A Free Chapter Of "Lexington"

    One of the things I'm pleased with about my novel "Lexington" is the fact it gives attention to both sides of the American Revolution. One of the novel's two main characters is sympathetic to those in and around 1775 Boston who oppose the King of England, while the other is loyal to the English government. Neither character is a "bad person," if I do say so myself. It's been my experience that very rarely are conflicts as black and white as they seem. People generally have their reasons for thinking and behaving as they do. It's often only when one's sincere beliefs become warped into an excuse for cruelty that acts of evil truly begin to occur. 

    The following chapter from the novel shows just how individuals can tarnish a legitimate cause through acts of terror and aggression. Here William, a man loyal to the English government but previously empathetic to those opposed to it, has his life altered in the most horrifying of manners by an unruly Boston mob. 

“They’re Coming To Hurt You Very Badly”

            Had he full control of his faculties, William might ask himself at this moment what is it about terror that takes away one’s identity, that sends one on a rapid journey from a mature adult to what is essentially a shrieking infant in the dark.  He has no time to ponder such things now, for a citizen has come to his property on School Street with news that a mob is now heading towards his home. When thanking the lad, William noticed he could barely slip the Good Samaritan some money, as his hand was shaking so badly.

            “They’re coming to hurt you,” the young man, who appeared to be a laborer of some kind, had said to him. “They’re coming to hurt you very badly.”

            Terror. It is the state which defines William right now. Terror which he has never known, terror which can paralyze and debilitate if not dealt with, terror that brings with it physical symptoms like no other - a weakening of the insides, as if the innards have transformed into something unnatural, terror which removes all dignity, all critical thought, all self-reliance, terror which overwhelms all hope of self-defense, terror which removes his humanity and brings him to the level of a hotly pursued animal. He races into his room, where Sarah, combing her hair, is startled by his demeanor.

            “We must leave this place.” Words he is barely able to utter. “Immediately.”

            They gather the servants and his mother and race as quickly as possible out the house, into the garden and onto the property of Benjamin Mason and his wife, Eleanor, an aging couple who live nearby. He can hear the crowd approaching down the street. He almost finds himself racing past the pregnant Sarah and is able to keep from doing so only through the utmost self-restraint. By the time they reach the Mason’s – no easy task when trying to avoid the road with a party that includes several elderly individuals - William cannot bring himself to engage in adult formality. In truth, it’s all he can do at the moment to keep from crying while trying to hide behind Eleanor Mason’s frail frame.

            “You must hide us!” he declares.

            As they stand in the darkness of the Mason’s ballroom half an hour later, they can catch sight of the screaming crowd though the large window. The mob is breaking into the house, throwing rocks at the windows, looting the valuables, and throwing items into the street. Before he even realizes it, William’s terror is being pushed aside by a profound rage. In the rapid passing of less than a moment, something inside him has altered.  

            “That is not theirs to do with what they want,” he hisses. “WE are not theirs to do with what they want.”

            Had he brought a weapon with him, he might well use it now, he thinks. He then realizes he could borrow one from old Mason himself. Upon consideration, however, William decides that he’s already demanded enough of the poor man. It’s not Mason’s fault he was too wild with fear to remember to pick up a weapon. He looks through the window, hoping to catch sight of actual faces. Sadly, he can’t see any in the dark. I should have been prepared for this when I refused to go to the Liberty Tree this morning, he thinks, but the fact that the afternoon came and went gave me a feeling of false safety.

            “Naturally,” he says aloud, “they waited for night to cloak their identities. Were these truly Patriots, as they call themselves, they’d have confronted me in the daytime.”

            “Do you think they’ll search for us?” asks Sarah.

            “It wouldn’t be a wise idea at this point.”

            “But what could you do?”

            “All I’d need to do is grab the throat of one,” he says. “I’d then make sure there was one less of them.”

            Looking about, William sees that his talk is coming across as vapid. After all, he was the one leading everyone through an unlit property in a state of utter terror less than an hour ago. Still, William thinks, what I say is true. I honestly could strangle one of them to death at the moment.

            “And to think I pitied these bastards,” he says to the others. “Father was right.”

            “About what?” Sarah asks.

            “About the natural order,” he says. “Someone now has to maintain it.”

            “Perhaps we’ll all have to do our part,” she tells him.

            William breathes in deeply.

            “Some of us,” he says, “may have to play a bigger part than others.”

* To purchase a copy of Lexington, simply click on the link below:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09XWS57RD/ref=dp-kindle-redirect?_encoding=UTF8&btkr=1