Heritage and Shimmer
Page 5
survived in the sick world of the living.
“There’s where New Bethany’s greatest hero is supposed to rest,” Simon smiled. “They say that the Starwatch even locked the remains of their rifleman within a tomb, so that the earthworms wouldn’t gnaw their way through to their hero’s sealed coffin. They sure erected one heck of a monument for the poor man.”
Jayce didn’t look at the caretaker as he strode to the base of the marble column. “I imagined the monument would be larger,” he sighed. “It should be built of alabaster and silver, with gilded gold all over the walls. There’s never been a hero in the annals of humankind more deserving of a temple. That’s the resting place of the rifleman who almost single-handedly repelled the alien invasion with nothing more than a hunting rifle. That’s the tomb of Landry Jones.”
Simon winked. “Go ahead and press that button on the column and learn what this memorial wants you to know.”
A bell chimed from within the tomb when Jayce pressed that button, and the vines and weeds creaked and snapped as the stone double doors opened to reveal the tomb’s darkness. A trumpet blared, and then another march of drums and horns filled the graveyard with yet one more wholesome and patriotic song. Several holographic projectors positioned around that memorial winked to life, and a handsome man, with a chiseled chin and golden beard, walked out of the tomb before winking at the guests who arrived to stare at his ghost. Beverly swooned when that rifleman raised a muscular forearm and saluted her. That hologram was more realistic than any of the others. Dozens of projectors whirled to weave that rifleman into a complete palette of colors, and Beverly thought she might reach out and place her hand on the broad shoulders of that rifleman who emerged from the tomb. That figure looked so corporeal. That figure didn’t shimmer at all. Beverly hadn’t realized holographic technology had advanced so far. That hologram appeared as alive as Simon Turner, even as real as her beloved Jayce. Yet Beverly knew that the figure resurrected from the tomb was no more real than any of the other figures of glow summoned by the other projectors.
Simon lifted a finger. “The horns will stop any moment now so that all the cemetery’s winking projectors can tell another whopper of a tale.”
The rifleman bowed his head as if giving a short, silent prayer after the last note. Then, he leaned against his long rifle when the faceless narrator’s voice echoed from speakers installed inside the dark tomb.
“Humanity owes a great debt to the hero standing before you, citizen. Landry Jones’ marksmanship defended his community of New Bethany and our planet Earth throughout the night. Landry stood in the center of New Bethany’s main street and downed more than a dozen saucer warships with his musket-loading, hunting rifle, an heirloom of fine, cultural and historic craftsmanship passed down for generations through his family. Had it not been for Landry’s bravery, the alien armada may have well overcome our world’s defenses before the rest of us became aware of the menace that suddenly descended from the stars.”
Beverly frowned. “I sure don’t doubt that Landry Jones did everything the Starwatch says, but I’ve always wondered how he brought so many aliens down with nothing more than a rifle.”
Simon nodded. “That’s a very good question. Always surprises me that more people don’t think to ask it.”
“You’re both missing the point,” Simon growled. “Who knows what kind of technology works in those spacecraft? Maybe Landry’s instincts told him about some weakness in the flying saucers’ design. What matters is that Landry Jones shot those invaders out of the sky. What matters is that he showed us that we have the power to resist the alien menace. What matters is that Landry showed us that we have the power to survive if we only pull together.”
Simon nodded. “It might be buried down real deep, buy maybe there’s some truth in what you say, son.” Simon strayed to stand beside the hologram of Landry Jones. “But the truth’s not to be found on the surface out here. The two of you need to be honest with your answer. You’re not going to hurt my feelings. Tell me, how do you think they captured my likeness?”
Jayce’s hands balled into fists. “What are you suggesting?”
“Just look real close at me and the light, son.”
Beverly squinted at the tall and crooked caretaker and the shimmering hologram of the cemetery’s hero. Landry Jones’ face was a handsome one, with a strong chin and dark, penetrating eyes capable of wooing hearts as well as they could aim a rifle, with a golden beard that swayed in the cemetery’s breeze. The rifleman’s face was properly constructed, while the caretaker’s visage looked pieced together according to a crumpled and crooked design.
Yet Beverly noticed stronger similarities the longer she considered that pair of faces. She squinted, and Beverly noticed how Simon’s nose, crooked as it trailed down the center of his face, shared the general shape and character of Landry’s. Simon lifted his hands and saluted just as the holographic rifleman did the same, and Beverly couldn’t deny that the men shared the same smile. She stared into the eyes of both men, and she shuddered to realize they shared the same color and glimmer, no matter that the caretaker’s eyes sat so crookedly into his visage while those of the rifleman were properly aligned and centered.
“They’re the same person,” Beverly gasped. “I don’t know how I know, but that hologram’s based on Simon. The surface of that light’s been changed, but at the core, all that shimmer’s based on the caretaker.”
Jayce choked. “That’s a terrible thing to say. And it’s impossible.”
Beverly shook her head. “You only have to look a little longer, Jayce.”
“What’s gotten into you, Bev? I thought you were smarter. I didn’t expect this memorial would make you so crazy. They don’t even share the same name.”
Simon sighed. “They changed my name. I doubt my old shotgun would’ve reached any flying, saucer, and I doubt my buckshot would’ve made a dent in any spacecraft. The Starwatch composed one heck of a fiction when they created my ghost.”
Jayce stepped towards the caretaker. “I’ve had enough of your lies. I’m telling you to shut your mouth for the last time.”
Simon paid no attention to the fists that formed from Jayce’s hands. “All these shimmering ghosts you summon at this memorial with a push of a button tell you a fiction, son. An alien truly did arrive in New Bethany that June night so many years ago. But it didn’t come in any warship, and it wasn’t any vanguard craft sent by a space armada bristling with laser guns. That alien certainly wasn’t any giant, lizard warrior. Far from it. The actual alien that crashed outside of town hardly came up to my waist, and it looked like a real weak thing.”
“I mean it, old man. Shut your rotten mouth.”
“Both of the alien’s arms and both of the alien’s legs were broken after those boys dragged it behind their truck all the way into New Bethany. That poor creature didn’t have anything more than a wrinkle for a mouth, but it cried something terrible. It just wailed inside our minds. I still hear that sad thing begging for mercy. That cry haunts me so my bones don’t get any rest. I tell you the truth, son, what New Bethany did to that alien was a shame. That alien was a hurt and vulnerable thing, and New Bethany treated it as if it was some kind of monster.”
Beverly didn’t have time to wink before Jayce’s fists flashed into Simon’s face. It was no secret that the Starwatch academy trained each of its officers in a style of hand-to-hand combat specifically developed to combat the alien, lizard invaders. Beverly feared Jayce would murder Simon, for she doubted an old man could survive the first blow a graduate of the Starwatch delivered him. Yet that caretaker’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t even wince. Jayce’s punches, though precisely aimed, failed to have any impact at all. Jayce grunted, and his hands reached for Simon’s neck. Only Jayce could take no hold on that old man who was guilty of making such rude comments concerning the dead. It was as if Jayce attacked nothing more than air.
“Take a breath, son.” Simon laughed. “You’ve got a lot of life ahead o
f you, and it’s going to get rough if you keep getting so upset about everything. How much good did taking that swing at me do you? I bet you wish you could take those punches back and keep on thinking I’m nothing more than an old man suffering from dementia. I bet you wish you never met me at all. Only, you’re looking at me, and your mind’s going to have to deal with it. So just take a breath, son. There’s nothing out here that can hurt you.”
Jayce’s eyes searched the surrounding trees. “You’re some kind of hologram like all the other figures projected out from these tombstones. You’re some kind of trick planted by an alien apologist; or worse, you’re some kind of trick the aliens left behind to undermine this memorial. Some quiet drone humming over our heads is probably projecting your figure.”
Simon shook his head. “I’m none of those things.”
“What else could you be?” Jayce scowled.
Simon pointed to Beverly. “Maybe you should ask her.”
“Don’t make me say it,” Beverly trembled.
“Go ahead,” responded Simon.