A Boy and The Dragon
Chinese dragons rarely reveal themselves to people, but the White Dragon made an exception for Kai, who was different. A fact recognized by the universe. In an earlier life, the boy and the dragon had been long-time friends. Kai, of course, was once Tai, and the bond with the dragon was not broken until 1966, when the Red Guards led by The Hammer desecrated the sanctuary and killed the ancient Taoist.
As the Red Guards dragged Tai out of the cave, the White Dragon was fighting the seven-headed Red Dragon in the sky above the mountain. While the fight was brutal, it went unseen by human eyes. The White Dragon lost that battle, and afterward, it sought shelter in a cave for a decade to recover from its wounds. It wasn't until the 1976 death of Chairman Mao Zedong that it emerged from the cave to resume guarding the mountain, hoping that his old friend would one day return.
But when that day arrived, the mythical creature was unsure if the boy was able to recall their connection. Nevertheless, it didn't matter, the dragon witnessed the joy on the boy's face when they first met, and it could see into his heart, seeing rare goodness within it.
After he arrived at the sanctuary, Kai stayed overnight and slept beside the dragon whose long, fury body kept him warm as the temperatures dropped. At daybreak, the boy woke and had himself some of the spring water. The dragon somehow knew that Kai had to leave the mountain to return to his grandparents.
As Kai packed his things and prepared to say farewell, he and the mystical creature heard the approaching drone of a helicopter. They both moved closer to the edge of the terrace and saw the distant black dot of a helicopter coming their way. Further back, two more dots followed.
The sight of them filled both Kai and the White Dragon with trepidation. The dragon especially could perceive other things that Kai was not able to. It roared fiercely and shook its head. After taking some steps back, it then ran forward and jumped off the ledge.
Kai watched as the dragon flew in the direction of the helicopters. Halfway across the stretch of air that separated the mountain from the coming aircraft, the dragon vanished from sight, slipping into a parallel dimension to fight an old foe.
The Landing
From inside the chopper, Quintus could see how the sanctuary had aged and how the fallen boulders half-covered what was the terrace. He then noticed someone standing on the terrace.
Tina saw him as well.
'There's a kid down there!' she said.
Tina didn't add what else she saw about the boy who, in her eyes, glowed like the morning sun. His aura was as great if not greater than what she saw in Quintus.
'Well, as long as he moves a bit, we won't squash him because that's exactly where we're landing,' Quintus said.
'There's not much room,' Tina remarked.
'It's tight but doable. When we land, you need to get out ASAP. Everyone clear about that?'
He heard three affirmatives, and then he sent the helicopter into a sharp descent. At the final moment, he worked the stick and pedals to level the Z-9, and he then swung it around, and it came in laterally towards the terrace.
As expected, Kai moved clear, and he stopped just out front of the cave opening. The boy ignored the wind from the chopper's rotors and enjoyed the spectacle of watching it land on the terrace. It was a near-perfect touchdown.
Inside the chopper, Quintus killed the engine
'Okay, time to get out,' he said.
Kristen, Tina, and War exited. The two women made their way towards Kai, some 40 feet away, while War strolled over and sat on the smooth rock that'd been sat on a million times before. Quintus soon followed.
The Text Messages
From the front of the helicopter, Marx could see the stolen Z-9 parked on the sanctuary's terrace. Its rotor blades were slowing to a halt. He saw people nearby and counted five of them. One appeared to be a youth. The fact that Quintus had reached the sanctuary further unnerved him, but he reminded himself he needed to focus on retrieving War. Nothing else at this stage mattered.
Marx turned to his Chinese pilot and ordered him to land on the terrace.
'There is no room to land,' the pilot replied in Mandarin.
'If those fools can do it, you can too.'
'With that helicopter already parked on it, there is simply not enough space.'
'If you can't land, just get us as close as you can so me and my team can get out onto the mountain,' Marx said sternly. The pilot still looked unconvinced. 'Unless you want to spend the rest of your life in prison, you'd better do as ordered!' Marx shouted. 'Find a way to make it happen!'
Now more fearful of the crazed foreigner than a dangerous landing, the pilot dropped the helicopter's nose towards the terrace.
Marx looked back at Vacher and Irfan with the PLA soldiers in the cabin. Both men were prepping their FN SCAR assault rifles they retrieved from the Crow before boarding the chopper.
'You two, remember we just need Ivan alive, the others I now no longer care about,' Marx said. 'Just don't screw this up. Everything is riding on it.'
His minions nodded but still had no appreciation of the seriousness of the affair. Their job, they thought, was simple, get War.
Marx felt a buzz in his pocket. It was a text message. This better be Chuck Goyette finally replying, he thought. By the time he'd pulled out his cellphone, two further messages had been received, but he soon discovered none of them were from Goyette. They were all from Lin, and for Marx, each one was a horror story.
* The first text read: 'My father (General Zhou) just died of cardiac arrest.'
* The second text read: 'We've lost control of the situation at the airfield/the hospital. Deng has fled, wants to defect.'
* The third text read: 'You're now on your own. Leave China while you can. Do not contact me anymore.'
As you'd expect, Marx immediately wanted to vent, but as the chopper descended towards the terrace, he managed to bury his fury. He reminded himself that he had to remain composed and motivated to complete his mission. The mess back at the airfield and the hospital had to wait.
Just Run
A bewildered Kai was glad to discover at least one of the people from the helicopter spoke some passable Mandarin. She was the only Asian among them, and she introduced herself as Tina. The young woman said she was an American who had escaped from some bad people, of which he had no doubt.
He was bemused by the bearded man who sat on the rock and pulled out a pencil and a small pad from his coat pocket and began sketching.
How odd, the boy thought, given the circumstances. More curious than afraid, he went and looked at what the man was drawing. To his surprise, he saw it was the beginning of a sketch of the White Dragon fighting the seven-headed Red Dragon in mid-air.
'You can see?' Kai asked War.
'Yes,' replied War in perfect Mandarin. 'They're fighting just beyond those approaching helicopters.'
'Who is winning?' Kai asked.
'It's too early to tell at the moment.'
'The White Dragon is sure to win,' the boy said.
They were interrupted by Quintus, whose sole concern was that the helicopters were dangerously getting closer.
'Everyone needs to get going,' Quintus said, looking at Kristen and Tina.
'There should still be a path that runs along that ridge,' he said, pointing past the cave entrance. He then looked at Kai with War.
'Who's the kid? What's he doing here?'
'He said he's here to help,' Tina replied.
'Take him with you; you all gotta get off this mountain. These guys are going to play rough,' he said.
'What're you planning to do?' Kristen asked him.
'Soon, one or both of those helicopters will try and land. I'll hang back and hold them off, and then, with any luck, I'll catch up with you,' Quintus said.
He noted the hesitation in Kristen's eyes.
'But if I don't catch up with you, get yourself and Tina to that U.S. diplomatic mission in Chongqing that you mentioned,' Quintus said. 'But you must go now. Take them,' he said, referring to War and Kai. 'There are no other options at this stage.'
Kristen nodded and called out to War.
'Ivan come on; we have to go.'
War, still drawing, shook his head for no.
There was no time to argue his answer. The Z-9s were getting nearer. Their engines were ominously beating like war drums.
Quintus and Kristen looked at each other.
'Take Tina and the boy, I'll look after him,' Quintus said, referring to War.
Kai shouldered his rucksack and threw Quintus his walking pole, and indicated that it could be used as a fighting stick.
'Thanks, now you all best get moving,' Quintus said. The boy gave him the thumbs up. 'I'll see you all soon,' Quintus added as they finally turned to leave in the direction of the mountain path. As they left, Quintus turned back to War on his rock.
'Why don't you go?' Quintus asked him.
'I should ask you the same thing,' War replied. 'You've done what you had to do.'
'Do what exactly?'
'You fulfilled the prophecy; you came back to White Dragon Mountain at the right time. Despite everything, you did not give up. That is all you had to do,' War said. 'Your master would be proud.'
'Who are you?'
'There's no time for chit-chat,' War replied as the closest helicopter approached to land at the sanctuary. Marx was now visible in the front of the chopper.
'This man will surely kill you. He and his sycophants hate you with all their being,' War warned.
'I've dealt with them before,' Quintus said. He then looked in the direction where Kristen, Tina, and Kai had fled towards. 'If you're an immortal — can you protect them?'
'I cannot alter their fate at this point. Neither can you. You should leave.'
'No, that's something I can't do.'
'Then finally, you will die, and a respectable death is a fine thing. But then again, you've faced greater odds and survived, so I have faith in you Quintus.'
No more could be said between the two as the noise of the first helicopter — now less than 100 feet away — began drowning them out.
The Chinese pilot adjusted his approach so the Z-9 would also land laterally on the remaining space on the terrace. Behind them, the other pursuing chopper peeled off to fly in the same direction in which Kristen, Tina, and Kai had just run off towards.
As Marx's helicopter got nearer, one of its side doors slid open, and Quintus saw Vacher and Irfan inside it, armed to the teeth. He held their gaze for a second and then dropped the fighting stick, which rattled on hitting the stony ground. He looked at War and offered a parting nod as he swiftly retreated into the cave.
War went back to his drawing while ignoring the helicopter that landed in front of him. Despite the small space available and the proximity of the cliff wall, the pilot managed to successfully put the chopper down. The first to exit was Vacher, followed by Irfan, both with weapons ready. Moving in a crouching run, they bypassed War on his rock and went to the cave where Quintus was last seen going inside. They stopped at its entrance and awaited orders from their boss, who was exiting the Z-9. The three PLA soldiers did likewise but were somewhat confused by what was going on and why they were there.
Somehow Marx managed to maintain his composure as he walked the 18 steps from the chopper to War on the rock. Upon reaching War, he coughed to herald his presence, old-school style. War ignored the gesture and kept sketching. After the sound of the Z-9's engine finally died down, Marx spoke.
'It's been an appalling morning Ivan, but despite it all, I'm ready to overlook everything,' Marx said. 'You and I have obligations, ones that are larger than both of us. You know what they are and what it means, so let's not mess about; please get on my helicopter.'
War looked up at Marx for a second, but then he returned to his sketching.
'Don't do that, don't ignore me! I don't know where all this treachery is coming from, but I'm not having a bar of it,' Marx sneered.
War just ignored Marx and kept sketching.
To avoid having a complete meltdown, Marx left War and went over to Vacher and Irfan by the cave's entrance.
'Where is he?' Marx asked about Quintus.
'Inside the cave, somewhere,' Vacher said.
Marx shoved Vacher aside so that he could be next to the cave's entrance.
'Quintus! Have you found your grandmaster's bones in there?' Marx yelled into the cave.
There was, of course, no reply.
'Actually, no, you wouldn't; that's because we dragged his filthy flea-ridden carcass out of there and shot him dead. Then we flung his body over the ledge. Odd thing is, the young revolutionary who pulled the trigger was my recently expired comrade who needed your liver. Funny how things eventuate, isn't it?'
Again, no reply.
'Quintus, there's nowhere for you to run to!' Marx shouted. 'I don't know why you bothered to return. The magic disappeared from this place a long time ago, and now it's just a tomb, your tomb.'
Marx looked to his men.
'Do you have any grenades?'
Vacher and Irfan shook their heads for no. Marx looked behind at the three PLA soldiers and asked them the same question in Mandarin. He got a similar response.
Realizing they'd soon be ordered to enter the cave, Vacher and Irfan fitted small flashlights to the ends of their assault rifles.
'Okay then, you two, get in there,' Marx ordered.
Irfan turned on his flashlight and entered the cave. Vacher followed, then Marx. Quickly they discovered it was empty, with no sign of Quintus.
His frustration rising, Marx began shrieking a litany of swear words until he was interrupted by Vacher, who found a hole in the top left corner of the cave.
'That's the only place he could've gone, but where it leads to is anyone's guess,' Vacher said, shining his flashlight into the hole.
The Climb
The hole in the cave led into a meandering shaft that went up some 500 feet and down a further 1,000 feet. Back when Quintus was a student of the Way, he had climbed up and down the shaft multiple times, perhaps to prepare him for this very moment.
On this occasion, Quintus was venturing upwards, and due to his levitation abilities, he was making decent progress. He held the stolen flashlight in his mouth so that he could illuminate the way ahead.
By the time he heard Marx and his team entering the cave, he was only 20 feet away from the exit he was looking for. Then he heard an eruption of distant gunfire. It sounded as if it was perhaps a quarter of a mile away outside. He tried not to think the worst, but he did. Kristen? Tina? The boy?
The unseen men back in the cave also heard the shooting, and it sent them into fits of laughter.
'You hear that, Quintus, old man?' Marx bellowed. 'That's the magnificent, glorious sound of those you love being shot to shreds!'
Pinned Down
The airborne Z-9 had located Kristen, Tina, and Kai on the trail along the side of the mountain — they were hiding behind some boulders, huddling together. As the Z-9 got closer, their cover lessened, and once it was at a certain height, they were exposed, becoming easy targets. At this point, the chopper hovered only 80 feet away, and the PLA soldiers inside it began to fire their weapons from open doors.
It should have been a turkey shoot, but it wasn't.
Kristen, Tina, and Kai may have kept low, but that didn't save them. The barrage of bullets was intense. They should have been torn apart, but not one round got close. Kai looked up and saw the reason why they were still alive. Invisible to everyone else but him, the White Dragon was lying above the boulders, protecting them with his bullet-proof body. As rounds bounced off him, the White Dragon looked at the boy and smiled. As for the Red Dragon, it was nowhere to be seen, and Kai knew in his gut that they'd be safe from evil from here on in.
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A Quivering Heap
The sound of gunfire propelled Quintus to ascend the shaft even faster. He disregarded the pain as bare knuckles hit stone and skin was lost. Upon reaching the fissure he was looking for, he squeezed through it and found himself on a tiny ledge overlooking the two helicopters parked on the terrace. After spitting out the flashlight, he saw three soldiers below him and the pilot getting out of the chopper. He also saw War still on his rock, drawing away as if nothing was amiss, but he couldn't see Marx or his thugs, so he assumed they remained in the cave.
Once he had the basics figured out, he didn't wait any further. Prompt action, he decided, was the only hope of saving Kristen, Tina, and Kai, and so he stepped off the ledge. He dropped 60 feet to the terrace at speed, but at the final moment, his fall slowed, and he landed softly between Kai's fighting stick and the somewhat surprised pilot.
Quintus quickly picked up the fighting stick and used it. After some well-targeted prods, the pilot dropped into a quivering heap.
In response, the three soldiers lifted their weapons, but Quintus moved behind a helicopter and out of their aim. Two of the soldiers began yelling at each other to go around the chopper while the third began talking into his two-way radio.
From his rock, War looked up from his drawing to watch Quintus make his way around the bad guy's Z-9 to flank one of the soldiers, who he, in short order, jabbed into a temporary standstill.
The other two soldiers, including the one with the radio, were next. Neither of them had a chance. They were promptly paralyzed as well.
As Quintus dealt with the last of them, he noted the distant sound of gunfire had ceased, but there was little time for him to reflect on it as Irfan and Vacher burst from the cave with weapons aimed. Both were eager to shoot Quintus down, but that required a greenlight from Marx walking behind them.
'Sir, can we take him out?' Vacher asked, nearly begging.
Before Marx answered, War dropped his sketch pad to the ground and stood from his rock. He took five steps to his left, putting himself in between both parties. He gestured to Marx and his minions to stop.
'There's no need to shoot anyone; I'll go with you on the condition that you leave the Roman alone,' War said in his slow manner.
As much as Marx desperately wanted Quintus dead, he had to restrain himself for the sake of War's offer. Getting War to North Korea was still his priority. Everything else was secondary. Even ancient revenge wasn't a consideration at this stage.
'Don't shoot,' he begrudgingly told his men.
'Feel free to change your mind at any time, sir,' said Vacher, who kept his rifle aimed, ready to fire.
As he stared down both barrels, Quintus felt calm, clear, and focused, ready for what might happen next.
'Well, this is an unexpected twist,' Marx said, looking at War. 'You think you're going to take charge now, do you?' he added.
'No, but my terms are simple yet non-negotiable. I will go with you now, but leave him here unharmed,' War said, pointing at Quintus.
'And call off the other helicopter from hunting down the others,' Quintus added.
Marx snorted in disgust, his madness bubbling to the surface.
'That's pointless. They're already dead. Couldn't you hear the shooting?' said Marx, looking hard at Quintus. 'You were too late back in Boise, Idaho, and you're too late again today.'
Quintus didn't offer a reaction. There's no point arguing with a madman, and besides, he had not given up hope.
Marx returned his gaze to War.
'Why are doing this? You were sent to help me! The demon kings won't show you any leniency,' Marx told War.
'Your masters are nothing. Even cockroaches have more potential,' War replied. 'Order your men to lower their weapons. This is your last chance.'
Marx laughed bitterly.
'Really?! When the demon kings learn of your attitude, let alone your treachery, you'll be as damned as this fool,' he said, pointing at Quintus.
Nearby, Vacher and Irfan shared looks of disquiet over their boss' seemingly unhinged ramblings, which continued until the sound of the other Z-9 grew louder, its engine's clamor reverberating through the valley.
'Hear that, Quintus? Here they come, they can tell you how many pieces your loved ones are now in,' Marx gloated.
They all turned to see the Z-9 flying alongside the mountain coming their way. Once the chopper reached the sanctuary, it stopped and hovered some 200 feet away. Its soldiers could be seen at open cabin doors. Irfan waved at them until he realized they were pointing rifles their way.
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
Given that Irfan and Vacher were armed, they were designated first targets. A bullet hit Irfan. He was dead before hitting the ground. Vacher was shot twice in the torso. He fell, wincing in pain.
Luckily for Quintus, he wasn't in any line of fire, but War was in the open, yet he appeared immune to both the bullets and the chaos. He just stood there calmly looking at the chopper, staring at the shooters. Daring them to try and destroy him.
As bullets whizzed around, Marx dived for cover behind a large slab of rock. It was there behind stone that he finally grasped how his plans had completely come to naught. Everything was lost.
Marx correctly guessed someone up the PLA chain of command wanted to clean up what transpired back at both the hospital and the airfield, and getting rid of any foreigners involved was part of that.
There was no coming back from this now. Only a deluded optimist would think he could still get War to North Korea and kickstart a nuclear Armageddon. He had failed the demon kings, and this filled him with a rising sense of terror. Instead of his being seated on a throne alongside them, his future was one of suffering beyond description. He would be plunged to Hell's lowest level — the ninth ring of the thirteenth circle — a punishment reserved for the worst of the worst. As he hid behind the rock, this realization soaked into every bone, every sinew, and each cell. It wasn't long before he was moaning like a wounded, cornered animal.
Meanwhile, Vacher was making the most of his final moments on earth. Despite his wounds, he managed to get to his feet. The Frenchman certainly had serious character flaws but giving up wasn't one of them. In the last 15 seconds of his life, he picked up his FN SCAR and blindly fired it at the helicopter. He managed to empty his 20-round magazine, and at least one bullet smashed the tail rotor.
If a helicopter has an Achilles' heel, the tail rotor is it, and the Z-9 went into a spin. From where he stood, Quintus could see the soldiers holding on as they swung back and forth inside the helicopter. With a busted tail rotor, there was very little the pilot could do to stop the aircraft's downward spiral. It dropped out of Quintus' sight, and nor did he care to watch it smashing on the ground in the valley below.
While this occurred, War retrieved his sketch pad from the ground and reseated himself on the rock, where he resumed drawing.
Both he and Quintus did their utmost to take no notice of Marx's uncontrollable sobbing behind them.
Quintus went to check the bodies of Vacher and Irfan. It was quickly evident that both henchmen were dead. Near the cliff's edge, he ignored any urge to look down at the wreckage of the helicopter. Instead, he looked in the direction where Kristen, Tina, and Kai had earlier fled to.
Running Back
After they stopped being shot at, Kristen was the first out from behind the boulders. Instead of fleeing further down the mountain, she headed in the same way that the PLA helicopter had flown off towards. She wasn't sure where her unthinking boldness came from, but it pushed her forward. It wasn't long before Kai and Tina were both following her.
Kristen looked back and offered Kai and Tina a brave smile.
'You both okay?' she asked.
Tina and Kai nodded.
'Let's go see if we can help Quintus,' Kristen said.
Kai guessed what was asked and offered her a big thumbs up. Ahead of them, he saw the White Dragon flying in the same direction, keeping them safe from unseen threats.
Then gunfire was heard.
'Oh no,' Kristen said.
The sound of violence did not slow them down, and they kept running in the same direction. The shooting was followed by the sound of a helicopter crash heard just before they reached a mountain bend that provided a view of where they wanted to be. After stopping at the bend, they caught their breath and saw the crashed helicopter smoldering at the base of the mountain.
It was Tina who first saw Quintus standing at the sanctuary ledge, glowing like a mini sun. Through the mass of light, she was also able to see War sitting on the rock.
'They're okay!' she exclaimed.
Then she saw something dark emerge from behind them, a running figure surrounded by dense, swirling, murky mist.
Moans of a Madman
Screeching and hollering like a lunatic, Marx rushed from the rock slab he was hiding behind and ran to one of the paralyzed Chinese soldiers. Quintus and War both turned to see him grab the soldier's dropped assault rifle from the ground.
Marx quickly switched off the weapon's safety and swung it around at his intended targets, only to find Quintus with Kai's fighting stick upfront in his face. A split second later, Quintus knocked the gun out of his hands.
'No!' Marx screamed. Next, Quintus whacked him twice in the guts and once on the head; blows that flattened Marx but didn't paralyze him. On the ground, Marx was winded, withering, and gasping like a fish out of water.
With one hand, Quintus picked up the assault rifle and threw it over the cliff ledge. He returned his attention to Marx, who managed to sit himself up while still struggling to catch his breath.
'I'd say that's game over,' Quintus told him.
Despite struggling to catch his breath, Marx started screaming at War, seated 30 feet away on the rock, still drawing.
'Why?' Marx yelled. 'War, just tell me why, you Judas!'
War ignored Marx. Kept sketching, further incensing the fund manager.
'You petulant son of a bitch, you signed up for this!' Marx screamed.
War put aside his pencil, closed his sketchbook, and then looked at Marx, who got to his feet. They held each other's gaze for several seconds until War threw his sketchbook toward Marx. It landed a few feet in front of him and skidded the rest of the way stopping by his right foot. Marx picked it up.
'You want answers? Open the book,' War said.
Marx did so, but he was somewhat hesitant, if not nervous. He quickly flicked through about three-quarters of the sketchbook that was full of images, mostly associated with this tale. Quintus as a Roman Centurion. Master Tai with White Mountain Dragon. The gibbet in Ireland. Quintus with his family in Boise, Idaho. The incident in the Reno diner. Quintus escaping the hospital with Tina. A woman who looked like Kristen hugging a man, and so on and so forth. It all infuriated Marx. He closed the book, having not looked at it all but seen enough.
'Answers? There are no answers here. What are you? Some Quintus fanboy!?' Marx yelled.
War just smiled.
'The answer is on the last page if you dare,' War said.
'Just tell me instead,' Marx insisted.
'Maybe remind me again what the question was,' War said.
'No, don't do this to me! I'm returning empty-handed. Do you know what that means?' Marx screamed.
'Yes, I do. If you want to truly grasp your future, see the last page,' War said with some mercifulness.
Marx noted War's tone. The fund manager didn't want to contemplate what was to come for him. He didn't reopen the book. Instead, he threw it back at War and shifted his attention to Quintus, who was looking at him.
'And you, what are you staring at? You ruined everything!' Marx yelled.
Quintus felt near nothing as Marx screamed at him. No rage. No hatred. Nothing like he experienced in Reno, 1871.
If he felt anything, it was a fleeting pity that promptly disappeared when Marx sprung at him with a scream. It caught Quintus somewhat off guard, and Marx managed to grab him for several seconds until Quintus spun his way out of trouble, and they uncoupled. Still, with the stick in hand, Quintus used it to jab down hard on one of Marx's feet, which knocked the fight out of him. Marx howled in pain.
Quintus followed through and jabbed Marx with the stick under an armpit, followed by another well-aimed poke just above his left hip.
Marx was now left frozen on the spot. All he could do was breathe, drool, and sweat. Locked in, he impotently cursed and internally raged to nobody but himself.
'You talk too much,' Quintus said quietly to Marx's incapacitated figure as he walked away.
Quintus then saw Kristen, Tina, and Kai at the distant bend, and he was nearly overwhelmed that they were alive, and apparently, from what he could make out, unhurt.
War picked up his sketchbook from the ground where Marx had thrown it and resat on the rock. He observed how relieved Quintus appeared while waving to the trio, who soon enough resumed running towards the sanctuary. War thought it may take them five or so minutes to reach where they were.
For a moment, he thought about telling Quintus some heavenly secrets; that Tina was once his daughter Abby and that Kristen was not only his past wife Kaitlyn but also, further back, the young Irish woman called Alba. However, he decided against it. Humans, even someone like the man in front of him, are best left ignorant about such matters.
But some things, War knew, needed to be said.
'I'm delighted how this has finished for you,' he told Quintus, who looked over at him. 'I have to admit I'm surprised you're still alive. Your master indeed trained you well.'
'He taught me here for centuries,' Quintus said.
'He did,' War said.
'How do you know?'
'Not important.'
War opened his sketchbook and ripped out a page from it.
'This was the last page,' he said.
'What was drawn on it?' Quintus asked.
'His not-so-distant future,' War said, gesturing at Marx's immobile figure. 'Too horrifying, too dark to contemplate. Be glad you are not him.'
War scrunched up the page and threw it aside. He then placed the sketchbook on a nearby rock.
'Give the book to the boy, he will cherish this day, and the images will remind him of what happened here,' War said. 'One day, when China is free, you two will reunite. You will need to teach him what he once taught you.'
Quintus nodded as if what War said made sense which in an otherworldly kind of way it did.
War sighed deeply and looked at his hands as if they were foreign to him.
'It's the first time I've been among humans. It's been interesting having a human form. Your mode of thinking is difficult to master. It's erratic yet constrained. Man was indeed made to suffer.'
He then looked at Quintus.
'You know this more than most Quintus, but one must center oneself to stay on track. Stay with your practice, stay true to the Way. Maintain your courage and resolve,' War said. 'All this drama is now over, it's been reset, but humankind still needs to get its act together. You're free of your responsibility Quintus but see if you can help them change for the better. Help them to return to a path of tradition.'
War paused for effect and closed his eyes.
'Time is short'
Quintus wanted to ask War a ton of questions, but he understood there wasn't time to do so. He could only watch as the being on the rock sat up straight and breathed in deeply.
War put his hands on his knees and smiled. A gust of wind engulfed the sanctuary area, and he then just vanished into thin air.
Left alone, it finally hit Quintus that the moment he'd been trained for had come and gone, and it did so in a very fast and tidy manner. Humanity was, as far as he was concerned, apparently no longer in peril. Any words would understate how he felt at that moment. The point of all his wandering and waiting over the centuries had occurred, lifting a huge weight from his shoulders. The future no longer owned him nor mankind.
Ignoring Marx's nearby paralyzed figure, he went and sat on the well-worn rock that War had been on and waited for the others to arrive.
This sense of relief stayed with him as he flew the stolen helicopter with Tina and Kristen from China southwards to Thailand.
That's a Wrap
Despite being asked nearly three hours' worth of Apocalypse-type questions, Chuck Goyette wasn't tired. In fact, he thrived on all the media attention thrown at him. Under the glare of the National Press Club's stage lights, he hadn't even raised a sweat.
It was around 8 pm that Valeri Chambers, the club's president, gestured to Goyette to wind up his talk. It irked him a bit, he could have gabbed on from behind the podium for an additional hour.
She came up beside him from left stage.
'Thank you, Mr. Goyette, you have given us much to reflect on,' Chambers said.
She then addressed the audience.
'Unfortunately, that's all the time we have tonight. Our guest has to visit the White House, where he will have a one-on-one discussion with the president,' she said. 'So, on behalf of everyone here at the club, I'd like to thank you, Mr. Goyette, for taking the time to share with us your thoughts and insights, no matter how unsettling they may be.'
As the clapping began, Goyette began to blush in embarrassment. It wasn't because of the applause. It was due to his picking up on what had occurred on the other side of the globe. War had just vanished, and now everything had changed.
Still behind the podium, he sheepishly raised his hand and interrupted the ovation. After the clapping died down, he spoke.
'I beg your pardon, madam president, there's one more thing,' Goyette said. 'Actually, it's somewhat a big thing which may get a mixed reception as it negates much of what I've just said tonight. You see, the end of the world is a complicated and volatile thing.'
Goyette paused for 10 seconds to ensure he had everyone's full attention, and once he felt that was the case, he continued.
'You see, it's like this, in the past couple of centuries or so, there have been earlier attempts by several other Four Horsemen types to bring about humankind's demise. Why there always had to be four of them, I don't know, but I do know on each occasion, at least one of them found a reason for not completing their mission,' he said.
'One of whom?' someone yelled.
'One of the earlier Four Horsemen kind of characters,' Goyette repeated.
'Why would they do that?' yelled another.
'Usually, it's a case of one of them finding compelling evidence that you lot deserve another chance,' Goyette said.
'But are you the false messiah?' a reporter yelled.
'No, I'm more of a trickster, really, but that's certainly not important as what I'm trying to say is that doomsday, once again, has been called off,' Goyette said, now somewhat deflated.
There was a collective gasp from everyone in the club.
'Never before has it come as close, so consider yourselves lucky,' Goyette said. 'Now, as per my end-of-the-world guarantee, the paying members of my temple will, of course, have their money returned. This will be overseen by my team, who I cannot praise highly enough,' he said, looking at his stunned staff seated around a table to the side of the platform.
The press began yelling more questions that Goyette ignored.
'As for me, I will humbly leave you to your own devices. Lastly, I can only advise mankind to avoid complacency because one day your time will certainly come, be it in the form of A.I. or pollution, something will kill you off, so do not forsake decency.'
He stepped away from the podium and gave the dumb-founded club president one last look.
'It's been a blast, my dear,' he told her.
And with that, he too simply vanished and did so in full view of everyone in the club and anyone watching the globally broadcasted event.
For the other two, called Death and Famine, everything now was similarly different. They may not have been at the press club or watching TV, but they, like Goyette, sensed what had transpired in China.
Death, not that long off her flight from Rome, was in New York City's Times Square preparing to begin her mantra when she instead disappeared as per War and Goyette.
The incantation-mumbling Famine did likewise in outback Australia. Just as he crossed a small bridge over a dry gully, he disappeared, and as he did so, he gave a world-weary sigh of relief.
The Tree Line
With his fighting pole back in his possession, Kai moved nimbly along a limestone ridge. As he ran, he could hear the sloshing of spring water in his canteen and feel War's sketchbook jostling around in his backpack. He was now a couple of miles away from where he said goodbye to the three friendly foreigners who had flown off in a helicopter destined for Thailand.
Upon approaching a line of pine trees, the boy slowed his pace and eventually came to a stop. He knew that once he was among the trees, he'd be in cover and out of sight for anyone above.
Before he disappeared into it, he looked back up at the mountain. He could just make out the sanctuary and the figure of the bad man who was stuck to the spot. The boy's attention was then taken by movement further along and at the top of the mountain's peak — it was the White Dragon. He doubted his mystical friend could hear from so far away but nevertheless, he shouted his farewells because it felt like the correct thing to do. He knew they'd meet again. Once things settled down, he would return.
Then something down in the valley caught his attention.
It was the Red Dragon. It was grounded, injured, and crawling in a pitiful manner. Its bat-like wings were ripped, and at least two of its seven heads appeared lifeless. Those heads still alive screamed in rage at the Heavens. The monster began to flap its damaged wings, and after a minute, it managed to lurch itself into the air. As it cumbersomely fled the valley, it cried furiously at anything good. The awful sounds reverberated through the valley, forcing Kai to cover his ears.
Once the dragon was out of sight, Kai pulled his hands from his ears. He could no longer hear the beast's screams, but instead, he heard the buzz of helicopters. It wasn't long until he saw five more Z-9s flying at speed toward White Dragon Mountain. Each was filled with PLA soldiers wanting the chance to kill meddling foreigners. Kai took this as his cue to disappear into the trees and continue his journey back to his grandparents.
Protruding Ears
Marx still couldn't move as this new group of Z-9s arrived. The Quintus-inflicted paralysis still had him fixed to the spot. Given the lack of space on the sanctuary's terrace, only one of the five choppers could land, and from it, six soldiers alighted. It wasn't long before a couple of them were guarding him while others searched the area. He wanted to tear them apart, especially the one dousing the lifeless bodies of Vacher and Irfan with fuel.
But of course, Marx couldn't, so impotent was his situation.
Once the soldier finished drenching the bodies with fuel a commanding officer approached and handed the soldier a box of matches. Marx's attention quickly went from the soldier lighting up the cadavers to the fresh-faced officer, a young man with protruding ears. As the officer approached him, Marx realized who he was many lifetimes ago — the young soldier Meng killed in the one-sided swordfight.
Marx broke out into a sweat and pissed his pants, two indications the paralysis was lessening, not that it mattered at this point. When the officer reached Marx, he promptly unholstered his pistol and put it to the foreigner's forehead, and didn't hesitate to pull the trigger.
BANG!
Hell's Pit
Marx's ghost was dragged down to the netherworld where the 13 Demon Kings of the Pit waited. When his senses returned, he found himself lying naked in the center of a pentacle carved into the stone floor of a steaming-hot dark chamber. It was quiet until 13 voices screamed in unison from somewhere in front of him.
'We provided you with everything, Marx, yet you failed us. All you had to do was join the dots. A 4-year-old could have carried it out!'
Marx was about to yell excuses, but it wasn't going to happen. A metal muzzle instantly clamped onto his mouth, gagging him.
'We're not listening to your pathetic pleas or explanations,' said the voices that Marx now saw belonged to a line of shadowy demons seated on rocky thrones hewn from the chamber's wall.
'You currently feel no pain only because we want you listening with undivided attention,' the demons said. 'Do we have your attention?'
Marx could only nod, and the demons proceeded.
'Soon you will suffer and do so in the full knowledge that your rival, the Roman, is no longer among those to be cast here!' they yelled.
'When he killed you in 1871, our venture seemed assured, but you spoiled it to the extent that your mistakes brought a God into our affairs to perform divine intervention.'
Indeed, not long before Marx was killed, a divine being visited the netherworld and informed the demons that Quintus was no longer theirs. Due to his good works, his name had been fading in the netherworld's ether for some time, so it did not take much effort. You could even say it was a mere formality. The final decision by the Heavens to clear his name came after he freed the prisoners — the Falun Gong practitioners and others — from the military hospital.
So, it was now Marx's fault, the demons claimed, that Quintus succeeded.
'You helped him fulfill a half-baked, half-forgotten prophecy, you placed him in a position to again prove his bravery and kindness!' they screamed. 'Ultimately, it was you who aided and abetted him.'
A muted Marx could only shake his head in protest.
'You should have crushed the Roman when you first had the chance! If you had, you would be sitting up here with us judging him where you now are,' they said. 'Instead, you returned him to China. What were you thinking?'
Marx, of course, could not reply.
'You made us fools in front of our master, and the Red Dragon has been mortally wounded. For such misdeeds, you must pay.'
The demons had now finished what they wanted to say, and the only thing Marx could do was dread what would come next. First, the metal gag disappeared from his mouth, and then he was sucked through the floor into Hell's lowest level for an eternity of inexpressible woe.