by Clark Graham
“Hmm,” she cocked her head. “I thought I’d heard every pick-up line. That’s a new one on me. Perhaps you can tell me about this future of yours. That might be a story, but what a story.”
He paid for his bill and escorted her to his room.
In the morning, she followed him to look to see if the Vmax3 plane was there yet. They crawled up over the hill, but it hadn’t arrived.
“You sure it’s going to be here? Maybe you got the place wrong,” Annie said.
“Positive. It should be here in a day or two.”
“If you want to tell me it was all a big joke, I’ll still like you.” She stood there with her hands on her hips.
“I’m telling you the truth. You’ll see, it’ll look just like I described it.”
She laughed. “I ain’t never met a man like you. Okay, here’s the deal. You buy me lunch, then I got to get to work. I’ll come back tomorrow to see you. If your time machine ain’t here by then, I ain’t gonna believe you anymore.”
“Okay, but I can’t guarantee that it’ll be here tomorrow, either.”
She folded her arms. “That’s the deal.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Issaquah, Washington
1970
A knock on the door woke Ethan. He pulled his pants on and opened it. Annie stood there. “Did you hear that rumble this morning?” she asked.
“I must’ve slept right through it.” He slipped on his shirt on and grabbed his shoes.
“Ya, I thought it was thunder at first, but it was long and steady like, but grew louder, then stopped altogether.”
His eyes widened. “That wasn’t thunder. I think it was the time machine.” He grabbed the explosives and ran towards the clearing. She followed as best she could. He slowed down when he arrived at the edge of it. She was out of breath when she caught up to him.
The Vmax3 plane sat there in front of them.
“Wow!” she blurted out.
“Shh, I don’t want the pilot to figure out we’re here. I told you. That’s the time machine.” He whispered.
They ducked behind a tree when Phillip Anderson climbed out of the plane to check the damage. “Dalton,” he screamed, shaking his fist in the air.
“Who’s Dalton?” Annie whispered.
“The guy he was sent back to 1912 to get. Dalton must have shot up the airplane. That’s why it didn’t make it back to my century.”
“Oh.”
They waited until Phillip left the area. “I’m going to leave the detonator up here. I don’t want to accidentally set it off. Don’t touch the red button.”
“Okay.”
He ran down to set charges. When he was done, he started to climb back up the hill.
“What are you doing?”
Ethan turned around to see Phillip standing behind him.
“I’ve got to blow it up. It’ll destroy the future if I don’t.”
“No!” Phillip held up his pistol. “Get away from the plane.”
“I’ve got to destroy it.” He looked up at the hillside and with a fist, moved his thumb up and down.
Annie grabbed the detonator.
Three shots rang out. Annie gasped. Looking down, she saw Ethan on the ground bleeding. Phillip turned his head to look up the hill. She pushed the button.
A huge fireball erupted from the clearing. She was blown back five feet by the force of the explosion. She lay there for a few minutes. Scanning herself, she didn’t notice any bleeding. Her ears ringing and a large fire burned around the wreckage of the plane. She heard sirens approaching. Not wanting to be seen there, she ran down the other side of the hill.
When she arrived at her house, she looked in the mirror. Her face was black with smoke, but her eyelashes and brows weren’t burnt off. She took a quick shower.
Returning to the motel where Ethan was staying, she knocked on the door.
“Hi, Annie,” the tall, heavy-set manager said.
“Hi, Bruce. I need the key to room five.”
“Is that funny-talking guy going to come back? The guy from space.”
She grinned. “You mean, from the future? No, he skipped town. Got into some trouble in the woods.”
He turned around and grabbed the key for her. “Here you go.”
She opened the door and went through all of his stuff. Ten thousand dollars. This guy was loaded. She kept the gun and the money, then headed out the door. She stopped in the doorway. The mattress, I almost forgot the mattress. Sliding her hand between the mattress and box spring, she found over five thousand more. They always hide stuff under the mattress.
Peeling off some bills, she made her way back to the office. “Great news, Bruce. He had a thousand dollars on him. Here’s your share. Keep those tips coming.” She handed him four hundred.
“Wow, that’s great. This is our best haul yet.”
“Yes, it is.”
When she arrived home, she stuffed most of the cash in the shut-off heater vent. It was her chance to escape this small town and go on to the big time. “Las Vegas, here I come.”
Jumping on the bed, she threw a handful of bills into the air and let them float down onto her.
The plane! She suddenly remembered. Turning on the news, she listened to the report.
“There’s been a plane crash outside of Issaquah, Washington. Two badly burned bodies were recovered from the wreckage. It is believed that they are the pilots of the aircraft.”
Poor Ethan.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Hamptons, New York
1913
Not again. Dalton was jarred awake by the sound of the Vmax3 Jet landing. In his dreams, it happened over and over again. This time he wasn’t dreaming.
Mary sat bolt upright in bed. “It’s them again.”
“Go get David. Tell him, ‘it’s time.’”
She ran down the hall, stopping at Bryan’s room to collect the crying child, before waking David.
Dalton ran out the back door to confront the pilot. He was suddenly staring down the face of a machine pistol.
“R. Adalwolf Dalton, I presume. Or should I just call you Major?”
Dalton raised his arms. David would need time. He knew he had to stall. “Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”
“Felix Schmidt, CIA.”
“That’s funny, the CIA doesn’t exist yet.”
Felix smiled, “They will.”
“What can I do for you, Agent Schmidt?”
“My job is to destroy the time machine in this century, so there is nothing to be found and rebuilt.”
Dalton nodded. “So, the CIA would have the only useable copy of the machine. I see. Destroying the time machine is a great idea. That’s what I’d like to do also. But I want to destroy all copies of it.”
The machine gun on the other side of the yard, came to life. It sprayed bullets from one end of the plane to the other. Felix turned towards David and raised his gun. It was too late. Dalton tackled him. Wrestling the pistol away from him, Dalton stood up. “Raise your hands.”
Felix complied. “You can’t let him destroy it. I want to get back to my own time. Stop him.”
Dalton shrugged. “It isn’t so bad.”
The machine gun stopped. David came running around the front of the plane. “I did it, Uncle Adalwolf. I blasted it.” Just then he noticed Felix, arms raised. “Oh, hello. Welcome to the 20th Century.”
Felix hung his head. “I can’t believe you did this. I had a mission. I left a man in the seventies, I need to go get him. This can’t be happening.”
Dalton motioned with his gun. “Over against that tree. David, tie him up.”
“You’ve drawn a lot of attention.” Felix wasn’t giving in. “You can’t have me tied to a tree when the neighbors come and investigate. They’ll wonder what that machine is and why you’re kidnapping someone.”
Dalton smiled. “Luckily, there aren’t a lot of neighbors. Those we do have, are used to the sound of a Vickers machine gun
, as David and I play with it a lot. They even join us from time to time. Their only complaint in the morning will be the early hour in which we fired it. That’s not going to make them happy.” Dalton motioned again. “Get over there.”
Felix complied and soon he was tied up. “What are you going to do with the plane? A lot of people will see it in the morning.”
“You just don’t give up, do you.” David pulled open the barn doors. The barn was empty except for some hay in the loft to make the thing look like a real barn. “You see, we’ve been expecting you. Only, you didn’t land where we thought you would.”
Both Dalton and David ran to the shed and drove back out with large tractors. Tying ropes around the plane, they pulled the machine into the barn, then covered it up.
Dalton walked over to Felix. “We’re going to destroy it. The most important bit is the Vmax3 drive. I’m going to dismantle it bit by bit and melt the thing down. There will be nothing left. We have a World War just around the corner. We’re going to need lots of metal.”
“Let me out. I have no reason to resist you now. I’m stuck in time, just like you are.”
“I’m going to drive you to the center of New York before I release you. I don’t want you anywhere near me and my family.”
They threw him in the back of the car. It was dawn before they let him go. Dalton gave Felix back his flight jacket. He stood there and watched Dalton drive off. Felix wasn’t dressed in period clothes. The mission should have been a quick land and grab. He was very out of place in his olive drab flight suit.
Poor Ethan. The thought struck him as strange. He never liked the man. Why would he have sympathy for him? Felix was a lot worse off, time-wise. Then he realized, He’s going to wait in vain. The morning was chilly, so he put his jacket on. As he felt in the pocket, he realized Dalton had put some bills in there. A thousand. That’ll come in handy.
Chapter Twenty-Six
New York, New York
1913
Felix sat in a café looking out on the Brooklyn Bridge. Horse-drawn carriages outnumbered cars by about three to one. Trolleys were the main occupants of the bridge, as they scooted across it. Steamships and pleasures vessels sailed under it. Once in a while he saw a fully rigged clipper ship slide by.
Thinking he might as well be on another planet than this time. It couldn’t be more alien. He mumbled under his breath, “Curse you, Dalton.”
“More coffee?”
He looked up to see a smiling waitress standing over him. “Oh, yes, please.”
The thin waitress, pencil in her hair, poured as she asked, “Who’s Dalton?”
“My arch enemy number one.”
“Oh, dear, Life’s too short to be angry at someone. Make them a friend.”
Felix thought about it for a minute. “You’re right. I like that idea. Thank you, I’ll do that.”
She smiled and walked away.
He watched her as she made her way from table to table. Despite her occupation, she moved around like a princess, her head held high, and a grace he hadn’t seen in a woman for many years. When she walked back up to his table, he checked for rings. There were none.
Getting his nerve up when she gave him the check, he said, “What’s your number? We should get together sometime. I’m new here in town and don’t have anyone to talk to.”
She stood there for a moment. “Number? I don’t think I have any numbers. You mean, how much was the tab?”
“No, your telephone number.”
“Telephone? I’ve heard about that. Don’t have one of them. It’s only for the rich and I’m not one of those.” She walked away.
That went well. He sighed.
He walked out into the street, wondering where he was going to sleep. He spied a hotel sign a couple of blocks down. It was nothing to write home about, a plain room with a single bed, not much more than a cot, and a shared bathroom down the hall. He looked in the mirror and saw his flight suit. No wonder everyone was looking at him strangely. He had to get some real clothes. He took off his jacket and lay down.
Strange dreams plagued him. In two of his dreams, Dalton shot him at close range. He woke three times to the sound of the machine gun in his mind. He stood up and looked out the window. Wiping it with his hand first to get some of the grime off, he looked down on the streets of New York. Tall buildings on either side of the street, people going to work, chasing after streetcars, most successfully, some not.
Horses weren’t a stranger to the streets either. He watched several clippidy-clop, by pulling a carriage, or just having a rider on them. A few cars also drove by. Several of them even had chauffeurs.
“I’m in a history book. Curse you, Dalton.”
Going downstairs, he headed to the same diner he ate at the night before.
When he sat down, the waitress came and poured him some coffee.
“You work nights and mornings?”
She gave him a sideways glance. “No, I just work mornings. My sister works nights.”
“Oh. Are you twins?”
She smiled, “No, we just look a lot alike. She’s my older sister. We both work for Daddy.”
“Thank you.”
When his order arrived, he began to eat. The waitress came back and filled his coffee. “Do you like my sister? She needs a good man in her life, after the divorce and all. Are you a good man, mister?”
“Annie, you have other customers,” a voice called out from over the counter. She hustled away.
When she brought the bill, she looked over her shoulder, then whispered, “She’s a really good woman. Daddy makes her work nights so he can keep an eye on her, but she needs a man in her life.”
“Good to know. Do you know where I can find an apartment in the area?”
A man walked up behind the waitress. He was bald with a two-day beard. His face was formed into a perma-frown. “What’s going on here?” His deep voice drew everyone’s attention.
“He’s only asking where there’s an apartment to rent around here, Daddy.”
The man pointed to the left. “Two blocks down, on the left.”
“Are they nice?” Felix asked.
“No, if you want nice, you’ll have to go to the right, five blocks.”
“Thank you.”
The man grabbed the waitress’ arm and led her away.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
New York, New York
1913
As he walked down the street, everyone was staring at him. Felix ducked into a men’s clothing store. An hour later, he emerged with a black suit, bow tie, and a bowler hat. Now as he walked around, no one stared. He walked the five blocks to the right. In front of him stood a large building that shot straight up from the sidewalk. Lots of windows dotted the exterior. He walked in. “I’m looking for an apartment.”
“I have just the thing for you. Let me show you the way.” The manager, complete with suit and tails, oiled down hair and pencil-thin mustache, led Felix up the five flights of stairs.
“No elevator?” Felix huffed. He was out of breath by the time they reached the top.
“Oh, no. Not in a short building like this.”
“I see.” He opened the curtains to a view of the waterfront. “Wow.” Clippers and full-rigged brigantines dotted the harbor. A steamer drifted past as he watched.
“Not much to look at, only the ships coming and going, but I suppose it’s better than nothing.”
“I’ll take it.” He hadn’t seen the rest of the apartment.
“Very well. That will be five hundred.”
Felix swung around. “A month!”
“Heavens no. That is for the year.”
“Oh.” Felix pulled out the bills and counted them out into the man’s palm.
“I’ll be back with your receipt.”
As the door shut, Felix walked through every room, a kitchen, fully stocked with pots and pans, all of which looked new, a couch that belonged in a museum. In fact, all the furniture did. It was o
rnately carved wood with satin fabric. No carpeting, but throw rugs covered most of the wood floor. The bed had dark wood paneling at the head and the foot.
He wandered some more. “Where’s the bathroom?” He opened the door to what he thought was a closet. “Whew.” It had a sink and a toilet with the tank near the ceiling. A chain off the side of the tank dangled down. The seat was made of wood.
“I hope there are no splinters.” I’m talking to myself. I must be losing it.
After the tour, he went to lie down. He hadn’t slept much in the cot the night before. A knock on the door stopped him. He answered it and was given a receipt by the manager. “Thank you.”
The manager just grunted and made his way down the stairs.
Deciding he was hungrier than he was tired, he headed back to the restaurant. The same waitress was there, or was it her sister? He couldn’t tell. He sat down at the same table he had before.
“What can I get you?” she asked.
“I’ll have a steak and a beer.”
She checked the clock on the wall. “No, too early for beer. How about a Coca-Cola?”
“No, please bring me a water. Coca-Cola still has cocaine in it at this point in time.” His eyes widened when he realized what he’d said.
“At four o’clock? Will it change as the night progresses?”
He laughed, “I just want ice water.”
“No ice, but I do have water. I recognize you now. You were the one in the clown suit yesterday. Nice to see you in real clothes.”
“It’s a flight suit, not a clown suit, but it was out of place in the city.”
“A flight suit? What are you a bird? I didn’t see any feathers.”
He looked at the guy behind the counter. He was frowning, but not saying anything. This daughter seemed to have more leeway when it came to talking to customers.
“No, I’m a pilot. I fly airplanes.”
“Oh, I thought only the military and the Wright brothers had airplanes. Are you in the Signal Corps?”
