Project Apex (29 page)

Finally, the grin melted from his face. "I can't do it alone. I need you, Earl. I need you at my side now more than ever. This is what our father was preparing for, and his father before him. "And what if these people who are burning the world show no mercy even to us? What will we do then?" Earl said quietly, suddenly fearful of his brother.

"You have to have faith that they will. The Lord will save us."

Earl wanted to tell his brother he was crazy, and that faith or no faith, the tidal wave which was sweeping over the world couldn’t be contained or stopped, yet couldn’t find the words. He knew well enough how stubborn Miles could be, and Earl’s protests were only likely to make him dig his heels in even further. He thought this was one of those occasions where he should let his brother win, if only so that he might later reason with him later if things went astray.

"Alright," Earl said. "If father had faith on you to lead this church, then I shall follow you."

Miles grinned and leaned back in his seat. "I knew you would come around to my way of thinking. Do not be afraid, brother. We are standing on the cusp of the new world. We should be thankful the lord has chosen our lifetime for the transition to take place. We are witnessing the dawning of a new world."

"Even so, the staff are worried, scared even. They are afraid to come to you, Miles. You intimidate them."

"I love them like my own family," Miles replied. "They can come to me with anything."

"Regardless, I fear they will take some convincing to stay on the property."

"That's where we disagree," Miles said, flashing his perfectly white teeth at his brother.

"And why would that be?"

"Because when they learn of the chaos which is taking place outside of those walls, they will beg me to let them stay under my protection."

"Some of them are already talking of leaving," Earl grunted.

"Who?" Miles snapped.

"It doesn’t matter. Just know that there is talk. If you want to convince them to stay my brother, then you will have to be at your best."

Miles didn’t reply. Instead, he placed his elbows on the table and put his palms together. At first, Earl thought his brother was about to pray, and then saw he was simply in thought.

Miles leaned forward and rested his chin on his thumbs as he looked out of the window at the dusty, sun-baked yard. "Call a staff meeting," he said eventually.

"Do you want me to just call them back in?"

"No, not here," Miles replied with a wry smile. "Do it in the sermon hall."

"Is that wise?" Earl said, wondering what his brother had in mind. "They won’t appreciate being preached to."

"That's not why I’m calling the meeting."

"Then why?"

"Because the world has changed, and because of that we need to change too. We need to adapt."

"I don’t think I understand," Earl said, not liking the look in his brother’s eyes.

"I mean this place. Our message."

"I think our message is good, so did our father and our grandfather." Earl snapped.

"Relax, Earl. This isn’t me trying to slur the fantastic work of our family, it’s just that as things stand, the message we send as the Church of Holy Righteousness is in some ways redundant. Outdated, especially as we stand on the cusp of such a change."

"What did you have in mind?" Earl asked, unsure if he wanted to know the answer.

"It's obvious the end is coming. We need to change our policies to reflect that."

"Miles, please. This isn’t about balance sheets or running a business. The world is in tatters."

"Haven’t you listened to anything I've said?" Miles snapped. For a split second, Earl saw his father. The resemblance was eerie and brought back memories of the strict childhood they endured which at times bordered on cruel.

"Of course, I've been listening," he said with a sigh, "I’m just struggling to make sense of it all."

"And I’m going to explain. It came to me last night as I slept. A revelation, if you will."

He waited for his brother to say something, yet Earl only stared at his sibling and waited.

"I’m changing the direction of the church," Miles said. Earl went to speak, but Miles held up a hand and went on. "Just let me finish before you say anything."

Earl swallowed his words, folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, doing as he was asked. Miles went on.

"It's clear to me that these people have chosen to take a stand against the corporations of the world. Because he has dared to challenge the established order. Many don’t see them as a force of good."

Nor do I Earl wanted to say, yet didn’t speak. He knew there was no point in interrupting his brother once he was on a roll. He tuned back into the words spilling from Miles's lips and was increasingly concerned for his state of mind.

"I'm dropping the old name of the church." Miles said around his elastic grin.

"No, you can’t do that. You don’t have the right." Earl snapped.

"I have every right!" Miles snapped, slamming his palm on the table hard enough to make the cutlery rattle. "The church was entrusted to me. I was given the power to do whatever I feel is best going forward."

"Not this. This is spitting in the face of the work our father did."

"No, it isn’t. This is adapting, moving with the times. Do you remember how our church was before I took control? It was festering in the dark ages. Look at it now, it's a thriving congregation."

"Maybe it was better before. Now everything seems to revolve around making money," Earl grunted. "It seems as long as people keep donating and the DVD sales stay strong, the message doesn’t matter."

"You don’t believe that, not after everything we've been through."

"Will you listen to yourself, Miles?" The world is starting to crumble around us and your first thought isn’t to get somewhere safe, but to try and profit from it. What is it, extra subscription? Apocalypse sermons charged at double the normal rate? I don’t know if you realise, but the world is dying. Nobody is coming to church, nobody is going to line your pockets. That gravy train is over. All people care about now is survival. You need to see what's happening beyond the walls of this church and wise up fast before it's too late."

"You'll see in time that I was right."

"No, I won’t," Earl said. "This is it for me. I’m leaving. I won’t stay here and watch this happen."

"You have to stay," Miles said.

"No, I don’t. As you keep reminding me, the church was entrusted to you, not me. It's your responsibility."

"If you leave, you will be struck down. The lord is watching us Earl. Through me, he's delivering his message."

Earl shook his head. "No, this is all you. You're not thinking straight. I don’t know if its denial or fear, but it ain’t normal."

Miles leaned close, and Earl felt the subtle shift from anger to fear. "If you decide you're not with me, then it means you're against me. Against the lord. Against everything, we have been brought up to believe. If I can't trust you to be part of this, then I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you can't stop us."

"And what does that mean?"

"I think you can figure it out," Miles whispered. "You know me, Earl. You know I'll do whatever it takes to win. That's why I was chosen to carry the message of our church."

"And that's the whole point. This ain't our father's message or the message of our church. You're sittin' there talkin' about spreading the word of some group of people who for all we know could just be common terrorists."

"Give me a chance," Miles said. "At least, let me try to show you. If you still feel so strongly about it a few weeks, then I’ll go back to the old teachings."

"We might not even have a few weeks, Miles. Not with the way this thing is shaping up, having said that, you haven’t done wrong by us yet, so I’ll give you the time to convince me."

"That's all I ask."

"Meantime, you need to talk to the staff before they walk out of here and leave the two of us to run this place on our own."

"I will, just as soon as you call that meeting like I asked."

Earl nodded and stood, scraping the chair against the wood floor. “Alright, we'll do it your way. Just don't say I didn’t warn you."

Miles nodded as watched as Earl left the room. He turned his attention back to the window, looking beyond the grumpy tan coloured cow which had wandered to the fence of its pen, and to the sky beyond, which was a brilliant and tranquil blue. Miles wondered if yet more chaos had been heaped upon the shoulders of the nations of the world. He certainly hoped so. Fear would win him the day, and fear would be the tool which ushered in a new era. Smiling and incredibly pleased with himself, he poured himself another cup of coffee and began to gather his thoughts ahead of the staff meeting.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON D.C

PYCROFT LED THE PRESIDENT towards the roof. Even though he was trained to ignore everything but the job at hand, even he was horrified by the brutality he had witnessed. He had seen friends - men and women who he knew well, people with families and children who he knew by name lying dead in the halls as those who assaulted the White House mercilessly cut through their defences. Holding the building now was a lost cause, meaning the only option was to flee. So far he had engaged and killed five of the attackers, all of them displaying the same traits of being almost impervious to bullets apart from headshots which seemed to keep them down. Running low on ammunition, Pycroft was desperate to get the President to safety.

"This way sir, keep low," Pycroft said as he cut towards the exit to the roof and the waiting chopper. Another explosion rocked the building, and for a second, Pycroft was certain the entire structure was about to collapse around them. Without thinking, Pycroft tackled the President to the ground and covered him. Dust and smoke lingered in the air, making breathing difficult.

"What the hell was that?" the president grunted from the ground as the rumbling and shaking subsided.

"Could be artillery, possibly explosive charges, who the hell knows that these people have brought with them. Either way, we need to get you out of here sir." Pycroft yelled as he once again helped the President back to his feet.

He paused by the door leading to the roof, checking his weapon was loaded whilst trying to ignore how few bullets he had left, Pycroft took a deep breath and opened the door.

He expected to see the pale white flat roof and the waiting helicopter. Instead, there was nothing. The entire wing of the white house had collapsed, smoke and fire billowing from the wreckage.

"My god, what have these people done," Fitzgerald muttered.

Pycroft couldn’t formulate an answer, and could only think about the loss of life to yet more of his colleagues and friends.

"We need to find another way out sir," Pycroft said, his cool exterior at last betraying him.

“Why would they do this?” Fitzgerald muttered.

“Same reason they locked us out of the bunker. They knew this was the secondary escape plan.”

"Where the hell do we go from here, Pycroft?"

For the second time in quick succession, the Secret Service agent had no answer. He would never give up, nor would he tell the President their chances of escape had narrowed significantly. He brought up a mental image of the layout of the White House as he tried to figure out an escape route, yet every one meant putting the President in significant danger. Just when he had given up all hope, his earpiece crackled to life. Through the static, Pycroft heard something which meant they might just have a chance.

"This way sir," he said, leading the President back the way they had come, past the zing of gunfire as it echoed through the building. Pycroft led them through the President’s private living quarters and out onto the terrace. The south lawn below was filled with police, fire trucks and soldiers who were working to try and take on the men who had stormed the building. From their vantage point, the devastation was plain to see. Smoke billowed from the collapsed section of the building and muffled explosions could be heard amid the gunfire and screams.

"What are we doing here, it’s not safe," the president screamed. Pycroft pushed him to his knees.

"Stay out of sight." Pycroft barked, pushing Fitzgerald to the ground.

He waited, knowing that if any of the men who had stormed the building made it out onto the terrace which ringed the upper floor, there would be no way to defend themselves or escape.

"What the hell are we waiting for, Pycroft?" The president snapped.

He was bloodied and dirty, his suit torn. Somehow it had shattered the illusion of him as a world leader. He was now just a frightened old man.

"Pycroft! We can’t stay here. What the hell are we waiting for?"

Pycroft pointed across the lawn. "That."

The helicopter was coming in low and fast, its nose dipped towards the ground, tail in the air. Painted jet black, Pycroft knew they would only have one chance to board.