Farmer, Philip Jose – Riverworld 06 – ( Shorts) Tales of Riverworld

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Alien Steele

GRACELAND

95

impulse, he had brought her back to his tent after the show; they had made love in a frantic, almost adolescent sort of way, yet despite her fervor she. had fallen asleep almost as soon as she had climaxed. John felt almost relieved, however; he didn’t feel like talking, just as, indeed, he had felt a strange detachment from her even in middle of their sexual throes. They had used each other for their own purposes; she had finally fucked the sexy-looking guy on the back sleeve of the Meet The Beatles album, and he had found temporary surcease from the dark thoughts in his mind.

Now he lay naked atop the blankets, listening to the cool night-breeze, remembering another late night in a different lifetime.

Getting out of the car with his wife, the boxed tape of that day’s studio session under his arm. The usual crowd of autograph-mongers and fans hanging around the front door of the Dakota. Walking down the sidewalk, Yoko passing in front of him, heading into the open archway of the building. Feeling pleased with the day’s work, looking forward to playing with his young son before going to bed…

A young man’s voice calling from somewhere behind him: “Mr. Lennon?”

Turning, seeing a shadowed figure in combat stance barely five feet away, aiming a pistol directly at him…

Barely a moment of confusion, wanting to say something… then loud gunfire, muzzle flashes, the horrible force of five bullets slamming into him…

Turning around, body screaming in anguish, mind numbed by what had just happened, disbelieving that he had just been shot… staggering toward Yoko… Christ, he’s been shot… he collapses, saying something he can’t

remember to his dear wife as the doorman dashes toward him…

Ambulance sirens, voices shouting, policemen all around, cold sidewalk concrete… a glimpse of a young man standing on the curb reading a paperback book… being loaded on a stretcher… nausea, weakness, the sense of passing from time and space…

“Do you know who you are?” the disembodied voice of a cop asks softly just before the end….

Well, constable, at least I think I do. I mean, it was right there on the tip of my tongue just a moment ago, right before some deranged asshole shot me. I once shook hands with the Queen, and I’m pretty positive that I once played Shea Stadium, if that’s what you’re asking. But if you’ll only give me a few minutes, I’m sure I can give you a correct answer. Umm… you wouldn’t mind making it multiple choice, would you?

“Not very bloody funny,” he whispered to himself.

We can’t allow you to continue, Jim had said. You’re much too dangerous….

Without really thinking about it, John slowly slid his legs over the side of the bed; the soles of his feet came to rest on the coarse wooden boards of the tent-platform, and for a few moments he peered into the darkness, listening to Mary’s rhythmic breathing.

We’ve been given a chance, don’t you see? Jim’s voice had almost been pleading. We’ve been brought here by the ancients, every one of us from time immemorial, to achieve personal salvation through our personal actions. We can yet achieve union with the Godhead, John, but only if we give ourselves the chance….

He could hear the wash of the River through the darkness. Downstream, somewhere close by, dugout ca-

96

Alien Steele

GRACELAND

97

noes were stealthily making their way toward Graceland, paddled by Second Chancers who had been waiting for this hour when everyone on the island would be sound asleep.

But you and the others have revived the old ways. You brought technology to this island where only life-sustaining grailstones had once existed, and you use it to preach evil. You’ve brought back idol worship, debauchery, lust of every kind… all those very things that I myself once practiced before the resurrection….-

John bent and picked up from the floor the kilt that Mary had torn off him; he stood up and slid it around his waist. His eyes searched various objects resting on tables and chairs around his tent—spare clothing, his grail, a carved wooden tobacco box and other handmade ornaments given to him by visiting fans, his guitar—until his gaze found a long, flat thing in the corner.