The God Complex: The Book Of Alan, Destroyer Of Worlds

Chapter Nine

'I beg your pardon', said Susan.

As unbridled scenes of jubilation erupted around her, Susan strained to hear the reveller's response.

'It's all over S News. Abaddon has discovered the technology for mass space travel,' he laughed. 'We're all going into space!'

Susan shoved off the white bearded man's attempt to hug her. 'No, there must be some sort of mistake.'

'That was a neat trick though,' the reveller continued, 'what news alerts do you sign up to, to get updates so early.'

But before Susan could protest further with the man, he was swept up in an impromptu conga line.

She was mortified, in desperation she attempted to halt the celebrations. Climbing onto the nearest platform she screamed at the crowd.

'But it wasn't Abaddon, he's just taking credit for it. It was Alan! He did this as a miracle to prove to you his existence, halt that conga at once! The eternal torment of our souls is on the line.'

But it was all too late, across London she could hear car horns beeping and echoing waves of euphoria as the news spread.

Susan sat on the floor defeated and disheartened. She found her phone and read through Abaddon self-aggrandisement, fuming as she read.

Anger crumbled quickly into self-pity as she wallowed in her failure.

'If they only knew what awaited them, they wouldn't be cheering.'

How could she face Alan after this; after all the faith he had put in her; after all the chances he gave mankind? Surely there could be no more second chances, he would leave them to endless torment and it was all her fault. Because of her there would be no paradise, no hope of redemption.

No, because of Abaddon! Because of the endless selfishness of one man all hope for humanity was lost. How she despised him.

She picked herself up off the floor, too disheartened to dust herself off and shuffled despondent towards home.

As she paused to let the conga line pass, waiting by the exit was the same hooded figure, unmoving and as disinterested in the celebrations as she was.

Susan felt a shudder trickle down her spine as the figure walked purposely towards her and looked instinctively for anything she could use as a weapon, but as she drew closer, she noticed under the hood was a young woman, possibly still in her late teens. A shock of dyed pink hair protruded from the jet black hoodie as she approached.

'You know more than you let on. If you're still interested in getting your message across then maybe we can help each other.' She put a folded up piece of paper in Susan's hand and walked back towards the crowd. 'I know she'll be interested in talking to you.'

Susan held the paper tightly. 'I'm sorry, what? No, don't leave, I didn't catch your name?'

But she was already deep within the crowd and out of sight.

Susan's heart pounded as she scurried out of the park. When she was sure she was alone, she opened up the piece of paper.

'Lambeth Arches. 7pm. Ask for Justice.'

'That was somewhere near the old Waterloo station,' she thought, but it had been abandoned for years.

She was perplexed, the young woman couldn't possibly know about Alan, could she? Susan was hardly the type for clandestine meetings with sinister looking strangers, but in the face of total destruction at the hands of an enraged God, she quickly realised, she actually had nothing left to lose.