And the people of Fukuoka stood upon the sand of the Sea of Genkai and saw a beast rise up out of the bubbling waters. He was a blasphemy of a man, twisted and serpentine with grievous wounds scarring his fierce face. The beast was like unto a dragon, a titan of lacquered plate and hulking muscle and the people called him Ao Guang. His feet were as the feet of a bear, his tail was as the tail of a scorpion, and his mouth as the mouth of a lion from which issued a shrieking roar. They cried to their gods, their ancestors, and their Tenno to save them from his wrath but salvation was not to be theirs.
The beast opened his mouth in blasphemy against their gods and ancestors, their Tenno, his kingdom, and those that dwelt within its boundaries. The people of Nippon were forsaken and forgotten by the gods. Their Tenno was cursed as were his people for their evil had awakened the beast from the pit and into perdition would he drag all existence. They had become drunk on the blood of many peoples, rich and powerful through the sacrifice of Asia, living deliciously and committing fornication. Their sins had sown a vengeance waiting to be reaped and the gods had chosen the beast to be their holy wrath. All they knew, all they held dear was this day forfeit. Upon the pyres would all burn and all that would remain of their once great empire would be ash.

And the beast’s word was made truth and the city of Fukuoka fell into ruin and its people were consumed by the beast.

***

Standing atop the turquoise crown of the Eastern Columbia Building, Chris’ somber eyes searched the clear morning horizon. The calm was unnerving. Over the past several weeks Donner had had premonitions of pain and death. Their origin was unknown but instinctively he was drawn to the west. A part of him wished to turn away afraid of glimpsing what waited past the endless sea. Even now he could hear them across the Pacific, those faint disembodied pleas that begged his attention.

Without warning a shrill, piercing pain sliced through his skull. Donner gripped the side of his head and closed his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth and going rigid. Images of Chipilly Ridge flashed in between the agonizing throbs. Carnage and blood. Pale faces. The taste of iron accompanied by the scent of brimstone. Hands reached for him from No Man’s Land before drowning in eternal night.

“Save us,” they beseeched.

Leaden, malignant clouds gathered in the firmament. Chris struggled to stop the pounding in his head, his hand trembling. The tremors spread through his body. He felt weak, disoriented. The world wobbled off its axis. Donner swore he would plummet into the stormy sky. His legs quavered and Chris nearly staggered off the edge of the building before falling to his knees. Artillery fire boomed loud as thunder shaking the building beneath him. With great effort, Chris opened his eyes to see the light go out of the heavens as the sun crashed to Earth. It struck with great muted force just beyond the ecliptic. A grievous pillar of flame and smoke ascended into the sky followed by a belated roar over that sea of glass. Fire spread across the expanse until it reached the shores consuming forest and grass and flesh, the inferno rushing hellishly toward city limits. Smoke like that of a great furnace poured through the city blocks, an acrid fog of torment spilling through the streets and covering everything in choking fumes. Chris gagged and coughed, covering his eyes to protect them from the burning smoke that overtook everything. A great wind blew from the east scattering part of the fog revealing the ruins of an ancient city in the throes of a battle, numerous structures collapsing in flame. Shadows fled in panic. The whole of the world was charred and blackened. This was not Los Angeles.

“What city is this?” Chris yelled to the heavens.

Explosions caused the cratered earth to convulse cracking open the brittle crust. Numerous souls fell shrieking into the crevices. A final deafening bang knocked Chris back. Hyperventilating, Donner faded in and out of consciousness. Spots of light danced before his eyes.

Struggling to get up, Chris saw him. He saw Death emerge from the ashes, a dragon with great power over the earth, power to kill with war, and with hunger, and with flame; a true beast who served as the font of a river of blood. He was Holocaust made flesh.

In his wake, Chris beheld the souls of them that were slain, thousands crippled and maimed, wounded and suffering, naked and broken, crying out to him.

Chris was paralyzed with fear. It was coming. Death. He could see it rear up from across the gulf. It saw him. It was coming. He closed his eyes tightly, struggling to breathe.

And then all went still. He opened his eyes to see peaceful Los Angeles buzzing beneath him again. Chris released a held breath, his heartbeat slowing. He sobbed there on the rooftop. The imagery was getting worse. It was all so real.

“What does it mean?” he asked plaintively. No answer came.

Donner pushed the premonition aside to pull himself together. Whatever the dream meant it would have to wait. He had an engagement to keep.

***

FDR’s visit to Los Angeles proved a major event for the metropolis. Every school and business had been shut down so that the city’s population could turn out to joyously welcome their leader and turn out they did in the thousands swelling the boulevards with their innumerable mass. Streamers and flags gaily decked the streets for a parade given in the president’s honor with confetti scattered about like the rain of some multi-colored monsoon. The rapturous cheers of the crowds reverberated through the city blocks.

Among those who greeted the president on his arrival was Cecil B. DeMille, the acclaimed film director who allowed FDR to drive his new car to the Coliseum for the speech he was expected to give at today’s ceremony. The president enjoyed his jaunt through the streets of Los Angeles, slowing to wave at the masses he passed.

Meanwhile inside the Coliseum, thousands waited anxiously for his appearance. They also waited for the guest of honor.

Over the past several days, FDR had released radio broadcasts and newspaper articles announcing his planned visit to the west coast hoping that the Okie Angel would hear of his coming and accept his invitation. Roosevelt wanted to meet the man that had captured America’s attention.

With the expectation of Donner’s appearance, tickets had sold out in record time. Scalpers were able to sell tickets for ten times their worth with ease. Even though the stadium was packed, the throngs of people outside were even larger. Security had a hard time clearing a path for the president, his motorcade moving slowly through the throng to the entrance. Everyone wanted to catch a glimpse of this historic meeting.

Within the Coliseum, light towers blazed down on the field like oversized torches. A large platform had been erected of simple steel girders with dozens of seats to the rear of a wood podium upon which were set up scores of microphones. FDR gripped the podium for support, smiling impishly for the people while privately speaking to numerous important individuals as they took their seats behind him.

“Are you sure he’s coming?” Harry Hopkins, one of Roosevelt’s distressed advisors, asked as he passed a copy of the president’s speech.

“Of course he’s coming,” Roosevelt scoffed self-assuredly like a typical Locust Valley lockjaw through stiff lips and clenched, jutted jaw. “Great personalities can’t resist one another.”

“Or the limelight,” Howard Hughes added in passing, slapping FDR lightly on the shoulder in salutation before taking his seat.

Harry shook his frazzled head. “I’m still not convinced. This could be one major public relations faux pas.”

“Come on, Harry. Even the humblest man seeks recognition. He’ll come. Who’d miss a show like this?”

“There he is,” a faint voice yelled. The crowd cheered as Chris descended from the sky, his glory lighting the inner stadium like a second sun.

“That’s what I call an entrance,” FDR remarked with a grin as Chris softly landed beside the president, the brilliance of his aura dissipating to a mere glow. “Your champion has arrived,” Roosevelt announced to great fanfare before leaning over to offer a welcoming hand, his steel leg braces squeaking as he did so. “Good day to you, sir,” he said, barely audible over the adulation of the people in the stands. Donner eyed the president wearily before shaking. Roosevelt noticed the man’s hesitation. “Something wrong?”

“It’s just that…I didn’t know you wore leg braces.”

“Many don’t. It tends to foul my image. When people see the braces they ask what they can do for me rather than what I can do for them. No politician can have that,” Roosevelt joked before humorously chastising, “And don’t even think of undoing the miracle God has wrought on me. It took the Almighty himself to teach me humility and I cannot allow you to undo that important lesson. You have already done so much for this country that it would be selfish of me to make a demand for a blessing that so many others are far more entitled to. Besides, sometimes it is our limitations that make us great. No my boy, today is your day. Today you receive your due.”

Chris frowned. “I didn’t want any press or fanfare.”

“But you’ve earned it.”

Chris glanced at the cheering multitude dumbstruck by the mass of humanity, his skin tingling from the palpable excitement that surrounded him. “I didn’t know so many people lived in Los Angeles.”

“And they’re all here for you. You’ve given this country something to believe in again. Time to accept your reward.” FDR raised his hand and the crowd settled down.

“Governor Merriam, citizens of Los Angeles, and you, mysterious stranger, who has brought us here today. We are here to pay tribute to you and the public service you have wrought for our country.

“Since the permanent formation of our Government under the Constitution, most of the periods of crisis in our history have related to our domestic affairs. Fortunately, only one of these—the War Between the States—ever threatened our national unity. But a new threat emerged six years ago, a threat to the very fabric of our nation. The Great Depression. Not a single citizen has been left untouched. Wealth has vanished. Homes have been lost. Crops have withered to dust.

“An old English judge once said: ‘Necessitous men are not free men.’ Liberty requires opportunity to make a living - a living decent according to the standard of the time, a living which gives man not only enough to live by, but something to live for.

“Today we stand committed to the proposition that freedom is no half-and-half affair. If the average citizen wishes for a future, then he must stand and fight for it.”

Roosevelt said to Chris, “Your brave and clear actions, to which I heartily subscribe, sets forth that every man in a modern civilization has certain inescapable obligations which includes aiding those overtaken by disaster.

“Charity in the true spirit of that grand old word, for charity literally translated from the original means love, the love that understands, that does not merely share the wealth of the giver, but in true sympathy and wisdom helps men to help themselves.

“There is a mysterious cycle in human events. To some generations much is given. Of other generations, much is expected. This generation of Americans has a rendezvous with destiny and you,” Roosevelt stated with conviction, turning to Chris, “I believe, are a harbinger of the greatness that awaits us. While others would squander great power, you take upon yourself the mantle of responsibility for all mankind. How much we have to learn from you.”

Roosevelt’s attention returned to the rapt crowd. “In this world of ours in other lands, there are some people, who, in times past, have lived and fought for freedom, and seem to have grown too weary to carry on the fight. They have sold their heritage of freedom for the illusion of a living. They have yielded their democracy.

“Sir,” Roosevelt remarked to Chris, “I believe in my heart that your success has stirred their ancient hope. They begin to know that here in America we are waging a great and successful war. It is not alone a war against want and destitution and economic demoralization. It is more than that; it is a war for the survival of possibility. We are fighting to save a great and precious ideal for ourselves and for the world.

“I dare say that sacrifice creates hope. I might go further and suggest to you that hope begets possibility. You, sir, are a shining symbol of that belief.

“The people of the United States are proud of you. The forgotten man is once more found. Your inspiration reverberates throughout every one of the forty-eight states. They know that poverty or distress of others in a community affects them as well and that the actions of one can turn even the greatest tide.

“That is why I congratulate you who have helped to re-establish hope and on behalf of the Nation say to you, well done.”

The crowd erupted in thunderous applause as Harry Hopkins brought forward a slim walnut case that he relinquished to FDR who opened the box and turned to Donner to bestow on him the Congressional Gold Medal. Chris meekly accepted the award.

“Thank you,” Chris graciously offered to those in attendance, his humble reply lost in the tumult.

From the celebratory wings, one of FDR’s aides hurried forward. He had to lean into the president’s ear for Roosevelt to hear him. “Mr. President. The Japanese ambassador requests an audience.”

Roosevelt attempted to waive him off. “It can wait.”

“Pardon me, sir, but I don’t think it can. He is very adamant. He also requests an audience with him.” The aide gestured toward Chris.

FDR readjusted his grip on the podium to turn to face the aide. “What is this about?”

“The ambassador says he will only speak to the two of you. He says it is a matter of national security”

Roosevelt sighed and told Chris, “I’m sorry, but I guess we’re going to have to cut the festivities short.”

***

Hirosi Saito, Japanese Ambassador to the United States, nervously waited in the corridor with an adjutant. When he saw Chris and FDR approaching with a detachment of security, the ambassador hurried to meet them.

“Ambassador Saito. How may I help you?” FDR asked from his wheelchair.

Saito’s attention was focused solely on Chris. He bowed to show his deep respect for Donner. “Nippon-koku is threatened,” he revealed.

Roosevelt frowned. “How is it threatened?”

Tears filled Saito’s eyes as his face tightened. “Kyoto has fallen. Millions are dead. It is a massacre. Our spiritual city…It has fallen and become the realm of a great devil.”

FDR’s face belied confusion as did those accompanying him. “What are you talking about?”

“Something has come to our lands. Something evil. He kills all he sees, renders the land barren. We cannot stop him. Already he rampages north toward Tokyo, a great dragon.”

“Dragon,” Chris murmured.

Saito gripped Donner’s wrist. “The Tenno has sent me to speak with you. Word of your acts has spread to his divine ears of your great power. He believes you may be capable of stopping this threat. He offers you whatever you ask in exchange for his people’s lives.” The ambassador’s lip quivered when Chris attempted to pull away. “Please. You must save us. Only you can stop him.”

***

Akkad’s jaws hung open in wicked glee as he peered at the crude orange hologram of the Earth. A dot was making rapid progress across the globe. That dot was the Therian’s proxy and Akkad knew exactly where it was headed.

“At last,” the daimōn hissed, a foul chittering following soon after.

Next Chapter: Chapter 24