Justification For Killing

by Larry Edward Hunt

  “I don’t know Olive, let’s get outside and see.” Forrest wished he had been paying more attention to his grandpa when he was showing his time-traveling pictures and describing his experiences. He did remember Grandpa Scarburg said he landed in a cow pasture north of Dallas. Forrest was afraid to look out – fearing they could be in that swamp in Africa, he asked hesitantly, “You ready?”

  Before waiting for Olive Marie to answer he pressed the ‘OPEN’ button to allow the hatch to swing out. Slowly moving to the opening, he was reluctant to gaze out onto his surroundings. What was he going to see? What was out there? He could delay the inevitable no longer he summoned up his courage and looked.

  As they peered out they were pleasantly surprised; they were looking out on grass - a sea of dead grass and live cows. “Grandpa said he landed in a cow pasture.” Forrest remarked to Olive Marie. He could tell Pegasus landed on flat ground, its final landing spot was not atop the large tree stump their Grandpa had to deal with. Yep, this must the same place for sure! They were not resting on the same tree stump, they were nestled right beside it! Speaking again, “If we can see an old barn off in the distance and a grove of trees somewhere behind it, some old oil wells, a pond and a wide expanse of trees in the opposite direction, then we would know, for sure, we landed in the right place. We must, surely, be in Grandpa’s Texas cow pasture!!”

  THE COW PASTURE

  Forrest and Olive Marie managed to get out of Pegasus using the portable ladder. Standing in the pasture of brown grass, they could not see a grove of trees, or an old barn. Is it November here? The trees off in the distance seem bare of leaves. The grass was brown and dead, it was blustery cold, and a few flakes of snow were beginning to drift down from the threatening dark clouds overhead. Glancing upwards, the sky appeared menacing - there seemed to be a good chance a snowstorm was on its way. A quick survey of the pasture revealed wherever they had landed, it surely wasn’t summer here. Does it snow in Texas? At the time, Forrest wasn’t exactly sure. “Olive let’s go around to the other side of Pegasus and see if we can spot any recognizable landmarks from there.”

  “What are we looking for Forrest? Didn’t you say we should see some old, neglected oil wells, a grove of trees and a dilapidated barn? They are not here; we’re in the wrong place! Forrest what do we do now? I’m scared.”

  “Calm down Olive Marie,” he said walking around to the opposite side of Pegasus. As he glanced off to the north a marvelous sight appeared to his searching eyes: a grove of trees, a number of oil wells, grazing cows and, best of all the old barn. Thank you Mike Watkins, thank you for not changing the landing coordinates, but... what is the date?

  Forrest now could confirm he was in Grandpa Scarburg’s cow pasture. It obviously was winter, which made it likely it could be, possibly, November, but what was the day and year, now those were the mystery questions.

  “No! No!” Forrest yelled at Olive Marie.

  “What! What is it Forrest?”

  “I do not have the Johnson folder... it is still inside Pegasus, and the hatch will close in five minutes not to reopen for twelve hours. How long have we have been outside?” Forrest began to run around the ‘craft’ just as the circular hatch, hissed and closed. Forrest stepped back, the air was filled with a crackling noise and the snow was cascading in a circular motion around the time machine like a mini-tornado. As he watched, the beautiful metallic Pegasus began to dim, the sound of the bagpipes began to fade, and as swiftly as Pegasus arrived it was now gone!

  Forrest stood petrified, what was he to do without his manila folder of the Johnson facts. He was devastated, how could he have been that stupid. The lack of the folder was going to be a problem all right, but he seemed to have a much bigger immediate problem - he had forgotten his coat and left it inside Mike Watkins’s office back at the laboratory. Forrest had forgotten to get it before he entered Pegasus!

  It was cold, and the sky was beginning to darken as the snow fell in large half-dollar sized flakes? Fortunately, Olive Marie had grabbed her warm coat as they scrambled through the exit hatch. She also had fur-lined gloves in her pocket.

  Forrest was glad Olive Marie was bundled up, but what was he to do? Grandpa Scarburg said it was about four or five miles to Clem and Penelope Ruby’s ranch house - the Ponderosa. It was too cold to make a long journey without a coat – they were in a pickle!! Forrest knew they couldn’t stand out there in the blowing snow and wait to freeze to death. They had to find some shelter until the hatch reappeared, but where could they find a protective shelter? Why yes, now Forrest had a thought, the decrepit, old barn Grandpa had mentioned - a truck was parked inside.

  THE BARN

  “We have to get to the old barn Sis, maybe it will shelter us until the hatch reopens.” As they walked toward the barn shivering Forrest thought, why wasn’t I paying more attention to the small details as Grandpa told us about his time-travel to Texas. Olive Marie and I are here now; we sure could use some of his experience.

  Forrest remembered Grandpa said the barn was old. He had not been exaggerating, dirt was old, and this thing was running a close second. He reached for the sliding door, would it open? He was afraid rather than sliding the door it might just tumble over on them both, but to his surprise, when he tugged on it, it moved. Forrest pushed on it, creating a small opening, barely enough for them to slip their bodies inside. There were no windows, but enough light came through the small door opening to see an old truck sitting in the hallway of the barn, covered in dust and bits of hay and other barn debris. The decrepit barn smelled of old hay, rot and mold. Even though, a strong scent of cow manure filled the air it was dry, and provided a barrier between the terrible biting north wind, snow and the two of them.

  “Forrest, what about this old truck – do you suppose you can drive it?”

  Forrest didn’t think so, but he did not want Olive to hear him say it. Without speaking, they walked over to the old truck. He could see it was a dirty, green, old Ford with a mounted toolbox, what year? The best he could come up with was just to put the year as ‘ancient’.

  He grabbed the door handle on the driver’s side... wow! He thought his fingers were going to stick to the metal. Stick like the little kid who applied his tongue to the flagpole, but seriously it was cold, although not that cold. Opening the door, he noticed something lying on the seat. Surprised Forrest pulled in out into the light. He recognized it as an old work coat and inside the pockets he found a pair of gloves. Wasn’t much, but a lot more than he had when he first got inside this old, weather-beaten barn.

  Forrest had finished slipping his nearly frozen fingers down deep into the gloves when Olive Marie pointed out the key was still in the Ford’s ignition. Funny thing though it was sticking out of the dash and not the steering column, Forrest had to see if it would crank.

  He slipped in behind the steering wheel. Man, plastic seats are cold! Funny what you think of, he thought, did they even make plastic when Detroit built this truck? “Olive Marie where is ‘Drive” on this thing?”

  “Forrest, you are asking me? Honestly, I’ve never even seen a truck this old, much less been inside one!”

  He gazed at the dash in front. Forrest saw a large round dial surrounded with numbers, numbers obviously indicating they were part of the speedometer. Mounted close to the speedometer were an oil gauge, a fuel gauge, a temperature gauge and one reading ‘AMP’. This one must be for the battery, he reasoned. Forrest had always been used to the modern automobile digital numbers on his dash console, those mechanical gauges were as foreign to him as the truck was old. He could see there were no indicators for “D”, “P”, “R” or anything else; however, there was the long metal gearshift sticking out of the floor right where his console gearshift would be on his Camaro. He questioned Olive Marie, “Olive, do you actually suppose we can drive this truck? This thing is a stick shift!”

  “Forrest, please just do whatever you have to do, you know I can’t tell you anything about this truck! I don�
��t even know anything about my own car at home.” She added quickly, “Which, by-the-way, I probably will never see again.”

  Oh well, he thought, I know the gearshift sticking out of the floor is used to change the gears, I’ll figure out just how in a minute. He turned the key just a tad, and heard a motor under the hood began to grind. Surely this had to be a good thing, he thought. The truck instantly lunged at least a couple of feet forward; he knew this was a bad thing. Whoa, he thought, slamming his foot hard on the brake.

  “Darn it, Forrest you trying to kill us?”

  Looking down at the floor he knew stick shifts had a brake and a clutch pedal; although, he had never actually driven one he knew along with the ‘whoa’ something had to be done with that clutch in the cranking and driving process.

  He had ridden in cars of his friends that had stick shifts, he mostly knew how they worked, and had driven a couple before, but was not quite sure this old truck would be the same. Before turning the key again, he surmised it might be useful if he and Olive Marie familiarize themselves with those old Ford’s operating parts before they continued.

  He saw the accelerator pedal. It was the same as the one on his car, check. And the brake, yeah, he knew how it worked. Forrest decided to place his left foot on the clutch pedal, but before he did he pushed hard with his right foot on the brake. Was he ever a sight - sitting there with both legs stretched out and both feet on the brake and clutch pedals, and both hands firmly grasping the big ole steering wheel? He knew he must have had a terrified look on his face, but Forrest didn’t want this old Ford running through the end of the barn! They needed the truck! Besides he didn’t want to kill himself or Olive Marie, but he must have been funny looking because he took a glance toward Olive and could see she had her hand over her mouth snickering.

  “Forrest, my boyfriend Ryan’s car is a stick shift, and I have watched him drive it. He pushes the clutch then changes gears using this shifter thing.”

  With both feet still pressing hard on the two pedals, and both hands firming gripping the steering wheel he said, “Okay, your driving lesson was good to know now turn the key on the dash while I hold on.” Olive grasped the key and turned. From under the hood Forrest heard that grinding motor sound again - that has to be the starter trying to turn this old, cold motor, he reasoned. Over it turned, once, twice and on the third time it sputtered. That was good; in fact, it was real good the truck did not lunge this time. It needed a bit of gas, but Forrest was afraid to lift his foot from the brake and push the accelerator, but he must. He moved his right foot and touched the gas pedal ever so slightly and quickly returned his foot to the brake – Olive turned the key again and the starter turned the engine a turn or two, and the old Ford came to life. They felt extremely proud of themselves as they sat there, in the old barn, on their frozen seat listening to the motor chug right along. It was a terrific feeling, but what were they to do now?

  Now there were a lot of things Forrest didn’t know about old manual shift Ford trucks, but there was one thing he did know – he believed they had heaters. He could see the lever on the dash, which surely must be the heater control. He hoped it would turn on some life saving heat! With feet still holding hard against the two pedals, he asked Olive Marie to turn on the heater. As she moved the lever they both looked for the vents in the dash to feel the heat begin to flow. Looked is correct since there were no vents for them to see! What was the sensation Forrest felt at his feet? There it was, he felt a bit of warmth beginning to seep out from under the dash. It was warm air. The truck’s heater was beginning to provide the much-needed heat he and Olive Marie so badly needed.

  All right, the fuel gauge indicated the tank was full (or was it broken?); it surely had enough to keep them warm for a few minutes. Now, since they weren’t freezing to death, he could ponder their next movements. Forrest did not know the time, the crystal on his wristwatch, was broken, and his watch had stopped running. Olive Marie did not even have a watch. Grandpa had not mentioned this phenomenon; however, he must assume he had arrived at the same time as Grandpa did. Thinking back, the time should be around 12:30 on December 20, 1963.

  Wait a minute, Forrest thought, if Grandpa returned at 12:30, December 20 in 1963 and we are here at, I guess, 12:30 on the same date... how can this be possible. It can’t be! I know enough physics to realize two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time. We may have traveled back in time, but space is space – something was wrong. Either Grandpa misspoke his arrival time or today wasn’t 12:30 on the 20th of November 1963!

  Now Forrest began to doubt they were in the ‘right’ cow pasture, he wasn’t even sure they were in Texas. No! It had to be, how many pastures would have the grove of trees, the cows, the oil wells and this old barn with an ancient Ford truck sitting inside. He supposed it wasn’t beyond the realm of reason, but if this were not his Grandpa’s pasture it would be pushing coincidences to the limit.

  All of a sudden he had a revelation! Forrest remembered his Grandpa had told about how he traveled from one Parallel Universe back forty-nine years and arrived in the cow pasture in another Parallel Universe. At 12:30 Friday Grandpa would change the Parallel Universe path of the Earth again. Is it possible there are dozens if not hundreds of Parallel Universes? Forrest thought. We may be in ‘C’ or ‘D’ or who knows which one. This Universe stuff was beginning to make his head hurt. He decided since he could not do anything about it, he would forget about it and continue with his original plan (whatever that was).

  Regardless of where they arrived, the door on the time machine would not re-open for another twelve hours, he knew for certain this was correct. Forrest wondered how long it would take to walk to Clem and Penelope’s house. He had to do something because in exactly twenty-four hours from now Pegasus was going to return to the lab at SCAR headquarters. Wait a minute, he thought of something, Grandpa was SUPPOSED to leave Texas on Saturday December 23, 1963 twenty-four hours after his arrival. Mr. Rousseau messed with the setting on Grandpa’s gauges, and Grandpa ended up arriving on Wednesday November the 20th, so he had from Wednesday until Saturday to complete his mission. Although he left Texas on the 23rd, he came back into the meeting in Washington, D.C., on the 22nd of November. He changed Universes!!

  This was the predicament Forrest and Olive Marie were in. They did not know how much time they had. What if Mr. Watkins had changed the return time? Forrest wished he had paid more attention to the ‘RETURN’ dial. That will be the first thing he would check when the hatch re-opens. Even assuming they were in Texas on Wednesday November the 20th, they only had one day to find out about the meeting with Vice President Johnson at Clint Murdock’s house. They had to be at the party Thursday night the 21st.

  Sitting in the truck, the motor running, incredibly warm air poured out from the heater thawing their frozen bodies. Forrest wondered how he and Olive were going to spend the next twelve hours.

  Olive exclaimed, “Forrest, I don’t know if I should thank you or not for letting me come with you, but I have just one question since we are here,” she emphasized waving her arms through the air. “Tell me again what are we doing in Texas? I know you said something about this Murdock fellow, but what are we hoping to accomplish?

  The cab of the Ford had warmed to the point Olive Marie felt comfortable enough to engage in conversation, “Forrest, tell me more about this Mr. Murdock and Margaret White. “Do you seriously think this Margaret White woman was telling the truth, and President Johnson actually had something to do with the Kennedy assassination?”

  “Sis it is not even known whether Margaret White was the girlfriend of President Johnson or not. All we have is her word. Even if she was his girlfriend, and was at a party at Clint Murdock’s estate the night before President Kennedy was assassinated, just her saying it does not prove President Lyndon Johnson was there nor had anything to do with the assassination.”

  “Forrest, where in the devil did you find all this information?”

  “Fro
m Kym Holmes.”

  “Who is she?”

  “I don’t believe you know her Sis. Remember last summer Grandpa had me working in SCAR’s Department of Research well I thought when we got a chance to go to Dallas to work on the Kennedy Assassination I wanted to be ready. Kym is one of their best research specialists, so I picked her brain daily for information that might be of use to us. Clint Murdock was just one piece of information she supplied.”

  “Okay, but how does that concern us?”

  Little Sister, now I’m getting to the good part! That is what you and I are doing in Texas. This is ‘The Plan’, what do you think?”

  “Think? Think what, Forrest? All you have done is rambled on and on about some Texas millionaire, Lyndon Johnson and his so-called girlfriend. As I said, how does this concern us?”

  “I filed the information away Kym Holmes gave me, thinking this would be something I could investigate when the time was right. Well, Sis the time is right - right now. We’re going to the Clint Murdock’s estate and see who shows up at his party. Especially, we want to see if Lyndon Johnson makes an appearance. If Johnson comes to Murdock’s party, and meets with a bunch of high-level politicians then the story his ‘girlfriend’ Margaret White told is probably true. If we could hear what they discussed in their meeting, maybe it might provide evidence there was a conspiracy by the Vice President of the United States to assassinate the President of the United States.”

  “Why Forrest? Why would the Vice President be involved in something so sinister?”

  “Just look at the title in front of his name: “Vice”, Vice President Johnson”. He wants the ‘Vice’ removed, he would like his title to be just “President Johnson”.

  “How... how are we going to find out whether the Vice President came to the party or not?”

  “Questions! Questions, Olive Marie, I don’t know... I didn’t say I had all the answers. In fact, I don’t have any of the answers. If I had it already solved, there would be no reason for you and me to be here. I’ll just have to figure it out as I go along.”