George Washington Zombie Slayer (13 page)

Chapter 31

The Sons of Liberty Meet Thomas Jefferson

It would be an understatement to say that the Sons of Liberty were surprised that Thomas Jefferson was a black man.  Many of these New England patriots had been corresponding with Jefferson for years, having had no idea of his African heritage.  Jefferson’s reputation as a writer, farmer, architect and inventor had
preceded him, earning him respect and honor throughout the American colonies.  These white colonial leaders had never even considered the possibility that Jefferson could be anything but white. But the shock over Jefferson’s ethnicity would wait a while.

The discussion among the Sons of Liberty quickly turned to the topic of the use of Zombie soldiers by the British.

“It’s just more proof that the British are truly cocksuckers,” Samuel Adams bellowed, to the general agreement of those assembled.

Most of the membership present knew that the British were using zombies, and those that did not know were soon enlightened. Washington presented a short review for those unfamiliar with zombies. He touched
upon their presence in the Colonies, how they were being created, trained, and used by the British. Most importantly, Washington stressed how the creatures could only be killed by inflicting damage to the brain, or by beheading. And Washington stressed the importance of not allowing oneself to be bitten by the zombies, lest one become a zombie oneself.

To their credit, not one member of the Sons of Liberty even suggested the notion of using
colonial zombie soldiers to defend against the zombie soldiers of the British.  The idea of using undead soldiers was acceptable to the British, but it was most certainly not acceptable to the American colonists.

Jefferson spoke also about his experiences wit
h zombies, and cautioned other colonists to remain vigilant.  All of the Sons of Liberty thought it best to conceal the existence of the zombie soldiers from the general colonial populace, lest panic ensue. And Jefferson agreed with them all.  The existence of zombie soldiers would thus be concealed from history.

For their part, Washington and Jefferson pretended to be mere acquaintances, instead of the close friends they once were. Washington
wanted his friend Jefferson to shine here among the Sons of Liberty. And shine he did.

Jefferson
had also brought papers and drawings with him, which were quickly spread out on the table before the group. Sketches of inventions, newly drawn maps, and architectural designs for homes and public buildings dazzled the assembly. All these Jefferson had done by himself. When Jefferson spoke with the group about his opinions on human rights, freedom and law, most of those listening agreed that Jefferson was summarizing their own opinions, but in a noble and poetic manner that most public speakers were unable to convey.

After nearly an hour of conversing with Thomas Jefferson, there were none present who did not regard him as “the smartest person in the room.” These patriots, many of them brilliant in their own right, were simply blown away by the
knowledge and insights Jefferson offered. And as they read many of his writings and documents, it was clear his writing skills were unmatched. They all agreed to embrace him as a brother patriot, regardless of his ethnicity.

“We still have a problem,”
Samuel Adams said bluntly.  “If people find out that Jefferson is black, he will have no credibility whatsoever. And neither will WE.”

“It is true,” John Adams agreed. “We live in a prejudiced age where men will judge another man, not by the content of his character, but
by the cut of his jacket, the buckle on his shoe, or by the color of his skin.” Then Adams smiled broadly as a great idea came to him. “I have, perhaps, a solution,” Adams said finally.

Among the
present gathering was Charles Willson Peale, one of the greatest artists and portraitists who ever lived.  Peale was even now doing small sketches and paintings of the patriots seated at the other end of the room. John Adams, Samuel Adams, George Washington and Thomas Jefferson all approached Peale and, after a short conversation, the five men moved to the front of the meeting room where the light was best, and seated Jefferson upright in the chair directly beside the window.

Peale posed Jefferson in the chair, turned slightly to his right, almost in profile. Peale’s assistant brought canvas and paint and Peale made a rough sketch of Jefferson in pencil
upon the canvas, as the assistant mixed the paint shades and dabbed small splotches upon the artist’s palette.

Peale worked quickly while Washington and
Samuel and John Adams looked on. In twenty minutes, Peale had painted a beautiful and physically accurate portrait of Jefferson as he actually looked, which was something like comedian Chris Rock.

“Gentlemen,” said Peal
e to Washington and John Adams, “what do you think?”

“A remarkable
and true rendition,” Washington admitted. “It looks exactly like the man.”

“Aye,” Samuel Adams said after wal
king over and taking a look at the portrait. “And that there’s the problem.”

“A more skillful rendering I have seldom seen,” John Adams stated truthfully
to Peale. “And yet…I’m wondering, most respectfully, if you might not make a few subtle…changes?”

“Changes
?” Peale asked, a bit shocked, unused as he was to criticism of his work.

“I think the gentlemen are asking,” Jefferson said, guessing their intent, “if you could, ‘lighten me up’ a bit
in the portrait?”

“Lighten you up?” Peale asked.

“It’s imperative that other colonists not know that Thomas Jefferson is black,” George Washington said, pointing to the portrait. “Perhaps here, you might …lighten up the hair, and add a bit of red?”

Somewhat r
eluctantly, Peale grabbed palette and brush again, and began to overpaint the previous image, lightening Jefferson’s hair and adding just a touch of red.

“And the nose,” John Adams said. “Might we not thin out the nose and streamline it?
             

“
And generally lighten the skin tone a bit? “ Samuel Adams suggested.

Peale continued to work on Jefferson’s portrait amid this frustrating cacophony of critical suggestions,
lightening the skin tone, thinning the nose, streamlining the lips, sharpening the angularity of the jaw and raising the forehead.  Within twenty minutes, Peale had completed a painting of the Thomas Jefferson we all know from history, a fictional rendition of a face that, until moments ago, did not exist.

“It’s a masterpiece,” George Washington exclaimed.
“Noble and austere.”

“It looks nothing like him!
” Peale replied.

“Exactly!”
Washington replied. “But you have masterfully captured the ‘essence’ of the man, if not his true ethnological features.”

“Aye,” Samuel Adams agreed
, clasping his arm around Jefferson. “That there is a Jefferson you can trust. Not to imply that you are any less trustworthy as your real self, Sir.”

“No, it’s
fine,” Jefferson replied, slightly miffed, but also understanding the importance of this conspiratorial public relations move.  A ‘white’ Jefferson would simply be more accepted in these racially biased times.

“We should distribute miniatures of this image throughout the colonies,” John Adams suggested. “Let the colonists get a look at the
real
Jefferson.” Jefferson sighed in tacit acceptance of the plan, unable, even with his own brilliance, to think of any better plan to win him general acceptance throughout the colonies.

With a final flourish of handshakes and back slaps, the Sons of Liberty concluded their meeting, even as Peale remained behind to paint an additional three small miniatures of the fictional visage of Thomas Jefferson. These small portraits would be sent to newspaper publishers in Philadelphia,
New York and Richmond, that colonists might familiarize themselves with the freshly crafted Thomas Jefferson.

Washington and Jefferson later met secretly at the boarding house where Jefferson was staying for the night, before returning to Monticello.

“I am sorry,” Washington said honestly, “that most colonists will not trust you, simply because you are black.”

“It’s cool, my friend
, it’s cool,” Jefferson replied. “I understand. It’s a battle I’ve fought my whole life,” Jefferson said truthfully. “Hopefully, someday, things will change.”

“It is my fondest hope,” Washington said, hugging his friend before saying their goodbyes, and beginning the long trip home from Boston to Mount Vernon, Virginia.

Chapter 32

Cornwallis Initiates A Good Whipping

“Smithers!” bellowed British General Cornwallis, calling his subordinate into his newly
rebuilt office at his secret zombie development center in Virginia.  “Come forth immediately and bring pen and parchment, Lieutenant!”

Following the burning of his previous home and office, Cornwallis set the British troops under
his command to work building for himself a new office and domicile, twice as big as the previous one.  It was an ostentatious, two story affair, much resembling a small stone castle, with carved wood accents and even stone gargoyles adorning the façade. A stone exterior was less likely to burn, nearby colonists comically mused. A grand, interior staircase greeted entrants to the new structure.

Cornwallis had sat at the ornate, hand-carved oak desk in his new office for many weeks and fumed over the Boston Tea Party as he contemplated the inevitable and required retal
iation.  “The colonists are like bad dogs in need of a good whipping,” he often told his subordinate Smithers.  The whipping was about to begin.

Smithers rushed into the office with ink and parchment in hand and sat down at the small writing table across
from Cornwallis’ own desk. He could see that Cornwallis was already red-faced and angry. Smithers brought an extra large quill after hearing the angry tone of the general’s bellow. He knew that the arrogant and pretentious Cornwallis, like all Englishmen, always resorted to the use of large words when angered. Thus, Smithers anticipated the excessive use of much ink.

“Take this down,” Cornwallis began as Smither
s quickly dipped his quill into the ink bottle. “Insofar as the American Colonists have acted with unchivalrous vulgarity in disrespect of the King’s property,” Cornwallis began, “they have become the abominable progenitors of conduct requiring a harsh reprimand by his Majesty’s military forces.”

“A… harsh …reprimand,” Smithers said as he scribbled the words upon the page.

“Therefore, “Cornwallis continued, “The General Commanding of His Majesty’s Military Forces in Colonial America authorizes that the following homeland security
crackdown
against
A
merican
S
pies and
S
aboteurs be initiated, hereafter to be known as Operation A.S.S. CRACK-down.”

“
ASS- Crackdown,” Smithers said aloud as he scribbled the words across the parchment.

“British troops are hereby ordered to occupy the cities of New York and Boston, effective immediately,” Cornwallis said
to a shocked Smithers. “British troops may lodge and quarter themselves in any appropriate building suitable for military lodging. In the absence of suitable public facilities, troops may occupy and garrison ANY private building, dwelling, home or facility available for the housing of the King’s troops. “

Smithers now scribbled in silence, somewhat shocked at the contents of the orders he was transcribing.

“All persons, houses, barns and public buildings shall be subject to search without the requirement of a judicial writ,” Cornwallis continued.  “Additionally,” he added, “all methods of conveyance such as horses, wagons, carriages and boats shall also thus be subject to unannounced inspection at any time.”

“Unannounced inspection at any time,” Smithers said aloud as he wrote the last sentence.

“And these, these are copies of marching orders for individual field commanders,” Cornwallis said, handing Smithers seven sealed envelopes.  “These orders establish timetables for redeployments of both living troops as well as zombie soldiers. See that those envelope dispatches are sent to the field commanders at once,” Cornwallis said. “And see that copies of the Operation ASS Crackdown proclamation be posted to all newspapers throughout the Colonies.”

“Yes, Sir,” Smithers replied. “Very good, Sir”

“If the Colonials want conflict,” Cornwallis thundered, “then we shall oblige them willingly!”

      
Chapter 33

          
George Washington’s Sad Homecoming