Prisoner in Time (Time travel) (25 page)

“Sorry Sgt. Cooper, I got lost in the woods while taking a crap and David came to look for me. We weren’t deserting… honest,” Geoff blurted in desperate tone.

“Taking a crap? Nonsense, y’alls was desertin’. Don’t lie,” he shot back.

“I know this looks bad, but it’s true. Geoff went to relieve himself and as the column of men began to move, I realized I better find him. It took me at least fifteen minutes just to locate him. As soon as I did, we rushed back,” David explained. Still seeing the disbelieving expression on the sergeant’s face, he added, “You had to see us running, right? Think about it… if we were going to desert, don’t you think we would’ve been running in the opposite direction?”

The sergeant thought for a moment. With a reluctant nod, he spat, “Well then, this make y’alls the dumbest sons-a-bitches this side of the Mississippi. I ain’t never heard of no soldiers getting’ lost while taking a crap. What’s a matter with y’alls. You ain’t never spent no time in no woods?” He stepped forward and stared suspiciously. “I’m getting’ the notion y’alls ain’t New Mexicans. I don’t know where y’alls is from, but from now on further, I’m keepin’ an eye on you two.”

He stepped back and pointed up the road. “March… triple time,” he shouted.

-----*-----*-----*-----

Six hours later:

The army of men marched for hours without let up. As the afternoon sun hung low in the sky, they finally stopped for a rest: in Dalton, Ga. On the outskirts of town, hugging a small mountain that acted as natural protection, a sea of canvas tents was hastily erected. In the middle, two tents sat conspicuously side by side: David and Geoff’s on the right; Sgt. Cooper’s on the left.

-----*-----*-----*-----

The Desperate Surgery – Part II:

Year: 2033

…Continued.

Dr. X stared into the worried eyes of his colleagues. He took a deep breath and exhaled. A moment later, he began his incision across the patient’s skull…

Starting at the region just forward of the patient’s left ear, Dr. X embedded his scalpel into the patient’s skin, pulling the blade up through the temple, continuing along the hairline and terminated at the center of the patient’s forehead.

Talking to himself out loud, he described his actions as he worked, his words providing a measure of assurance.

“Ok, we’re starting above the zygomatic arch and incising along the coronal suture in a curvilinear fashion,” he said in a low confident tone. “We need to watch the frontal branch of the facial nerve.”

Dr. Acosta nodded in concurrence as he watched Dr. X pass the scalpel along his intended route. With blood oozing from the incision, he called to Dr. Acosta, “Suction.”

Instantly, Dr. Acosta placed the suctioning wand along the incision and drew up the flowing blood. With the bulk removed, he continued to wipe away the blood with a gauze pad.

He tossed the bloody scalpel into the surgical tray, then asked, “Dissector… and forceps.”

Already anticipating his request, surgical Nurse Taylor quickly handed him the instruments.

Locking the forceps onto the curved flap of skin, he pulled up slightly and inserted the dissection tool. Working the instruments under the skin, he delicately separated the skin flap from subcutaneous tissue. Leaving the forceps still clamped to the tissue, he placed them off to the side to hold open the incision.

“Eight blade and forceps,” he called out.

Nurse Taylor handed him both instruments.

“Ok, slicing through the pericranium,” he announced.

Cutting through the thin membrane that covered the skull, he pulled back the tissue as he followed the edges of the incision. Moments later, with the semicircular flap of skin pulled back toward the front of the skull, he continued his deeper dissection.

“Ok, we’re now reflecting back the superficial temporal fascia,” he announced, as he dissected the thin layer of fat covering the forward temple. “Once I suture it in place, it’ll protect the frontal branch of the facial nerve.”

Leaving his forceps attached to the fatty tissue, he laid them across the cheekbone.

“I need a 4-0 prolene on an R.B.-1,” he asked.

Immediately, Nurse Taylor handed him the needle and suture. Piercing tissue, he placed several stitches along the edge of the skin flap and cheek and pulled, securing the incision open. As he worked, Dr. Acosta continued to suction the blood that flowed from the lacerated wound.

“Eight blade,” he called out again.

Nurse Taylor quickly handed him the scalpel.

“Ok, incising the temporal muscle,” he announced.

With exacting precision, he sliced through the muscle along the rear of the incision and continued forward on a semicircular line that ended at the tied back skin flap.

“Dissector and forceps,” he called out again.

While Dr. Acosta worked the suction, Dr. X dissected the temporal muscle away from the underlying bone exposing the Pterion area of the skull.

“Bovie,” Dr. X called out.

Nurse Taylor handed him the Bovie Electrocauterizer. Carefully, he placed the tweezer-like wand across a bleeding blood vessel. He then activated the wand, sending an electrical charge across the tissue, sealing a severed artery. All around the incision he continued the process, nea
tly stemming the flow of blood.

He examined the prepared incision. With the skull nearly exposed and the various tissues sutured back out of the way, he was now ready to start the craniotomy.

Looking over to anesthesiologist Dr. Haskins, he asked, “How’s he doing?”

“Patient stats are low but stable: BP eighty-seven over fifty-nine, pulse forty-six and his pulse ox is eighty,” he responded in worried tone.

Dr. X thought about the patient’s condition, nodded to the anesthesiologist, and continued on.

He looked down at the exposed skull and noted the marked locations he would need to penetrate. Three drawn circles lay at the corners of a rectangular outline measuring three by four inches in length. Staring at the open incision, he visualized his next move.

“Drill,” he said to Nurse Taylor.

Immediately, she handed him the craniotomy drill. Placing the drill-bit at the center of a drawn circle, he stood the tool perpendicular to the point of entry and switched it on. As metal contacted bone, the drill-bit began to carve a small hole into the patient’s skull. In seconds, bone shavings soon formed around the tip of the tool.

“Irrigation,” Dr. X called out to Dr. Acosta.

Instantly, Dr. Acosta switched on a probe and directed a saline solution over the area, washing away bits of bone and blood with one hand while suctioning the contents with the other. All eyes watched intently as the whine of the drill droned on, penetrating deeper through the skull. Moments later, as the end of the drill-bit broke through, the sound of the motor instantly ceased as the tools internal sensors detected entry through bone.

Dr. X pulled the drill away and watched as the last of the debris was removed through the suctioning wand. He examined the half-inch hole and noticed the blood engorged membrane that seemed to force its way up through the opening.

“That’s a lot of internal pressure,” Dr. Acosta remarked in worried tone.

Dr. X watched the dura membrane that lay under the skull, pulsing as it strained to find relief.

“Probe,” he called to Nurse Taylor.

Taking the instrument, he gently touched the pulsating membrane.

“Hmm, this is even worse than I anticipated,” he said in a grave tone.

Continued…

-----*-----*-----*-----

February 22, 1864
 

Reveille: 5:00am

The bugler sounded out the call to rise. Only feet from their tent, David and Geoff heard the blaring racket and snapped to a sitting position. Both rubbed their eyes and yawned.

“God I hate that!” Geoff shouted over the sound.

“I don’t think I ever got used to it,” David concurred.

With little room in the tent, David rolled to his knees and crawled out into the darkness. Still carrying his blanket, he wrapped it around his shoulders for warmth as he watched the bugler continue with his morning task. Moonlight shined down upon the young man, silhouetting his features against the dimly lit sea of tents. With perfect pitch, he carried on with his tune and for the first time, David realized the beauty of the sight.

As the bugler played his last note, he briskly lowered his instrument and snapped his hand to his forehead in salute of a nearby flag. Holding it there momentarily, he quickly snapped his hand back down to his side and softened his stiffened posture.

“Nicely done,” David said to the bugler still standing just feet from him.

The young man smiled a great smile and replied, “Much obliged.”

“Who’re you talking to,” Geoff shouted from inside the tent.

“The only other person up at five a.m… the bugler,” he replied with a great yawn.

Turning around, he noticed the young bugler had vanished. As he scanned the area for him, he noticed a shadowy figured far off in the distance. David watched him with curiosity and as he neared and realized the man was moving from tent to tent. The closer he got, the more David recognized him. Seconds later, Sgt. Cooper hurried toward him.

“Y’all be assembled in half an hour,” he shouted in alarming tone.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” David asked, anxiously.

“General Thomas is massing out yonder. It’s on boys. We’re gonna have a real shootin’ match today,” he replied.

Hearing the sergeant’s voice, Geoff crawled quickly from the tent.

“What is it? What’s happening,” he asked, leaping to his feet.

“Grab your rifles and meet me out by the clearing,” Sgt. Cooper shouted as he ran to the next tents up the line.

Geoff stood in the morning cold and stared at David. Even in the darkness, David could see fear in the teen’s eyes.

“I guess you were right,” David said in fearful tone.

“I can’t believe this. We could be dead before the day’s over,” Geoff said aloud in disbelief.

Geoff’s words cut through David like a knife. He could see the worry in the teen’s eyes and felt responsible. As his guilt deepened, the memory of his last surgery gnawed at him.

“If it starts to get rough, stay behind me. Keep low,” he said, hoping to ease the teen’s mind.

Geoff thought about David’s words. The selfless act surprised him.

“Wow man, thanks. That’s a pretty cool thing to do,” he replied.

He thought about David’s heroic gesture and he began to feel embarrassed by his own weakness.

“On second thought, you can stay behind
me
. I got us into this, if anyone’s going to take a bullet, it’s going to be me.”

David stared back at Geoff. It was now his turn to be surprised.

“Wow Geoff, that took real guts to say. I’m proud of you.”

“Dude, you’re starting to sound like my dad,” he shot back, downplaying the compliment.

David laughed at the comment, then replied, “God, I feel so old now.”