by Brock Law
determined motorcycle.
It was a white Harley Davidson with blue and red pinstripes stretched across the tank. Its rider wore an unlabeled black leather jacket, black sunglasses, dark denim, and black boots with a polished finish. His hair was paper white, cropped, but long enough to wear in a short pony tail that reached his collar. The bike pulled up just in front of the group, still discharging a deep tone from its exhaust. The rider shut it off, kicked out the stand and leaned it to rest. Rising, he was at eye level with Will, who watched in awe of his dramatic dismount. The leather jacket was shed, revealing a perfectly pressed white shirt. He draped the coat over the saddle, tossed his sunglasses on it and rolled up his sleeves. Everyone continued watching with varying degrees of expectation as he approached the group while straightening his belt.
“Your timing is impeccable as usual, George,” Adams greeted.
Washington finally made eye contact with a friendly curl of his mouth towards Adams. Cordially, they shook hands. As he stepped in to complete the circle around McKean’s grave, he turned to the right to shake with Greene and Wayne. Then he nodded individually to all who were present. This included a quizzical nod to Will, uniquely Washingtonian with a stoic and unthreatening calmness.
Finally, briefly, Washington spoke, “Gentlemen.”
“George,” Adams initiated. “We have something of a crisis.”
“A dilemma, really,” Madison chided.
“Certainly a disaster,” Franklin scolded back.
“A happening at best, and a circumstance at least,” Hancock added.
“Surely, a calamity would be a very modest interpretation,” Adams goaded.
“Let’s dispense with the semantics, please. Proceed in a factual manner,” Washington responded with efficiency.
Franklin cleared his throat. “Perhaps I have been too coy in revealing my true concerns regarding this manner.”
Washington folded his arms across his chest in a contemplative state. He directed a concerned stare toward Franklin. The rest began to look up as they anticipated another political disclosure.
“I think perhaps,” Franklin continued, “not even I have fully understood the potential extent of these concerns, which beyond the disappearance of my daughter is why I have inquired after your physical presence. I brought you here, because I need council. I have a much greater fear than the wellbeing of Vivienne, or even that of the Grail. I believe, unlike previously where its powers were used only to support the life of the individual, that it may be sought now specifically for the purpose of being turned against the world.”
“You believe that there is a more supreme threat than a posse of rogue archaeologists?” Madison asked.
“We have had a series of terrifying and inexplicable encounters with these men,” Franklin explained. “However, unholy manifestations have led me to define them otherwise. As such, my inclination has been continually reinforced that these events are not accidental.”
Adams urged, “Ben, I agree that the menace with which this has been conducted is criminal. In what way though, as you say, are these otherwise men unholy?”
“William can attest,” Franklin replied. “They are beastly strong. They are somewhat disfigured in face and limb. When in tracking William and breaching his home by night, they attacked. He had the good sense to fell one, whose body reduced itself to ash in mere minutes. All of this reminded me a cautionary tale I received from the Swiss when they brought us the Grail. I had always believed it to be a remnant legend from an unscientific era, until Will recovered a disturbing artifact from the body of his assailant. Will, if you wouldn’t mind.”
Franklin motioned to Will. He wasn’t immediately sure what Franklin meant, until the speaker pointed at his pocket. As he realized Franklin’s meaning and reached in, the group leaned in curiously. Will removed a long chain, at the end of which dangled the iron cross he’d pulled from the cadaver in his living room. A contagious grumble went around the gathering. They pulled back and looked wildly at each other with instant meaning.
“Gentlemen,” Franklin noted somberly, “we have been without one member of our order for many years. Lafayette disappeared in 1943. I believe that because of the language these men use to communicate, the memorabilia that they carry, their derangements, the fact that they know about the Grail, and that Lafayette is the only one of us unaccounted for, that he is still alive and they know where he is. I believe this because I think they are the same who caused his disappearance decades ago.”
Shock prevailed as the men stared around with panic. Will, typically confused, pieced together some bizarre new facts as he evaluated what Franklin had just said. The iron cross slipped from his hand into the grass. He tipped backwards a step, breathless as he contemplated what was happening in the year mentioned.
Washington approached sternly, eyes obsessively vexed by the iron cross. He passed through the immobile group and hovered over the artifact for a moment. Bending down, he gripped it tightly so as to pull up some of the grass. The leaves blew from his hand as he scrutinized the medal.
Franklin started again. “This goes beyond the defense of the Grail, but to the defense of the World. That is why I think that communication with the Swiss is vital. They can verify the possibility of such a state of being as undeath. If there is life and death, then there must be an antonym of immortality and we must oppose it.”
Washington wouldn’t divert his attention away from the object. He turned it over and back again, examining every nick and scratch on the surface. Finally he looked up at Will. He stared powerfully into his eyes, searching the young man’s soul as forensically as he had the cross. Heavily, he marched the few paces towards the worried youth. Washington’s forceful hand dropped squarely on Will’s shoulder. An affirmative head nod followed. Washington held out the cross and placed it into Will’s hand.
“Then, as with King George who decided we were for independence even before we had agreed upon the discourse, this decision has been made for us. We are already at war, or rather it never ended,” Washington declared. “We must ensure that our immortal brethren are secure. We will rescue Vivienne and anyone else we find along the way.”
Washington looked around at each man. One by one he found supportive faces.
“Then we are resolved,” Washington concluded.
The Course Of Human Events
For the third time that week, Will found himself at the lively entrance of the most genteel tavern. It was even more so now, because of the host waiting to receive him inside. What an incredible opportunity it was to be dining with the men who made City Tavern famous. Despite the angst that tormented Will regarding his predicament, he couldn’t hide his pride. A renewed vigor and a confident air drove him to the door.
“Good evening, Mr. Mith,” announced Adams from behind. “I was hoping for something a bit more contemporary, but I suppose this will do. Old habits, you know. Does it suit you?”
“Suits me fine.”
“Excellent, glad to see you haven’t lost your appetite yet,” Adams said with a smile.
“No, not yet,” Will joked back. “I’ve never had a problem cleaning my plate.”
“Well, it’s still early,” Adams said. “If anything, it’s the discourse you will find unsavory.”
“Why’s that?” Will inquired with worry.
Adams responded dryly, “There are some amongst us who don’t desire to keep regular company with some of the others. We’ve spread out considerably over the last couple generations, especially with the speed of travel these days. Probably for the best.”
“You still hold grudges after all this time?”
“Whenever we retire one, another seems to take its place. We are sometimes brought back together by necessity, but political divisions have always remained deep,” Adams admitted.
“I’m sure what’s happening now won’t require a political debate,” Will encouraged.
“Perhaps, but insulting each other has become something of a sport at
dinner,” Adams suggested. “Hopefully we can keep it good natured for your sake.”
“Don’t be polite on my account. It’ll be an educational experience,” Will joined. “You can’t be any worse than my friends.”
“We endeavor to impress,” Adams returned with an expressive smirk.
Both men were then pleasantly addressed by the hostess.
“We’re with the owner’s party this evening,” Adams informed her.
Straight away she perked up and invited them to follow her upstairs. Rounding the top banister, she directed them into an adjacent private dining room. It was fitted with a long banquet table and central fireplace. Will and Adams were the first to arrive. Both men inspected the formal settings as the hostess left to return to her duties.
“Evening, Mr. Adams,” Hamilton greeted cordially with a slap on Adams’ shoulder, “and Mr. Mith, to you as well.”
“Mr. Hamilton,” Adams replied with a surprised sputter.
“How are you sir?” Hamilton insisted as Adams tried to move away.
“Very well, thank you,” Adams returned.
“I believe it’s been the better part of a couple decades since we last dined,” Hamilton insinuated.
“Has it? My, how time flies,” Adams said lightly, “but I am easily found if you need me.”
“True,” Hamilton replied coolly, “at home reading I suppose?”
“Keeping busy. Enjoying the labors of the farm.”
“You’re too modest.