Max Arena (30 page)

‘There’s no
more normal for us, dear,’ Elsa replied, looking up at him. ‘We
just have to deal with whatever comes our way.’

Max nodded.
‘True enough.’

‘Let’s just
try to keep the kids as sane as we can,’ Elsa said, also rising and
stifling a yawn.

Max suddenly
turned and found Peter in the doorway to the room.

‘Pete, what’s
up?’ Max asked.

‘Just checking
in,’ he replied. ‘I’ll leave you be.’

An instant
later, he was gone.

‘Him and his
team were really something today weren’t they?’ Elsa said.

‘Yeah,’ Max
said absently. ‘Give me a second would you?’

‘Sure,’ Elsa
said uncertainly as Max hurried from the room and through the
doorway Peter had just been in.

Jogging down
the corridor and to a landing where a carpet covered staircase
descended down to the next floor, Max found Peter halfway down the
steps.

‘Hey!’ he
called out. ‘Hold up!’

Peter stopped
and turned on the midway landing. Max came down to stand with
him.

‘What is it?’
Peter asked. ‘Need anything?’

‘No,’ Max
said, ‘but I do need to say...’ Max started.

‘No, you
don’t,’ Peter cut in, waving a hand and starting to turn to keep
going down the stairs. ‘I don’t need to hear it.’

‘Yes, you do
because I need to say it,’ Max pushed.

Peter stopped,
but only half turned back.

‘You saved my
life today,’ Max continued, ‘
and
you rescued my family and I
know that’s your job and all, but for me, that makes you as good as
blood. I’m not going to say I owe you. That stuff’s not for real
life, but if the cards ever play out in reverse, I’m there for you
and you
can
believe that.’

Then Peter
turned full round and looked Max in the eye. ‘I do believe it,’ he
said, ‘because you’re the one saying it. Don’t worry. You’ll get
your chance to square me up in the arena, but just so you know, I
didn’t shoot that bloke today to save you because we need to get
you into the arena safe and sound. I shot that bloke because you’re
a mate and I’ll never let a mate down.’

Max nodded and
Peter held his eye for a few moments. Finally breaking the lock,
Peter turned and made his way further down the stairs leaving Max
to watch him go.

As the
darkling twilight bloomed over the eastern horizon outside,
upstairs in one of the sumptuous bedroom suites, Kris lay shivering
under the blankets of her bed. Her sedatives had stolen her
consciousness away, but the drugs had not had any effect on the
storm that continued to rage inside her mind. She was as good as
crippled. Despite the drugs, Kris’ body had given up on her,
rendering her paralytic. Right now, she was awash in a tempest that
was threatening to take both her sanity and her life.

The storm had
started the moment the sirens had gone off and by the time they had
clambered into the chopper, it had reached cyclone levels. Kris had
run as hard as she could to get to the chopper and had carried
Jason to safety like he was her own flesh and blood, but the effort
had claimed her. The moment someone had strapped her into her seat,
she was lost, the fear in her mind rampant.

None of the
ensuing treatment from the paramedic team had registered. Elsa’s
pleading for her to wake up had not made any impact. Abdullah had
even called and asked to be put on speaker to talk to her, but
Kris’ incapacity had imprisoned her and Abdullah had suffered
through total silence. With nothing else to be done after
medicating her, the staff had left Kris alone for regular
monitoring with no visitors.

So there she
lay, a bone sucking chill racking her to the core. Outside, the
calm, placid ocean surrounding the island lay in stark contrast to
the wild, broiling seas consuming Kris’ mind, the howling winds and
towering swells unrelenting. As time passed, the night drew on and
Kris’ grasp on life faltered.

Far across the
globe, the Lear Jet’s wheels lifted smoothly off the tarmac, its
tyres still spinning as they disappeared neatly into the enclosed
undercarriage slots in the belly of the plane. Inside, Abdullah
looked absently out the window at the tranquil, aqua blue waters of
the Arabian Gulf as they passed beneath him. If he had bothered to
look carefully, he would have seen a mother dugong and her calf,
peacefully grazing in the shallows on the scattered patches of sea
grass.

However, his
mind was elsewhere, seeking solace amidst an ever growing tornado
of worries. The United States had just escalated their entire armed
services to DEFCON 3, placing them on alert readiness for full
military defence and retaliation if provoked anywhere in the world.
President Bartholomew had finally reacted to Russia’s poorly
restrained military that were frequently crossing out of their own
borders to fight their own raging civil war. Any further wayward
air strikes were not going to go unchallenged.

On top of
this, Abdullah’s own kingdom was in an ever tightening grip of
hunger. Food imports had declined to critical levels due mostly to
piracy in the Straits of Hormuz at the entry to the Arabian Gulf.
His attempts to pay the Sultan of Oman and the Iranian President
extra funds to police the straits had failed. Pirates now raided at
will, effectively blocking any incoming trade to his country and
others inside the gulf, bringing the once friendly neighbours ever
closer to outright conflict.

Now Kris had
gone down and that was too much. Abdullah had to get back to
Australia. The rest of the world would have to wait. Team Max, his
new found friends needed him and that pull was too strong to
ignore. Within minutes of receiving the call from Joseph, Abdullah
was walking across the tarmac at his private airstrip to his
fastest jet. His laptop sat on the seat next to him, closed and
disregarded, but full of briefing papers and emails that outlined
the state of play of civilisation across the planet, all of the
news variations on a calamitous theme.

As always when
Abdullah sought peace, his mind wandered to a single image. A
woman, her face young, beautiful and flawless. Her dark,
hazel-coloured eyes gazed serenely back, their shimmering depth
mirroring his soul. A picture of Heaven.

‘
Al-ḥamdu lillāh
,’ Abdullah said to himself. ‘
Praise be to
Allah.’

Then the image
morphed and Kris filled the space in his mind and he whispered
something very different.

‘Please, do not
take another?’

9am, 5
^th
August (3 days later). Light
and Pancakes

A soft light
slowly filtered into Kris’ senses, but from where, she did not
know. Nor did she much care. All she knew was that it was peaceful
and quiet. No storm raged about her and it had not been like this
for a very long time.

The light grew
steadily brighter and a different world slowly began to take form.
A large window full of seamless blue sky filled Kris’ vision, a
slight wafting breeze ruffling the lace curtains either side of the
space. The peace infused her.

Then she
smelled something. Something delicious. Kris searched her memory
for the aroma and found it. Pancakes. By now she knew she was awake
and that could only be good. Bright blue sky, pancakes and no pain
inside her mind.

Turning her
head to look around, Kris discovered a massive bedroom. She did not
recognise any of the furnishings or fittings, but the total
serenity overcame any hint of uncertainty. It just felt safe and
that made her actual whereabouts unimportant.

Laying her
head back down on the pillow, Kris watched reflected light play
across the ceiling, dancing and flickering in a random and carefree
pattern. The chatter of parrots sounded through the window and
behind it all, there was another sound, something familiar. The
sea.

A twinge of
fear pricked inside her. The storm was coming back. Kris’ eyes
flicked around the room again, waiting for the roar to rise and
crash, but instead it stayed in the background. The waves did not
rear up. The sea stayed calm. The world held its peace.

‘It is the
real
ocean you hear,’ sounded a soft, familiar voice, its
rolling baritone as musical to her ears as any classical symphony.
Kris lifted her head and found Abdullah sitting in a large,
ornately carved and upholstered chair beyond the foot of her bed.
‘The sea in your
head
is silent and calm. You are safe,
Kris. You have found your way to shore.’

Kris did not
know what to say, so all she did was look at Abdullah’s kindly
face, absorb it and attach it to his words. She was safe and
Abdullah was here to prove it. He spoke again.

‘You were
adrift a long time,’ he said. ‘Three days have passed since you
left us, but you have returned. Your strength has brought you to
safe haven and with just a little more recuperation, you will be
free of your fears forever. Of that I am sure.’

Kris still did
not know what to say and then her senses reminded her of something
else.

‘Pancakes?’
she asked with a blend of uncertainty and hope.

Abdullah
smiled, his features softening even further. ‘I apologise,’ he
said. ‘Pancakes are perhaps my one true weakness and I have just
indulged myself. However, if you wish, I can have some more sent up
in just a few minutes?’

‘You’ve been
here the whole time?’ Kris asked quietly.

‘Not the whole
time. Elsa, Max and Joseph, and even Millie and Jason have been
sharing the vigil. They all care very much about you, Kris and will
be overjoyed to know you have awoken.’

Kris looked at
Abdullah a little longer, unable to break her gaze from his face.
He appeared so calm, so tranquil and something else? Secure. That
was it. Secure. Like Max, the world revolved around Abdullah, not
the other way around. Abdullah affected the world. It did not
affect him, but the difference between Abdullah and Max was that
Max acted physically, whereas Abdullah always remained passive, his
calm, soothing demeanour belying his true strength and his true
power. In many ways, Abdullah was far stronger and far more
powerful than Max could ever be and as this man sat quietly in his
chair at the foot of the bed, his pristine white robes draped
around him and his hands resting comfortably on his crossed knees,
Kris knew that it had been Abdullah who had brought her back to
shore. It was Abdullah who had saved her from the turmoil in her
mind. How, she did not know, but deep in her heart, she knew it had
been him, sitting quietly at the end of the bed, undoubtedly
praying to his god and just watching. A sentinel.
Her
sentinel.

Kris let her
head fall back to the pillow and returned her view to the playing
lights on the ceiling. It was time to start living again.

4pm, 5
^th
August (later that day).
Secret Flame

The twenty
kilo kettle bell sailed through the air to hit the turf twenty
metres away from where Max had hurled it. The steel ball thudded
deep into the luxuriant green grass to join the growing pile of
other twenty kilo kettle bells Max had thrown. Before the steel
ball hit the ground, Max had another one in his left hand and was
winding up to throw it too.

From his
stationary stance, Max had twin stock piles of kettle bells on each
side of him and with alternating underarm swings like dual
windmills, he was tossing the kettle bells one at a time as far as
he could out across the northern lawn of the estate. Speed was his
primary concern, picking up and throwing the bells as quickly as he
could, but as he found his rhythm, Max increased his power,
stretching the growing pile further and further away.

Hurling the
final bell out into space and a good twenty-five metres distant,
Max straightened up and paused. He didn’t know what to do next, at
least not right away. So, he launched forward into a three quarter
sprint across the grass and away towards the far tree line to fill
the pause with something. As he ran, Max wondered what he could do
when he reached the trees. Max also hoped that the set of eyes
watching from behind him would soon be able to get back down on the
grass to help.

Back up on the
balcony behind him, Kris watched Max go through his paces, jealous
that he had his orange sneakers on and was active while she was
house-bound in her dressing gown. Still, it was good to see that
the daily routine went on unhindered by her absence. The world
still needed saving, regardless of her state of health.

Closing her
eyes, Kris let the soft sounds of the sea wash over her, the
sensation now calming and not in the least disturbing. Abdullah was
right. Her fears had left her and now reality was firmly in
perspective. She understood what she needed to do and also
acknowledged that despite her’s, Max’s and everyone else’s best
efforts, the world was still probably doomed. If that was the case,
she would die. Her family would die and everything good and
beautiful in the world would be lost. So be it. Fate is fate, but
Kris would not let fate come easily. She would fight it and she
would fight it till she fell in front of it.

‘Hey, you,’
sounded a voice behind her.

Kris turned
and opened her eyes. Elsa had snuck up behind her on the
balcony.

‘Hey, you
too,’ Kris replied, smiling.

The two women
gently hugged and then stepped back to look at each other.

‘You look
good,’ Elsa said.

‘I feel good.
I really do.’

Elsa turned
and stepped up to the glass balustrade to see her husband running
back towards the house from the distant trees.

‘You know he’s
been lost without you?’ Elsa said.