Tear In Time

by Petersen, Christopher David

  David took a moment to reload his pistol, as well as the one that wounded him. Sheathing his saber, he now crossed back into the canyon to join his fighting comrades. As he made his way through, each attacker met his fate with a lead ball. Finding shelter only to reload, David continued his advance.

  Nearing the entrance of the canyon, there, still on horseback, sat Custer savagely slashing anything in his path. From behind Custer's horse, David watched a fallen Confederate repeat the sequence that caused David's wound. The Confederate soldier struggled through his pain to reload his revolver, hoping to shoot down the easy target on horseback to his front.

  David took aim at the man from one hundred yards away, fired, and missed. He aimed once more but heard only the sound of an empty chamber. Pulling the triggers frantically now, David's Colt revolvers were empty. With no time to reload, he pulled his saber and hurried toward the reloading Confederate.

  The pain was searing as David tried to run in small bursts. With his eyes focused on the reloading man, he could see the Confederate man was now only two steps away from firing his weapon and killing Gen. Custer at close range. David swallowed hard and ran faster. He could feel blood now freely pumping out of his wound and running down his leg, soaking his pant leg with the sticking red fluid.

  David stumbled from the pain, but caught himself and continued on. The reloading Confederate was now finishing his last step. David cried out in pain as he quickened his pace.

  “CUSTER! GENERAL CUSTER!” David yelled to the unsuspecting general, but the distraction of war was too great.

  Mere feet from the reloading man, David watched in horror as the man lifted his weapon and fired. Simultaneously, David hurled his sword at the offending man, the saber's guard hitting him in the arm and knocking him off balance. The bullet’s path traveled through the air and plunged into flesh.

  David watched in horror as Custer fell from his horse, the huge beast landing on top of him. David ignored his pain and kicked the Confederate in the side, knocking him over. David grabbed his sword and plunged it into the offending man with anger. He then hurried to the now fallen hero.

  “This can't be happening. He's supposed to die at Little Big Horn,” David lamented as he came around to the back of the horse.

  Just then, another Confederate lunged at David. In short order, he parried and slashed his stunned attacker. David looked down at Gen. Custer. David's saddened face changed. There, pinned under his horse, was a smiling Gen. Custer.

  “Lend me a hand, general,” Gen. Custer asked, the weight of the horse causing him pain.

  David called to another soldier for help as he retrieved his saber. Standing in defense, he watched as Custer worked his way out from under his horse. Custer stood and reached for his own saber. Turning to David, he nodded in thanks, then noticed David's bleeding wound.

  “Gen. Warner, you're wounded. Is it fatal?” Custer asked in grave tone.

  “Probably not, but it hurts like hell,” David replied bravely.

  Seconds later, two more Confederates attacked the two generals. In short order, the Confederates fell where they stood just moments before. As both generals searched the field for more attackers, a wave of relief spread through them as they realized they were looking at mostly blue uniforms.

  “I believe we are the victors,” Gen. Custer announced proudly.

  David took a deep breath and replied flatly, “Great. Can we go now? This friggin' wound is killing me.”

  David's blasé response brought a smile to both men. Gen. Custer quickly ordered his men to help David from the field. As they were leaving, Custer stopped them and spoke.

  “Gen. Warner, your plan was brilliant. Thank you,” Gen Custer said, supplanting his ego for modesty.

  “Thanks for the compliment, but you did most of the fighting. The victory is yours,” David replied.

  “Ours,” Custer corrected. “The victory is ours.”

  Both men smiled in respect, then parted ways.

  ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

  Dr. Morgan nervously kept watch on the window as streams of horses rode into the front yard. The fate of his friend weighed heavy on his mind. As the ambulances unloaded more wounded, he strained his eyes for David. His relief that his friend was not on any of them was quickly replaced with anxiety of the unknown. Without any word, Dr. Morgan could only guess how he was doing.

  As darkness fell, wounded men from Gen. Custer's Michigan Calvary began to trickle in. With each soldier that was carried through the door, Dr. Morgan took possession and questioned the wounded man of the battles progress. In disappointment and frustration, Dr. Morgan listened to the men's accounting of the battle, receiving very little news about David's performance or whereabouts.

  Dr. Morgan tried to concentrate on his duties, but his worry began to show in his work. Realizing his distraction, he finished up his patient and took a small break outside. Standing in the grass, he stared up at the heavens and asked a small favor of God.

  “Lord, we haven't spoken in a while,” Dr. Morgan began, “and I know we usually talk only when I am in trouble, but this time it is different. I am worried about the young lad, David. You know, the time traveler?” Dr. Morgan said as if waiting for a reply. With a moment’s pause, he continued, “Well, as you probably know, he's trying to get back to his time, and he accepted a very dangerous post in order to facilitate his return. He is a remarkably stout young man, but I fear his upbringing has not prepared him for the rigors on the battlefield. If you would, could you please watch over and protect him from harm? I'm not a regular Sunday-going church man, but if you could do this, I promise I would make regular future visits.”

  Dr. Morgan looked around, ensuring no one was in listening in the distance, then finished, “Lord, if you're listening, could you give me a sign?”

  Off in the distance, Dr. Morgan heard the gallop of a fast approaching horse. He craned his head and listened intently. As the sound grew louder and more distinct, the rhythmic pattern of pounding hooves confused the old doctor. It sounded like the galloping pattern of Gen. Negley's horse, but somehow very different.

  Dr. Morgan turned toward the sound and squinted. A brilliant full moon radiated down and lit up the field that approached the farmhouse. Slowly, a shadowy figure could be detected far off by the edge of the tree line. As the rider approached, the image became more clear, more distinct. Dr. Morgan’s eyes watered from his hard squint, and he shook his head to clear his vision. Refocusing on the approaching rider, he began to make out not one, but two riders on horseback.

  Within range now, Dr. Morgan called out, “Who goes there? Identify yourself.”

  There was no answer from the two men approaching.

  Dr. Morgan tried once more, this time with more authority. “Identify yourself or be shot.”

  “Jeb, is that you, you old coot? For the love of Jesus, don't shoot!” Gen. Negley replied.

  “Jim? Jim, is that you?” Dr. Morgan yelled.

  Nearing the farmhouse, Dr. Morgan could now make out his friend seated high in the saddle and leaning forward slightly. Squinting hard, he could see a second rider seated behind the general, leaning forward, resting up against the general’s back.

  “Jeb, don't shoot. It's us: David and I. He's been wounded,” Gen. Negley announced in grave tone.

  “Oh God, no,” Dr. Morgan said to himself loudly.

  Instantly, he ran to close the distance between them. Moments later, Gen. Negley pulled back on his reins and stopped his horse. Even in darkness, Dr. Morgan could see the desperate stare from his commanding officer.

  “Jeb, David's been shot. I found him slumped over his horse in an empty field. I fear the worst,” Gen. Negley informed, his voice filled with emotion.

  “Let's get him on the table immediately,” Dr. Morgan replied quickly.

  Dr. Morgan ran hard and fast, leaping up over the first three steps of the entrance to the farmhouse and dashed inside.

  “You there: clear this table. I want
it washed down and sterilized in thirty seconds. Is that clear?” Dr. Morgan yelled to the attendants with authority.

  Before an answer arrived, he dashed outside to help Gen. Negley and two others load David onto a wooden stretcher. David moaned slightly as he came in and out of consciousness and Dr. Morgan desperately tried to communicate with him.

  “David, lad, I have you now. You'll be alright,” Dr. Morgan said as he helped with the stretcher. “Where are you wounded?” he asked, but there was no response from David.

  “Looks like they got him in the side of the belly,” Gen. Negley offered as they carried David up the porch and into the house.

  They laid David on the cleaned and sterilized table, removed his shirt and jacket, then cleansed the still-bleeding wound for inspection.

  “How long has he been like this?” Dr. Morgan asked of his old friend.

  “I can't rightly say, Jeb. As I said, I found him in an empty field like this. I transferred him to my horse and carried him here as fast as I dared,” Gen. Negley replied.

  “Hmm, extra weight. So that's why I couldn't detect your horse – changed the stride,” Dr. Morgan responded. “It appears that the bullet went straight through him. I don't think that any of his organs were penetrated.”

  Dr. Morgan checked David's vitals and rolled him up on his side to prepare him for surgery.

  “He's in shock from so much blood loss, but I think if I clean out the wound and inject him with a sterile solution of sugar and salty water, he'll be ok,” Dr. Morgan deduced. “You there: in my bag is a syringe. Bring me some boiling water and some sugar and salt – quickly,” he called to an attendant.

  “Sugar, salt, water and a syringe? Jeb, what in blazes are you planning on here?” Gen. Negley asked with deep curiosity.

  “I'm really not quite sure what the mechanics of the treatment are, but I have seen David use this in the gravest of cases and bring the men back from the reaper’s grasp,” Dr. Morgan replied, openly unsure of himself.

  “I just hope you know what you're doing,” Gen. Negley replied.

  “Me too,” Dr. Morgan responded.

  As Dr. Morgan worked on David's wound, he placed the syringe into boiling water. Cleaning out the wound with a sterile rag and alcohol, he found a nicked artery that was causing the bleeding. He quickly placed two tiny stitches in it, all but stopping the blood loss. Moments later, he closed the wound with loose stitches, anticipating further cleaning that would be needed to prevent infection. He then applied clean bandages.

  Having pulled the syringe from the boiling water to cool, he now washed his hands once more, then created the solution of sterilized water, sugar and salt, drawing the mixture into the syringe. He cleaned off David's arm with alcohol and injected his vein with the solution.

  “Well, there's nothing more I can do for him now except wait,” Dr. Morgan said anxiously.

  “A fine job, doctor,” Gen. Negley encouraged. He placed his hand on his old friend’s shoulder and continued, “He'll be alright. The good Lord is watching over him.”

  “How do you know that?” Dr. Morgan replied with a bit of cynicism in his voice.

  Gen. Negley stared directly into Dr Morgan's eyes and replied, “Because the good Lord sent you to save him.”

  Stunned, Dr. Morgan reflected on his prayer for David. Looking slightly aloft, he whispered, “Thank you.”

  ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

  As David's eyes parted slightly, he strained to see the blurred images in front of him. After several hard blinks, his eyes began to take focus on the two men that stood by his bedside.

  “Son, you're awake. How are you feeling?” Dr. Morgan asked, now grinning from ear to ear.

  David's eyes were still a bit blurry, but he could now make out Dr. Morgan and Gen. Negley’s faces.

  He smiled slightly and replied, “I'm a little tired and really thirsty. Do you have any water?” His voice sounded a bit hoarse.

  “Certainly, son,” Dr. Morgan said, as he reached for a pitcher of water and a tin cup.

  David winced as he sat up slightly and downed the cup of water instantly. Dr. Morgan refilled the cup twice more before David's strength failed him. He laid back down and closed his eyes momentarily, then reopened them.

  “Phew, boy. I feel like I've been sleeping for a hundred years,” David said.

  “More like two days, David,” Gen. Negley volunteered.

  “TWO DAYS?” David exclaimed. “Oh my God!” he said, trying to sit up again. He winced again, then fell back down.

  “Son, you should really lay still until your wound heals. I only placed temporary stitches until I was sure there's no risk of infection,” Dr. Morgan informed.

  “Oh yeah, my wound. Friggin' Reb shot me. How's it look?” David asked, then spoke again before the Doctor could answer. “Wait a minute, TWO DAYS? What happened with the battle? Did the south overrun us? Are we prisoners?” David asked anxiously.

  “David, I have something to tell you,” Dr. Morgan started. “We were not overrun. After you and Gen. Custer won the eastern battle, the men were used to strengthen our lines along the southern positions. The following day – yesterday, that is – the Confederates launched a series of ferocious attacks. In fact, an attack from Gen. George Pickett almost broke through. From what I understand, that attack saw six thousand casualties alone; at least, that was the last estimate I heard. Fortunately our lines held and we were able to force them back. Right now, as I am speaking, General Lee is making a hasty retreat across the Potomac,” Dr. Morgan said.

  “We won?” David replied in shock.

  “I'm afraid so, David. The future will have to overcome,” Dr. Morgan replied, forgetting Gen. Negley's presence for a moment.

  “You're afraid so? Jeb, what do you ever mean by that?” Gen. Negley asked, sounding confused.

  “I'm sorry, Jim. It was just a long standing theory the lad and I had about the war. Have no fear, we are happy with the outcome. Isn't that right, David?” Dr. Morgan said, soothing the general’s curiosity.

  David realized that he had impacted the future once more. How it would turn out from here was anyone’s guess. One thing was certain: the north had won the battle and pushed the Confederates back into the south, preventing Washington D.C. from destruction and saving the lives of thousands of civilians that were destined to die, as recorded in the history before David's arrival.

  David stared into his cup of water and began to smile. He looked at up at Dr. Morgan and replied, “Well, thank God Custer's still alive.”

  “Alive indeed, lad,” Gen. Negley said. “He's like a cat with nine lives. He always lands on his feet.” The general paused, then continued, “Damned fool will probably live forever.”

  “Hmm, if that were only true,” David replied cryptically. “Unfortunately, some of us have lives shorter than forever.”

  Gen. Negley and Dr. Morgan both nodded in reply. Quiet came over the room for a moment, creating an awkward silence. Feeling a bit uncomfortable, David changed the subject.

  “Well, sir, where are we off to next?” David asked.

  “South,” Gen. Negley responded. “The Rebs are on the run and we mean to keep it that way.”

  “Hmm. The south is good. Chattanooga would be better,” David responded.

  “Actually, David, we do have a need for someone to help with aggressions in that area. Gen. Rosecrans has been active down there and could use some help,” Gen. Negley replied. “After your performance on the field two days ago, I feel confident you could be of great assistance to the general. You may leave as soon as you are fit to travel.”

  “Thank you, sir. Would Dr. Morgan be able to join me?” David asked.

  “I suppose I could loan this ole coot to you for a short time,” Gen. Negley replied, patting his old friend on the shoulder.

  “That will be all the time I will need,” David said with a small smirk.

  TT: Chapter 10

  August 1863

  “Well David, I appea
rs that your calculation has paid off,” Dr. Morgan said.

  “And it only cost me a bullet wound to my side,” David joked.

  “You were very lucky, lad. If it had been an inch the other way, I wouldn't have had the skill to treat you,” Dr. Morgan responded.

  The two rode side by side, leading the column of soldiers now under David's command. David looked back at the men and nodded to the sergeant marching beside his squad. With a cordial smile, the sergeant acknowledged David's salutation and continued his forward stare.