Jericho Johnson: The Gauntlet of Time

by J. A. Stowell

  “Oh, you know,” I said, looking at them. “I loved the first one so much that I decided to grab another one while I was out picking apples.”

  “Give them to me,” he growled.

  I had one minute left. Sixty seconds to save the day.

  Now I had fifty-eight seconds because I just thought that.

  Fifty-seven, fifty-six…

  “Since you don’t have a problem killing people, why don’t you just have your goons shoot me? Because that’s the only way you’re getting these from me,” I told him, hoping he’d say yes.

  Not being one to dawdle it seemed, Klaus turned on his heel, “Have it your way.” He said, standing behind his troops.

  I’m guessing Dr. Sparks hadn’t explained everything the gloves were capable of to Klaus. I mean, if I had been him, there was no way I’d let some guy wearing not one but two freakin’ electrical conductors have a chance of firing on my men.

  Just saying.

  But that’s just what he did.

  Throwing up my hands before Klaus gave the order for them to kill me, I fired off both barrels, so to speak, hitting the Dragonovs who were, as luck would have it, standing close enough together to all share in the lightning fest.

  Twenty seconds.

  “Jericho!” I turned to see the girls rushing toward me. “C’mon!” I shouted to them.

  I held my streams till my gloves started to smoke and stopped. Klaus, who’d also been hit, was lying amongst his soldiers, his body jerking when I had finished with them.

  Ten seconds.

  The last thing I saw of Klaus before we disappeared was his face as he tried to scream at us.

  Then we were gone again to God knows where.

  Looking back, I wish now that I’d have killed Klaus then and there. It would have solved a lot of problems and made this story a lot more enjoyable for me and everyone else in it. I keep telling myself that I didn’t have the time to kill him and that if I’d tried, I might have left without Chloe or Piper.

  But I should’ve taken that chance. Klaus needed to die then and there. Bottom line.

  But he didn’t. Which is why I can’t completely tell you the end of this tale because, frankly, I’m not sure of the outcome myself but there’s still more to go.

  Chapter 27

  Dr. Cross pushed the stop button on the gauntlet’s touch screen and the recorded voice ceased speaking. Leaning back in his desk chair, he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Glasses weren’t something you saw someone wear most of the time in 2342 because technology had ways of fixing flat eyes permanently in just a few minutes but the rather young doctor had for some reason decided to not have the surgery done, to a lot of his staff’s astonishment considering he was the one who’s research in the field of human biology had resulted in the most major breakthroughs in the last decade with eyesight, among other things people took for granted with age.

  Pressing a button on his desk strewn with info-tabs, Dr. Cross asked the question he’d asked a few hours prior to his nurse, Ritu, “Is he still alive?”

  He waited while Ritu, after a few seconds delay, like she were checking to make sure, walked into view, her green hologram face appearing as she answered, “Yes, but barely. His body is rejecting most of our anesthetics and medications due to the abnormalities of his blood type, molecular structure and just about everything else. It’s like this person wasn’t even around for the mandatory city shots every year that keep people from being this way.”

  Dr. Cross placed a finger to his lips in thought before saying, “Keep trying. If this patient dies, consider the blue tag that will go on his toe to also be your termination notice. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir.” Ritu said before signing off.

  Standing, Dr. Cross walked to the enormous window in his office that overlooked the city of Flagstaff from the fiftieth floor of the building dedicated to his research. Then a thought struck him.

  “The shots, of course,” He muttered to himself, shaking his head that he hadn’t thought of it sooner. “Ritu.” He said as his nurse’s face appeared on the window in front of him, “I want you to give him the winter and summer shots but hold off on the spring shots until I get down there,” Dr. Cross said as he fingered out a combination of letters and numbers on the window, the amber colored digits spreading across the glass as he tapped away, “This dosage I’m sending is a weak mixture but I don’t want him going into cardiac arrest.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ritu said. “Do you want me to file him?”

  Dr. Cross hit a last button before swiping his hand and sending the combination sliding to the far side of the window, exposing the darkened city once again. The reason she was asking was most of the time files weren’t created for patients or test subjects that either were soon to die or had a large casualty rate.

  “Make him a special file and send it to my office.” He said, sitting at his desk again in his dimly lit area that he spent most of his time. “File it under J two-zero-one-two.”

  “J2012 will be on your desk shortly, sir.” Ritu said, “Anything else?”

  Ritu was not only Dr. Cross’ best student in his rather large and rather selective university he’d built over the years, but she was also someone he considered a friend, or at least a confidant. He considered telling her that what was left of the man they pulled out of an explosion and had on life-support was in fact from another time.

  “Not at the moment.” He said, picking the gauntlet up from his desk, “I have some more research to finish up here then I’ll be down.”

  Ritu signed off and the doctor pushed play on the gauntlet and settled back in his chair to listen to the remainder of Jericho Johnson’s tale.

  Who knew? Maybe the storyteller would still be alive after he’d finished.

  Chapter 28

  Juno Beach, Normandy, March 12th, 1096 A.D.

  Wow. Of all the places we could’ve jumped to, the dawning of the first Crusade wasn’t at the top of my fair-weather list. The weather was actually not bad on the shores of Normandy but the scene before us could’ve been a tad less foreboding, as it were.

  The beach was packed with the people of the Middle Ages, standing shoulder to shoulder while they all looked toward the makeshift stage set up in the center of the throng of men, women and children who were all mesmerized by the sole occupant of the wooden planks. The stooped individual happened to be Peter the Hermit, one of the most influential speakers France had to offer when it came to making lords, barons and dukes leave everything behind to join the Crusade.

  The Hermit was really getting into his sermon on the morals of Christians and that it was our very God-given right to save the Holy Land from the heathens, he called them, while waving at the enormous wooden cross that he brought with him on his campaigns for troops.

  Actually, if not for the inconvenient slaughtering of three-thousand pilgrims in Jerusalem, the preaching of Peter the Hermit and Pope Urban II’s supposed vision from God that included, but was not limited to, lots of dead Turks and heathens, the first Crusade wouldn’t have happened.

  We ended up landing away from the spectacle and I immediately checked the gauntlet, told the girls the date and also that we had almost seven hours to burn before I asked Chloe, “How the helheim was Klaus able to find us?”

  Chloe sat on a nearby stump and shrugged. “I’m not one-hundred percent sure but I remember my father saying that men weren’t meant to jump from time to time so the effects it leaves, although they aren’t harmful to anyone, can be traced.”

  Sighing, I sat beside her on the large stump, “Well, isn’t that just peachy?” Then I remembered, “Klaus knows everything about me. He said he got your father to talk.”

  “He won’t kill him,” Chloe said, sounding like she was trying to convince herself instead of me. “His research is worth too much to Klaus now to have him killed.”

  “How was he able to bring troops with him? I thought only my gauntlet could do that?”

  Chlo
e shrugged again, not looking at me. “I just don’t know, Jericho. Nothing makes sense to me, anymore.”

  Piper was watching the vehement sermon with curiosity, “What is he talking about?” She asked.

  The Hermit was, in fact, speaking plain English, his voice thick with a French accent as he explained aggressively just why staying here was not only craven, but against the will of God. Upon stating this over half the mob, no doubt smitten by the Hermit’s words, screamed out, “GOD WILLS IT!”

  I had forgotten that Piper couldn’t speak English. Back in Flagstaff, I had imprinted every language I could think of so I would’ve been good if Peter the Hermit had been speaking slang Cantonese mixed with Arabic. “He’s trying to convince all these people to either pick up a sword and go to Jerusalem or drop their coins into his coffers to support the valiant men already fighting in the name of God.”

  “Thor?” She asked, frowning.

  “No, Piper, this God actually exists,” I told her, scanning the crowd.

  Chloe looked at me incredulously, like she couldn’t believe I’d just said that to a pagan from birth. Noticing her stare of unbelief, I said, “We’ve already had this conversation on the second week of our long fishing trip. She’s cool with it.”

  Nodding in agreement, Piper added, “Thor never died for anyone. So a god dying for the whole world is most impressive.”

  Smiling, I said, “Don’t get too zealous, Pipe. This entire body of people is already zealous enough, which means that if they heard you speaking a different language, they’d probably burn you at the stake. Actually, try not to speak the rest of the time we’re here, sweetheart, because I’m getting tired of saving chicks like a freakin’ mother hen. Just saying.”

  After we’d sat and watched the rather long sermon, (these guys weren’t your everyday one-hour-service kind of folks, it seemed), Chloe asked me, “Why did you come here in the first place?”

  We were all lined up on the large stump with me in between them as I explained that I’d come because I was checking to see if William the Conqueror’s son, Robert, was here. I also told them that the books had him in Normandy but were a tad vague as to when, where and why.

  “…also, he was supposedly so poor when he departed for the Holy Land that it was said he had one change of clothes and no money at all. That’d be something to see, wouldn’t it? A king with nothing to his name.” I said, dreamily.

  “A king with nothing is just a man,” Piper decided to throw in, busting my bubble.

  I glanced at her. “Try telling these people that,” I said, “And I suppose he wasn’t exactly the king, even though by birthright he should’ve been. At any rate who wants to help me find the long lost duke?” I asked, smiling broadly at them.

  “Do you even know what he looks like?” Chloe asked while giving the rather large crowd a doubtful glance.

  “Not exactly,” I said, following her gaze to the large throng of zealous people. “But I’ve met his dad once so let’s hope he doesn’t look like his mother, Matilda.”

  Piper and Chloe looked at each other. “You want to?” Piper asked with a shrug.

  Sighing loudly, which was something Chloe had been doing a lot lately, she stood and stretched. “Might as well. This stump is killing my butt.”

  “Awesome.” I said while trying to contain as much of my glee as I could. I also contained in a sarcastic comment that sounded something like, “Like some of your butt dying would be a problem.”

  But I didn’t. See? I am getting more tolerable, huh?

  And, uh, since I hadn’t ever, you know, checked out Chloe’s butt, or anything, I, uh, couldn’t exactly say one way or another whether…

  Ahem. So, uh, yeah- there we were in 1096 looking for Robert Curthose.

  …And if I had to choose, Piper’s body was way more-

  Why am I telling you this? Geez, just leave me the helheim alone, will you? I’m trying to tell a story here, in case you haven’t noticed. So ease up on the girl talk, whoever-you-are.

  Between Chloe’s black leather jumpsuit from 2340, Piper’s Viking garb from 794, and my mix-match of both of those eras and a little 2012 thrown in with my black Chuck’s, we looked the part of a bunch of random time-traveling bums. So after I let my female companions know that a change of clothes was in order, we approached some of the outer tents that bordered the multitude and went on the prowl.

  We split up and ended up robbing whatever we wanted due to everyone being riveted by Peter the Hermit. Since I wasn’t exactly feeling like a pilgrim on my way to the Holy Land, I wasn’t just looking for random clothes that fit. I figured since I had to be there for six and a half more hours, looking awesome was my top priority. So after I’d searched a few unoccupied tents, I hit the mother lode.

  I made sure neither of the girls were in earshot before I let my nerd free and began jumping around like an idiot while I grabbed at all the armor and weapons that were adorning a wooden mannequin on the far side of the large tent. It took me about ten minutes to put it all on because most knights wearing amazing suits of armor like this normally had about three servants helping them into it.

  It. Was. Awesome.

  Whoever the owner of the expensive armor was also liked to look at himself because there was a full-length mirror on one side of the tent that I used for my final inspection of the armor that fit like a dream.

  The cuirass, gauntlets, paldrons, greaves, poleyn and boots were all shiny silver with a golden stripe which matched the great helm, which had an aventail, with a golden cross on the face of it. It was so light as I swung my arms around feeling the movement ratio. It was superb, by the way. The mail worn underneath it all was also not very heavy and I was beginning to think that I was sporting a prototype since I thought that all medieval armor was mega heavy.

  The sword was a hand-and-a-half sword, or as it was referred to by the medieval owners, a bastard sword. The name sort of originated because it wasn’t a one-handed sword nor was it a two-handed one even though most were heavy enough to require the use of both hands--more so for normal sized dudes from the 21st century- which is why I left the shield behind as I exited the tent, clasping the long white cape to the shoulder guards.

  I have to admit I looked like something out of an rpg game rather than something real out of 1096. This may have not been the case had I not still wore both gauntlets of time on my hands, making me look wickedly bodacious. They also matched really nice, too, so sue me.

  I clanked away from the tent feeling like a hero with my right hand on the jeweled pommel of the sword at my waist as I went to see if the girls had found anything to trump my Crusader getup.

  “My kingdom for a horse,” I said, upon my entrance to the tent that held the girls. I’m glad I had my helm under one arm for a lot of reasons. The first being that Chloe wasn’t exactly dressed and that her screaming at me to get out while throwing a candlestick at me was better than if she’d thought I was someone else. Not sure how but you never know.

  Doing a twirl in mid step, I left the tent that smelled like roses and waited outside.

  “Would it kill you to knock?” Chloe muttered from behind the canvas while Piper laughed out loud at my blundering entrance.

  “Perhaps,” I said, pacing. “Would it kill you to not run about naked? I told you these people were zealous, didn’t I?”

  Piper came out of the tent then and my mouth dropped open when I saw her walking out in a long red silk dress that almost touched the ground with semi-puffed short sleeves that looked good with her toned pale arms.

  “You do know that if someone sees you in that you’d be burnt at the stake for sure,” I said, “Lucky for you and your gypsy sister in there you’ve both met me, a valiant holy knight who has swayed you both into my beliefs and you are now both Christians.”

  Piper looked down at her dress then back up to me, “Really?”

  Nodding I said, “Yep. Funny how that works, isn’t it?”

  Chloe walked out and my mouth dro
pped open again, “What is this, VH1’s I heart the 1090s?”

  Her dress looked about the same as Piper’s except it was black and sort of a halter top. Hmm. I didn't know they had those back then. Placing a hand on a hip, Chloe narrowed her eyes. “I don’t want to hear it, Sir Chicago. There aren’t many women’s clothes around here, if you haven’t noticed.”

  “Like wearing boy clothes has ever been an issue for you, commander-major-captain-whatever from Russian boot camp,” I said.

  “Whatever,” Chloe said. “We look amazing and you know it.”

  “I don’t have time for the Crusade’s Next Top Model, Chloe. You two just stay close behind me.” I said, turning on my heel and clanking away from them as they fell in step behind me.

  “So you think we look like models?” Chloe asked, nudging Piper and smiling secretly at her. Except Vikings don’t know what models are so all she got in return was a small frown from Piper.

  We traversed out of the cluster of tents and headed around the people who seemed to still be having church and shouting God wills it to the top of their lungs. For once it seemed Chloe had listened to me as she and Piper walked close behind me as we avoided the crowd and headed for the rather small town of Juno.

  I wasn’t sure what we were supposed to do once we were inside but figured anything would beat the heck out of watching Peter the Hermit swindle men out of their lives and coins with his sermon. We entered the town through the stone gateway and found that the rather spacious little city was bustling with life even though it looked like every living soul within miles was listening to the loud preaching just outside.

  “These must be the ones that only show up on Easter,” I joked to my companions. “For once when they say that they’re not going due to all the hypocrisy they’re actually right.”

  We crossed the street to one side and began passing by all the local vendors who were selling everything from meat on a stick, linen, livestock and even women. I waved off all the vendors with ease due to my armor.