The Digger's Rest

by K. Patrick Malone

  Simon and the old man managed to get Mitch to his room, but he was heavy so Simon tried something he’d never done before, and wasn’t sure he could. “Rise,” he commanded the unconscious body and it did. They only had to guide it back to the room. When they got there, they put Jack into a chair and Mitch on the bed. The old man looked at Simon, shaking his head.

  “I am too old and thou art too young,” he said with sad resignation in his voice.

  “We can’t give up,” Simon shouted, pacing back and forth across the floor.

  “I don’t know what else I can do. His injuries are beyond our strength to restore,” the old man said, sitting down and putting his head in his hands.

  “What about Gayle?”

  “She’s a woman. A woman will not do to give life to other than to her own kin,” the old man answered. Simon saw Jack out of the corner of his eye, walked over and waved his hand in front of his face. “Awake!”

  When Jack opened his eyes, Simon was kneeling before him. “He’s dying,” Simon said, pointing to the bed. Jack looked over. His color was more bloodless and ashen than before; his lips completely blue.

  The old man looked up and knew what Simon wanted to do, but he would even go him one better. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black root and his knife and went over to Jack. Jack looked to Simon, fear in his eyes. “Don’t be afraid,” Simon said and took his hand.

  The old man unbuttoned Jack’s shirt, exposing his chest. He sliced the root and gave it to Simon. Simon took the root and bled on it from his wrist then put it over Jack’s heart. “Heal,” they both commanded at the same time. Jack startled from the rush of fresh blood through his veins, color instantly shooting back into his face.

  “What the fuck?” Jack said, swooning from the new blood rapidly shooting through his veins.

  “We need you to keep him alive, Dr. Edgeworth,” Simon said urgently. “We need your blood.”

  “He is still weak and very ill,” the old man said to Simon. “It will kill him if we do this.”

  Simon looked into Jack’s eyes, begging him without words.

  The only thought that came to Jack’s mind was of when they were wheeling him through that long white hallway, feeling Mitch’s hand take his, looking into those green feline like eyes and hearing him say, “I love you, Jack.”

  “Do whatever you have to,” Jack said in a tone that left no room for argument.

  Simon and the old man pushed the chair over to the bed and took Jack’s wrist, putting the knife in his other hand. Simon showed Jack the cut in his wrist as did the old man, showing him what he needed to do.

  Jack took the knife, looking at his broken boy the way he had in that bathroom so many years ago and said to him, tears running down his cheeks “I love you, too,” and pierced his vein, letting the blood flow out of it, dripping over Mitch’s straw covered chest. There was nothing more Simon or the old man could do but watch and pace as Jack’s life force drained from his arm onto the crushed body on the bed.

  Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Simon and the old man looked at each other. But something was different. The old man sniffed at the air; a look of knowledge coming into his eyes. “Rotted earth,” the old man said to Simon in his soundless voice and started to pull Jack’s chair away from the bed. “Help me, boy!”

  Simon took the other side of the chair and they pulled it back against the wall behind the door. “And do what I tell thee when I tell thee! Now answer the door,” the old man said, his soundless voice taking on an echo.

  Simon turned and opened the door. A large older man was standing there in a very fine gray suit. He had Mitch’s chin and nose, and Simon knew, immediately.

  “Is this Dr. Mitchell Bramson’s room?” the man asked.

  Simon nodded and let the man walk in, closing the door behind him. The old man took Simon’s right hand from behind the door and held it tight, sending him the message.

  Without hesitating Simon pushed the old man in the suit forcefully against the back of the door, putting the palm of his left hand on the man’s chest where his heart would be, pressing hard.

  “What the…” was all Julian Bramson the Third got out, the words seizing in his mouth. The last things he saw were Jack’s eyes as the old man put his other hand over the root on Jack heart.

  ***

  When Simon came in for breakfast the next morning he was more tired than he’d ever been in his life. He could barely pick his good foot up, much less carry the weight of the brace on his other one. He slipped into a chair at the first table he saw.

  “You look like you could use a strong cup,” Deck said putting his hand on Simon’s shoulder from behind. Simon looked up. Deck came around, his blue gray eyes and sad smile showing no traces of his troubles. Simon closed his eyes, shaking his head.

  “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better. You had me worried there for a while,” Simon sighed.

  “Nah,” Deck said. “Just a touch of the flu, I guess. I’m as strong as a horse today.” Then his expression and tone changed. “I’m so sorry about Dr. Bramson, Simon. I know how much he meant to you. I wish there was something I could do…”

  “I think he would want us to finish what we came here to do,” Simon said, struggling to piece together something to say. “Our boss, Dr. Edgeworth, arrived last night and there are some still things we need to do…but not today.” Simon let his head hang down, thinking. “Speaking of…didn’t you say something about black coffee…?”

  “Coming right up,” Deck said and went to fetch it.

  A moment later there was another voice behind him. “Jed told me about the accident yesterday. I’m so sorry Simon,” Sandrine said and came around to sit opposite him and took his hand.

  Simon bowed his head, making his big black curls move. “Me, too.”

  Sandrine reached out, touching his hair. “If there’s anything I can do…” Simon could only blush. Some things never change.

  ***

  When Sean Donnelly opened his eyes in the hospital that morning the first thing he saw was the old man standing in front of him. “What are you doing here?” Sean asked him before he realized that he could both see and speak.

  “Thy curse is lifted, Irishman, but I have a burdensome gift I must give thee,” and he touched Sean’s forehead with his thumb. “Thou shalt not forget and more, I give thee my memory, so what hast happened here shalt not be forgotten.”

  Sean blinked, then looked at the old man, the dawning of knowledge in his eyes. “Dear God,” Sean mumbled as the realization of millennia ran around his brain.

  “Yes, Irishman and now ‘tis thee who must be vigilant for thy race,” the old man said wearily then disappeared behind the curtain.

  ***

  On the other side of the county, a tall, black-haired woman walked through the doors of the hospital, stylishly dressed in all black. No one saw her, or remembered that they did. She entered Malcolm Farthing’s room and waved her hand in front of his face. “Awake and forget,” she said.

  His eyes opened. “Gayle? Where am I? What the hell is going on?”

  “You got hit on the head by a falling rock at the dig, but you’ll be alright now. I just stopped by to see how you’ve been getting on,” she said, smiling slyly.

  “I did? I guess that explains this bloody awful headache,” he said reaching back to touch the back of his head, smiling weakly at her. “How long have I been here?”

  Chapter XXIII

  The Devon Dragon, Madonna & Child

  I look at you, your whole life stands before you I look at me and I'm running out of time Time has brought us here to share these moments To look for something we may never find Until we find the bridge across forever Until this grand illusion brings us home You and I will always be together From this day on, you'll never walk alone You're a part of me, I'm a part of you Wherever we may travel Whatever we go through Whatever time may take away It cannot change the way we feel today So hold me close and say you feel
it too You're a part of me and I'm a part of you.

  Part of me, Part of You,

  ……..As performed by Glenn Frey

  for the film Thelma & Louise

  “Jack! Jack!” a woman’s voice called from across the crowded room, a hand waving above all of the taller heads around her. Jack Edgeworth looked toward the voice and cringed. “Jack!” He heard one more time before Evelyn Lenox made her way over to him. “Jeeze, Jack what’s it been, twenty years?” she said loudly over the din of the crowd around them.

  “Evie,” Jack said giving her air kisses on each cheek. “You look wonderful. You’ve hardly changed a bit,” he said amazed by the amount of Botox it must have taken to keep that being a true statement.

  “So do you, like a million. You haven’t aged a day. Have you had work done?” she asked, examining his face closely. Jack just smiled, then looked down, deep in thought as Evie looked around at all the glitz, glam, money and names that were roaming around the room. “This is so exciting, but I was sorry to hear about your…friend. I remember all the terrible things Annette used to say and, I’m just so sorry,” she said honestly.

  “Thank you, Evie. I appreciate that,” Jack said, taking a good swallow of his drink. He felt an arm come around his from behind. He looked over, then back to Evie. “Evelyn Lenox, I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Alida Ruales.”

  Evie’s eyes shifted over to the striking black-haired, black-eyed Cuban woman. She put out her hand. “Lovely to meet you, Miss Ruales,” she said, pinched but pleasant.

  “Very nice to meet you too, Mrs. Lenox,” Alida said, nodding and smiling brightly at the blonde woman with the tight face.

  “Well, I really should be moving along. So many people to see…” Evie said and took Jack by the hand, leaning in close to whisper. “At least I’m glad to see your taste in jewels hasn’t changed,” referring to Alida’s large Baroque pearl necklace and matching earrings with diamond clips.

  “Nope,” Jack said. “Only in who wears them,” and gave her his best boyishly sexy grin.

  “You old devil,” she laughed, then sighed, “Always at the wrong place at the wrong time,” as she walked away. Jack and Alida turned in the other direction and saw Simon coming toward them.

  “It’s almost time, Dr. Edgeworth. We’d better go.” Jack kissed Alida lightly on the cheek and went with Simon toward the platform with chairs and microphones in front of the long blue velvet curtain that hung from the ceiling.

  Just as they were approaching the platform, Jack saw the young blonde man who’d come to see him a few weeks before. He’d come in without appointment just as Jack was on his way out to lunch. “Dr. Edgeworth? I’m Alexander Bramson. Would you mind if we spoke briefly?” More than surprised, Jack just waved him into his office and shut the door.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Bramson?” The young man looked earnestly at Jack. He had Mitch’s chin and nose.

  “I didn’t know,” was all he said at first, shaking his head, looking down and taking a deep breath. “I swear I didn’t know. I’d have loved to have known him,” the young man said on the verge of tears, “my brother…I only found out when the circumstances of my father’s death hit the papers.”

  “I’m sure he would have loved to know you, too,” Jack said, putting his hand on the young man’s shoulder and guiding him into the room to a chair. This kid wasn’t at all like his father or his older Congressman brother. He seemed genuine; sincerely coming to Jack to be able to talk to him about a subject no one in Boston had anything good to say about.

  Jack believed him when he said he didn’t know about Mitch, but the newspapers had had a field day with it, from the top down to the tabloids. “Boston Steel Scion, Julian Bramson, the Third, Meets Abandoned Son; Both die tragically.” No one ever questioned the coroner’s diagnosis that a massive heart attack killed old man Bramson. But they certainly played up the abandoned first son angle. Even Jack couldn’t do anything about that. After all, Mitch’s death certificate was public record, and two famous American men named Bramson both dying in the same small English village was the only lead anyone needed. The AP and UPI were on it like vultures.

  Alexander Bramson handed Jack a check, one million dollars. “From my trust, it should’ve been his anyway,” he shrugged, uncomfortable with the emotions that were stirring behind his pale blue eyes. “I learned as much about him as I could before I came. I know he loved the Museum, and his work. I was hoping that you might fund a foundation with that, or do something you think he might like. I don’t know what else I can do for him.” Jack took out a piece of paper and wrote something down, handing it to the young man.

  “You can go see him and tell him,” Jack said. It was the address of a cemetery. The young man took it and nodded. “I will. I’ll do that,” the young man said and got up to go.

  When he got to the door where his father had stood only months before, and his brother only weeks before that, Jack stopped him. “Come to the opening of his new exhibit,” Jack said. “Be our guest. I know he’d like that. It would show that you’re not ashamed of him and would’ve liked to have been part of his life. I think he’d like that very much,” Jack said, getting up to hand the young man an envelope with tickets and shake his hand. “And thank you for coming today. I do appreciate it.”

  The young man leaned into him, speaking quietly. “I’m not like my father or my brother, Dr. Edgeworth. Now that I know what I do, I’d like to think maybe I’m more like him. I’m a legal aid lawyer who writes American military biographies,” he said. Smiling at the irony of it, Jack laughed out loud shaking his head.

  “Yes. Knowing him the way I did, I think he would have found that fascinating, and you’re right. I think you probably are like him in a lot of ways, Alexander. Please come and be with us,” Jack said.

  The young man nodded, smiling sadly. “Thank you for that, Dr. Edgeworth.”

  ***

  When they were all seated on the platform, the president of the Museum got up to speak. He made a brief presentation about the gravity of the exhibit, what it meant not only to science but to art, culture and human understanding. He spoke of the sacrifice of life that brought the exhibit to them and the grief it brought to everyone at the Museum, then he introduced Jack as the one person he thought was most affected.

  Jack stood up and walked to the podium. “This exhibit,” he said. “…will stand in the annals of human history as one of the most important finds of this or any other century. Nothing has ever been found to rival it. It’s not for the faint of heart, so may I recommend caution. It will make you rethink your entire life, of whom you are and where you come from. It will challenge your thoughts and beliefs about everything you have ever though you knew.

  “But this knowledge comes to us at a great cost, more than I was personally willing to pay. I was the one who sent Dr. Mitchell Bramson to England to excavate a thousand year old castle for the greater glory of knowledge, our careers and this Museum, not knowing what would come out of it, and because of that, I have lost my most gifted colleague, friend and…son. I will not belabor this further as that would not be what Dr. Bramson would’ve wanted, but I will leave you with two introductions.

  “First I’d like to introduce the young man to my right, Mr. Alexander Bramson, Dr. Bramson’s brother, who came to me with an idea and a check, to fund a foundation that Dr. Bramson would have done himself, the Impoverished School Arts Program for New York City. Please,” Jack said motioning for Alexander to stand and be acknowledged. Alexander stood and took a small bow while the audience in the great hall applauded, then retook his seat.

  “Next I’d like to introduce you to the young man who stood side-by-side with Dr. Bramson during every step of this expedition, a fine scholar in his own right, and the man I have the honor of announcing will take over Dr. Bramson’s work and efforts. Dr. Simon Holly.”

  Simon stood up carefully and walked slowly to the podium to minimize his limp and stood next to Jack. Dressed in a b
lue suit, white shirt and the ice blue tie that Alida had picked out for him, his hair straightened and combed back as Madame Duvalier had taught him, he stepped up to the podium and opened a folder in front of him as the audience applauded.

  “Thank you, Dr. Edgeworth, for your kind words and confidence,” he said, and Jack stepped back.

  “This exhibit, as you all know by now is called, “The Devon Dragon, Madonna & Child,” so I’d like to take a moment to explain what that means and its importance to us as human beings and the world of knowledge. Dr. Edgeworth and Lord Neville Cotswold of Great Britain came upon the existence of this site rather by accident. It had lain unexplored for centuries and only when threatened by the movement of modern civilization did it come to our attention. Located in the southwest of England, the castle ruin was once the ancestral home of a noble family called Revelstoke and can with certainty be dated to the late 8th century A.D.

  “As you will see from the exhibit, we have reproduced the castle ruin as we first found it, here in the great hall.” Simon then gave a high sign to the ushers standing near each corner of the great hall. In unison they pulled back the curtains lining the walls to reveal that all the walls had been painted with murals depicting scenes from late 10th century noble life, a kitchen scene, a banquet scene, a front view of the castle as it had been when built, a bedroom scene and a courtyard scene. The audience gasped as they turned around to get a full view of the panorama of life at Revelstoke circa 999 A.D.

  After they’d had a chance to absorb it all, Simon began to speak again. “However, this was no ordinary medieval castle, as we were to soon learn. It was the site of something that has frightened and fascinated humankind since the dawn of time because as Dr. Bramson, Lady Madeline Cotswold and I discovered, it did not come to its ruined state naturally. The story, as we have uncovered it, is one of monumental significance for both the people who lived at the time and everyone who has lived since.