Prisoner in Time (Time travel) (65 page)

“You boys lost?” he shouted as they neared.

Suddenly, he noticed David’s rank and came to attention.

“At ease Major,” David shouted as he neared. Riding up beside the officer, he continued, “I don’t have time to explain, but can we ride straight across this field or is the enemy hiding out there somewhere?”

For a moment, the major wondered the reason for David’s question. Ignoring his curiosity, he answered the question directly.

“Sir, the Rebs are laying just inside that distant tree line about a quarter mile south of here. If you ride across that field, they’ll shoot you dead,” he answered quickly.

Pointing, David said, “I’m heading to Compton’s Hill. I need a quick way around them. What do you suggest?”

The Major thought for a moment.

“Quickly Major. I don’t have much time,” David shouted impatiently.

“Yes Sir General,” he shot back respectfully. “Our scouts say there’s two brigades running along that tree line, stretched out about a half mile on each side of us. I’m sure you already know this, but our defenses strengthen the further east you go. So if I were you, I’d head east about a mile or so, then turn south again.”

David shot Doc a disheartening glance. “More delays,” he said.

Doc nodded, his face filled with worry.

They thanked the Major, then sped off toward the east.

For the next half hour, the two moved carefully through the woods to avoid contact with the enemy. As they cleared the Rebel line to the south, they once again increased their speed to a fast gallop. Within another half hour, Compton’s Hill loomed right in front of them. With each bluff they crested, more detail became evident. Soon, they began to see movement at the top of the hill as Confederate soldiers charged and retreated.

Less than a half mile away, the Union skirmish line came into full view. David could still see men lined up against the breastworks firing.

“There’s the skirmish line,” he shouted.

“I see it Lad,” Doc shouted beside him.

As the two galloped together, they both searched the top of the hill. Suddenly, Doc’s heart started to pound.

“David, straight to the top! I see the flag bearer,” Doc shouted, his voice excited, yet anxious.

Quickly, David’s eyes moved to the hill’s crest and caught movement. He squinted hard and saw the waving Confederate flag.

“It’s Arles Doc! We’re not too late!” he shouted eagerly over the wind.

Both men spurred their horses to greater speed. Riding as fast as their skill would allow, the two continued to search the hill for any sign of Geoff. Minutes later, less than a quarter mile away, Doc’s heart nearly stopped.

“Oh my God! David, halfway up the left side of the hill. It’s Geoffrey,” he shouted loudly, in near frantic tone.

David immediately scanned the region. He squinted once more, then spotted him. Before he could respond, he caught more movement at the top. Focusing on the hill’s crest, he watched a lone flag bearer begin his run down the slope.

“Doc, we’re too late!” David shouted in hysterical tone. “Arles is making his run!”

“Nooo!” Doc lamented, the emotional strain nearly too much for him to bear.

“It’s not over yet!” David yelled defiantly.

He reached behind him and slapped his open hand against his horse’s hind leg. Instantly, his horse understood the pain of the gesture. Faster than it had ever ran before, the horse charged ahead of Doc. David grabbed the saddle horn for support and held on.

David’s eyes scanned the skirmish line ahead. At the break in the wall, he aimed for the opening. His eyes darted from Geoff to Arles, to breastworks and back again. Mere feet from the wall, he pulled his sword from his scabbard and held it outstretched in front of him.

Sgt. Ellis heard the sound of fast approaching horses. As he turned to investigate, he watched in shock as the officer rushed past him through the wall. Seeing the general leading the charge up the hill, inspired him. He turned to his men and shouted:

“CHARGE! Follow that General!”

The wave of humanity flooded over the breastworks and headed up the hill behind the lone rider. Cheers and shouts of victory bellowed from their lungs. At the top of the hill, every Confederate soldier turned and ran… save for one.

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

Geoff took a deep breath and exhaled. Terror raged inside him. Paralyzed with fear, he couldn’t move.

“Come on idiot, get going!” he shouted to himself.

With his hands shaking, he could barely hold his rifle. He felt sick to his stomach. He took another large breath and exhaled.

Looking up the hill, he suddenly saw it: the Confederate flag waving in the morning breeze. His thoughts instantly flashed to Bobby. In his mind, the same smiling image he replayed so many times before was no longer there. In its place, was a new image: that of Bobby’s mangled body. Deep sorrow consumed him. He realized once more, he’d never see him again. Anger now consumed him. He suddenly felt energized.

With a quick burst from within, he sprang from his position and charged up the hill. His eyes were focused. This was it. Nothing else would ever matter again.

Running at full speed, he now felt light as a feather. He smiled at his strength and stamina. Pumping his arms and legs, he felt he could run forever. Instinctively, he veered around obstacles in his path.

With the distance closing fast, he now focused only on the flag bearer. One hundred feet in front of him, he watched the soldier walk casually down the hill straight at him. Something wasn’t right.

‘
He’s supposed to be running
,’ he thought to himself.

He recalled Arles Junior’s story told so many times before. He could recite it verbatim. Something was different.

Less than a hundred feet away, he noticed something else.

“He’s supposed to be wounded,” he said aloud as he ran.

Thinking through the problem, he rationalized his timing was off. He was stopping Arles sooner in his run down the mountain, he figured.

Fifty feet away, he now could see every detail of the man walking down the hill. He could see the wrinkles in his uniform. He could see the scuff marks on his worn boots. He could see the sergeant’s stripes on his sleeves.

“Sergeant’s stripes?” he shouted to himself.

Twenty-five feet to go, Geoff studied the man in front of him as he ran. His hat was pulled low on his forehead and his face was hard to see. The soldier lifted his head slightly. Geoff noticed his brown hair.

“It’s supposed to be red hair,” he shouted to himself.

Shock filled Geoff’s mind. His pace now slowed, distracted by his confusion. Mere feet away, the soldier heard Geoff’s feet and lifted his head.

Geoff stopped in his tracks. His heart pounded wildly. He felt tormented with confusion.

“YOU?!” he shouted in disbelief.

“Hi Geoff,” came a voice from under the hat.

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

David watched the scene unfold from below. He knew he was too late. In seconds, he knew Geoff would thrust himself at Arles, intercept the bullet and die. He felt overwhelmed with grief as he waited for the inevitable.

A hundred yards down the hill, he shouted in desperation:

“GEOFF! STOP!”

As he pushed his horse to its limits, he shouted the call over and over.

Further below, Doc heard David’s call and repeated it himself:

“STOP GEOFFREY, STOP!”

Both riders watched in horror as Geoff lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Arles.

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

One Minute before…

Geoff stared at the man in front of him and tried to make sense of the senseless.

“Sgt. Cooper?” Geoff said in disbelief.

“Figger’d you’d need some help,” Sgt. Cooper said in a calm tone.

“But how? Why?”

“It’s simple Lad. You saved my life. I’m saving yours.”

“But what happened to Arles?”

“I ‘spect he’s retreatin’ with the rest of ‘em, like I ordered ‘im to do,” Sgt. Cooper replied.

“But how?”

“How?” he asked, puzzled. “Boy, you fall on your head or somethin’? I thought you was a smart Yankee. Don’t you remember you telling me the whole Arles story when I was wounded?”

Geoff remembered their conversation and smiled.

“Oh yeaaah!” he responded, suddenly remembering.

“Lad, I realized something that day. I owe you a debt.”

“Sarge, you don’t owe me a thing,”

“Yes I do,” he returned, strongly. “I shouldn’t be here nohow. I should’ve been kilt that day. That was my destiny. It ain’t fair that I should live and you and your brother should be dead. It just ain’t right… so now I’m making it right. Now stand behind me,” he ordered.

In the minute the two conversed, the Union line closed in on their position. Geoff noticed bullets begin to tear up the ground around them. One or two at first, then many more as the Union soldiers began to find their range.

“No Sarge! I can’t let you die for me. You have a family. I have nothing. You matter more than I do.”

“Son, I’m ordering you to stand behind me,” Sgt. Cooper shouted nervously, realizing they had only seconds to live.

“First, I don’t work for you anymore. Second, I outrank you. YOU get behind ME!” he shot back, in determined tone.

Geoff watched a bullet pass through the sergeant’s sleeve. More impacted the ground behind him. He lunged forward and wrapped his arms around the sergeant.

“Tell your beautiful wife and kids I said hello,” Geoff shouted.

“Let go damn you,” Sgt. Cooper shouted, struggling to free himself.

Geoff suddenly felt it: excruciating pain radiating through his back as the bullet ripped through flesh and bone. He shrieked in agony and fell forward, knocking both him and Sgt. Cooper to the ground.

With Geoff on top, he stared wearily into the sergeant’s eyes. He smiled in satisfaction, then closed them.

Sgt. Cooper felt Geoff’s body go limp. He rolled him gently over and held his head in his arms.

“Geoffrey,” he said, he voice filled with sorrow. He shook him lightly, and called his name once more, “Geoffrey.”

Tears ran down his face as he tried to shake Geoff awake. He cried out in anguish, “My God, what have you done.”

Rocking the teen like a baby, the hardened sergeant wept for his friend, his emotional torment too great for his rough exterior.

As his tears washed down Geoff’s face, he heard the sound of approaching hooves. He cared little for who it was or for his own safety.

David hauled back on his reins and leapt from his saddle. Pulling it in front of the two men, he blocked all shots from below.

“Is he dead?” David shouted.

“I’m afraid so,” Sgt. Cooper responded through his tears.