Tear In Time (39 page)

  Toward
the top of a small bluff, David got off his horse and walked toward the peek.
As he approached the top, he noticed a single set of horse tracks where he
stood. He reached into his saddlebag and brought out his field glasses,
scanning the area for movement. David adjusted the lenses and continued to
observe the region. Satisfied it was empty, he stowed the field glasses and
rode through the next small valley.

 
Cresting the next bluff, David slowed to a stop and walked his horse to the top
of the bluff. Again he noticed horse tracks at the top. David felt a strange
sense about those tracks, and withdrew his field glasses once more. Scanning
the region, he still saw no one. As he rode down into the shallow valley, he
kept an eye on the now familiar tracks.

  David
came upon another creak and noticed the wet mud saturated by the water that ran
nearby. On both sides of the creek, he noticed the same horse tracks again.
David got down off his horse and touched the track. As he rubbed the surface,
the track collapsed.

 
“Fresh,” David said to himself.

  He
quickly looked around, but saw no one. David wasn't fooled. If the tracks were
fresh, he knew someone was close by. David moved to the right side of his horse
and began to walk with him, using his horse as a shield. Through the bottom of
the valley and back up the other side, David followed the tracks. As he neared
the top of the next bluff, he walked slowly with his horse.

 
Peering over the top, he searched for movement. David brought out his field
glasses and scanned the next region to his front. As he looked from tree to
tree, rock to rock and hill to hill, he looked hard for anything out of place.

 
Suddenly, David heard a shot. A moment later, the bark of a tree tore from its
trunk and hit him in the face. Instinctively, he dropped to the ground. David
quickly retrieved his field glasses and rifle, and scanned the area for
movement. Far off in the distance, David saw a small cloud of smoke dissipating
above a large rock. He refocused the lenses and saw a pair of legs protruding
from behind the cover.

  David
watched as the man sneaked his rifle back up over the top of the rock and fired
quickly. A moment later, the bank just in front of him erupted in exploding
particles of mud and grass.

  “Wow,
this guy’s good,” David said to himself nervously.

  As the
man reloaded behind the rock, David laid his rifle on the ground in front of him.
He viewed his foe through the field glasses once more and judged that the
sharpshooter was probably two hundred yards away: a difficult shot even for a
good marksman. David picked up his rifle again and adjusted his sights. As he
held the weapon steady and waited, he ran through his mind the rigorous
shooting lessons Dr. Morgan had put him through over the previous year. Moments
later, David watched the man's head peek above the huge rock.

  David
exhaled, held his breath and slowly squeezed the trigger. A large cloud of
smoke billowed from the end of the rifle. David quickly reached for his field
glasses and scanned the rock in the distance. There, slumped over the large
stone, was the body of a nearly decapitated man. David had hit his mark.

  David
jumped to his feet and stowed his rifle and glasses. He knew that with the loud
shots from both rifles, the enemy would soon come to investigate. Mounting his
horse, David quickly sped off, barely taking the time to scan for the enemy as
he rode.

  A short
time later, David recognized the grove of aspens he had ridden through just two
days before. Picking up landmarks along the path, he made his way into the open
clearing.

  As he
trotted over to the area that held the time portal, he drew his sidearm and
scanned the forest once more for the enemy. As best as he could see, the
immediate area was clear. David jumped down off his horse and quickly walked to
the location he thought to be the time portal. Looking around, he judged
himself to be standing directly on top of it.

  David
nervously scanned the area once more, then closed his eyes and concentrated on
the portal opening up. He focused on his emotions, hoping to incite them to
high energy levels. Two minutes later, he began to have his doubts.

  Pacing
back and forth, David grew angry and impatient. “What does a man have to do to
get a damn time machine to work around here?” he said out loud, rhetorically.

  He
stormed around the small area he thought would be the portal boundaries, hoping
to somehow trigger its opening. His efforts were in vain.

  In
anger, David reached back with his leg and kicked a rock sticking out of the
ground. Instantly, David fell to the ground, the intense, searing pain taking
his breath away. Tears streamed down from his eyes as his toes throbbed with
excruciating pain. Looking back at the rock, he could see it hadn't moved, and
realized he had kicked a boulder buried beneath the surface.

  “God
dammit,” David yelled out in pain and frustration.

 
Suddenly, he felt a breeze: a breeze that was uniquely different to other
breezes he felt that day. Balmier than the day's temperature, David at first
thought he was passing out from the pain. He stood up slowly and noticed a
slight distortion in the ground around him, as if the ground was made of water,
sending tiny rippling waves out from where he was standing.

  David
turned around and looked behind him. Looking toward his horse, he saw nothing
out of the ordinary. David turned back toward the portal area and stood still.
There, directly in front of him, just inches from his feet, clear and distinct,
was an elevator.

 
David’s heart started to pound as he stood frozen with nervous excitement.
After a year and a half of anticipation, his moment had finally arrived. David
took a small step and peered inside the elevator. He noticed that the size was
the same but the interior design was different. Taking inventory, David noted
darkened panels on the walls. The floor had carpeting in it that he didn’t
recognize. On the walls, he noted a few framed pictures of surrounding
Chattanooga showing the city during the depression era of the 20th Century.

 
Looking back over his shoulder, time seemed to stand still. His horse was still
grazing, but at a much slower pace. The trees and grasses, that had been freely
moving, were now virtually still. David looked back into the elevator and
noticed that the light fixtures were antiques and perfectly restored. Something
wasn’t right.

  Just inside
the elevator, David saw a dull, metal trash bin about three feet high and one
foot in diameter. The trash had not been emptied and was overflowing into the
corner of the elevator. David leaned in and plucked an old crumpled newspaper
off the floor. Standing outside the elevator, he read the newspaper aloud.

 
“November, twenty-second, 1930,” David said to himself.

 
Instantly, he pulled all the clues together. The portal had opened up nearly
seventy-five years before his time.

  “Oh my
God. This is the depression era. Crap!” David yelled out loud.

  David
now stood at a crossroads. If he entered the elevator, he would be stuck in one
of the worst financial disasters the country had ever seen. If he stayed, he
would be stuck in a primitive world, devoid of any modern conveniences.

  David
looked over his shoulder at his horse once more. He then read a few lines from
the newspaper. With great self-doubt and apprehension, David took a step back.
He raised his hand up and dropped the newspaper back into the elevator.

 
Although his present world was harsh, and at times very dangerous, he
rationalized that he would be no better off living through desperate times
during the Great Depression of the 1930s than to live through the Civil War of
the 1860s. David made a decision to stay.

 
Slowly, he backed away from the elevator. He watched with sadness as the time
portal slipped in and out of translucency until it vanished, leaving no trace
of its existence in the grassy area. As he turned around, he watched with
amazement as all activity returned to normal.

  David
stood in the open clearing and contemplated his future. It was nearly dark, and
riding back to the medical camp would be even more dangerous. Deep dread
overcame him as he thought about the bleak prospect of slipping back across
enemy lines. David took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. He could see his
breath in the cold late afternoon air.

  “Oh
man, what have I done?” David said out loud.

  David
walked over to his horse. He patted his neck and talked to him softly.

  “Well,
are you ready, old boy? I'm not going to lie to you: we might not make it
back,” David said, swallowing hard as the reality of his words began to sink
in.

  David
walked around to the left side of his horse and got ready to mount him. He
grabbed the horn on his saddle and stopped. Strangely, he had the feeling he
was being watched. Still holding the saddle horn, he looked over his shoulder
at the open clearing, but saw nothing. Turning back to his horse, he placed his
foot in the stirrup, and hauled on the horn and stood up on the stirrup.

  “Hold
it right there, blue belly,” a voice shouted from far behind.

 
Startled, David snapped his head back to where he had previously looked. There,
standing in the open field, about fifty yards away, were two Confederate
soldiers. With their rifles aimed directly at him, he thought for a moment
about riding off. As the seconds ticked by, David knew they had him. If he
flinched, they would shoot him dead.

  David
called over to the two and said, “Don't shoot. I'm getting down off my horse.”

  “REAL
slow, like, so's we can see every movement,” the Confederate called out.

  David's
mind raced. He'd been caught. He desperately thought about escape. As he
descended, he looked for the closest tree or rock that might give him cover if
he found an opportunity to run. He stepped down and turned around, and stared
at the two soldiers.

  “Don't
move or we'll kill you,” the other Confederate yelled.

  As one
kept a bead on David, the other walked quickly toward him, hoping to disarm him
without a struggle. David's hand twitched as he thought about pulling his
sidearm and defending himself. With only one gun aimed at him and the other man
running, this would be the best chance he'd get to escape. His heart pounded as
he struggled with his decision.

  Only
yards from him now, the Confederate slowed his pace. This was it. It was now or
never. David's hand shook slightly as his hand slowly inched toward his pistol.

  The
running Confederate anticipated David's option and quickly raised his rifle as
he ran.

  “Don't
try it, blue belly. I'll cut you down before you steal another breath of our
air,” the running Confederate threatened.

  David
stopped his advance. His chance was lost. He could do nothing more but accept
his fate.

  As the
young Confederate stopped in front of David, he pointed his rifle menacingly at
him and said, “Move a muscle, scratch your nose, pass gas and I'll blast a huge
hole in your belly.”

  As the
other Confederate approached, he called to him, “Seymour, you have him?”

  “Like
a dog on a leash,” the guarding Confederate replied.

  A
moment later, the two Confederates stood side by side, their rifles aimed at
David's stomach. He could see it in their eyes. One false move and they would
shoot him down as promised.

 
“Seymour, looky here. This blue belly is a general. Well, I'll be. The sergeant
will be happy about this, I reckon,” the Confederate said to his friend. He
turned back to David and continued, “Now I'd a-just a-soon would shoot you dead
and leave you here to rot, but I'm sure we would receive an extra bonus for a
live general, so don't go doing nothing stupid and change my mind for me.”