When whole civilizations are at war, no one thinks or cares who we are or where we came from. Of course even wars have to come to an end sometime, and then we have to come up with something else to keep people stirred up and panicky. So we topped off the Civil War with the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. That kept things in turmoil for a long time.”
“Now wait a minute! Don’t tell me that you and your friends assassinated Lincoln. It is a historical fact that John Wilkes Booth shot President Lincoln. There are several people that actually saw him do it.”
“You’re right, you’re right. John Wilkes Booth did shoot President Lincoln. But the question you need to ask yourself is why did he shoot President Lincoln?”
“He hated Lincoln for freeing the slaves,”
“It is very logical that you would assume that to be true. That is what all the newspapers proclaimed. That is what your history books have always said in print.”
“I suppose you’re going to tell me, that’s not really what happened, right?”
“Let’s just say, my companions and I gave Mr. Booth a very good reason to assassinate President Abraham Lincoln.” he offers a shadowy explanation.
“You mean you threatened him?”
“We gave him something more to fear than the guilt of being the assassin of a President.”
“OK then, so you were responsible for the Civil War and the assassination of Lincoln. What about the photos I found of you during World War One and World War Two?”
“The First World War was very easy,” he begins as he looks off into space methodically.
“If my memory serves me right, all we had to do was assassinate Archduke Francis Ferdinand and his wife to get the First World War going. That assassination caused such a nationalistic snowball effect, that it tumbled the whole world into chaos. It worked just as we had planed, just like falling dominos. Everything fell into place. The whole world was caught up in it for years.”
“The Second World War; you manipulated it too?”
“Yes, yes. Sometimes it takes a lot of hard work to make people do what you want.”
“You mean a lot of threats and murders.”
“Yes; that and other things.
“Adolf Hitler was a dream comes true. We had never come across a man so driven and blinded by ambition. He was a man that wanted to be somebody at any cost, even at the cost of his own life.
“With a little help from my friends, we made Hitler into a national hero. He gave everyone just what they wanted, peace, power, and security, or so they thought.
“Gradually we helped Hitler’s rise to power into a government of tyranny. The people were now in a constant dependence of Hitler’s power. So now, for the people to hang on to their precious individual peace and security, they had to tow the line and allow Hitler whatever whim he wished. It was one of the most controlling dictatorships that my friends and I had ever devised. It was beautiful.” He relishes the memory of it.
“By the look on your face, you and your friends must really like the idea of war.”
“We don’t enjoy the killing, disease, and despair that come from war, but we do enjoy the challenge it takes to accomplish our objective.
“As you might expect, it took a lot of time and effort for me to get close enough to Hitler, so that he would trust me and look to me to give him counsel on almost everything he did. You found photos of me and Hitler because we were always together, side by side. He got to the point where he never made a decision without my help.
“Hitler started World War Two, but I was the one behind Hitler, advising his every move. The rest, you know about. World War Two kept men in a quagmire of upheaval for many years.”
“What about some of the other photos I found you in? What about Jack the Ripper? I suppose that was another one of your mysteries that you guys cooked up,” I question.
“Yes, we had the kingdom of the British Empire in frenzy over Jack the Ripper for quite sometime,” he admits.
“You mean you actually committed those bloody butchery murders. How in the world can you justify such a thing?”
“I admit that those murders were unduly gruesome and messy. Just for your information, I was there, but I wasn’t involved in the actual murders that time. One of my companions did the dirty work.”
“I don’t care if you were Jack the Ripper himself or you actually murdered those girls or not. You were there and an agreeable accessory to it.”
“I assure you, it wasn’t something any of us enjoyed. It was strictly business. It was something we felt we had to do.”
“Who else did you kill, murder, kidnap or make disappear?” I ask.
“Are you sure you want to know? It seems all of this is making you kind of emotional. Maybe I’d better not tell you the rest.”
“No, no. I’m all right. I’ll try to compose myself. Go ahead, finish your story.”
“Very well,” he continues.
“I have to say Mr. Brooks, that there were hundreds and hundreds of people lives that were affected by our devises. I couldn’t begin to recount or describe all of them, but some of them you might have heard of.
“I suppose you remember the famous story of Lizzie Borden, the one that allegedly killed her father and mother with an axe?”
“Oh yes, I remember reading about that. In fact I saw a program on the History Channel all about the trial of Lizzie Borden. As I remember, they could never really totally prove that she murdered her parents. She was acquitted and set free.”
“Yes, that’s right. At trial, one witness that happened to be walking by the Borden home the day of the murders said that she saw a strange and suspicious looking man in the yard just before the murders were said to have taken place. They should have listened to that witness, Mr. Brooks.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I say that because that strange man standing in the Bordens’ yard that day was me.”
“You mean you’re the one that killed Lizzie Borden’s father and mother?”
“It worked most effectively. The whole town and even the country became mesmerized by it. They’re still talking about it today.”
“Like I told you; anything that would keep people busy at being mystified, distraught, troubled, frenzied or panicked. That is what we endeavor to accomplish. Anything that will keep people’s attention distracted away from us.”
Since it is my goal to hear his whole story, I try and hold back my disgust and contempt. I lay my head in my hands and then try to rub the abhorrence of him off of my face.
“Are you OK, Mr. Brooks?” he asks.
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”
“Look, you’ve been doing this Fathers of Myth stuff for thousands of years. Don’t you think that after all this time of creating myths and distracting all of humanity that people have been distracted enough? I mean, nobody today knows who you are. The ones that did find out, you have eliminated. Nobody knows the true story of the past, and nobody cares. You and your comrades have done a fantastic job. Why not bring all of this cruelty and barbarism to and end? Why keep up with it?”
“Why? Because there will always be some inquisitive person like yourself, that could blow the whistle and ruin our chances of going home, that’s why.”
“The things I saw and found out about you were things I just happened to stumble upon. That would never happen again in a thousand years. It would be a million in one shot that another person would find out anything of significance that would prove detrimental to you or your friends.”
“We just can’t afford to take that chance, Mr. Brooks. Besides, over the years, there have been several people that have stumbled onto our existence. We had to take care of them quickly. The others were just used to distract the world away from us. You already know about a few of them; Charles Lindbergh, John F. Kennedy and others. In some way or another, they all had to be silenced; either because of what they knew or because of how well the ending of their lives could distract people away from us
.”
“So you did have something to do with the assassination of President Kennedy? I always thought that Kennedy’s assassination was all part of some kind of CIA or Mafia conspiracy. At least that’s the way a lot of people think.”
“Of course we had something to do with Kennedy’s assassination. Now he didn’t really know anything about our existence, but we had to take care of him just the same.”
“Oh you had to take care of him, huh? Why was that?” I ask in frustration.
“Don’t you see the genius behind it; the most beloved President, his wife being even more beloved than he was? It was like the fable of King Arthur and Lady Guinevere, a modern-day fairy tale of the highest caliber. People were already enthralled with the lives of the Kennedy clan. All we had to do was add an explosive element of assassination to the story and turn it into an electrifying scandal-mongering sensation.
You, yourself have been witness to the fact that the thirst to learn more about Kennedy’s assassination has been unquenchable. People can’t get enough of it. They’ll be in frenzy about it for decades to come. Like I said, you aren’t the only one that has been a target of our designs. There were many others.”
Do you remember hearing about Amelia Earhart; the famous lady pilot?”
“Yes, of course I do. I think it was sometime in 1937 that she attempted to fly around the world, but she crashed into the Pacific Ocean instead and was never found or heard from again. What about her?” I ask.
“She was a very nice lady. I liked her a lot. But it was decided among us that her fame of being a sweet lady pilot could be put to good use. You know that there were very few lady pilots in those days?” He points out.”
“Yeah I know, I know.”
“Yes, it was incredible. She had the whole world’s attention. Actually, in her case, we didn’t really have to do away with her, just make her disappear. We just marooned her and her navigator on a little lonely island we chose in the middle of the Pacific, so that no one would be able to find them. They lived there for quite a few years before they died.”
“They were flying a plane. How did you make them land and maroon them on an island of your choice?” I ask.
“Let’s just say, that we maneuvered things so that they had only enough fuel to reach the island of our choice.”
“Actually, it worked out better for us, even more than we anticipated,” he continues. “Her disappearance worked out to be one of the best mysteries that we had ever pulled off. The whole world was looking for her. It kept people preoccupied and distracted for a long, long time. They’re still talking about her to this day.” The alarming implications of his story torment me, until I can hold back my emotion no longer.
“So for all intents and purposes, you and your friends are pretty much responsible for all of the woes of the people on Earth, end of story, right?” I ask him, rather emotionally.
“Oh I wouldn’t go that far, Mr. Brooks. Yes, we have been very good and successful at doing our job, but not everything that went wrong was of our doing. Some things happened just because of the imperfection of man, and that’s all, just people being people.
“We did accomplish quite a bit though, I must say. Besides what I have already told you, we are also responsible for the myth of the Bermuda Triangle, crop circles, the sinking of the Titanic, the stock market crash of 1929, the development of the atomic bomb, Martin Luther King’s assassination, 9/11, and many, many other things, too numerous to recount. All accomplished to keep people too busy to pay attention to our plight here on Earth.”
“Wait a minute. You’re telling me that you and your fellow murderers are responsible for 9/11?” I ask him vehemently.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Brooks but yes, we are responsible for 9/11.”
“Why you…” I move toward him in rage.
Just then, the deafening sound of the inside walls of the building collapsing fills the air. Startled at the intrusion of noise, I stop my forward motion towards him and instantly look around. There, not more than thirty feet before us, we see a hole in the wall miraculously appear, followed by men pushing rubble and debris from in front of them. My heart soars from the sight. Finally, I will be rescued from this would-be Hades of a place, I think to myself.
“Come on in boys and join us,” I yell out to them, feeling instantly jovial.
In just a few short seconds, the brute force of human hands had created an opening big enough for two firemen to crawl through. In the next second I am looking into the smudged and soiled faces of the smiling fireman, shaking their hands profusely.
“My name is Matthew Brooks. I can’t tell you how great it is to see you guys,” I tell them both, as I reach out to shake their hands.
“Let’s see, your name is Joe and yours is Bill.” I look at each of their badges.
“I guarantee you; those are two names I’m never going to forget.”
“How many of you got stuck in here anyway?” Bill asks.
“There’s just me and the other guy lying over there.”
“By the way,” I grab his shoulder and pulling myself over close to his ear.
“He’s hurt pretty bad, but he is also the one that blew up the place. You might want to keep that in mind,” I tell him.
“OK, thanks. We’ll take care of him.”
“Why don’t you sit down over here and let me look at that cut on you face?” Joe asks me.
I twirl around to sit down on top of an old crate close by, when I catch the quick movement of another individual out of the corner of my eye. I look over and see Kelly running towards me, her arms open wide.
“Matt! Are you all right?” she shouts.
“Of course I’m…” Before I can finish my reply, she slams into me like a locomotive.
For one long-awaited stretch of time, I am totally enveloped in Kelly’s embrace. Like with any reasonable healthy warm-blooded man, I most willingly respond to her emotional embrace, by enveloping her fondly into my arms.
We stand there quietly wrapped up in each other for a moment, until some impelling force moves my head, so that I might kiss her sweet soft angelic face. Then, I feel her moist ample lips kiss my ear, as she responds in kind. This mutual emotional release of affection ignites hidden fireworks of unreasoning zeal inside of us, until at last her pomegranate-red lips are kissing hard pressed against mine in earnest.
Being totally atwitter, my pain and plight fade off into the world of dreamlike amnesia, and for a twinkling of time I forget that the rest of the world even exists.
She looks up at me with her large Bambi-like brown eyes, her eyelashes fluttering at me like tropical date palms moving in a gentle balmy breeze.
“I love you.”
I gasp for a breath of oxygen, as faintly and inconspicuously as I possibly can.
“I love you too, Kelly.”
We stand there for a moment entranced in time, until a voice from behind me snaps us back to reality.
“I thought you said there was another guy in here with you?” Bill asks.
My eyes bulge wide open in reaction to his words. I push away from Kelly and abruptly wheel around, until I come face to face with the fireman standing behind me.
“What do you mean?” I say in panic.
He sees the panic on my face and reacts to it.
“Well I mean, I don’t see anybody else in here, Matthew, do you?” he asks, waving his hand throughout the circumference of the room.
“How in the world?” I voice my seism of confusion out loud.
“I don’t understand. Only two minutes ago, he was laying flat on his back right over there. He was too injured to move, let alone get up and walk away.” I hold my hands up in disbelief.
“Bill, I swear!” I begin to testify again.
“I believe you, I believe you,” the fireman says.
“The thought of going to prison probably gave him renewed strength. Don’t worry about it, we’ll find him later. Right now we need to get you to a hospital and make
sure you’re all right. Come on; let’s get you out of here.”
We head for the pushed out opening in the wall, with Bill holding onto my arm on one side, and Kelly holding onto my hand on the other. I am a lucky guy; just lucky to be alive.
As we approach the exit of my, would be personal catacomb, I stop and look back into the darkness of the building. I wonder where he could have gone.
As we emerge to the outside, a small applause breaks out from among the rescuers and hard core onlookers and bystanders. Red, blue, and white emergency vehicle lights blink from every direction around us.
§
THIRTY ONE
I fill my lungs with the brisk air of a Portland’s autumn night. Stars are still beaming in the dark sky up above, but morning light is beginning to show itself faintly on the eastern horizon. Suddenly, I am overwhelmingly exhausted to the point of collapse. Before we reach the ambulance I begin to slump down. Both Bill and Kelly immediately react to my feebleness and furnish total support for me to the ambulance.
Suddenly, I feel too mentally powerless and weary to care about anything or anybody. I just want to go home.
After being roughly poked, prodded, jabbed, and seemingly violated by a rather large nurse that has a remarkable resemblance to Alfred Hitchcock, I go home much against her protests.
My alarm clock on the nightstand silently declares the time of eight in the morning. All I can think of is falling ever so wonderfully into a coma-deep asleep. As soon as my head hits the pillow the phone rings. I forgot to unplug the stinkin’ phone.
The phone rings eight times and then goes silent. A silent sigh of relief slowly infiltrates my mortal remains once again. And then… it begins to ring once again. Realizing the inevitability of it, I unwilling reach over and pick up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Matt. Glad I caught you before you left for work. I just wanted to make sure you come by my office this morning. You must have a heck of a story to tell about your escapades yesterday. I can’t wait to talk it over with you,” Lloyd domineeringly presumes.
Wyatt, Richard Page 32
