by Brock Law
nothing, the blood caked into the mess.
Another little metallic buzz caught Will’s ear as the morbid jumble shifted. He reached for the poker and removed its point from what remained. Something was stuck to it, at which Will pulled gently. A little silver chain emerged, caught on the poker’s hook. He dragged it further, presuming it to be something that had hung around the man’s neck. It snagged on the empty T-shirt and then popped out. Will held it up to inspect.
Dangling at the end of the chain was an iron cross. It was silver at the edges with black enamel in the center, identical to what Will had seen in every history book in his life. It was the mark of a WWII German officer, in use since the crusades by the Teutonic order of knights.
Will fell into the chair behind him. He hit it with a dead weight and a daft look on his face.
“What the hell?” he stammered aloud.
Will looked down at the half-dialed emergency number on his phone. Then he looked back at the heap. His jaw dropped in further confusion.
“I have no idea what’s going on,” he yelled hysterically.
Then, as if beckoned, his gaze fixated on a crumpled piece of paper on the floor besides the toppled coffee table. Will picked it up and unfolded it to reveal Franklin’s signature and phone number.
“But this guy does,” Will said apprehensively.
He dialed.
We Hold These Truths To Be Self Evident
Back out in the hot city, the sun poured down on Will’s head. He looked disconcerted, but it wasn’t the heat that bothered him. Everyone passing by gave a wide berth to the mumbling young man with darkened eyes, disheveled clothes, and wild hair. Even though he could navigate the city blindly at this point in his life, he still looked up at every corner to see which intersection he’d encountered. In the midst of the financial district’s spires, he eyed the traffic. Everyone seemed to be staring at him behind sunglasses. He shied from each, looking back over his shoulder suspiciously once they passed.
This is really dumb, I’m turning around. I’ll call the cops and just tell them I delayed a day, because I was still in shock. No big deal, self-defense. You idiot, what are you doing? Turn around. But…I have to know. What happened last night? I must have been hallucinating. Still a pile of dust on the carpet today. Thank God Mom and Dad are at the beach. I’ve got a couple days to sort this out. Give it some time. If it doesn’t make sense I’ll call in a burglary before Mom and Dad get home. I need to know. That wasn’t normal. Ben knows something. He practically brushed away a stab wound. What if he’s setting me up? He saved the both of us though. He could have bolted after that brick came through the window. You know what? We’re even then, because I saved him first. Going home. But I have to know. That can’t happen again. That one guy, or whatever it was, escaped. He could come back with more creeps. What am I involved in?
Hands in pockets, shoulders hunched defensively, he crossed Market Street at a harried pace. He sped down the sidewalk, eyes glued to the ground to examine every crack and obstruction. After another couple blocks he looked up again to orient himself. Of the sign read “Ben Franklin Pkwy.” Despite the heat, a chill descended from the back of his head to the bottom of his heel. As he looked towards the traffic light, a hotel loomed overhead. Will took a deep breath, straightened himself out, crossed the intersection and entered the lobby.
Inside, the ornate entrance was quiet and reserved. A friendly concierge nodded curiously at the flustered young man. Will made a subdued acknowledgment, but immediately saw Ben waving at him from the lounge. Looking around, Will tried to anticipate any trap that was about to spring on him. No one else was there besides the alleged Generals, Greene and Wayne, who sat with Franklin. Also looking bothered, the two of them tipped cups of coffee in his direction. Will approached.
“Have a seat Will,” Franklin opened. “I’m glad you agreed to meet us.”
“Didn’t really have a choice,” Will said. “Apparently those guys think I’m connected to you.”
“You may very well be,” Greene suggested. “I’m sure everything will reveal itself.”
“I hope your house fared better than mine,” Franklin said.
“They trashed yours?” Will asked.
“Upside down,” Franklin answered remorsefully, “which is why we need to make sure the same thing doesn’t happen to you. They might have killed you.”
“I noticed,” Will said sarcastically, “but maybe not. They wanted me to show them something and how to find you.”
“Will, you’ve done an incredible service to your country,” Wayne congratulated. “Which you will understand in time. We will sort this out, via whatever means necessary. I suspect it will take no small amount of valor.”
“You’re going to need to start explaining then,” Will insisted. “I’m not sure I should have come.”
“You made the right choice,” Greene assured. “Together we can prevent anything worse from happening.”
“I don’t want those things coming back for my family. Before I do anything, I need to know what I’m involved in. I can’t rationalize what happened last night, which is the only reason why I haven’t called the police. Every time I try to explain it to myself, I sound crazy. Those eyes though, those teeth. I don’t understand.”
The three men shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Greene and Wayne went for another sip of coffee, uneager to speak. Franklin glanced covertly around the room, leaning forward to check behind his chair.
Will spoke up again. “So, when you introduced yourselves before, you meant you’re all impersonators, right?”
The three men looked at each other with some semblance of shame. Wayne scratched his head, Greene took another sip of coffee, and Franklin gazed casually out the window of the lounge with a befuddled twist on his lips. Then Franklin brought his fingers to his eyes, and tweaked the bridge of his nose.
“Ben, he’s better off knowing,” Greene prompted.
A troubled exhale preceded Franklin’s explanation. “I would like nothing more than to answer ‘yes’ to your question, William. I fear though, that it might shorten your life considerably.”
Will fell back in his chair, raising his brows at all of them. He gulped down a fresh batch of fear.
“Yes, unfortunately, you would benefit from knowing what we know,” Wayne added. “That’s why, I promise you, we will get you out of this.”
Greene and Wayne put down their drinks. Seeing that there was a massive truth being hidden from him, Will felt himself standing over the brink of an abyss. He teetered on the edge, ready to fall.
In that moment of accepted capitulation, Will asked, “So, who are you?”
“Will, I’m an old man,” Franklin replied. “You saw me get beaten and stabbed. You watched my skin heal itself magically, and twenty minutes later had a beer with me.”
Will calmly unfolded his hands, put his palms to his face and ran his fingers through his hair. At the top of his head, he clasped his hands and sighed with an annoyed huff.
“I was ready to forget that,” Will finally said.
“It’s too late,” Franklin replied. “You’re in this thing. I don’t know why, but you’re here for a reason. It’s not just chance that our paths crossed the way they did. Those men saw your face, they know your scent. They found you and they will hunt you, unless you help us hunt them.”
“What are they, bloodhounds?”
“I’m not sure,” Franklin. “I’ve heard such a legend before. Believe me when I say that it is in your best interest not to deny these events; it’s never ended well in the past.”
“This has happened before?” Will gasped.
“For centuries,” Wayne admitted.
“This is ridiculous,” Will sighed as he rubbed his forehead.
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand immediately. Everything was newly discovered once. Had it made sense in the first place it would have been common,” Franklin chimed.
“That’s not what I mean,” Will explai
ned with a frustrated tone. “Everything that has happened is weird enough to make me believe that something unexplainable is going on.”
“Have you ever seen Indiana Jones and Last Crusade?” Greene asked.
“A hundred times at least,” Will said.
“Well, it’s kind of like that,” Greene simplified.
Will stared blankly at the window, slowly letting his hands fall to his sides. His eyes bored a stare so intense into the glass that the very meanness of his countenance seemed to push away the sunlight as incidental clouds briefly obscured its rays. The immense transfixion stirred an ache in the back of his brain, and recoiled all the muscles in his torso. Manifesting the mental anguish, his lips scrunched up past the left side of his chin and his brow dipped into the orbits. As his mouth finally parted, Will looked as though to say something, letting the wretched air flow freely between his teeth before closing up again. After another moment, Will attempted speech, but still had nothing to say. His mouth shut again. His head then pivoted disapprovingly to one side and back again in repetition. At the third try, his mouth hung open for a few seconds, eventually forcing out a sound.
“Not real, this is not real,” Will repeated aloud.
Sympathetically, the three men nodded as if they agreed.
Franklin summarized, “Will, let me start by telling you how the world used to be. There have been countless treasures and artifacts with special significance to people throughout time. Given the nature of some, it