by Clark Graham
The warning lights in the flight deck flashed on and off. and alarms blared, forcing him to shut down the Vmax3 drive. He flew on to the Seattle area, landing in the clearing of a forest.
Forget it, I’m not going back to rescue that lunatic, he seethed. He climbed out of the plane to check the damage. Seeing all the oil in the tank was gone, he knew right away he was stuck in the past. “Dalton,” he screamed, shaking his fist in the air.
It had been Senator James’ idea to go get Dalton. James put his best man into finding Dalton. It took a long time to locate him. There were several places in history where they knew where he was. The surest place was the house in the Hamptons. That is where they decided to go. It had all been a big mistake. They hadn’t calculated on Dalton wanting to stay with his wife and family.
Making his way out of the woods, Phillip found a road to follow. It wasn’t long before a car happened by. He thumbed it down, but instead of giving him a ride, the driver waited until he was close to yell, “Get a job, you hippie.”
The tires squealed as the man drove off.
1970’s Impala. Phillip sighed. He hoped it was a restored car, but he suspected it wasn’t. He sat down by a tree and watched five more cars pass by. All the cars were late sixties models or early seventies. Not good, not good at all. I can’t get the replacement parts in this time period. Forget saving Dalton, I’m going to kill him.
He had no means of transportation, except a plane that was low on fuel. His rage got the best of him and he screamed again. “Dalton!” I’ll get my revenge. He didn’t know how or where, but he would do it.
The money he had brought with him was a mix of 1900 and 2034 bills, none of which would work in 1970. He went back to the plane, grabbed the gun, put the camouflage over the plane, and made his way into town.
Deciding the easiest way to get some money was to stick up a convenience store, he strode in wearing pants and a t-shirt. Pointing the gun at the attendant, he demanded cash. What he didn’t see was the shotgun poking out from behind the office door. A loud blast, and Phillip fell to the ground. As he lay there bleeding, he swore again. “I’ll get that Dalton.” It was the last thing he said.
The detective assigned to the case, Greg Watson, had the dead man’s pocket contents brought to his desk. It was a strange mixture of IDs and strange money.
“What do you make of it, Bill?” he asked a fellow detective.
“What you have is a Sci-Fi man. Thinks he can travel back and forth between centuries.”
Greg laughed. “I suppose you’re right. Too many Twilight Zone episodes. My guess is that all these are fakes. He’s going to be another John Doe. I’ll let the county figure out what they want to do with the body.”
The city ran his picture in the paper asking anybody that might know the name of the man to come forward. No one ever did. In an unmarked grave on the edge of the cemetery, Phillip Anderson’s body was laid to rest. No funeral or eulogy, just John Doe 23 on the headstone.
Chapter Thirteen
Issaquah, Washington
1971
Doug Tatum and his son Carl were deer hunting in the foothills of the Cascades when they came across a clearing.
“Dad, there’s something strange here.”
Both men looked at the camouflage netting. It was faded, and they could see a metallic object in the middle of it. Doug pulled back the fabric and looked underneath. “It’s a plane.”
“No way. How could they get a plane out here? There isn’t an airfield.”
“Look for yourself then.”
Carl peeked under the cover. “Let’s pull this off.”
Both men tugged on the netting. There was no doubt as to what the object was. “We need to call the air force,” Doug said.
“Why. They won’t give us a reward. I think we try to sell it to a collector of some sort.”
“No, I don’t want to steal government property. I’ll have to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life. Let’s tell the government where they can find their plane. Then we forget we were ever here.”
Carl heaved a sigh.
Back on the main road, they stopped in at a truck stop and called McChord Air Force Base. The next morning the two men waited for the olive drab car to pull over. An army lieutenant hopped out. “You must be the men that found the missing air force property.”
“Yes, I’m Doug Tatum and this is my son Carl.”
“Glad to meet you. Can you lead me to it?”
It was an hour before they finished the trek back to the airplane. The officer’s jaw dropped. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
“I thought you guys were searching for it,” Carl said.
“Nope.”
He shook his head. “You mean, I could have sold it to a collector?”
The next morning, a platoon of airmen arrived at the site, along with a two-star general. An investigative team took pictures from all directions. It was unlike anything they had seen.
“How did this thing get in here?” the general asked.
The lieutenant pointed to the fan blades on the wing. “It looks like it landed here, Sir. The engine has ducting that goes to the wings. It’s a vertical takeoff and landing airplane, like a helicopter.”
“The U. S. is still experimenting with that. We haven’t perfected it yet.”
“Someone did, Sir.”
The general shook his head. “Those top-secret types never tell us anything. How do we get this thing out of here?”
“The army has some Chinooks at Ft. Lewis,” the lieutenant replied.
“Get them on the horn.”
Two days later, the plane was sitting in a hangar at McChord field. It was covered with tarps and guarded by two dozen MPs. Two CIA agents and the general in charge of military intelligence drove up to it. The hanger doors were closed before the tarps were taken off. “This isn’t one of ours, the general said.”
The base commandant looked at him. “Who’s is it, then?”
“I have no idea.”
The commandant cracked his knuckles. “Let’s put some gas in it and see what this sucker can do.”
“Sounds like an idea. I want the mechanics to look at it first, though.”
Several airmen worked on the machine for the next two weeks. They went all over it, trying to figure out the controls. When the commandant and the general returned, the mechanical report was in.
“The plane has two engines. One that powers the airframe and no one knows what the other one does. The top engine was frozen beyond repair. All of the components were foreign to the mechanics. No way to fix the top engine. The bottom engine, however, was serviceable. Each engine had its own oil tank. The top engine’s oil tank was shot full of holes.”
A pilot familiarized himself with the controls while the mechanics were working on it. He was ready to go.
The plane was wheeled out to the tarmac. The pilot climbed in and turned it on. He was able to take off and land several times. He even took it up vertically and hovered before bringing it back down vertically.
They adjourned to a conference room after the demonstration. “That’s an amazing machine,” the commandant said. “I wonder if it can be duplicated.”
The lead mechanic piped up. “No, Sir. We don’t even know what some of these parts are. There is no way we can replicate them. The most disturbing thing is the manufacturing dates on all of the components have been blanked out. Someone is trying to cover up something. The rear seat has controls for changing dates. It’s like it can travel through time or something. It was set for July 17, 2032.”
“We’ll send it to Special Operations, see what they can make of it,” the general said.
“Yes, Sir,” the commandant replied.
The general added, “If anyone comes around asking about this plane, I want them investigated.”
Chapter Fourteen
Washington DC
2044
Senator James walked into the office of Professor
Gilman. He didn’t wait for the professor to say anything, but burst out, “My plane didn’t return. I need you to find it again.”
“That’s not a bad thing. If you succeed in your missions, then my forty-two years of knowledge will be useless. What’s the point, anyway? We’ve survived in this timeline. Why don’t you leave well enough alone?”
The senator stomped his foot. “We’ve discussed this already. I want my ship back.” Taking a deep breath, the senator continued. “Please try and find out where it is.”
“Why don’t you just build another one?”
“I can’t afford to. Already, the House is looking into my finances. They are talking about an investigation.”
“I see. Yes, of course. I’ll try and find your ship. I wonder if Major Dalton was in it when it disappeared, or if he’s stuck in yet another timeline. The poor man. I was so hoping you could bring him back. If he wants to come, that is.”
“Why wouldn’t he want to come back? Who would want to be stuck in the past?”
“Yes, you’re probably right. That will help in my search.”
James made his way back to his office. His personal secretary had left him a note on his computer keyboard. It was after hours and she had gone home.
Representative Davis was in again. He wants some financial records and was very upset you weren’t here. He says he’ll be back first thing in the morning.
James wadded up the note and threw it away. If there was anything he hated, it was someone demanding something from him. He wasn’t going to cooperate. He had spent too much on the time machine and now his enemies were gathering like a pack of wolves that smelled blood.
Professor Gilman began his research. He worked best late at night. He hated Senator James, but then again, everyone hated Senator James, so he was in the majority. It was a needle in a haystack. Almost impossible to find. His discovery of Dalton had been hard enough. Dalton wanted to be found for some reason, but even then, it was difficult.
After working for several hours, he made an interesting discovery. Dalton hadn’t moved. He spent the rest of his life in the Hamptons. Gilman scratched his chin. The plane might not have reached him. The professor then started on the children. The oldest, Bryan, lived in the house after his father died. He once commented about having nightmares. He told of a plane landing in his yard when he was a child. That caught Gilman’s attention. A child? Born in 1904, there wouldn’t be many planes around when he was a child.
Browsing through the records, there was no newspaper article of a crash in the Hamptons, or even a plane there. It had to be Senator James’ time machine. Why didn’t Dalton go back with him? Of course, he didn’t want to leave his family. He had adapted by then.
Did Dalton destroy the machine? That was a question the professor couldn’t answer.
All of his classes were canceled the next day as he went through every record he could find. He called Senator James up with the bad news. “There is no sign of your plane in history. I don’t have access to a lot of the government records going back to the 1960s. Even though it’s over the twenty-five-year period that they are to be reviewed, they are still secret. Can you get me access to those?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Senator James paid the Secretary of Defense a visit. He was a large man, broad across the shoulders and had a husky voice. “What do you want, James?” He folded his arms, waiting for a reply.
“I need some historical records from the seventies that are still classified for some unexplained reason.”
The Secretary shook his head. “They will remain classified.”
Senator James’ voice went up several octaves. “Why? I need them.”
“I know why, and they will remain classified.”
James stormed out of the office.
The Secretary pulled his phone out. “We have someone asking about the X32 file. Senator James.”
“I see. We’ll deal with this right away.”
Chapter Fifteen
Washington DC
2044
When James arrived back at his office, his secretary’s cheeks had a red flush to them. She only did this when she was upset. “Sir, you have a subpoena to appear before the House committee investigating the missing funds.”
The senator’s shoulders sagged. He didn’t have time to say anything as four men entered his office. “Senator James, FBI. We need you to come with us.”
“I will not.”
Two of the men grabbed his arms and cuffed him.
“This is an outrage.” He screamed as he was taken away.
His secretary snapped up the phone and started making calls.
In the back seat, between two agents, James was still complaining.
“Sir, you have the right to remain silent. I suggest you use it,” one of the men said.
The car parked in front of a large building. James was pulled out and then uncuffed. One of the men held the door open and the five of them entered. There before them was the plane with the Vmax3 drive.
“You found it. This is Air Force property. I demand you return it to me at once.”
“You’re in no position to demand anything, Senator. You will tell us what this thing does and how we fix it.”
James turned to see the Secretary of Defense, Trevor Osterman, standing behind him. “I will do nothing of the sort.”
“You’re in enough trouble, Senator. We can add to that if you don’t cooperate.”
James walked around the machine. Ignoring the secretary, he asked, “Where’s the Vmax3 drive?”
Osterman motioned with his head, and two men wheeled the badly damaged engine from around the corner. “Is this the Vmax3 drive?”
“Yes, that’s it. What happened to it?”
“From what we can see, the oil tank was shot and the engine seized up.”
“Dalton. He did this. He didn’t want to come back. Where’s Phillip Anderson?”
“You have a story to tell us, Senator. I don’t know anything about a Phillip Anderson. This plane was found in 1971, near Issaquah, Washington.”
“1971? He didn’t make it back. I need to fix up that drive right away. I have to rescue him.”
“First off, Senator, all of your accounts have been frozen. Second off, are you talking about going into the past? Is this a time machine?”
The senator turned pale. He had talked too much again. “I can’t say anything more.”
“Come on, Senator. You’ve already given up the chicken coop. You’re about to go down on charges of misappropriation of government funds. I can make all that go away. What is this thing and how do we fix it?”
“If I tell you what it is, I want complete control of it.” The senator folded his arms.
“No, you get nothing but the inside of a prison cell. This plane has been sitting here sixty-one years, a few more won’t matter. We’ll figure it out eventually. Take him away.”
“Wait,” the senator pleaded. “I have plans for the Vmax3 engine. I can fix it.”
Osterman motioned to his men. “Take the senator to wherever he has the plans and bring them back here.”
‘Yes, Sir.”
“You don’t understand. The plans are in Seattle.”
“I don’t care where they are. You need to get them here as soon as possible.”
The senator swallowed. He knew he would never give the plans over. These people would destroy the timeline with their careless use of the plane. All he wanted was to get out of this situation. He would then try to get the plane back. He couldn’t afford to build another. “Colonel Ross has them. He was in charge of the development team. Project Blackhole. Look it up. Those are the men you want. They have the plans.”
“You’d better be telling me the truth or I’ll make sure your cellmate is the biggest, meanest man in the prison,” Osterman said.
“I am telling the truth. Project Blackhole.” The senator was getting his confidence back. Those men wouldn’t tell Osterman anything.
He knew the secret was safe with them. While the FBI was terrorizing them, the senator would testify in front of Congress, and the whole nation, that there was a secret weapon the FBI had and the Air Force needed it back. The mission would change. He would go back in time and kill Osterman in the hospital, while he was still a baby.
Chapter Sixteen
The Hamptons, New York
2044
General Williams was very surprised to see two FBI agents standing on his front porch. “What do you want?”
“You’re wanted for questioning.”
“For what?” the general demanded.
“We can’t discuss that here.”
“I’m not going anywhere without my lawyer.”
The agents didn’t know what to do. One turned back and called his boss. A minute later, he faced Williams again. “You can call your lawyer on the way.”
“Am I under arrest?” the general asked.
“No, Sir.”
“Then get off my property.”
Defeated, the agents left. It wasn’t a minute later that his phone rang. It was Colonel Ross. “General, were you just visited by some goons?”
“Yes, you too, I take it.”
“Yes. I sent them packing. I think they’ll come back though. One of them mentioned Project Blackhole and Senator James.”
The general sighed. “With the investigation into his shady dealings, I wondered how long it would take him to crack.” Williams knew he shouldn’t say more as their phones were more than likely tapped, but he added, “At least we’ve destroyed the plans for the Vmax3 drive so no one will ever use it again.”
Ross must have realized what the general was doing. “Yes, so no one will ever use that terrible machine again. It could have destroyed all our lives. We were lucky last time. We don’t want to chance it one more time.”
The next day, appointments were made. Colonel Ross, General Williams, and Captain Dempsey, along with their lawyers, stood in front of the time machine at the FBI storage facility.
