58. Jack
FIFTY-EIGHT
JACK
A private cemetery was set apart from the rest. It was specifically reserved for those heroes who’d died in service to the city. Open with a long, grassy plain and thick trees, it stood as different from the rest of the city, as night from day.
He would have liked this, Jack told himself as he stood with city officials and soldiers he didn’t recognize. Out of respect, hundreds were in attendance, but how many had actually known the man his father had been?
Jack stood, Aareth on his left, Abigail and Elizabeth on his right.
His father’s body was moved from the plain, wooden box used to transport it, to an elegantly carved coffin befitting a king.
In his heart, Jack knew what remained of his father’s body was only an empty shell, a husk.
His father’s soul was gone; it would be waiting for him with his mother. He would see them both again one day.
“Marcus Walker was a hero in every sense of the word.” The Queen’s voice broke Jack from his thoughts as the coffin touched the rich soil at the bottom of the grave.
“He was a true patriot. He came when his city needed him and laid down his life in order to protect others. I only had the privilege of meeting the man once. However, there is someone here who was fortunate enough to spend time with him. She has asked to speak to you today.”
Jack glanced around, stunned. He hadn’t expected anyone to speak on behalf of his father. He had almost thought he should, but what would he say, even if he could choke out the words?
Sloan walked to the front of the assembled group.
She wore her uniform of grey-and-black adorned with a host of medals that spoke volumes to her decorated career in the army without saying a word.
Her saber hung at her side, her blonde hair was actually styled instead of being pulled back in a ponytail.
“Marcus Walker was a man who came from humble beginnings. He shared a part of his story with me on our journey. Although he had a normal beginning, there was nothing ordinary about the man. Even in my short time with him, he has impacted me in a way I will never forget. I think those people, like Marcus, who we are lucky to cross paths with in life, never truly die. I know I’ll always carry his words with me.
He encouraged me to be at peace with my past. He showed me that true self-worth comes from within, and it doesn’t matter where you were raised or what others think of you. ”
Sloan blinked back a few tears.
“Marcus Walker was, is, and forever will be, with us.” She looked directly at Jack. “He’ll be the best part of us, and I swear to God, he will be avenged.”
Jack found himself grateful beyond words for Sloan’s speech.
It was perfect in every sense of the word.
There were salutes from the army, gunshots fired on a bugle’s cue; all of the actions Jack could imagine when a hero met his final resting place.
The sun was setting on a long day that had seen him through an arrival, an assassination attempt, and now a burial.
One by one, mourners began to pass by his father’s grave. Each one grabbed a handful of dark soil and let it fall through their fingers to rest on Marcus’ casket.
“I’ll go with you.” Abigail wiped tears from her freckled cheeks.
Jack felt selfish for not thinking of how Abigail or Elizabeth felt.
Their father had met his death on the same night as Marcus.
Even though he had been the villain in the story, Jack could imagine that, in a way, it had been almost harder for them.
Abigail had saved Jack’s life by killing her father, Elijah Ahab. There had been no ceremony for him.
“Together.” Jack reached out with his right hand and clasped her palm in his own, just as she had done for him that morning. They moved together toward the open pit. Jack reached down with his free hand and felt the cool, moist soil conform to his grip.
He looked down on the open square of earth where his father had found his final resting place. The soft dirt fell through his fingers as he said his final goodbye: I love you, Dad. I’ll always love you. I’ll find out who was responsible and they’ll pay. I promise.