by Brock Law
Tony.”
“Never too late,” Wayne rationalized, “but modern celebrity is the one thing that would dismantle the secrets of our existence. I don’t understand how any of the others have managed to keep their wealth buried after so long.”
Will pressed, “I thought you would be the experts on immortality. The more I learn, the more I get the impression that there is a lot about the Grail’s history that is still unknown.”
Jefferson cleared his throat, signaling his discomfort in admitting he didn’t know something, “Well Will, we were the last recipients of the cup. So, I suppose you are correct. There are elements of its past that remain unclear to us.”
Will continued, “So why put it somewhere so public?”
Washington explained, “After we moved it several times, the tavern proved the safest option. It needed to be somewhere that anyone of us could easily access it in the event of an emergency. For a long time it rested in Franklin’s grave. Then Monticello, then under the capital, several Masonic cathedrals, the Fed vaults, Fort Knox, a safety deposit box at a Swiss bank, and as many creative places as we could think of.”
“Behind the Hollywood sign, under home plate at Fenway, the tip of the Empire State building,” Wayne added.
“Seriously?” Will stuttered.
“Just kidding,” Wayne laughed.
Washington continued, “However, at the rate the world changed and rebuilt itself, burial become too difficult, exhumation too noticeable. So now it’s hidden in plain sight, naturally in the place that we all come to drink.”
Jefferson interrupted, “Poetic in a way. Unfortunately, we will never know how many lives it touched before it arrived here. People like our missing Vivienne being a prime example. We know of some others, but the full extent of the immortal community is unknown. Anyone who remains must understand that the secret to living forever is to disappear completely and not interfere with current events, no matter how tempting. Apart from the Templars who exposed themselves out of necessity, our predecessors have been very careful not to reveal their origins. They left me with the distinct impression that there are a lot of lone wolves lurking in the wilderness.”
“But you know some others?” Will asked with fascination.
A loud thump on the floor boards above stopped the conversation. The affronted men looked up with interest. Another heavy bump reverberated across the ceiling, followed by a few small crashes. Jefferson checked his watch.
“It’s after 1,” he stated with intrigue, “there can’t be anyone still up there.”
“Is it that late already? Maybe a little late night cleaning,” Greene guessed.
They settled, but the conversation never resumed. Jefferson swished the remaining beer in his mug around in circles as he listened. Washington remained reclined in his seat, beginning to look drowsy.
“Well I’ll give them a little time,” Washington stated, “then I’m off to bed once the lights go out. Anyone interested in catching the ball game tomorrow?”
Another thud and the quick scamper of feet upstairs caused the men to straighten up. The Generals shared a look of confusion, after which they pointed it towards Jefferson who remained with his eyes fixed on the floor, swirling his ale, listening. Then the pound of marching boots tracked above, stretching from the front to the back of the restaurant. Some train of people paraded through the tavern. More bangs and the sound of impacted wood came rapidly from different corners of the building. Then more footsteps came drumming over carpet and floor boards at a frantic rate of travel.
“Quite a racket for a cleaning crew,” Washington insinuated.
Clattering glass and ceramic ware clinked as if a drunken feast was under way upstairs. The noisy racing grew less discreet with the added weight of bulky objects being dragged through the bar. No linguistic disruptions resonated from above until a woman’s scream finally screeched down to the cellar, but only for a second before it was muffled up.
The men leapt out of their seats and rushed to the stairs. Their mugs hit the tables, spilling beer everywhere. Their chairs tilted back, nearly crashing on the floor. Will dashed ahead of the immortals and bounded up the steps.
Washington whispered hoarsely after him, “Wait!”
Will paused at the door that opened into the passage behind the kitchens. He leaned against it with his ear up and eye to the chasing immortals. Washington lurched up behind him, pulling his body against the hand rails. Wayne and Greene came fast behind, bumping each other at their commander’s heels. Just as Washington was about to grab him by the shoulder, another scream prompted Will to push open the door of the crowded passage and jump out into the darkness.
“Will!” Washington warned again.
The vigilant youth had already passed beyond the doorway. Washington jumped blindly after him. Not quite as nimble as the fast-footed quarterback, Washington hobbled forward until eventually slamming into Will who had stopped at the threshold of the main entrance way. Like dominoes, the other three bumped into him as they emerged aggressively from the cramped stairwell, Wayne sprinting like a foaming hound. Their uncoordinated charge didn’t bother the uproar of erratic burglars who seemed to be shuffling around every part of the restaurant. Wild pacing throughout the bar and kitchens, the tonal ding of crystal, sloshing of liquid decanters, and the crushing sound of paper being used to wrap up delicate vessels echoed from every room.
Washington and Will poked their heads out into the hallway. Silhouettes passed summarily, outlined by the glow of the street lights outside. They dodged in and out of the hallway’s openings, carrying large crates and piling them near the kitchen exit. A pair of bodies stood in the middle by the main stair case, apparently managing the chaos.
A heavy German accent spat rancorously, “Show me where it is you little bitch!”
Will squinted through the night, focusing on the stationary shapes at the center of the commotion. The larger figure of the couple wound up and swung at the smaller body. A cracking slap whipped into Will’s ears and down his coiling spine, as he saw the blow’s petite recipient lift up, skid across the floor and crash into the wall. Coming to rest in a yellow beam from the windows, he could see it was Vivienne crumpled on the floor, hands tied.
Together, arms outstretched, Will and Washington sprang from the niche and stampeded down the hall. Will launched himself at the striking figure, wrapped him up and tackled him with a fleshy smash. Washington collided with the next body that popped out of a doorway, knocking him across the jaw with an iron fist. His target spun around on his heels, releasing a centrifuge of glassware from the box he hauled, which shattered against the walls. A verbal warning went up around the building as yelling signaled the start of an invasion.
More intruders spilled into the hallway. Wayne and Greene barged into the nearest doorway and pummeled their way through a sudden traffic jam at the entrance to the bar, bolting in as the invaders tried to pile out. Will wrestled with the man who had hit Vivienne, who swatted back as Will strangled him. Jefferson saw two more coming down the stairs, jumped over the thrashing Will, and engaged one with a candlestick to the head. Grappling with the other, he tripped and threw him off the stairs, sending him crashing into a group that fought Greene and Wayne back out into the hallway. Upon impact, bodies collapsed and scattered in the teeming hallway. Will gripped and flung his assailant into the wall.
Scrambling, Wayne got covered up under the nocturnal creatures that now howled curses. Greene, likewise, tried to kick himself loose of the desperate mess, punting faces and stomachs as clawed fingers gripped his legs and pulled him back. The vampires revealed themselves in hissing fits of demonic incantation, swarming from every direction.
The hallway flooded with stumbling and confused bodies as the immortals continued to lash out at the spinning darkness. The Nazis whirled around like bats in the night, trying to regroup and unify. Bearlike, Washington dove rabidly into the spreading scrum that consumed Wayne, twisting heads and stomping limbs. Now with Will at his s
houlder, Jefferson sliced his way towards the Generals, his candlestick swinging through the meat of the crowd. Raging, Will cried out as a threat to the onslaught, further repulsing the now fleeing vampires. He planted his feet, crouched and fired his body at them. He sent any that brought a fight spiraling back to the ground. One latched itself to Will, slashing at his back as they flew through the air. Will pinned him against the wall, cracking open the vampire’s skull on the edge of a table. They forced the fight back into the kitchen, pulling Wayne up from the floor as he yelled and intensified his endless flurry of punches.
As the four immortals formed a cohesive front and closed in on the doorway to the kitchen, Will spied the leading Nazi stepping over the struggling bodies of his subordinates. The Nazis pushed back at the immortals, leaving a gap for their commander to rush past towards the wriggling body of Vivienne. Will sped from Jefferson’s side and met the head Nazi in the middle of the hallway, broadsiding him unsuspectingly with a stiff arm. Will’s victim rolled over quickly, sprang up and stared him down as he guarded Vivienne. It was the one-eyed, one-handed Brunner who opened up and roared hellishly with a deep bass voice. Glancing back, the Nazi saw his escape closing up as the immortals expelled more bodies into the kitchen. As fast as Will