Time Travel Adventures of the 1800 Club, Book II

by Robert P McAuley

  John looked at him and saw a man who was seeking advice.

  “However, John, I have become friends with Orville and Wilbur. They and their father and sister took me in with me having no source of income. I truly want to help them but am torn by knowing the disc should not be revealed at this time. I feel it is time for me to leave.”

  “Leave? And go where?”

  “I didn’t tell the brothers that we have six centers we can go to if we have an accident. There is one in America, one in Canada, one in South America and three in Europe and Asia.”

  “There’s an alien base in America?”

  “Yes, a retrieval base. Will you help me get there, John?”

  “You want me to help you get there? How come you didn’t go earlier?”

  He laughed. “Really, John. Look at me. I don’t pretend not to notice there’s a size difference between our races. And although the Wright family was wonderful to me, there are others who are not so nice. Plus, dogs and other animals seem to resent me in their presence.”

  John sat up straight and bumped his head again. “Ouch! The Andersen dog! Now it makes sense.”

  “Also John, there’s the logistics of the trip. I don’t think the brothers would be able to transport my disc.”

  “To where? Where is this place, Mr. Osloe?”

  “You know it as Goldrush, Nevada.”

  “Nevada! Mr. Osloe, that’s at least two thousand miles away!”

  “Yes, John, two thousand two hundred and fifty-six miles away.”

  “But how do we get you and the disc there without people getting curious?”

  “I don’t know. But I do know that you seem to be the kind of person who can accomplish it.”

  John looked up at the sky and said in a low voice. “Why me? Why me?”

  “Why you, John?”

  “It wasn’t a question, Mr. Osloe. It was rhetorical, that’s all. Now shall we land and look under the hood?”

  Osloe patted John’s shoulder and with a grin said, “Another thing John. Because of the amount of time we just spent away from earth as it rotated beneath us, we’ll be a few hundred yards from where we took off.”

  John nodded and squeezed the grip and said to no one, “Going down.”

  The landing was as Osloe said it would be, a soft landing controlled by the disc over two hundred yards away from where the brothers stood. Orville and Wilbur trotted over to the disc. Both brothers smiled as Osloe and John emerged from the craft. “Well, John? What do you think about flying?” asked an excited Wilbur.

  John matched their grins, as he answered, “I can honestly say it truly was the most exhilarating experience I’ve ever had. I felt like an eagle must feel.”

  “Let’s take the disc inside lest we have a surprise visit from the town folk,” suggested Orville. Osloe agreed and went back into the disc, powered it up, and the three men pushed it back into the hut and closed the doors behind them.

  Once inside, Osloe opened another hatch in the ship’s belly from inside the disc. As it opened, a light came on, illuminating the power unit. He went beneath and stood in the engine bay as John crawled under next to him. Looking in, John saw a silver-colored, football-shaped object, with a few connection points and thin piping coming out of it and going into other parts of the ship Its the size of a bread box, he thought as he peered in.

  “Mr. Osloe,” he said, “am I right in saying there are no moving parts? At least not that I can see.”

  Osloe looked at the unit, then at John. “I fear that you are right. There seems to be nothing that can be done as there is nothing to do it too.”

  John looked at him. “Well said, Mr. O, well said.” He looked back inside and quipped, “Man, it’s not even greasy in there.” As they were inspecting the unit, the hut’s door opened and the brothers came in. I didn’t even know they were outside, thought John.

  Wilbur said, as he ducked low under the craft, “Sandwiches and coffee, gentlemen. Come, while it’s still hot.”

  They all sat around the worktable and ate as they stared at the disc. When they finished, Wilbur said, “John, Mr. Osloe, we had a business meeting while you were looking at the disc. My brother and I would like to thank you both for opening our eyes. You, Mr. Osloe, for showing us that flight is not only possible, but is a reality.” He turned and faced John, “And you, John, for being here when we needed another point of view. We would like to renew our efforts to bring flight to the world. We are both in agreement that we must crawl before running, as you so aptly put it.”

  Orville stepped forward, slid his hand along the disc’s side and said, “You both can stay as long as you wish to try to fix the disc, and my brother and I will, of course, assist you any way we can.”

  “Fellows,” John said, “Mr. Osloe and I also had a meeting of sorts, and it’s his intention to take the disc to another location so he can try to have both him and the disc retrieved and flown back to his home. In order for that to happen, he has to travel out West, and I’d like to help him on his journey. But in order to do that, I have to ask your help in plotting our trip. We will want to be away from curious eyes as much as possible, so we are open to suggestions.”

  The rest of the day and evening, until they went to bed, was spent trying to plan the trip, but with every idea came the belief that they would be questioned. It was as John woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee that it came to him.

  “I’ve got it!” He jumped up and sat at the table scribbling on blank paper. “I’ve got it!” The three others gathered around him as he explained, “We need some brown paint, brushes and some calling cards.”

  Wilbur poured them coffee as he looked at John’s notes. “Paint, wagon, train tickets and calling cards.” He looked at John and said, “If these are what you need to travel with the disc, I’ll be able to provide them for you, but, pray tell, what are they to be used for?”

  “I am going to put on a play,” John announced.

  Orville was perplexed, “A play? But why the brown paint?”

  “Brown will give the look of wood from a distance,” said John. “The silver color of the disc will invite people to touch it, then they’ll want to know what it’s made of. Best to tell them ‘hands off, it’s a wooden prop for a play that we are going to put on.’.And the calling cards will lend legitimacy to us being actors on the road.”

  Wilbur nodded, “Ingenious, John, ingenious. And what will the brown disc be made to look like?”

  “With a little imagination, a poor excuse for a boat.”

  “Mmmmmm, I do believe that’ll work,” said Orville with a smile, “You are an inventive person, John Brand, I shall miss you.”

  “And I, too,” said Wilbur. “Mousetrap, indeed.”

  That afternoon the brothers took the buggy into Kitty Hawk and returned with brown paint and brushes. Orville described what else they had done. “I am having a local printer friend of mine print up calling cards for you, John. This afternoon you will be ‘JOHN BRAND, ACTOR AND PROP PROVIDER,’ and Mr. Osloe will be’ OLIVER OSLOE, ACTOR AND PROP SUPERVISOR,’ as you instructed.”

  Orville went over the rest of the plan. “You will go by wagon to Kill Devil Hills, and I booked passage for you on the New York & Ohio Railroad to Chicago, Illinois, and then on the Central Pacific Railroad. You will take that to Goldrush, Nevada. Both trains have flatbeds for heavy machinery and are wide enough to take the disc. The train actually stops twenty-five miles from your destination so you shall have to hire another team of horses and wagon to take you there. I’m afraid your passage and freight will cost you about one hundred and twenty-five dollars.”

  John figured he’d have about four hundred left after dropping Osloe off. That’ll be plenty to get me back to New York he thought.

  Wilbur said to John, “However, my brother sees a flaw in your plan. The weight of the disc is so great, how will it be lifted onto the train? And will the train be able to carry such a load?”

  John nodded as he lifte
d the cans of paint from the buggy. “My plan is to have Mr. Osloe sit in the disc and as it’s being lifted, use the anti-gravity engine to lighten it. He’ll match the crane operator’s movements. Once it’s settled a fraction above the flatbed, we’ll tie the disc down so it doesn’t float away.” John finished emptying the buggy as the brothers brought out more sandwiches for the painting party.

  When they were done, the disc looked like a dark brown oval. “As you said, John,” Orville said with a smile, “a poor excuse for a boat.”

  John was admiring his handiwork. “You know, Orville, people are funny. If they are told this is a make-believe boat, that’s what they’ll see. A poor excuse for a boat, but a boat nonetheless.”

  The next day saw the craft safe upon the wagon Wilbur had hired. They tied it down, knowing the ropes were not to keep it from falling off, but to keep it from floating away as the anti-gravity engines kept it a fraction off the bed of the wagon. John had the calling cards in his pocket, and the brothers gave them coffee and sandwiches for the trip.

  Finally, the four stood by the wagon. Wilbur put out a hand and Osloe grasped it. Orville was next and as much as the brothers tried to keep it nothing more than the end of a business meeting, they both had tears in their eyes. They shook hands with John.

  Wilbur looked him in the eye. “You, John Brand, are a man set apart from others, and I do believe you are on your way to greatness.”

  John looked at him and said, “Oh don’t be so serious, you guys, give me a hug,” and he hugged first Wilbur, then Orville. They were at a loss for words at this show of affection.

  Osloe and John climbed onto the wagon, and Wilbur walked over and placed a folded piece of paper in John’s jacket pocket. “A simple note from me and my brother’s thanking you for all you’ve done for us in the short time you’ve been here. Godspeed, gentlemen, Godspeed.”

  John felt his mission had been a success, and he started the horses off at a walk on the way to finishing the mission. Osloe watched the brothers as they faded from his life.

  The trip was exhausting, and one of the men always had to guard the disc when they pulled into a small town or made a water stop. As expected, the craft drew crowds of spectators who bought John’s story of an impending theatrical engagement out West.

  John watched as the craft was transferred from train to train during the switches. Both times Osloe was at the controls of the disc and displayed the skill needed for the gradual lessening of the weight as John tied it down.

  At the Chicago junction where they were switching trains, John and Osloe were having supper. It was a warm evening and, while watching the craft sit on the train’s flatbed through the eatery’s window, they saw a shooting star.

  “I wonder if Wilber and Orville are witnessing this very same sight?” Osloe mused. The little man put his face close to the glass for a better look.

  “I believe they never stop looking up at the stars,” John said. Osloe smiled rather sadly. John went on, “How many years has your planet been a spacefaring one, Mr. Osloe?”

  “Hundreds of Earth years, John. I feel your planet is on the right track for flight, and I think the Wrights are, as you say, teachers. I think they will show the way.” Sipping lemonade, he looked intently at John and said, “I also think, John, that you are very advanced for a person who has never flown.”

  John shrugged dismissively, “I’m just a person in the right place at the right time, Mr. Osloe.”

  “No, John,” he said as he shook his head. “You didn’t seem as excited about my disc as the brothers were. Almost as if flight was part of your makeup.”

  John stared out the window. “And you, Mr. Osloe, you don’t seem to want to part with any information about your planet. You could be here as an invader for all I know.”

  Osloe smiled at that. “My planet has no need to invade anywhere. We wish to live in peace throughout the universe. I am not versed in the role of an emissary, but I feel when the council deems it right, they will be in contact with your authorities. Right now, I am very homesick.” John nodded as Osloe continued; “When we get to Goldrush, you will have to leave me, for they will not make contact with me if you are there. I’m sure you understand.”

  “I understand. But are you going to bring the disc into town? That’s a big risk. At least on a moving train there are no people trying to touch it.”

  Osloe seemed to consider the point. “I didn’t think of that. I don’t know how long they will take to contact me, and you are right, I can’t leave the disc sitting around for people to examine closely.” He looked up. “What would you do?”

  John responded, “I dunno. Put it in a cave or something. We’ll have to see when we get there.” He looked at the little pilot and smiled. “Don’t worry about it, Mr. O, we’ll work something out. Finish your food. It’s getting late and we have far to go.”

  Three days later they arrived at Goldrush, unloaded the craft onto a large flatbed wagon they rented and tied it down. The usual crowd appeared, and John wondered if an alien was in the area watching them. Osloe watched the team and wagon as John went for some food and directions. He entered a small bar and, as it was ten-thirty in the morning, it was empty. The bartender did a slow walk over to him. John smiled and put down three one-dollar bills.

  The bartender cheered up fast. “Good morning, stranger, what’ll it be?”

  John wiped sweat from his brow, as he looked at the bullet holes in the wooden walls.

  “The boys get happy,” said the barman noticing his gaze, “Especially when they bring in gold from their claims.”

  John nodded. “Goldrush. I guess there’s gold around here?”

  The barman smiled a big, gap-toothed smile. “Gold? Ya sure are a stranger ‘round here. This here hole was built in two years and all because of gold. Yep! There’s gold here. So, if not gold, what brings ya to Goldrush?”

  “I’m the advance party of a group of actors. We have to wait for the rest of the troupe to catch up with us. We are looking for a spot to set up tents for our play and I’m in charge of getting the location. Not in town, but not so far away that people won’t come to see us. You know of a spot? I’m looking for a kind of deserted area.”

  The bartender nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! Know just the place. One mile outside of town, just to the south. There’s a string of high hills so ya can put it where the wind won’t blow the tents away. Still, I don’t know how many people are gonna go see a play when its beer and booze they want.”

  John pointed to a tap he recognized. “I’ll have a short beer. I’m just in charge of finding a place, not in picking the town to play in. Do you have any sandwiches?”

  “Yep! Best bologna in town.” The barman pulled a beer and placed it on the wet bar in front of John. “On hard bread okay?”

  John took a long drink of the almost cold, beer. “Sure. Any mustard?”

  “Horseradish is all we got for flavoring. Take it or leave it.”

  John took it, paid and left with a batch of sandwiches. He stopped in a general store and bought some soda for himself and Osloe. Finally, about noon, they set out to find the spot the bartender had suggested.

  The hills were twice as far as he had said, but John thought that was even better. It would lessen the chance of people finding the disc. About three in the afternoon, they found a spot shaded from the sun by the hills and they took the disc off the wagon and set it on its legs. Osloe slipped out from under the disc and watched as John got a shovel from the wagon.

  Osloe asked as he wiped the sweat from his brow, “What’s next?”

  John answered as he rolled up his sleeves, “Next, we bury it.”

  “Bury it? This is packed sand. It’ll take a long time.”

  John smiled. “Not if we use your technology for us. You climb back in and power up low and the vibration will be our helper.”

  A puzzled Osloe went back into the disc and appeared in the dome. John raised his hand slowly, and Osloe mimicked it by slow
ly applying power. The anti-gravity vibrations loosened the hard-packed mud and dirt. John lowered his hand, and the pilot came to a six-inch height. John then gently moved the disc away from the digging area. He quickly pushed aside the now-loose gravel and stones. His next step was to maneuver the disc back over the same spot and do the same thing again.

  It took two hours of exhaustive work, but finally they had a hole as wide as the craft and deep enough to cover it with four feet of gravel. Osloe slowly settled the craft into the hole, got out and closed the belly hatch, and John helped him out of the hole. They both shoveled and pushed dirt over the disc. The end product was a small hill at the base of the three existing hills, which they rested on while drinking their sodas.

  It was dark when they got back to town. John pulled the wagon up in front of a hotel.

  “I think we should get you a room,” he said as they got down. “At least for a short time. How long do you think it’ll be before you are contacted, Mr. Osloe?”

  The little man raised his eyebrows and said, “I have no idea. During training we were told that if we were going to have to spend time on a planet we were exploring, we are to activate our retrieval beacon, try to get to the closest retrieval spot and wait.”

  “And did you activate the beacon?”

  Osloe nodded and said, almost in a whisper, “Yes. But did it work? I mean I was hit with a powerful bolt of lightning. It knocked my disc out.”

  John patted him on the back. “It’ll be all right. Let’s get a good night’s rest.”

  Osloe stopped him at the door of the hotel. “John, may I ask that we part ways here? I’m not sure how or when I will be contacted, but I may be under surveillance at this very moment, and we were told to avoid all human contact. I have some money the brothers gave me, and I’ll get a room for a week. I’ll be fine, my friend.”