Time Travel Adventures of The 1800 Club
BOOK II
By Robert P. McAuley
Published By
Robert P. McAuley and Smashwords
Copyright 2014 by Robert P. McAuley
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which has been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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The Premise
The Time Travel Adventures Of The 1800 Club is a 21 st Century haven for people seeking to escape New York City’s frantic pace. Dressed in clothes their ancestors might have worn during the 1800s, members enjoy foods of the period and read periodicals featuring news of a particular date in 1865. However, the 1800 Club also has an astounding secret . . . Time Travel. Members travel back in time nudging famous persons and key events just enough to ensure history unfolds, as it should. Guardians-of-the-past, living in the future, send robotic probes back through the ages, discovered that, at critical time-junctures, pivotal figures stray from vital tasks and actions. These Time Watchers of the past can’t go back and fix the glitch in the timeline because the atmosphere they breathe has been cleaned up over the years and the air of the past is almost unbreathable for them. Then an 1800 Club member from the 2000s are sent back to guarantee that events get back on track. The 1800 Club’s members aid Lincoln, Roosevelt, Bat Masterson, Mark Twain and many others. Without subtle interventions by these unknown agents, the famous might have been only footnotes, rather than giants of history.
Dear reader, I once read a time travel book where the main character went back over one hundred years in the past to retrieve an object from a house. He entered the house, picked up the object and brought it back to his time. To me it was upsetting that he took us back in time and never once said anything about the house! Never described anything! He might as well have just gone back to a park where things never change. That is why I try to bring the reader along with me as I travel through time. RPM
Books 1 through 12 are also available.
Chapter 1 The Wright Brothers Mission
What happens to the world of aviation if the Wright brothers are not the first to fly? Chances are very good that the French would have that honor and take over as the aviation leaders of the world. However, they would probably keep the flying to a selected few who would consider it a flight of fancy while the Germans would be producing powerful fighters and bombers thus changing how WWI ends. The 1800 Club must send back a club member with aviation knowledge and that turns out to be John Brand, a writer for an aviation magazine and ex-air force officer. He is shocked when he finds out the reason the brothers stopped trying to fly.
Chapter II The Hindenburg Mission
What happens if the Hindenburg blows up over the North Sea instead of over Lakehurst New Jersey as it really did? There would be no survivors, as all would drown in the North Sea causing their children and future ancestors not to exist. Doctors, artists, lawyers, statesmen and just ordinary family people will not have had the chance to help the world grow with their knowledge and arts. Once again John Brand is sent back to stop the bomb from ending the trip across the Atlantic Ocean thus ensuring that the airship keeps its date with history and blows up over Lakehurst New Jersey. Something else he must do is to get out of the doomed airship before it explodes and there are other elements trying to stop that from happening.
Chapter I
The Wright Brothers Mission
DATELINE: JULY 6, 1907 PLACE: DAYTON, OHIO
On a warm summer evening, a butterfly fluttered gently across a garden lush with summer greenery and alighted on a swing that hung on a small white porch. It shared the wooden porch with three men and a woman. Warm light from the living room gently fell onto the porch’s floor and the butterfly watched as one of the men got up and poured lemonade for the four of them. He put the pitcher down and joined the others as they looked up at the stars. He sighed and said, “It’s a beautiful evening, isn’t it?”
The woman answered for them all. “Yes, a wonderful way to end a nice weekend. Family, friends, lemonade and the stars shining brightly in the sky.”
The screen door opened and a small, thin man put his head out and said, “Good night, children. Good night, Mr. Osloe.”
Two of the men answered in unison, “Good night, Father.”
From the doorway, the man wagged a finger at his two sons. “Orville, Wilbur, don’t forget you have to finish Reverend Pots’ bicycle tomorrow. I gave him my word at this morning’s service.”
The young, dark-haired woman went over and kissed the man on the cheek. “Good night, Father. I won’t be late.”
One of the brothers turned to the other and said, “Orville, how much time do you figure it’ll take to finish the reverend’s bicycle?”
The tall, balding man looked up at the stars again, thought and answered, “Should be finished and ready for a test ride by lunchtime.”
The third man on the porch was short, only five feet tall, and as he stood next to the brothers he made them look even taller than their six-foot height. He smiled at the woman and spoke quietly as he held up his empty glass.
“Miss Katharine, may I have some more lemonade?”
She brushed back a wisp of hair from her face and reached for his empty glass. “Of course, Mr. Osloe. Did you enjoy it?”
He smiled as he wiped his baldhead. “I do enjoy it, and I find it keeps me cool.” Both men smiled at their friend.
“Do they not have lemonade in your native land, Mr. Osloe?” asked Wilbur.
He sipped the frosty drink and said, “Not as tangy, Wilbur. I find this lemonade very agreeable.”
When they were finished, Katharine picked up the empty glasses and put them on a tray along with the pitcher. “Good night, gentlemen,” she said. She walked toward the door as Wilbur held it open for her. He pecked her cheek.
“Good night, sweet Sister. See you for breakfast.”
She looked back through the screen door, “Good night, Orville. And you boys remember what Father said. He gave his word.”
At that moment, a streak of light flew across the sky, and the brothers became visibly excited. “Wilbur! Did you see that? A shooting star!” Both scanned the heavens.
Wilbur responded, “Yes! Yes! It was a shooting star, and there could be more. Remember the night we counted three in one hour?”
“Yes,” Orville answered, “that was a wonderful evening. I propose we stay up a little later and watch. Mr. Osloe, will you watch with us?”
The little man smiled and joined them on the top wooden step. “Yes, my friends,
I will enjoy it very much.”
Orville kept his eyes on the sky as he said to his brother, “To fly, Wilbur, to fly. Would that not be great?”
“Yes,” said his sibling, “and we got so close, then . . . well . . .”
Orville looked at his brother and patted his arm. “Don’t fret, Brother. We’ll get it right soon. Watch and see. Right, Mr. Osloe?”
Their guest nodded and the butterfly-probe flew off into the night.
DATELINE: 2066 PLACE: HISTORY TRACKING CENTER, NEW YORK CITY
Alexis Shuntly ran the meeting. She stood at the head of a long, highly polished mahogany table. Seated around it were the other members of the Time Watchers Group, four men and another woman. They stared at a hologram in the middle of the table and the scene that was unfolding. The realistic moving pictures were the product of the Time Probing Butterfly that now sat on a shelf with other probes. After some minutes in which no one spoke, Alexis sat down and ran her fingers through her long, black hair as she looked around at her colleagues through her thick glasses.
She squinted and said, “It’s 1907. They were supposed to be flying in 1903. What could have gone wrong?”
Joseph Sergi stood momentarily and said, as he pushed back the thick black hair that continually fell in front of his eye, “Their first flight was December 3, 1903.”
John Hyder, seated on her right, asked, “Did we get the computer projections on this? How bad is it if they aren’t the inventors of flight?”
“They were not the inventors of flight,” said a woman’s voice. All eyes focused on Maryellen Muldey, seated across from Hyder. “They didn’t invent flight,” said the gray haired woman, “what they did was become the first to fly a heavier-than-air machine that had direction controllability. They were the first to be able to fly in any direction they wanted.”
Alexis Shuntly opened a notebook and looked at Hyder. “The computer projects that if the Wright brothers don’t show the world that flight is possible, the French became the first to have controlled flight. They were content to just fly about and sell their aircraft to other countries. The British were broke with the recession and didn’t see the need for aviation. History shows that an American, Bill Cody, was the first to fly in England and that influenced them to push aviation forward. But if the Wright brothers hadn’t shown the way, Cody wouldn’t have gotten into flying, and British aviation wouldn’t have been ready for World War One.” She paused to let that sink in then continued in a low voice.
“The Germans, on the other hand, would have put their money and resources into the aircraft Anthony Fokker was designing. He had some real winners and once World War One started, the Germans and their allies would have been unstoppable. France would have fallen and the Germans would have invaded and occupied Britain. The Americas, too, would have been targets.”
She put down the notebook and looked at the others. “Dear friends and fellow Time Watchers, if this is not corrected, we are all in great danger. Not just us but the world as we know it today. I don’t know why the Wrights didn’t make that historic flight, but it has to be remedied. Do we all agree that we must send someone back and guide the brothers? May I see a show of hands for a trip?”
Every hand was raised in agreement. Alexis pressed a button, the door opened and a tall man entered carrying a small notebook. He smiled at them and said, “You rang, Miss Shuntly?”
Alexis nodded. “Yes, Ted. We need a Time Trip back to 1903.” She held up a hand and said, “Wait, no, make that 1902.” She glanced at the others. “If they achieved their first flight in 1903, what year would they have started? I mean, when would they have first shown interest in flight?”
Jerry Sullivan looked up from his laptop computer and said, “They were making toy helicopters when they were little boys, but they started flying large gliders in 1900 at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. I think our traveler would have to be present about 1901.” Murmurs of approval came from around the table.
Alexis ran her fingers through her short, brown hair and sighed. “Fine then,” she said and turned to give instructions to the young man. “Ted, will you contact our liaison to the head of The 1800 Club who handles that period and set it up?”
Ted consulted his notebook, then looked at her and said, “That’d be Edmund Scott from our time period contacting Bill Scott of the 2011 period.”
She looked at the others and seeing no disagreement, said to him, “Fine. Will you set up a meeting with Edmund Scott as soon as possible? I’ll brief him on the situation. Shall we call this meeting over for now?”
Anthony Landi raised his hand. “I propose the meeting over.”
“Fine. I’ll get some more information and let you all know when we meet again.” She stood, and the meeting was over.
DATELINE: AUGUST 6, 2011 PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB, NEW YORK CITY
Bill Scott smoked a cigar with his afternoon coffee as he sat with his MacBook Pro laptop. He was reading about the two friends he had made on his last trip, Bat Masterson and Wyatt Earp.
They don’t make them like that anymore, he thought. As he blew a large smoke ring, there was a knock at the door at the rear of his office, the door that led to the Time Exchanger. He went quickly and opened it. Standing there was his future grandson, Edmund Scott, smiling broadly. The young man was the emissary from the Time Watchers of the future. Bill knew that when he showed up at the time portal door, there was a new mission for him.
Bill wrapped his arms around him and said, “Come on in, Edmund. Come in and sit down.”
The young man walked in slowly with Bill holding his arm. “Don’t exert yourself, Ed, take it easy, I know our atmosphere is tough on you.” He helped the young man over to one of the overstuffed easy chairs chair and sat down across from him.
Edmund smiled. “Bill, as you know I can’t stay in this time too long. The pollution makes it so hard for me to get a breath. Would you accompany me up-time to my period?”
Bill sat forward eagerly and exclaimed, “Would I? You bet I would! When?”
“Now. We have a pressing mission, and the group has never met you. They’d like to brief you personally.”
Bill stood up quickly and said, “I’m ready, Edmund. Lead on.”
Edmund slowly waved a finger at him. “You have to be careful though. Remember, the air we breathe is different from what you are used to. It’s extremely clean. To you, it’s so rarefied it’ll be like being on the top of a high mountain.”
Bill answered excitedly, “When I was with the Navy SEALS, we had to practice jumping from aircraft at very high altitudes without oxygen, so I know what you mean.”
Edmund held out a hand, Bill took it and together they walked over to the door that would take them into the future. Bill took out his handheld Time Exchanger and looked at Edmund questioningly.
Edmund said weakly, “September 20, 2066” and watched as Bill entered the date into the device. Using the key secured on a chain around his neck, Bill opened the door. They walked down the stairs and opened another door into the club’s garden.
DATELINE: SEPTEMBER 20, 2066 PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB’S GARDEN, NEW YORK CITY
Bill saw the same familiar garden in the glow of a setting sun, and for a moment he thought he had misdialed. But after a few steps he got dizzy. This time it was Edmund who held his arm.
“Easy, Bill. As I said, the air is much finer now. Do you want to rest?”
Bill nodded, and they walked over to a stone bench against the garden wall and sat down. Breathing slowly, Bill felt his energy’s rally. He sat up straight, shook his head and said, “Wow, Ed, if you feel like this when you visit me, I understand your short visits.” Bill looked around at the club’s garden of the future and saw a few plants that he couldn’t identify, but all else seemed to be the same.
A sleek red car pulled up in front of the gate. Edmund waved at the driver, then turned to Bill and asked, “Feel up to a little ride in my time?” Bill nodded yes, and Edmund helped him through the gate and into th
e rear of the car, then got in next to him. Edmund patted the driver on the shoulder, “Hi, Simon.”
Simon waved back and responded, “The office, Edmund?”
“Yes, but take the long route. It’s my friend’s first visit.”
Bill heard the sound of compressed air as the vehicle gently lifted up and moved forward. He saw people walking along brightly lit sidewalks although no streetlights were visible. The soft light was coming up from the pavement. A bus-like vehicle drove past them, and he noticed there was no loud roar of a vehicle its size, rather the same soft swoosh of air.
The car continued its movement a few inches above the road’s surface passing luxuriant green grass and thick, healthy trees along the way. Bill thought, they certainly did solve their pollution problem, rather . . . our pollution problem.
They drove along a street with tall buildings on both sides. All the buildings, Bill noticed, were pristine. They have the sparkle of a building that has just been steam cleaned in my time, he thought.
Edmund’s voice brought him out of his tourist-like trance. “Here we are, Bill. The offices of the History Tracking Center. How are you feeling?”
“Not bad, Edmund. A little woozy at times, but if I go slowly, I’ll be all right.”
As Bill stepped onto the sidewalk, he noticed it glowed with each step he took. It was a small glow, but enough to illuminate the area around him. “This is fantastic,” he said. “It looks as if you people conquered light pollution, too.”
Edmund smiled as he led Bill toward a doorway in the tall building, “Guess we did. I just never thought of it as light pollution though.”
Bill pointed to the ground. “No harsh shadows because the light emanates from the ground up. Clever.”
They entered the lobby and then an elevator. Edmund said, “Thirty-two,” and the elevator lights showed it was going up.
Time Travel Adventures of the 1800 Club, Book II Page 1
