Prisoner in Time (Time travel)
Page 18
Immediately, the men stood up straight and tightened their strides. Briskly, deliberately, they marched along with renewed purpose. With their faces pointing forward, they watched the sergeant from the corner of their eyes. As he passed by them on his way to the back, they breathed a sigh of relief.
Sgt. Cooper neared the end of the column. As he worked his way back, he made a mental note of the men’s faces, as well as counted them out. Suddenly, he stopped. Looking around him, his head darted swiftly in all directions.
“Blast those two!” he shouted aloud. “Have y’all seen the New Mexicans?”
For a moment, no one answered.
“Gall Dangit, have Y’ALL seen the New Mexicans?!” he shouted again, angrily, then added, “Y’all best answer me, else I reckon there’ll be trouble.”
“Yes Sir, sergeant. The younger feller said he needed to take a crap,” a lone soldier shouted.
“What about the other feller… the older one?”
“Yes Sir, I think he was using the woods second,” the soldier replied.
“Blast it! I’ll skin ‘em alive,” he spat angrily. Addressing his men once more, he shouted, “Y’all keep up the pace. I should be back shortly.”
No answer was required. The men trudged on. Sgt. Cooper turned and ran down the dirt road, his eyes were focused and his posture determined. He was now like a shark on the hunt.
As he ran past the location he last saw David and Geoff, he stopped a moment and listened. Quickly, he scanned the woods for any movement.
“Nothin’… not a peep,” he said under his breath.
Instantly, he darted off, running further down the road. Five minutes later, slightly winded, he stopped and listened once more.
“Hmm, nothin’,” he said again, adding, “Y’all best show yourselves. I’mma losin’ my patience.”
Like before, the sergeant continued running. Nearly ten minutes elapsed when the pain of his winded lungs slowed him to a walk. Seconds later, he stopped at the edge of the road, completely out of breath. With his hands on his knees and breathing heavily, he listened once more. He craned his head to one side, and concentrated.
All around him, he heard sounds: sounds from birds, sounds from the wind in the trees and sounds of rustling leaves...
“Ridiculous!” he said to himself in frustration.
He stood up, took a deep breath and exhaled. He slowed his mind and thought through the problem. As he stood quietly in the dirt road, he began to hear sounds through the trees. Instantly, he darted to the edge of the forest and listened intently. Again, he heard twigs and leaves crunch under foot. He turned his head in the direction of the sound.
Suddenly, he spotted movement in the trees. He quickly knelt down and lowered his visibility. As he continued to watch, the corners of his mouth curled up in a knowing grin.
Slowly, quietly, he crept through the woods toward the sound.
-----*-----*-----*-----
David yelled loudly for Geoff. With each unanswered response, he became more worried and desperate. He now began to run. Chasing after his unseen target, he had no idea if he was moving in the right direction. As he rushed uphill out of the ravine, he stopped for a moment to catch his breath. Suddenly, he heard thrashing far beyond his sight.
“That’s got to be him,” he said to himself, shaking his head in anger.
In a quick spurt, he chased after the sound. Minutes later, he shouted Geoff’s name.
“David… I’m over here,” Geoff yelled in return, barely able to see David through the trees.
As the two ran toward each other, they closed the distance in seconds.
“Where the hell have you been?” David shouted in frustration, seeing Geoff finally appear.
“I got lost,” Geoff responded in humiliated tone.
“Lost? You gotta be kidding me,” he shot back. “The column of men has left already and I’m betting the Sarge is on a rampage.”
“I know… I know. You don’t have to remind me,” he replied, in worried tone.
“We’ve got to get back there NOW!” David shouted.
Instantly, the two turned and headed in the direction of the dirt road. Charging through the woods, they crashed through brush, leaves and branches, creating loud conspicuous noises as they ran. Within minutes, they reached the edge of the woods and stepped out into the clear that paralleled the dirt road. David scanned in the direction of the army, but saw only an empty landscape.
“Oh man, we’re going to have to double-time it to catch up,” he said to Geoff reluctantly.
“Sorry,” Geoff responded simply.
Without another word, the two began their jog, hoping they weren’t too far behind.
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Moments before…
Union scout Morris Lent paused at the edge of the woods and waited. Off in the distance, he watched in satisfaction as the two figures he’d been pursuing, suddenly appeared in the middle of the dirt road. He smiled to himself as he crouched low in his stance to avoid detection.
“Fish in a barrel,” he whispered to himself in satisfaction.
Slowly, he raised the barrel of his rifle and aimed at the two soldiers. Suddenly, they began to run. He smiled once more and held his fire.
“Stupid Rebs. There’re making this too easy,” he said quietly, now holding his fire as his prey neared.
As David and Geoff closed the distance to his location, Morris began to slowly squeeze the trigger. Holding his aim on the moving targets, he focused his sights on David’s stomach. He exhaled a breath then…
-----*-----*-----*-----
With their rifles slung over their shoulders, David and Geoff jogged swiftly along the road. Focusing far out to their front, they watched for signs of the telltale dust cloud that would signal they were close to their men.
As David scanned the area, he noticed Geoff had fallen behind already. He stopped in the road and waited.
“You can’t possibly be out of breath,” he shouted.
“I’m still out of breath from all the running in the woods,” Geoff defended.
As he ran up beside David, he shot him an unpleasant stare.
“You’re out of shape and you’re mad at me?” David said, now openly challenging the teen’s logic.
Before Geoff could speak, the two heard a hammer cock on a gun fifteen feet away. Both turned toward the woods. Fear instantly gripped them as they stared at the gun barrel pointing directly at them. David’s blood rushed from his face as he noticed the sardonic grin on the Union scout’s face.
“WAIT!” David shouted, throwing his hands in the air in protest.
“AHHGG!” came the loud guttural moan.
Pain shot through him as he felt the searing sting of metal in his neck. Instantly, his hands clutched the protruding blade as blood erupted from the wound and spewed down the front of his blue uniform.
As Union scout Morris Lent dropped his rifle and fell forward, Sgt. Cooper rushed up from behind him. Quickly, he pulled his knife from the man’s neck and plunged it into Morris’ back, instantly slicing through the heart.
Pulling the knife from the dead man’s back, Sgt Cooper said in nonchalance, “Need more practice. Missed my aim.”
David and Geoff stood in stunned silence. As they stared at Sgt. Cooper, he walked toward them with a purposeful stride.
“Just what in the blazes are y’alls doing out here? Desertin’?” he shouted as he neared. Before either one could speak, he added, “I outta shoot y’alls right here on the spot. Lucky for you there’s enemy about and we all need to keep it low, otherwise I would have kilt ya already,” he spat angrily.
“Sorry Sgt. Cooper, I got lost in the woods while taking a crap and David came to look for me. We weren’t deserting… honest,” Geoff blurted in desperate tone.
“Taking a crap? Nonsense, y’alls was desertin’. Don’t lie,” he shot back.
“I know this looks bad, but it’s true. Geoff went to relieve himself and as
the column of men began to move, I realized I better find him. It took me at least fifteen minutes just to locate him. As soon as I did, we rushed back,” David explained. Still seeing the disbelieving expression on the sergeant’s face, he added, “You had to see us running, right? Think about it… if we were going to desert, don’t you think we would’ve been running in the opposite direction?”
The sergeant thought for a moment. With a reluctant nod, he spat, “Well then, this make y’alls the dumbest sons-a-bitches this side of the Mississippi. I ain’t never heard of no soldiers getting’ lost while taking a crap. What’s a matter with y’alls. You ain’t never spent no time in no woods?” He stepped forward and stared suspiciously. “I’m getting’ the notion y’alls ain’t New Mexicans. I don’t know where y’alls is from, but from now on further, I’m keepin’ an eye on you two.”
He stepped back and pointed up the road. “March… triple time,” he shouted.
-----*-----*-----*-----
Six hours later:
The army of men marched for hours without let up. As the afternoon sun hung low in the sky, they finally stopped for a rest: in Dalton, Ga. On the outskirts of town, hugging a small mountain that acted as natural protection, a sea of canvas tents was hastily erected. In the middle, two tents sat conspicuously side by side: David and Geoff’s on the right; Sgt. Cooper’s on the left.
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Chapter 8
The Desperate Surgery – Part II:
Year: 2033
…Continued.
Dr. X stared into the worried eyes of his colleagues. He took a deep breath and exhaled. A moment later, he began his incision across the patient’s skull…
Starting at the region just forward of the patient’s left ear, Dr. X embedded his scalpel into the patient’s skin, pulling the blade up through the temple, continuing along the hairline and terminated at the center of the patient’s forehead.
Talking to himself out loud, he described his actions as he worked, his words providing a measure of assurance.
“Ok, we’re starting above the zygomatic arch and incising along the coronal suture in a curvilinear fashion,” he said in a low confident tone. “We need to watch the frontal branch of the facial nerve.”
Dr. Acosta nodded in concurrence as he watched Dr. X pass the scalpel along his intended route. With blood oozing from the incision, he called to Dr. Acosta, “Suction.”
Instantly, Dr. Acosta placed the suctioning wand along the incision and drew up the flowing blood. With the bulk removed, he continued to wipe away the blood with a gauze pad.
He tossed the bloody scalpel into the surgical tray, then asked, “Dissector… and forceps.”
Already anticipating his request, surgical Nurse Taylor quickly handed him the instruments.
Locking the forceps onto the curved flap of skin, he pulled up slightly and inserted the dissection tool. Working the instruments under the skin, he delicately separated the skin flap from subcutaneous tissue. Leaving the forceps still clamped to the tissue, he placed them off to the side to hold open the incision.
“Eight blade and forceps,” he called out.
Nurse Taylor handed him both instruments.
“Ok, slicing through the pericranium,” he announced.
Cutting through the thin membrane that covered the skull, he pulled back the tissue as he followed the edges of the incision. Moments later, with the semicircular flap of skin pulled back toward the front of the skull, he continued his deeper dissection.
“Ok, we’re now reflecting back the superficial temporal fascia,” he announced, as he dissected the thin layer of fat covering the forward temple. “Once I suture it in place, it’ll protect the frontal branch of the facial nerve.”
Leaving his forceps attached to the fatty tissue, he laid them across the cheekbone.
“I need a 4-0 prolene on an R.B.-1,” he asked.
Immediately, Nurse Taylor handed him the needle and suture. Piercing tissue, he placed several stitches along the edge of the skin flap and cheek and pulled, securing the incision open. As he worked, Dr. Acosta continued to suction the blood that flowed from the lacerated wound.
“Eight blade,” he called out again.
Nurse Taylor quickly handed him the scalpel.
“Ok, incising the temporal muscle,” he announced.
With exacting precision, he sliced through the muscle along the rear of the incision and continued forward on a semicircular line that ended at the tied back skin flap.
“Dissector and forceps,” he called out again.
While Dr. Acosta worked the suction, Dr. X dissected the temporal muscle away from the underlying bone exposing the Pterion area of the skull.
“Bovie,” Dr. X called out.
Nurse Taylor handed him the Bovie Electrocauterizer. Carefully, he placed the tweezer-like wand across a bleeding blood vessel. He then activated the wand, sending an electrical charge across the tissue, sealing a severed artery. All around the incision he continued the process, neatly stemming the flow of blood.
He examined the prepared incision. With the skull nearly exposed and the various tissues sutured back out of the way, he was now ready to start the craniotomy.
Looking over to anesthesiologist Dr. Haskins, he asked, “How’s he doing?”
“Patient stats are low but stable: BP eighty-seven over fifty-nine, pulse forty-six and his pulse ox is eighty,” he responded in worried tone.
Dr. X thought about the patient’s condition, nodded to the anesthesiologist, and continued on.
He looked down at the exposed skull and noted the marked locations he would need to penetrate. Three drawn circles lay at the corners of a rectangular outline measuring three by four inches in length. Staring at the open incision, he visualized his next move.
“Drill,” he said to Nurse Taylor.
Immediately, she handed him the craniotomy drill. Placing the drill-bit at the center of a drawn circle, he stood the tool perpendicular to the point of entry and switched it on. As metal contacted bone, the drill-bit began to carve a small hole into the patient’s skull. In seconds, bone shavings soon formed around the tip of the tool.
“Irrigation,” Dr. X called out to Dr. Acosta.
Instantly, Dr. Acosta switched on a probe and directed a saline solution over the area, washing away bits of bone and blood with one hand while suctioning the contents with the other. All eyes watched intently as the whine of the drill droned on, penetrating deeper through the skull. Moments later, as the end of the drill-bit broke through, the sound of the motor instantly ceased as the tools internal sensors detected entry through bone.
Dr. X pulled the drill away and watched as the last of the debris was removed through the suctioning wand. He examined the half-inch hole and noticed the blood engorged membrane that seemed to force its way up through the opening.
“That’s a lot of internal pressure,” Dr. Acosta remarked in worried tone.
Dr. X watched the dura membrane that lay under the skull, pulsing as it strained to find relief.
“Probe,” he called to Nurse Taylor.
Taking the instrument, he gently touched the pulsating membrane.
“Hmm, this is even worse than I anticipated,” he said in a grave tone.
Continued…
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Chapter 9
February 22, 1864
Reveille: 5:00am
The bugler sounded out the call to rise. Only feet from their tent, David and Geoff heard the blaring racket and snapped to a sitting position. Both rubbed their eyes and yawned.
“God I hate that!” Geoff shouted over the sound.
“I don’t think I ever got used to it,” David concurred.
With little room in the tent, David rolled to his knees and crawled out into the darkness. Still carrying his blanket, he wrapped it around his shoulders for warmth as he watched the bugler continue with his morning task. Moonlight shined down upon the young man, silhouetting his
features against the dimly lit sea of tents. With perfect pitch, he carried on with his tune and for the first time, David realized the beauty of the sight.
As the bugler played his last note, he briskly lowered his instrument and snapped his hand to his forehead in salute of a nearby flag. Holding it there momentarily, he quickly snapped his hand back down to his side and softened his stiffened posture.
“Nicely done,” David said to the bugler still standing just feet from him.