The Doomsday Prophecy. Scott Mariani
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‘You look a little different in that outfit,’ Ben said.
‘I didn’t think you’d come, sir. Glad you could make it. I’ve been calling you for days.’
‘I got your message,’ Ben said. ‘And it’s Ben, not sir.’
‘It’s good to see you, Ben.’
‘Good to see you too.’ Ben clapped Charlie affectionately on the shoulder.
‘So how’ve you been?’ Charlie asked. ‘How are things?’
‘It’s been a while,’ Ben replied, evading the question.
‘Five years, give or take.’
‘Congratulations on your marriage. I’m pleased for you.’
‘Thanks. We’re very happy.’
‘Nice place you’ve got here.’
‘This?’ Charlie swept his arm across the horizon, at the house and the neatly tended acres. ‘You must be kidding. This belongs to Rhonda’s folks. They’re the ones paying for this do. You know how it is – only daughter and all. A bit over the top, between us. All about flaunting their money. If it was up to Rhonda and me, it would have been the local registry office and then off to the nearest pub.’ He smiled warmly. ‘So what about you, Ben? Did you ever take the plunge?’
‘Plunge?’
‘You know – normal life, marriage, kids, all that kind of stuff.’
‘Oh.’ Ben hesitated. What the hell. There was no point pretending. ‘I did get married,’ he said quietly.
Charlie’s eyes lit up. ‘Great, man. Fantastic. When did that happen?’
Ben paused again. ‘January.’
Charlie looked around. ‘Have you brought her with you?’
‘She’s not here,’ Ben said.
‘That’s a real shame,’ Charlie said, disappointed. ‘I’d love to meet her.’
‘She’s gone,’ Ben said.
Charlie frowned, confused. ‘You mean she was here, but she left?’
‘No. I mean she’s dead.’ It came out more abruptly than Ben had meant. Still hard to say it.
Charlie blanched. He looked down at his feet and was quiet for a few seconds. ‘When?’ he breathed.
‘Five months ago. Not long after we married.’
‘Jesus. I don’t know what to say.’
‘You don’t have to say anything.’
‘How are you?’ Charlie said awkwardly. ‘I mean, how are you handling it?’
Ben shrugged. ‘I have good days and bad days.’ The cold touch of the Browning’s muzzle against his brow was still a fresh memory.
‘What happened?’ Charlie asked after another long silence.
‘I don’t really want to talk about it.’
Charlie looked pained. ‘Let me get you a drink. Shit, this is terrible. I was going to ask you something, but now I don’t –’
‘It’s fine. Ask. What is it?’
‘Let’s talk in private. See if we can find somewhere quiet.’
Ben followed him across the lawn to the marquee, through the crowds of people talking and sipping champagne. ‘A lot of guests,’ he commented.
‘Mostly Rhonda’s side,’ Charlie said. ‘I hardly know anybody, outside of the regiment. And Rhonda didn’t want army people here.’ He rolled his eyes.
‘That’s your brother over there, isn’t it?’
Charlie stared at him in amazement. ‘It must be seven years since you last saw Vince. And he doesn’t even look anything like me. How the hell did you recognise him?’
‘I never forget a face,’ Ben said with a smile.
‘You certainly don’t.’
By the marquee, a waiter was offering drinks from a silver tray on a table. He handed Ben and Charlie a glass of champagne each.
Ben shook his head and pointed. ‘The bottle.’
The waiter stared for a second, then set down the glasses, took a fresh bottle from the ice and passed it over. Ben grabbed it with one hand and scooped up a couple of crystal champagne flutes with the other. He and Charlie walked away from the throng and the chatter. He sensed that Charlie didn’t want anyone listening to what he had to say.
They sat on the steps of a gazebo, a little way from the reception. Ben popped open the bottle and poured them each a glass.
‘You’re sure you’re OK with this?’ Charlie said nervously. ‘I mean, under the circumstances –’
Ben handed him a glass and took a long drink from his own. ‘I’m listening,’ he said. ‘Go ahead.’
Charlie nodded. He took a deep breath and then came straight out with it. ‘I’ve got some problems, Ben.’
‘What kind of problems?’
‘Nothing like that,’ Charlie said, catching his look. ‘Like I said, Rhonda and I are happy together, everything’s cool in that department.’
‘So is it money?’
In the distance, the band started up a version of String of Pearls.
Charlie made a resigned gesture. ‘What else? I’m out of work.’
‘You left the regiment?’
‘Just over a year ago. Fourteen months. Rhonda wanted me out. She was scared I’d get myself killed in Afghanistan or somewhere.’
‘That’s fairly understandable.’
‘Well, it nearly did happen. More than once. So, what the hell, it’s civvy street for me now. Problem is, I’m no damn use in it. I can’t hold down a job. I’ve had four since I left.’
‘It’s a common problem,’ Ben said. ‘Hard to adapt, after the things we’ve seen and done.’
Charlie took a long drink of champagne. Ben reached for the bottle and topped up his glass. ‘We bought a house a while ago,’ Charlie went on. ‘Just a small place, but you know what property prices are, and this is hardly the cheapest part of the country. Even a bloody cottage is worth half a mil these days. Rhonda’s folks put up a deposit for us as an engagement gift, but we still can hardly keep up with the mortgage payments. It’s killing me. I’m just drowning. I don’t know what I’m going to do.’
‘What about Rhonda? Does she work?’
‘For an aid charity. It doesn’t pay much.’
‘Plenty of desk jobs in the army. Why don’t you apply?’
Charlie shook his head. ‘They’d go crazy if I went anywhere near that again. Scared I’d be tempted back into active service. God knows I probably would be, too. Rhonda’s dad made his money selling mobile ringtones. Wants me to go and work for him. He’s putting a lot of pressure on me. The whole family is. I mean, fucking ringtones. Can you imagine?’
Ben smiled. ‘Maybe you should go for it. Sounds cushy – and lucrative. And safer than getting shot at.’
‘I