John smiled at him. “I understand, Mr. Osloe. However, I have a request to make.”
“Anything at all, John,” he said, “I am indebted to you more than I can ever say.”
John pressed a roll of bills into his hand. “This is my request: That you take this money. Believe me, I have no need for it, and you may. You said yourself you weren’t sure when you would be contacted. It’s two hundred and twenty-five dollars. I have return railroad tickets so my needs will be small. Do this for me please, Mr. Osloe.”
The small man looked up at him, and John saw the stars reflecting in his eyes as he hesitated at first, put the money away, and then awkwardly hugged him.
“This seems to be a little-used form of affection on Earth,” Osloe said, “but it also seems to say more than can be said by true friends. I’ll never forget you, John Brand, my friend.”
John found that he couldn’t speak without emotion. Instead, he hugged Osloe back and turned and walked back to the horse and wagon. When he glanced back, Osloe was gone.
The train took John back to Chicago, and then he switched to a New Jersey-bound train. It was an easy trip because it was the first time since he had arrived in 1901 that he could just watch the scenery go by without having to plan his next move. He found it very relaxing and was amazed at how quickly he had taken to time travel.
He ended up in front of The 1800 Club’s garden and sent a text message to Bill Scott. “BILL. I’M BACK FROM THE WRIGHT MISSION. CAN YOU COME DOWN AND UNLOCK THE GARDEN GATE? JOHN.”
A text message came back to him almost immediately, “WELCOME HOME. WHAT DATE AND TIME?”
John felt foolish as he typed in “10:37 P.M. JULY 19, 1901.”
He watched as the heavy door opened, and Bill Scott came out into the garden dressed in a bathrobe. John smiled as Bill opened the gate,
“What period is that you’re wearing, Bill?”
“It’s early, after-shower, wise guy,” Bill quipped as they shook hands. He locked the gate behind them, and they went inside the main door and emerged into The 1800 Club of 2011.
DATELINE: 2011 PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB, NEW YORK CITY
It was eleven-thirty in the evening as Bill poured John a glass of brandy. Both men clicked glasses.
“According to the people up-line, John, all is well. The Wright brothers flew in 1903 as history said they did.” John was flopped in a big easy chair. Bill smiled at him. “I know how you feel. Tired as heck and still not believing you’re back in 2011. It’s natural to question your sanity when you do a time jump. I’ve been there, and I want to give you some advice.”
John took a sip of brandy and looked at him, as Bill continued, “Take a day or two before you debrief with me. It’ll give you time to get your thoughts together. Go home and start your normal life as soon as you can. Get a good night’s sleep in your own bed, it works wonders.”
John downed his drink, stood and nodded. “Good advice. And a good night’s sleep is what I need. I’ll debrief with you in a few days . . . and what a story I have to tell you.”
Bill stood, and they shook hands again. He walked John to the door that led to the dressing rooms in the club’s basement. Bill stopped him and said, “Hey, was it the best?”
John nodded and said with feeling, “Absolutely the best. I met the Wright brothers an . . . and, well, their friends. Thanks for the trip of a lifetime, and I want to volunteer for more trips. They’re addictive!”
“I agree and yes, I’ll gladly use you again. Now get some rest. Good night.”
Dressed in his 2011 casual clothes, John caught a taxi home. Once in his apartment in Brooklyn, he collected the mail from his overstuffed mailbox and checked his telephone messages. The third message grabbed him.
“Hi, John, it’s me, Dave West, your favorite editor-in-chief. Do I have an interview for you! It’s so hot I won’t even mention it until I see you in the flesh. Talk to you soon, buddy.” John lay back on his couch and turned on the TV only to fall asleep at the same time.
He was at the New York office of Aerospace Technology Weekly magazine early the next morning. He grabbed a cup of coffee and went into Dave West’s office.
“Hey, guy,” the editor-in-chief, said, “How was your mini-vacation?”
“More like a working vacation,” John said, “painting that small cabin that I think owns me rather than the other way around. Now, who’s the interview with, boss?”
Dave sat back in his old-fashioned three-legged, wooden newsroom chair. “Ever hear of a Jack Partesuom?”
Bill slowly shook his head. “No, can’t say I have. Who is he?”
Dave sat forward, close to him. “John, for years this magazine has been trying to get the government to open up about ‘that secret area that doesn’t exist’ even though we can see it in satellite pictures. You know, ‘Groome Lake’ . . . ‘Area 51.’ Well it seems that this Jack Partesuom is the top guy there and your last column about hiding secrets right out in the open, must have hit a note with him. The Public Information Officer from Area 51 is going to grant Aerospace Technology Weekly an interview. They want to show the world that since we won the big chill with the Soviets, they can own up to having that base.”
West sat back and folded his hands on his stomach. “Actually, for them it’s a win-win situation. They tell the nation, through us, that it’s pretty much because of them that the Cold War is over. They say, ‘hey we’re sorry for the heavy-handed tactics, but we were just doing that for your best interests.’”
Bill was shocked. “Area 51! Great! And I get to go there?”
“Hey, you were asked for by the top guy. This Jack Partesuom is their biggie, and he asked for you after you wrote the ‘come clean’ editorial. They say they get the issue flown out to them every week and because of our even-handed reporting, they decided to give us an exclusive interview. How soon can you be ready to go out there?”
“Tonight, boss. Just have to check plane sched, . . .”
Dave handed him a piece of paper with a number on it. “I was told that when you’re ready, call this number and an aircraft would pick you up at Kennedy Airport. These guys have clout, John.”
John looked at the paper, “Do I get this week’s cover?”
Dave stood to his six-foot-four-inch frame. “You get the cover story and a week off to boot.”
“I’m gone. Talk to you later, boss.”
From a taxi, John called the number with his cell phone and identified himself. The voice on the other end told him to go to Kennedy Airport, and a man with a sign with John’s name on it would take him to a special aircraft and no cameras allowed.
John met the man at Kennedy as planned and was escorted to an all white, Boeing 747 with an executive configured interior.
He was shown to a seat that had a GPS unit showing where the plane was at any moment and he watched as the aircraft flew from New York to Nevada. Coincidence, thought John, or what? I just left this area a few days ago, actually over one hundred years and a few days, and here I am again.”
This time the trip took just five hours as the big aircraft landed at Tonopah Air Force Base in Tonopah, Nevada, twenty-five miles north of a small town known as Goldrush. John had looked up Goldrush, Nevada, by going online aboard the 747. The search engine he used said the place was now a ghost town. According to the web site, once the gold petered out in 1907, the town pretty much just withered away.
John felt sorry for the people he had seen during his short time there. I just hope Osloe made it home safely, he thought.
His aircraft landed, and the heat almost knocked him over as his escort took him to a waiting black limo. Getting in, John was quickly thankful for the cool air conditioning and the drinks available. He opened a soda and sat back as the limo made its way to the semi-secret base.
He was amused as the guards just waved the black car through without even slowing it down. Clout, he thought, this is clout. The base was pretty much as depicted by the pictures supplied to the world by
the French satellites a few years back. Aerospace Technology Weekly ran them, he remembered. The extra-long runways, the refueling pits, the armament pits, and the large hangars built into the side of the mountains. This was a newsman’s dream. “Dreamland,” as it was known in many circles, was being opened up to him.
The limo slowed and entered a road that went underground and finally stopped at a security post. An Air Force major opened the door, smiled at him, and said, “Mr. Brand, Major Goodwin. Welcome to Sleepy Hollow,” as he handed John a nametag with his picture on it. “Will you please wear this at all times, sir.”
John put it on and said to the major, “Sleepy Hollow, that’s a new one.”
“Actually, Mr. Brand, that’s been in use for years. Just sort of shows you that some things can be kept secret. Come this way and meet our commander.” He walked quickly down a hallway that had been carved into the mountain and came to a steel door with white-painted letters stating, “Jack Partesuom, Base Commander.” The major knocked and a voice said, “Enter.”
He opened the door and they went into an office with two chairs and a large desk flanked by an American flag and a United States Air Force flag. The office was empty. Running water was heard from behind a closed door at the far end of the large office. The major called out. “Major Goodwin and Mr. John Brand here, sir.”
A voice responded, “Oh, sorry, major. Ask Mr. Brand to sit down. You may leave. I’ll be right out, Mr. Brand.”
The major pulled a chair out for John. “I’ll be outside, Mr. Brand, if the commander needs anything.”
John nodded at him as he closed the door. The running water stopped. John stood as the door opened and out walked a grinning Mr. Osloe.
Johns was dumbfounded, as Osloe smiled and walked over to him. He put out his hand and they started a handshake that quickly broke into a laughing bear hug.
“Osloe! How the hell did you pull this off? Let me look at you! You look like you aged only about twenty years.”
Osloe stood back with his with hands on his hips and looked at John. “John Brand. As I said, I knew there was more to you than met the eye, you scoundrel you.”
John pointed at him, “Well, what about you? I mean, what’s with this office? Base Commander Osloe?”
The small man shook his head, “No, John, Base Commander Jack Partesuom. I changed my name years ago. Come on, let’s take a walk around the base, and I’ll fill you in on the past one hundred plus years.”
As they went out the door, the major fell in behind them. Osloe stopped and said, “No need for you to have to walk around with us, Major, you can take the rest of the day off.”
They walked on alone. Bill waited as long as he could, then said, “Now, Osloe, fill me in!”
Osloe raised his eyebrows and replied, “And you, John. You have to fill me in, too.”
“Okay, but you first. The last time I saw you was at the hotel in Goldrush. I turned around and you were gone. I figured your friends took you home right away.”
Osloe shook his head. “No, John. It never happened. The retrieval beacon must have been fried by the lightning strike. After a month, I realized I was stuck on Earth. What could I do? I had no skill to work at. So, using the money you gave me, I went gold mining like the rest of the people. My size didn’t seem to matter to them. They didn’t see me as anything more than another gold miner.”
“I found a small grouping of nuggets and put in a claim. A man in town bought my claim for two thousand dollars, and I put my gold in the bank and lived off the two thousand. The gold brought me interest, and I opened a store that carried only mining supplies. I figured anyone coming to Goldrush would put their last dollar in mining supplies. And I also became one of the first to recognize that the gold was running out.”
“How did you figure that out?”
“When some of the people started trying to sell me my equipment back John, I knew they were moving on. I stopped buying new supplies and after my supply was used up I sold the store. I built a small house close to where we buried the disc. To me being near the disc was like being close to a piece of home, and I could also keep an eye on it and for any retrieval group, should they arrive.”
“The town dried up, and I decided I was here for the duration. So I made a decision. I wanted to learn all I could about flight. I watched and read about the exploits of the Wright brothers. Boy! Was I proud of them!”
“Did you ever contact them?”
Osloe shrugged. “No, it would have been too painful for me. Best they think I left Earth. They’re all gone now, of course, Wilbur, Orville, his dad and sweet Katharine. I do miss them, as I did miss you. I figured you never made that better mousetrap because I never heard about you again.” He paused and with a grin continued.
“Until recently that is. I read Aerospace Technology Weekly faithfully, but never put your name to your face. That is until I saw your picture along with the article, “Hiding Secrets in the Open.” I was shocked when I figured it out. Somehow you traveled back to 1901.” He stopped and looked up at John. “Correct?”
John smiled. “I guess there can be no other explanation, Osloe. Yes, you are correct.”
Osloe stood there shaking his head. “Amazing! I figured it out, but I’m still amazed. As I said then, John, you are a different type of man.” He smiled his warm smile. “May I ask you what you were doing back there? Where you tracking me?”
John laughed, “No, not you. We didn’t even know about you. When it was discovered that the Wright brothers stopped trying to fly, I was sent back to get them interested in flight again.”
Osloe smiled and nodded his head as he realized John’s mission. “Well, I do believe you accomplished your goal, John.”
“But you became my second goal, Osloe, and I believe I failed you.”
Osloe grabbed John’s arm and stopped him. “No! You did no such thing. Walk me back to my office, and I’ll show you something.”
They walked briskly back, and he locked the door behind them. He opened a safe and took out some photos. He shielded them against his chest as he said, “I went to school to learn about engines, airframes, electronics and aerodynamics. I became friends with most of the great aviators, Wiley Post, Jimmy Doolittle and a host of others. I flew with air clubs and at a dinner for engineers, I met Dwight Eisenhower when he was a major. I was with Jimmy Doolittle, and I ended up inviting both of them to hunt jackrabbits at my place.” He put the photos behind his back.
“Before they arrived, I washed some dirt off the disc and powered it up out of the ground a little bit. As we drove past, I ‘spotted’ it and stopped the car. I pointed to it, and the three of us ‘discovered’ it at the same time. They were overwhelmed at the find, and, of course, I pretended to be as amazed as they were. Doolittle said as it was on my land, it was rightfully mine, but I told them I had a better idea. ‘Why not turn this area into a base of sorts?’”
“At that time I had been recognized as one of the top engineers in the U.S. and I told them that I would donate my land to the government for one hundred years and I’d form a team of the top people to see if we could get the disc in flyable condition. They were ecstatic that I would do this for them. As Ike said, ‘What a cover for a secret project.’ “
John could feel the man’s excitement. He continued. “Before long we had a small base dug into the side of the hill and started to look into the disc’s secrets.” He gestured widely. “After a while, they built a bigger base around this small one, known as Groome Range, and now we really were in a private enclosure. It worked fine, John, and as the top scientist, I had unlimited access to the disc, which as you know is now called a flying saucer. Over the years, I saw presidents come and go as well as other scientists. They started looking at me as a, sort of, Howard Hughes. Except I wasn’t aging! Well, of course I was, but at a much slower pace than they were. But the excitement of working on an alien craft kept the whispering to a minimum.”
Once again John smiled at the man’s
excitement, “Did it work? I mean, did you fix the saucer?”
Osloe smiled and waved the pictures at John. “About two weeks ago one of our bright young fellows decided to hit the disc with a bolt of electricity to try to see if we could get it back on track.” He paced the office as he waved the photos. Suddenly he stopped and in a whisper, said, “And, it worked! John, we were taking off straight up and down for years, but this time our test pilot transitioned to forward flight. He quickly transitioned to reverse and then went vertical and landed. The whole base was talking about it.”
“Then someone notified the President and security was tripled. Men I never saw before, all of a sudden were securing various items and parts of the base. I had to really pull weight to get to sit in my saucer.” He sank down in his desk chair, still clutching the photos. “John, I’m afraid of what might happen if the government is able to duplicate the disc. I’m also afraid that they are now taking a real close look at me, the enigma who ran this program for over sixty years.”
John nodded. “I know what you mean, Osloe. I still don’t believe the world is ready for your disc. What are you going to do?”
Osloe smiled at him and said, “Exactly what John Brand would do in this situation. Fly home.” He handed John the photos.
“When I saw your picture in the magazine, the whole story fell into place. Time travel was the only answer. In a sense, I time traveled too. I was on your planet for over one hundred years and met some of the most exciting people ever born. I watched the Wrights teach mankind how to fly and watched it develop right up to space travel. I believe the next step is the antigravity engine technology, but as you once said so many years ago, we must still crawl before we run. And letting them have the disc would just allow them to stumble around in a dangerous area.”
John looked at the pictures. They showed the saucer, inside and out, engine bay and close-ups of the power plant. There was at least one shot of every inch of the craft. He looked at Osloe and said, “Why are you giving me these?”
Time Travel Adventures of the 1800 Club, Book II Page 8
