'd be lying if I told you he wasn't a bit unnerved as he arrived at the city's outskirts.

During his drive, he recognized some of the countryside where he rode that stolen chestnut horse to escape the law. In a bid to avoid such recollections, he mulled over how he'd again have to alter his identity within the next five years. A process that was increasingly becoming difficult and complicated.

His current Canadian identity was Quintus Bremmer. Going by the date of birth on his fake passport and all his other counterfeit documents, he was a young-looking 42-year-old. His internet research at his last place of work told him he might have to go as far as Thailand to acquire quality replacement forgeries.

Such a scenario had him toying with the idea of visiting nearby China for old times' sake. He'd earlier used Google Earth to find what he once knew as White Dragon Mountain, which was situated near what is today called the Toudou River, not far from the city of Leshan in Sichuan province. Google Earth even showed him where he believed the sanctuary was and how two blurry blobs, which he thought were probably very large boulders, had slipped and lodged where the terrace once was. He calculated that the sanctuary might be a two-day walk from the nearest road, as shown on the internet.

For several minutes, Quintus mulled over his master's words: 'When the time is right, you will return to White Dragon Mountain.' He just wasn't sure what his teacher said was still valid.

But as he drove towards the city's center, he pushed China and any doubts from his mind. Instead, he focused on finding a hotel to book into before finding somewhere to eat, something he hadn't done for several days.

The Diner

Reno's Last Great Diner was old-school Americana. Elongated and spacious, with large glass windows and slide-in booths. Built in 1962, you know the type.

Inside it, the diner's manager, Bill, a large, friendly-looking 38-year-old with a wild mop of red hair, worked an espresso machine at the counter's end. The kitchen phone rang behind him. Someone picked it up and called out.

'Excuse me, Bill, it's Lauren; she is calling in sick.'

Bill, steaming a pot of milk, mumbled something about Gen-Z before offering a reply.

'Okay, do me a favor and call Tina. Her number is above the phone. See if she can work today; tell her she'd be doing me a huge favor,' he said.

The doorbell chimed, but he didn't look up at the elderly couple exiting the diner. Outside, Quintus held the door open for them, and once they were through, he entered. He cut through the near-empty eating area and sat on a swivel stool at the counter.

A mid-40s black guy named Lance, who was halfway through a late lunch, was seated two seats up next to him and scrolling through a cellphone.

A waitress, Gabriela, approached with a 'what will it be' smile and a menu.

'An Americano coffee to start with, please,' Quintus said as she handed him the menu.

A minute later, he gave a food order.

Three minutes later, Bill delivered the coffee.

'And there you go, one Americano,' he said.

'Many thanks,' Quintus said.

'You're welcome. You're Canadian; your accent gave you away, all two words,' Bill said in a friendly manner. Speaking with customers was the highlight of his working day.

Quintus nodded.

'You visiting or living in Reno?' Bill asked.

'I'm seeing a guy tomorrow about a job, so could be here for a while if all goes well.'

'Awesome. Good luck with it. What kinda job? Casino work?'

'No, helicopter pilot.'

'Alright. I spoke with a guy once, and he said learning to fly a helicopter was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.'

'Yeah, they take some getting used to, but in the end, bit like riding a bike once you know how.'

The two men talked some more, and soon enough, the conversation broadened out from helicopters, and Quintus learned Bill was married to a woman named Erin. They had two kids and were originally from Kansas.

Their attention was eventually drawn to the walled TV behind Bill, showing images of cult figure Chuck Goyette.

'What do Canadians think of this guy?' Bill asked.

Before Quintus could reply, Lance, the other customer, offered his opinion.

'The dude makes doom an' gloom sound like Disneyland,' he said with half a mouthful of food. 'I'm over all this Apocalypse talk. You'd be doing us all a favor, Bill, by leaving the TV on mute.'

'Sure. Well, his credibility hangs on what occurs in Rome tonight. I hope he's just full of BS. I don't want to see Rome go to Hell; it's an awesome city,' Bill said.

The mention of Rome naturally caught Quintus' attention.

'What's happening in Rome?'

Lance, grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth, looked sideways at Quintus.

'According to the overweight dude, Rome is going to be wiped off the map by an earthquake,' Lance said. 'He also predicted the same for New York City, which by his account has got less than a week before it's gone-bye-bye.'

'This the same guy who predicted Venice?' Quintus asked.

'The one and only. Everyone knows Goyette, man. Where have you been?' Lance asked.

'Living on a mountain with no TV or internet,' Quintus replied.

'And no smartphone?'

'No smartphone. Off the grid. Go online on a need-only basis. I'm one of those folk who thinks the world was better pre-digital.'

'Yeah, you might be onto something. I should try some of that; I'm addicted to this thing,' Lance said, referring to his device. 'One day, they'll discover they're worse for you than cigarettes.'

'And more addictive than crack,' Bill added.

'We're all under some magic spell,' Lance said.

Bill nodded at the TV, which still featured Goyette.

'But the media must be making a fortune out of this guy; been doing their darndest to make him a rock star,' he said.

'Media are pushing us all back into hysterics as they did with Covid. Anyway, what else has Goyette prophesized?' Lance asked.

'Something about the killing of crops and livestock in Australia,' Bill said.

'I heard something about it on the radio yesterday,' Quintus added.

'He foretell Covid? How long's Goyette been around for?' Lance asked.

'I don't know but doesn't seem that long,' Bill replied. 'Earliest prediction of his I'm aware of that came true was one about the last election,' Bill said as the TV showed Goyette getting into a limousine. 'That was enough for my sister-in-law to join his cult, not that there is much to it apart from taking a chunk of money from her,' he admitted. 'She did it all over the internet. Now she's trying to convince me to do likewise before so-called Judgment Day arrives.'

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

'Sounds like a Ponzi scheme. Judgment Day, isn't that a Christian thing, though?' asked Lance as he pushed away his now empty plate.

'Yeah, but is he even Christian?' Bill responded.

'Don't know, but he's milking it; he's ripping off the Bible, and the media is spoon-feeding it out to us all like we're 2-year-olds,' he said.

Bill smiled, agreeing while Quintus listened on.

'He was quoting the Bible earlier about the Four Horsemen or whatever of the Apocalypse,' Bill said. 'I'm certainly no expert. Who are they?'

'Who are who?' Lance asked.

'The real Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse? Individually? I know there's Death; that's at least one,' Bill said.

'Well, there's also Famine, War, and taxes. Altogether, with Death, that makes four all up if I count correctly,' Lance joked. 'And out of all of them, taxes is the worst and by far the evilest.'

'Inflation, that's up there as well,' Bill added with a smile.

Lance laughed and then said more.

'Seriously though, who is the fourth dude?'

Bill shrugged, he didn't have a clue either, but Quintus did.

'It's Conquest. Some see him as the Antichrist,' Quintus said.

Lance clapped his hands.

'Damn right. Yeah, the false messiah!' he cried.

Bill took Lance's finished plate from the counter.

'At least Goyette hasn't mentioned a plague of zombies yet. You wanna drink or some dessert or something else?' he asked Lance.

No, I'm good, but Goyette, he's just making up all his BS as he goes along,' said Lance.

Bill offered some thoughts.

'Given how back-to-front everything is these days, it's unsurprising everyone's going on about the Apocalypse,' Bill said. 'Things have been weird for a while and getting weirder.'

'Yeah, okay, I'll agree; the world is upside down, and we're being told what to do by self-serving charlatans. We can take that all as fact, but I'm ignoring all this hip pessimism. World ain't ending, not just yet anyhow, especially with the likes of this Goyette at the head of it all,' Lance said. 'In fact, I predict I'll be here next year. Same old, same old: eating your burgers, sweet-talking your waitresses — platonically, of course — and drinking your coffee.'

Quintus had by now finished his first cup of coffee.

'And I gotta say it's superb coffee,' he remarked.

Bill gestured in thanks.

'Made from the finest Fairtrade coffee on the planet, from northern Thailand to be exact; suggested by one of my staff. Just enjoy it while you can; it's getting harder to buy,' he said.

'Supply issues?' Lance asked to which Bill nodded.

'Better make me another one then,' Quintus replied.

The Gift

It took Tina Phetung around 15 minutes to ride her mountain bike from her shared-student house to the diner to fill in for the waitress who called in sick. Due to her easygoing nature, the third-year college student was more than happy to help, especially seeing Bill was okay with her returning to Sacramento to spend time with family for a month or so during college break.

Not that there'd be much in the way of rest, given she'll be waitressing at her mom's busy Thai restaurant. Not that the 22-year-old minded. Working in a restaurant was second nature to Tina, who enjoyed helping her mom out.

Being first-generation Thai-American, there was some pressure on her to study something other than the art-education course that she eventually chose. For a while, it looked like she may instead have chosen to be a language teacher, given how she excelled in both her Mandarin and French high-school classes.

But either way, both her parents knew their daughter well enough not to push her in a direction against her will. Her mom and dad knew she wasn't like others, including her elder brother Jeremy who favored business and computers. Like his father, he was introverted, fastidious, and ambitious. Tina was the complete opposite, but neither was she like her mother.

If I had a couple of words to sum up Tina, they'd be kind yet cautious. These qualities were largely an indirect result of a hidden talent that she had. In fact, Tina's secret gift gave her a head start in most things in this human world of yours when it came to understanding people, at least. With one glance, she could make out those of you who were good-hearted and those who weren't. Based on that, she could further appreciate what really mattered; a lot of that was simply about being virtuous.

Now I can see you are thinking, what could be such a gift?

You may shrug it off as something New Age or paranormal, but Tina had the ability to see other people's auras, a phenomenon recognized by many spiritual traditions — Christians call them haloes as an example. Perhaps one out of every 50,000 people can see them.

Without getting distracted by the history or theory of it all, I will just stick with what Tina could see when she looked at someone, which for a decent individual is a subtle, luminous glow, sometimes mixed with vibrant colors, surrounding the body but typically centered on the head. The more virtuous the person, the greater the glow.

However, if someone was of a lesser character, then the field that she saw was correspondingly weaker. For those who are horribly depraved and corrupted, she instead saw they were covered by a dark haze.

Given she could gauge such things, Tina chose her friends well. On the surface, they were an eclectic mix of different races, ages, and beliefs, but they had one thing in common, they were decent people. That's one reason why Tina liked working at the diner; from the light that shone from Bill and staff such as Gabriela, she knew she was in good company.

Bright

After dismounting from her bike and chaining it up, Tina entered through the diner's back service entrance. She cut through the kitchen and made her way to a small staff zone where she stowed her personal items in a metal locker. As she put on her apron, Gabriela passed carrying dirty plates.

'Tina, thanks for coming in so quick.'

'No problems. Busy yet?'

Gabriela shook her head.

'But in an hour, it will be.'

Prompted by the noise of the diner's front-door bell, Tina went out to the dining area to begin her shift. She approached a newly arrived family of four and seated them at a window booth. After leaving them with menus to review, she stopped to pick up some used plates off a table, and it was then that something caught her attention from the corner of her eye.

Something glowing.

She looked towards the glow and saw a man seated at the counter who had the brightest and largest aura she'd ever witnessed. It was mostly golden in color with traces of silver. It also contained streaks of reds and blues, which she had seen in others before, typically the elderly or those who may have experienced trauma, such as military servicemen and first responders.

Then Bill's voice took her attention.

'Tina, I appreciate you coming in at such short notice. You're a star!' he said.

She smiled at her boss at the espresso machine, not far from the glowing man. She gestured that it was nothing. Then, the glowing man casually looked her way. His face was radiating so much that she barely noticed that he was softly smiling.

The only way I can describe to you how she felt at that moment was that it was as if an avalanche of warmth hit her. Such was its force, it nearly brought on a surge of tears. Quickly she composed herself and went to the kitchen with an armful of dirty plates.

'Super shy but a heart of gold and full of life,' Bill said to the glowing man, who was, of course, Quintus. 'This year I've mostly been blessed with awesome staff, other years only so so.'

In the kitchen, Tina delivered the dirty crockery to the dishwasher and then went to a mirrored window that allowed her to peer into the dining area unnoticed. Gabriela came up beside her and joined in, staring at Quintus.

'Yeah, he's sure super cute in an old-world charmer kinda way,' Gabriela said as she playfully elbowed Tina in the ribs.

Yes, but it wasn't his fetching looks that fascinated Tina.

Live from Rome

The television behind the diner's counter was going live to a reporter in Rome.

'You guys mind if we hear this?' Quintus asked.

'Guess we're looking at it, may as well hear it,' Lance said.

Using the TV remote, Bill upped the volume.

On the television, a ZBS reporter named Jake talked to the camera.

'It's after midnight here, and we're in the city's historic center, and most people are asleep,' Jake said. 'As you can tell, there are not many about.'

Behind the reporter, in the shot's background, was the floodlit Trevi Fountain in all its Baroque grandeur. The vision cut to the U.S. studio where Teresa, a news anchor, was asking questions.

'It may be late, Jake, but is there yet any indication of what the mood in the Italian capital is like?'

Back in Rome, Jake shrugged.

'Well, Teresa, y'know, the Italians are still coming to terms with the tsunami that hit Venice less than 18 hours ago. So, it is somber, the mood is somber, that's how I can best summarize it,' Jake said. 'Now, despite Chuck Goyette's prediction about the Venice catastrophe being correct, he still, surprisingly, remains relatively unknown here in Italy.'

From here, dear reader, I'll focus on things that occurred off-camera some six blocks away from the TV crew of three to out the front of the Pantheon, a former Roman temple, now Catholic church and tourist attraction. There, a thin woman, aged in her 20s, was walking in circles around the façade with her eyes shut while murmuring in a trance-like state. She was wearing black skinny-fit jeans and a dirty t-shirt. Her arms were covered with hard-core tattoos, and she had piercings in her nose, lips, and eyebrows. Her unruly hair was peroxide blonde with dark roots showing.

Eventually, she stopped her walking and stood still on the cobblestone. There, standing as stiff as a soldier on parade, she continued her chants for a further 20 seconds until becoming quiet. After a moment of silence, a tremor shook the city.

Back at the Trevi Fountain, the reporter Jake nearly wet his pants when the buildings rattled around him and his two crew members.

'Holy mother of...' he exclaimed.

After the tremor subsided, Jake resumed talking to the camera, somewhat frazzled.

'Teresa, I presume you're still with us,' he said. 'I'm not sure how that looked back in the studio, but we just experienced a tremor, maybe or perhaps even a small earthquake.'

Meanwhile, at the Pantheon, the thin woman opened her eyes and sighed as her task was done. She then walked off in search of a taxi stand, which didn't take her long to find.

When she got into a waiting taxi, the elderly driver — a man named Antonio — got a shock. Her body odor was putrid. It smells of death, he thought. Like something dead on his nephew's farm. But Antonio wasn't going to complain, he was grateful for the fare, and he was also polite. He looked back at her, trying his best not to grimace, and asked where she wanted to go. He was surprised that her reply was in faultless Italian. He had presumed she was from elsewhere.

As instructed, he drove her to the Leonardo da Vinci international airport. During the drive, he did all the talking, some of it about his family but most of it about the tremor that occurred just minutes before she got into his car and the tsunami that had recently devastated Venice.

When they finally arrived at the airport, the woman gave him a generous tip and some parting advice.

'Get out of Rome within the next four hours, or you will die.'

That left Antonio in a cold sweat. He didn't drive off straight away; instead, he watched her thin figure enter the airport's departure area.

After five minutes of contemplation, he picked up his cell and phoned his wife. She eventually woke from her sleep, and he informed her what had occurred.

'Pack your bags and get ready to leave,' he added.

Antonio then tried phoning and warning others — friends and relatives. Despite the time, most answered their phones, but no one took notice of what he had to say. It wouldn't be long before they wished otherwise, just as he regretted not being more convincing or forceful.

Traveling in his taxi, he and his wife, their two pet cats, and whatever they could grab were out of the city limits by daybreak and making their way to his nephew's farm. By then, the thin woman — who others called Death — was onboard a 9-hour flight to New York City.