Assassins of History- Transference

by Vernon Dutton

  However, I didn’t stop. I crossed to the left side of the road and began to look in the shops’ windows, hoping one of them had some decent clothes for sale.

  The street sloped upward for about three blocks to an intersection I could see in the distance. Men and women were walking up and down the thoroughfare utilizing the sidewalks where available. The back and forth street traffic also consisted of a few men on horses kicking up dust from the dry road bed, as well as a few carriages with men and women occupants.

  I nodded at a few people on the sidewalk and got a few odd looks, probably because I didn’t have a hat. On the second block of my window shopping, I happened to see some hats and work clothes through the window of a hardware shop. So, I entered for a better look.

  There was a young clerk behind the counter who ignored me for a while as I milled around looking at the clothes and hats that were piled on a table and a few shelves. I pulled out some black wool trousers and a black coat from a pile on one of the shelves. I put the trousers up next to my waist to see if they possibly fit. They didn’t drag the floor so that was good. I tried on the coat and it fit me like a glove. I also found a blue checkered shirt and held it up to my shoulders. It was a little big, but I didn’t know if it would shrink with washing, so I kept it. Next, I found a wide brim black felt hat like the ones we wore for Civil War reenacting. This reminded me. Shouldn’t there be Union forces coming this way for the Battle of Antietam? I tucked this question away for the time being.

  Absentmindedly, while my thoughts had drifted to the Civil War, I had pulled out a twenty dollar bill and handed it to the clerk to pay for the clothes. The clerk’s exclamation brought me back to the present.

  “I ain’t got change for this much money, mister. I’ll have to go to tha bank,” he complained.

  “Take your time young fellow. I’ll watch tha store for ya til ya get back,” I promised.

  He gave me an uncertain look. So, I added, “Don’t cha worry, young fellow. I won’t steal nothing. I aim to buy these herah clothes. I need to make a good impression for a job interview today.”

  He sighed and, taking a chance I wasn’t a thief, went down to the bank. It didn’t take him too long to return with the needed cash for my transaction. It was good to know that my money was good in this part of the country. It cost me two dollars and fifty cents for the coat, two dollars for the trousers, seventy five cents for the shirt and one dollar for the hat. Once I got the change, I asked, “Do ya have a room in tha back that I could change out of my old clothes into tha new ones?”

  He looked at me rather strangely, but offered, “There’s an empty office on tha second floor ya could use.”

  I nodded, took my new wardrobe upstairs and hastily changed into the apparel utilizing the bracers off my old trousers. The only problem was my feet were getting chaffed by my brogans, since I didn’t have any socks. I really didn’t want to get debilitating blisters.

  I descended the stairs and viewed myself in a silver plated full length mirror that was in the back of the store. I didn’t look half bad, which meant I didn’t look but half good either. My clothing really made me look like an Amish man that you would see in a National Geographic magazine. Again, I was amazed at the physical transformation I had experienced. I got close to the mirror and looked at my face again. I still looked like I did in my thirties. Next, I viewed my shoulders and swore they were broader, which they must have been when I was younger. All I could do was shake my head at the anomalies that had occurred.

  My feet suddenly called out for some relief. The brogans were rubbing them raw. So, I went looking for some socks on the clothes tables and found three pairs of knitted white socks with red piping around the tops. They were twenty five cents a pair. So, I bought two pair. I pulled off my shoes and slipped on the socks. My feet said, “Thank you.”

  The last bit of wardrobe that I needed was footwear. I walked around in my socks looking for boots or brogans. The store happened to have a whole shelf stocked with boots. I pulled a pair down and tried them on, but I couldn’t get either boot on due to my high instep. I worked my way down the shelf until I found a pair of black boots that I could get on without too much effort. Once I stomped my feet down into the tunnels of leather, I went to look at my selection in the store mirror. For once, they didn’t look like clown’s shoes on my feet. The price of the bright shiny boots was twenty dollars, which I readily paid.

  I continued to look at the various items for sale until I got an urgent call from Mother Nature. So, I quickly sought out the clerk and probed, “Is there a toilet in the area?”

  With an exasperated glance out the back of the store he stated, “Thar’s an outhouse out tha back, to tha left and down tha alley.”

  “May I leave my old bundle of clothes herah for a moment?” I begged.

  He gave me a curt nod. So, out the back door I went like a cannon shot. I followed the proverbial path to the famed edifice that we all made fun of when I was a kid. Years ago in my youth at deer camp and during a few months in Viet Nam, I had used an outhouse so I wasn’t totally grossed out by the smell.

  However, I didn’t know what I would use as toilet paper, when I entered the odorous abode. I took off my coat and hung it on a peg in the door. The single hole in the wooden plank bench utilized as a toilet seat wasn’t as filthy as I imagined it would be. So, I unbuttoned and dropped my trousers and did my business. When looking around for something with which to clean up, I spied an old newspaper someone had left. I reached for it to use as toilet paper. However, the headline of the newspaper caught my attention. “Confederate President Jefferson Davis meets with the Army Leaders in the Confederate Capital in Atlanta.”

  

  The Dark Mage’s Log: Axeylon 5: Galaxy Date: 16314

  Lord Dendaras scowled down in exasperation on two new Watchers. He had religiously studied their background via the Eternal Oracle. They both had presided in over fifty transferences without any problems. Jargunn was to take over the mission for the still comatose Jarreal and Jardean was to take over for Jarbree, whose muffled soul-wrenching screams could be heard from the depths of the alien ship.

  Looking at Jardean, Lord Dendaras ordered, “You will proceed to ‘Earth 9’ and take over Jarbree’s mission. Your slayer has been put in a deep sleep at the coordinates issued until you arrive. Complete the mission and get him back to ‘Earth 3’.”

  Lord Dendaras cocked his head, closed his eyes and listened to the ghastly screams coming from the innards of Axeylon 5. He opened his eyes and smirked, “I don’t have to remind you of the consequences for failure, do I?”

  Jardean gulped and stammered, “No Sire.”

  Looking at Jargunn, Lord Dendaras instructed, “You must find the imposter and see the extent of his interchange with the local inhabitants of ‘Earth 3’. We must know how much of their history he has infected so we can repair or possibly reconstruct it after his demise. But first we must know about his interchanges with the local inhabitants. Search for him only at night. You will understand why that is preferable once you are planetside.”

  “Yes, Sire.” Jargunn responded respectfully.

  Waving his hand in dismissal, Lord Dendaras commanded, “Go!”

  The two Watchers bowed, clicked their heels, about faced in unison and marched out of the throne room.

  

  I gasped as I read the headline and felt a rush of heat start at the top of my head and go to the bottom of my feet. “This is ludicrous. It’s impossible. I needed to read this article, but not here,” I said to no one in particular.

  I quickly utilized the back pages of the paper, which I hoped didn’t have continuations of the story on the front page, for cleaning up. I got my wardrobe back on, stuffed the paper in the top of my trousers, covered the paper with my coat and proceeded through the back door of the hardware store.

  As I reentered the store, I had another thought. I wondered what time it was and if I had enough time to make it to the bank befor
e it closed. So, I asked the hardware store clerk if he had any pocket watches for sale. He said he didn’t, but indicated the Apothecary at the end of the block and cattycornered from the bank might have some. I asked him what time it was and he said he didn’t know. He didn’t have a watch. I thanked him, picked up my old bundle of clothes and hurried out.

  I walked to the end of the block doffing my hat to every lady or couple I met on the way. The men touched the brims of their hats in response. So, I knew I was performing the correct cultural greetings for this century.

  I entered the Apothecary and was immediately struck dumb. I had seen so many old pictures of the insides of these establishments, but to be in one for real was amazing. I slowly walked along the glass counters on one side of the room viewing all the remarkable items for sale. There were medicines of every description in small bottles with larger medicine jars on shelves behind the counter. On the far side of the room, there was an elaborate wooden wall of shelving with drawers from the floor to about waist high that were filled with packets of medicines for daily use.

  From the waist to almost the ceiling, there was shelving with medicinal products for sale in bulk. At what I will describe as the checkout counter, there were various jars of hard candy, such as peppermint sticks. Making a few covert glances toward the three men behind the counters as I made my cursory inspection of the store, I comprehended I was being sized up as a trophy by the predatory salesmen. They all converged on me like sharks smelling blood in the water when I finally asked, “Do ya have any pocket watches for sale?”

  One of the clerks produced a watch from under a counter and declared, “This is tha only one we got left.”

  I thought, “Either there had been a run on pocket watches, or there wasn’t much demand for a time piece in this part of Virginia.” I asked, “May I see tha merchandise?” The clerk passed it to me with such care that you would have thought it was a Rolex. I inspected the front and back meticulously and then asked the age old question, “How much?”

  Another of the clerks, who seemed to be the head honcho, quickly responded, “That would be three dollars.”

  Apparently, this bunch thought they had the last pocket watch on earth. “I’m shocked,” I reacted and began to leave the store. The head clerk quickly recovered, “But since ya look like a nice gentleman, we could let it go for two dollars.”

  I turned back, smiled pleadingly and lamented, “I only have budgeted one dollar for such a luxury, but I have just moved into tha area and have plans of residing here so I know I will be a good customer in tha future.”

  The clerk put his hand up to his chin as if to contemplate what I had promised. He finally looked at the other two clerks and, nodding his head, which they immediately imitated, conceded, “Well, in that case, I guess we can let it go for one dollar.”

  I quickly whipped out a dollar bill and the transaction was complete. As I took possession of the timepiece, I asked, “What time is it?” The head clerk produced his own watch and I set the time on my new 19th century pocket watch.

  Then on a lark I asked to see a bottle of tincture of iodine. The clerks were very solicitous because they wanted to make a more profitable sale than one dollar. I took the pro-offered bottle and read the small print on the bottle quite readily. I didn’t need glasses anymore.

  Where I came from, I needed glasses with 1.75 magnification lens to read any small print. My body had definitely changed in more ways than one. I thanked the disappointed salesmen and started to leave the apothecary when I spied a toothbrush and what appeared to be a tin can of tooth powder incased in a glass medicine cabinet. I hadn’t seen tooth powder since I was a kid back in the early 1950’s. I asked, “How much for tha brush and powder?”

  The head clerk, allowing no further negotiation, demanded, “One dollar!”

  I thought this was a rip off, but I grudgingly paid and added the dental hygienic articles to my burgeoning baggage.

  I left the Apothecary and stopped on the sidewalk to inspect the dental objects. The toothbrush was just like the one I had bought for Civil War reenacting. The bristles were quite hard and took up about two inches of the nine-inch instrument. I read the label on the powder tin, but didn’t know enough about chemicals to understand what the ingredients were. I wrapped the items in the old clothes and put the roll under my arm.

  The day was warm and I had put off reading the disconcerting newspaper article long enough. So, I strode a few blocks toward the Potomac River, which was northeast of German Street, the main thoroughfare of Shepherdstown. In comparison with the 21st century, the streets were lined with homes and not Shepherd University, which occupied this area in my time. I couldn’t find a town park that had benches so I meandered back to German Street and roamed it until I found a small café located almost at the main intersection at the top of the hill on the west side of town.

  I entered the establishment, sat at a small table, put my bundle of clothes in an adjacent chair and ordered a cup of coffee plus some bread and cheese. Once I received the order, I pulled out the newspaper and opened it to the front page. It was the Richmond Enquirer. Evidently, this was the main newspaper for this region of Virginia.

  As per the headline I had previously read, Confederate President Jeff Davis had called a meeting of his Generals. The article said this was supposed to be a secret conference, but somehow the newspaper had found out about it. It listed the Generals that had been seen going into the meeting: General Robert E. Lee, General Joe Johnston, General Thomas Jackson, and General Albert Sidney Johnston. The last name made me utter a gasp and I almost dropped the cup of coffee I was raising to my mouth. I sat the cup down with a bang and spilt coffee on the table.

  The lady behind the counter looked up with a start and asked,” Is anything wrong?”

  “No, I’m sorry. I just had a little mishap with tha coffee saucer,” I apologized. She came over immediately and cleaned up the puddle of coffee. I gave her an ‘I’m sorry to have caused a mess’ look, which drew a chastising stare as she trooped back behind the counter.

  I sat there almost reeling. I had vertigo so bad that I had to grip the table with both hands to keep my equilibrium. Albert Sidney Johnston was killed at Shiloh on April 6, 1862. But here it was September 12, 1862 and he had been reported alive on September 7th, which was when this paper was printed. Also, the Confederate capital was in Atlanta, Georgia and not Richmond, Virginia. Lastly, there was no mention of Robert E. Lee being in charge of the Army of Northern Virginia. He was supposed to have taken over the Confederate Army in Virginia in June of 1862, named it the Army of Northern Virginia, run Union General McClellan off the Virginia Peninsula and beat the Union Army at Second Manassas. Also, various portions of his army should be marching north to Hagerstown, Maryland, on the move to attack Harpers Ferry and guarding the South Mountain passes west of here at this very moment. But apparently the historical events hadn’t happened that way.

  “What is going on?” my inner voice demanded. I was sweating profusely in my new clothes. My heart was pounding. I had to get out of this enclosed space and get some air. I hurriedly asked what I owed, which was five cents. I left the money on the table, put my uneaten bread and cheese in my coat pocket and hurried out the door.

  I walked up German Street to the main intersection at the top of the hill. There was nothing much on the other side of the junction, except the west side of town. If I continued west over the crossroad, I would ultimately come to Martinsburg, Virginia. Instead, I turned left and traveled south toward Kearnysville. After a few minutes of stopping and starting, I got my breathing and heart rate under control. Finally, I asked out loud, “What is going on?”

  I had progressed on the dirt road to where a small cemetery was located off the beaten path to the right. I stopped and surveyed the tranquility of the graveyard. I was definitely in the mood for peacefulness so I unlatched the iron entrance gate and sauntered through the burial grounds to a big oak tree in the back of the cemetery. I laid my
old clothes on a patch of dry green grass and sat down. I put the rest of my paraphernalia on the ground beside me. Then, I put my head in my hands and took stock of all that had happened.

  One, I had gotten thrown back in time and not of my own accord.

  Two, the general area in which I entered this time frame was the same general area I had been in before the time travel took place.

  Three, my wrist watch had stopped.

  Four, my money had changed to the money acceptable in this time period.

  Five, my grandmother had shown up here in Virginia instead of Alabama. I pegged her age at eighteen in this time frame. She had actually turned eighteen in 1918. Therefore, she had shown up three generations before she should have on this earth and one thousand miles north of Alabaster, Alabama, which was her hometown.

  Six, the big problem was the history here was completely different from the 1862 history I had known.

  Seven, the only good thing about this exile is that I was younger. I had no idea how much younger, but I was definitely younger.

  I kept saying to myself, “How can this be? It doesn’t make any sense. Have I lost my mind? Have I been hurt and in a coma dreaming all this? Why did that Orb or Sphere or whatever you want to call it put me in this vulgar parody of the 19th century? For that matter, who in blue blazes operated that Sphere?”

  The big question is, “Did I kill that man that appeared out of the gloom when I arrived here? I have never killed anyone in my life. I didn’t mean to hit him. However, he shouldn’t have jumped out at me like that. Also, what was it that he said?”

  Oh, I remember, “Did you have an enjoyable trip? No, that wasn’t it. Did you have an entertaining trip? Yes, that was it. He must have been waiting on me. Was this some sort of alien abduction? If they find his body, can they track it to me? I doubt it. The 19th century doesn’t have advanced forensics. But wait! If the drunk, whose clothes I stole, finds my buried clothes and learns that I suddenly showed up here in Shepherdstown, he might be able to track me down.”