The Tower A Novel (Sanctus)

VII



The earth laughs in flowers

Ralph Waldo Emerson





106





Shepherd woke to the vibration and hum of an engine. He opened his eyes and found a dark-eyed angel staring down at him. Hevva’s

face instantly exploded into a smile; he smiled back and noticed that the nick in her ear was hidden behind a fresh plaster and

she was wearing different clothes. He was lying in the back of a jeep that was bouncing over very rough ground.

‘Hi,’ he croaked, his voice dry and raw.

‘Ah, the sleeping beauty awakes,’ Kinderman piped from the driver’s seat. ‘Just in time for our arrival.’

‘Arrival?’

‘Yes. We’re here.’

Shepherd tried to sit up and pain shot through his side. He reached down to discover thick bandages bound tightly across his

chest.

‘I’d take it easy if I were you. The bullet grazed your side pretty badly. Fortunately it hit a rib, which deflected it around

your body so it passed out the other side without causing too much damage. Your rib’s probably cracked, which is why it hurts so

much. Pretty apt though, don’t you think, being saved by a rib, considering where we’re headed?’

Shepherd struggled upright, feeling every bounce of the jeep jarring in his side like someone was repeatedly stabbing him.

Outside, the sun was hanging low in a burnt sky above a world bleached almost white; there was nothing to see but broken land and

brittle earth all around them. The only sign of life at all lay directly in front of them.

And what life it was.

The green shone in the sunlight like a bright jewel, deep and green, like a chunk of rainforest that had been dropped in the

middle of this nowhere. ‘How long have I been out?’

‘About twenty-four hours.’

Shepherd tried to process this fact along with the growing vision of lushness that was gradually filling the windshield. ‘You

drove all the way?’

Kinderman picked up a bottle of pills and rattled it. ‘Caffeine capsules. A lorry driver gave me some at the crossing into Iraq.

You missed quite a party back there. So many migrants are responding to the homing instinct now that they’ve effectively thrown

open the borders.’

The jeep hit another pothole, drawing a grunt of pain from Shepherd. ‘Here,’ Hevva said, handing him a lozenge from a different

bottle. ‘Place one under your tongue. It will take the pain away.’

He did as he was told. ‘She’s quite the nurse,’ Kinderman said. ‘She dressed your wound, then bandaged you up.’

Hevva shrugged. ‘I used to help Mama with her work. I don’t mind blood, I’m used to it.’

Shepherd felt the soothing numbness of the pill spreading through his body, melting away his discomfort. Kinderman spotted a track

leading into the heart of the green and headed for it. Hundreds of different tyre marks converged on the spot, showing that many

people had travelled this way before. There was a sign by the side of the road with an arrow painted on it pointing onwards into

the heart of the jungle. The road followed the contours of the land, through groves of young palm trees and ferns that grew so

thick it became harder and harder to see the way ahead.

They had been driving for almost ten minutes when they saw the first people. They were down by the bank of a river, washing

clothes in the clear water, their children playing in the shallows. A cluster of tents were set up a little way back from the bank

with more laundry drying on lines stretched out between them. One of the people looked up as they passed and raised an arm in

greeting. Hevva waved back.

They followed the track along the side of the river, more arrows urging them forward. More buildings emerged from the green,

mostly huts made from salvage, until they rounded a final bend and saw what looked like a small town, the outskirts made up of the

same temporary buildings they had seen on their way in. At the heart of it were several solid-looking buildings constructed around

a pool with a fountain of water at its centre.

‘It’s pretty,’ Hevva said, watching the rainbows drift down in the spray.

‘It’s paradise,’ Kinderman said, easing the jeep to a stop by the largest of the buildings. He switched the engine off and got

out. Shepherd did the same, his whole body aching. He took a deep breath of the thick, perfumed air and groaned quietly as his

ribs complained. There was something primordial about the place, almost womb-like with the shushing sound of the water and the

moist, warm air all around them. It was so verdant and alive.

‘Welcome.’

They turned to see two figures emerging from the door of one of the main buildings. The man was tall and looked Iraqi, the woman

was slight with blonde hair pulled into a ponytail and eyes as green as the backdrop. She waddled as she moved towards them, her

hands bracing her back against the counterweight of her ripe belly.

Shepherd stared at her, her American accent triggering a memory. ‘You’re Liv Adamsen,’ he said.

She turned the blaze of her green eyes on him. ‘That’s right. Do I know you?’

He shook his head, slightly embarrassed that he had spoken her name out loud. ‘Your name cropped up in an investigation I was

involved with. You were listed as a missing person.’

She smiled. ‘Well, I guess you found me, Mr … ?’ She held her hand out.

‘Shepherd. Joe Shepherd.’ He shook her hand. ‘This is Dr Kinderman.’

‘Bill,’ he corrected.

Liv shook his hand. ‘I’ve heard of you.’

Kinderman smiled and cocked his head to the side. ‘Then you really should get out more.’

‘And this is Hevva,’ Shepherd said.

Hevva stepped forward and held up her hand, but instead of shaking Liv’s she placed it flat on her tummy. She pressed her fingers

gently in at the sides then raised her left hand and did the same on the other. Her face turned serious. ‘When’s the baby due?’

she asked in the quiet, grown-up way she had about her.

‘Not for another month.’

Hevva continued to run her hands over the dome of Liv’s belly, her frown deepening. If any other stranger had done this it would

have seemed like a gross intrusion but because it was this serious, small girl, somehow it seemed OK. She finished her examination

and looked up at Liv, shaking her head slowly.

‘The baby’s coming now,’ she said.





107





Sweat pricked his skin, the salt irritating the ritual wounds hidden beneath his shirt as warm air blew through the open taxi

window.

The Novus Sanctus was tired after the flight and the heat was making him more so. But there would be no chance for sleep, there

was too much to do and so little time. He checked his phone, tapping the icon to bring the countdown up on its screen. Tonight.

Everything would happen tonight.

He had spent the long flight poring over the latest FBI reports, leaked to him as soon as they were updated. They didn’t tell him

much he didn’t already know but the appearance of the Hubble images on the mala.org website had. They made him realize that it

was too late now to make an example of Dr Kinderman. There was something happening out in the desert, something momentous that was

tied in to the myths and beliefs of the old enemy, the Mala.

He had studied their legends and beliefs until he knew all their heresies. He was aware of the prophecy they clung to, predicting

their return to power. It had always seemed fanciful to him before, but not any more, not now the established Church had been so

discredited and the holy bastion at Ruin had fallen. They were preparing for their new beginning out in the desert, in their new

Eden – the end of days. But the days of the true Church were not over yet, not while faithful servants of the true God like

himself, and all the others like him, were ready to take up the sword.

The taxi pulled up in the middle of the street and he told the driver to wait. He would not be long and he had a helicopter to

catch that would fly him into Iraq for the final part of his journey. He pressed one of the bells at the side of the door and

waited. It was even hotter on the street and the cuts on his skin had become distinctly uncomfortable. But it would not be long

before all earthly concerns were behind him and he would take his place with the martyrs at God’s right hand. He had spent his

life gazing up into heaven and imagining what it would be like, and soon he would be there.

A lock sounded inside the door and it opened wide enough for a round, moon-like face to look out. Restless, bloodshot eyes

surveyed the street for a few seconds then the door opened a little wider to let the Sanctus pass.





108





Liv’s waters broke an hour after dusk.

She was walking by the edge of the central pool, trying to cool down a little after the heat of the day when she felt a small pop

followed by an incredible, breath-snatching pain. Liquid gushed down her thighs as she crumpled to the ground, ending up on all

fours, trying to breathe and calling out for help between breaths.

People came running and she was helped up and towards the main building.

‘No,’ she said, feeling a sudden panic as the yawning door approached. ‘I don’t want to be inside. I want to stay out here.’

Dr Giambanco appeared. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We’ll get you lying down and take a look at you.’

‘I don’t want to lie down.’

‘I need to examine you.’

‘Then bring a bed outside – it’s cooler out here.’

Panic continued to flutter madly in her chest. She couldn’t bear the idea of being confined, not now. There was a sail strung up

for shade over a table on the beach area by the pool. ‘I want to go there,’ she said, walking stiffly towards it. She had a

sudden flashback to a natural birth she’d once witnessed a lifetime ago when she was writing a story. Her panic rose a few

notches higher as she recalled the screaming agony of it all.

I’m going to be fine – she said to herself – women have been giving birth for ever. It’s just pain – and you get a baby at

the end of it.

She reached the table and lowered herself onto one of the benches, gritting her teeth against the pain that shot up her back. It

hurt so much already and yet it had only just started. She couldn’t imagine how it could possibly get any worse and the thought

that it would frightened her.

‘Better to walk around,’ said a small voice at her side. She turned, and saw the little girl who had arrived that afternoon.

‘It helps the baby come and stops your back hurting so much.’

Liv stared at her like she was a small angel sent to look after her. ‘How did you know the baby was coming?’

Hevva shrugged. ‘I’ve seen a lot of babies being born.’

‘Her mother was a midwife.’ Liv looked up and saw the man the girl had arrived with.

‘Do you mind if she stays nearby?’ she asked him, smiling down at the girl. ‘Can you stay? I’m a bit scared and I think you

might make me brave.’

The girl nodded, looking up at her father for approval.

‘If you want,’ the man said. ‘I’ll stay close by – in case you need me.’

More people arrived carrying a mattress and sheets taken from one of the dorms inside the building. All around there was a hum of

activity as stakes were found and driven in the ground to hold up privacy screens while others brought battery-powered lights on

stands and set them up. They laid the mattress on the table and the doctor took Liv’s arm. ‘Let’s get you up here and take a

look at you,’ he said. But Liv didn’t hear him as sudden pain exploded inside her blotting everything else out.





109





Shepherd walked away feeling anxious.

After what had happened at Göbekli Tepe he didn’t like letting Hevva out of his sight. They had only just arrived here: everybody

had been very kind and welcoming, but even so. He stopped by the water’s edge, close enough for comfort but far enough so that

the hiss of the fountain drowned out some of the noise coming from the makeshift maternity ward.

The stars were out already, millions of points of light speckling the night. He turned to face east where Taurus was rising and

saw the new star shining between Zeta Tauri and Nath. He’d missed it the night before because he’d been sleeping like a dead man

in the back of a moving car. It was odd seeing a new thing in something so familiar.

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’

Kinderman joined him, his eyes tilted up to the same patch of sky. ‘I thought you were asleep.’

‘After all those caffeine pills, chance would be a fine thing. Besides, I wouldn’t miss this for anything.’

Shepherd looked back up at the bright new speck in the sky. ‘Miss what – what did Hubble see exactly?’

‘What do you think it saw?’

‘I don’t know. A Dark Star maybe?’

‘Now wouldn’t that be something! Interesting that you naturally assume it has to be something destructive.’

‘It’s not an assumption, it’s based on the evidence of what I’ve seen. And you did write “end of days” in your diary.’

‘Ah yes, so I did. You’re being very literal though, don’t you think? You’re ignoring the universal law that tells us energy

never dies, it just turns into something else. Therefore, the end of one thing must also be the beginning of another. In point of

fact you already know what Hubble saw, because you have seen it for yourself.’ Shepherd thought back through all the things he

had come across since the investigation had begun but nothing came to mind that might answer his question. ‘You might want to

start with the one thing you are sure is connected to the question,’ Kinderman prompted, ever the teacher.

‘The countdown?’

‘Exactly. Now in order to answer your own question you need to take a tip from Marcus Aurelius and ask: “what is it of itself?”

– and don’t fall into your usual trap of making assumptions.’

Shepherd thought hard. What was a countdown? It was a steadily reducing measure of time, a prelude to something, like the start of

a race or the launch of a rocket. Or was it? Kinderman’s question seemed to suggest it wasn’t the prelude to anything at all –

it was actually the thing itself.

‘The countdown is what Hubble saw.’

‘Bravo, Agent Shepherd.’

Shepherd reached into his pocket, looking for his phone but his hand found something else. He pulled out the small, hard object –

the woman’s small gun.

Shepherd dropped it back into the jacket and found his phone in another pocket. The countdown was still running, the numbers now

almost at zero.

‘Not long now,’ Kinderman said, glancing at the screen.

Shepherd shook his head, confused all over again. ‘Not long to what? If the countdown is the thing itself, then what can come

after.’

‘I already told you,’ Kinderman said, ‘a new beginning. Let me try and frame it a little. We are all effectively made of

stardust: same atomic material, same physical properties, all linked by an energy and common origin, whether you call it faith or

physics. For nearly fourteen billion years the universe has been expanding, from the Big Bang onwards, always heading out, always

seeking the new. Everything in the universe has mirrored this inherent nature, stars, planets, even humans. As a species we have

spread, conquered, always looking beyond what we already have to what we might attain, even if we risk destroying ourselves in the

process: it runs through everything, from an overreaching emperor destroying his empire for the sake of one more conquered land,

to the happily married family man risking his happiness for the sake of an affair. Ours is a destructive nature, often a violent

one, but it’s not really our fault, we are merely exhibiting the same nature as everything else, the universal urge to expand and

ultimately pull ourselves apart.

‘In many ways the Hubble project was no different. We have astonishing levels of child poverty on our planet and there are

species beneath the deep oceans we have never laid eyes on. Yet rather than look inward so that we might know ourselves we think

the answers always lie out there somewhere, past the edge of what we can see. I was as guilty of it as any. Through Hubble I was

able to see further than any man had ever done before. I was gazing upon the ultimate horizon, the one beyond which nothing

existed – except maybe God, if that’s the way your beliefs lie – taking measurements of the very first things ever created at

the instant of the Big Bang.

‘I had been observing radiation and light at the very edge of the universe, taking measurements of its speed and rate of

expansion. Then, just over eight months ago, there was a change. I couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing, it was so –

immense. At first I thought I must have made a mistake so I asked Professor Douglas to check what I was seeing and he concurred.

The universe, the constantly expanding universe that has been exploding outwards at ever-increasing speeds since the dawn of time,

was slowing down.

‘We decided to keep our findings to ourselves, partly to prevent unnecessary hysteria and speculation and partly to buy ourselves

time to try and work out what was happening. At about the same time we both started getting the postcards, which suggested someone

was monitoring our work. This made us play our cards even closer to our chest.

‘We classified the data and kept monitoring the furthest edge of the universe as it continued to slow. And the more things slowed

down on the furthest edge of space the more we noticed things changing here on Earth. All these migrations of people heading home,

the birds flying to nesting grounds out of season, this increasing urge to head back to a point of origin, it’s all just an echo

of the changing universe. So there is no great conspiracy or alien mind control at work. Nor is it the harbinger of some terrible

divine judgement in the shape of God’s wrath or a rogue planet on a collision course with Earth. It is merely the linked

consciousness and impulses that drive us all, fuelled by the energy of the universe, once rushing out to ultimately tear itself

apart, now rushing inwards, towards where it originally came from. Back home. To some this is the place they were born, to others

it is a person rather than a place, and to others it is somewhere much further back, the place we originally came from as a

species.’ He opened his arms and gestured at the garden. ‘Eden.’





110





Liv felt she was drowning in pain.

‘There’s something wrong. You’re almost ten centimetres dilated already and the head is presenting. This baby should be coming.

’ Dr Giambanco looked up from beneath the sheet draped over Liv’s legs. ‘Try pushing now.’

Liv was lying on the bed, sweat sheening her skin. She bore down, focusing her energy on her pelvic floor like she had once

written about. The pain inside was so intense and total that it literally took her breath away. ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘It hurts

too much.’

She felt the girl’s small hand grip hers, surprisingly strong for such a tiny thing. ‘Can I see?’ she asked.

Liv nodded, not caring who looked so long as they could make the pain go away. Hevva moved to the bottom of the bed, squirting

antiseptic gel on her hands as she went. She rubbed it between her fingers and worked it to the tips in a way that spoke of much

practice, then she pressed one hand on Liv’s tummy and swept the other round the top of the baby’s head. ‘It’s a stargazer,’

she said. ‘It’s facing up instead of down. That’s why it’s hard to push out. The head is bending the wrong way so when you

push it just gets stuck.’

Dr Giambanco peered around Hevva’s narrow shoulders. ‘I think she’s right. We might have to do an emergency C-section.’

Liv felt sick at the thought, but the pain was so all encompassing she would do almost anything to make it stop.

‘I could try and turn it,’ Hevva said. ‘My hands are small. I’ve done it before.’

The doctor shook his head. ‘I don’t think we should risk –’

‘Yes,’ Liv cut in. ‘Let her try.’

Dr Giambanco nodded and moved aside.

‘Could you push against the leg,’ Hevva said, her serious face angled up at the doctor. ‘And you,’ she turned to the other

medic, ‘you push against the other, but only when I say.’

She turned back to Liv, squirting more gel on her hands, making them as slippery as she could while she waited for the next

contraction. Time stretched and the sounds of the night and rush of the fountain filled it.

Liv breathed. Tried to relax, then the burn of the pain started rising again.

‘Now. Push now,’ Hevva said and everybody obeyed. Then her hands slid forward and around the crown of the baby’s head.

The numbers on Shepherd’s phone continued their steady tick down. ‘What do you think will happen when it hits zero?’

‘Nothing, at least not immediately. I think the changes we have already felt and witnessed will continue. The stardust in

everything will respond in exactly the same way as before, only the effect will be different. I imagine we will no longer seek to

conquer and discover, but become more reflective instead, our eyes will turn inward, just as Hubble has turned its gaze towards

the Earth. I hope that after an entire history blighted by war and violence – manifestations of the destructive imperatives of an

expansive universe – we can look forward to an equally long period of peace and calm.

‘On a fundamental level, everything is bound to change: human nature, politics, science, even religion. The end of days may be

upon us, but only the end of the old days, the new ones will number the same as those that have gone before as the universe

contracts – fourteen billion years, the exact same time frame as its expansion.’

The number on Shepherd’s phone got smaller and he could almost feel a calm flowing from it. Smaller was good. Smaller was simpler

and much more comforting somehow than the concept of the infinite.

A noise made him look up, the sound of a diesel engine, approaching low and heavy like a truck. It got louder and the wash of

headlamps cut through the trees, bouncing up and down as the wheels caught the ruts in the road. It swung directly towards them,

the light blinding them, before slowing to a stop behind the parked jeep.

The engine shuddered to a standstill and silence flooded back. The rear canvas flaps of the truck peeled back and people started

to drop to the ground, stretching their backs and looking in wonder at their new surroundings.

‘More people answering the siren call of the changing universe,’ Kinderman said. ‘And just in time too.’

Shepherd looked down at the countdown again just as the numbers tumbled to zero and immediately started to build again with a

minus sign in front. At the same moment two things happened: the ambient light levels jumped slightly as all the stars became a

little brighter; and a deep, almost animal cry split the night as Liv gave one long, final push. Then there was the tiny mewl of

newborn.