“ Lieutenant,” he almost yelled, “Where are your shoes?”
“They’ve vanished,” I said, “In the same way the time machine did. It has something to do with the laws of time travel.”
He looked irate. “You’re not starting that time travel business again, are you? They’re not going to delay your execution no matter what you say.”
I saw there was no point in trying to tell him the truth. Letting my sense of humor surface, I said, “My family belonged to a small Protestant sect. They believed that when you enter Heaven, it should be without shoes. In honor of my parents’ beliefs, I decided to go barefoot.”
Parsons nodded knowingly. He was about to say something when Admiral Miyaguchi approached and asked if he could speak with me privately. My defense counsel stepped back to join the others.
The Japanese Admiral turned to me with a smile. “Lieutenant Snodgrass,” he said bowing. “You have done my country great damage. You have rendered your country a great service. More than they realize. I can only hope that the young officers of my navy in similar circumstances would perform as you have done. You are a most brilliant and courageous officer. He drew out his ceremonial sword, kissed it, and then saluted me with it.
I was uncertain of how to respond. I compromised by stepping back and saluting. “Thank you, sir,” I said.
When he saw that my conversation with Admiral Miyaguchi was over, Commander White approached. “I gather that Commander Parsons has already informed you that you are to be shot by a firing squad, not hanged,” he said. “Since there is no adequate spot for the purpose here, we are going to proceed around the corner of the barracks. We will use the handball backboard there in lieu of a wall.”
At the sergeant’s command, we left the gallows and moved off to the tennis court. Gradually, the marines gathered on the barracks balconies realized that the public hanging they expected to watch would not take place. Boos and catcalls accompanied us as we turned the corner and left the quadrangle.
Porter was still at my side and the two marine privates behind me. Suddenly, I stopped. The meaning of Kupinski’s first law became obvious to me. “Inanimate objects displaced in time,” I said out loud, “Tend to move toward their point of origin at a rate determined by the rate of speed of their original displacement, the distance of the displacement, and their molecular weight.”
“Did you say something?” the chaplain inquired, halting his reading from the Bible.
“No, sir,” I answered, and resumed walking. Now that I understood the reason for the disappearance of my sword in Paris and of my wristwatch and shoes here, what a shame it was that I would not have the opportunity communicating word of my discovery to someone who would appreciate its importance.
I was so deep in my thoughts that I stumbled into the sergeant in front of me before I realized that the others had stopped. I looked up and saw the handball backboard in front of me. About twenty yards in front of it was a squad of marines all carrying rifles. This I gathered, was my firing squad.
Parsons came up to me and shook my hand. “I don’t know quite what to say,” he said. “I suppose ‘God bless you’ would be the most appropriate. I really mean it.”
“Thanks for all your efforts,” I replied, as he stepped back.
The chaplain then approached. “I will be praying for you,” he said. “Is there anything else you would like me to do? Anyone I can notify? Any message you would like to send?”
“No thanks,” I answered.
It was now the turn of the marine captain. “It’s time,” he said. “Would you please follow me to the wall.”
When we reached the handball backboard, he asked me to turn around. He looked uncertain about what to do, then removed a package of cigarettes from his pocket and offered me one. I was tempted to accept, as I had never smoked before and wondered what it would be like.
“Thanks. No.” I said.
He then asked me if I would like a blindfold. Again, I declined his offer. “This is it, then, Lieutenant,” he said. “You have my sympathy.”
He turned and walked back to where the squad of marines was gathered. “Squad, attention!” he ordered. He gave the command to load and aim their weapons.
I tried to think of Kupinski’s laws of time travel and to decipher the meaning of his second, third and fourth laws. To no avail. All I could think of my imminent death.
The commands ‘ready’ and ‘aim’ rang out loud and clear. I could see the weapons of the firing squad aimed directly at my chest. Involuntarily I shut my eyes as the captain gave the order to fire. I heard the sound of the volley. My next sensation was a feeling of unnatural cold, although I experienced no pain. I wondered if this was what death felt like.
Then, I seemed to hear laughing. Laughing? In Heaven? In Hell? I opened my eyes. The members of the firing squad were standing where I had last seen them, but were convulsed with laughter. One was laughing so hard that he dropped his rifle.
I looked down and realized why they were laughing. All my clothing had vanished. I was standing there stark naked. Kupinski’s first law had struck again!
An angry cry rang out. It emanated from Admiral Miyaguchi, who had drawn out his sword and was running toward me, a furious expression on his face. From the way he was waving his sword, I had little doubt he meant to skewer me with it.
Being carved up like a chicken by a furious Japanese Admiral seemed to me even less desirable than being shot by a firing squad. I turned and began running, without any idea of where I was going. Looking back over my shoulder, I could see Miyaguchi was gaining on me, despite his short legs and ample girth.
The pebbles hurt my bare feet, which were soon aching from innumerable cuts. I paid them no heed; my only goal was to escape evisceration. Turning a corner, I found myself running down a road leading to the gate of the naval base. At the gate, a marine sentry was stopping to check the cars entering and leaving..
With Miyaguchi breathing hard on my neck, I approached the gate just as the sentry waved a car through. When he turned and saw me, an amazed look appeared on his face.
“Stop! You have to stop!” he cried as I raced toward him at full speed.
I had no intention of stopping. “Salute me, Private!” I ordered. “I’m an officer engaged in PE!”
The sentry’s indoctrination on the necessity of saluting officers overcame his shock at finding himself faced with a naked man running through the gate. He snapped to attention and saluted as I sped past him without slowing my pace. I was aware of the absurdity of the situation as I returned his salute.
Behind me, I heard him yelling “stop!” It was unclear whether this was directed at me or at my pursuer. I did not take the time to look back until I ran some distance past the gate and reached the road leading to Honolulu.
There I paused for an instant to catch my breath. I was relieved to see no sign of Miyaguchi. At the gate, the sentry was surrounded by a large group of individuals. All were looking in my direction. I was uncertain whether the Japanese Admiral was among them. In any event, it made no difference. Pursuers would be after me, intent on finishing me off before the Japanese ultimatum expired.
This realization led me to resume running down the road as rapidly as I could. Fortunately, there was virtually no traffic, although one car driving in the opposite direction almost went off the road when the driver turned around to stare at me.
Every few seconds I would turn around and look back toward the base to see if there was any pursuit. Even though none had yet appeared, I had no illusions that Commander White would delay long in organizing one. I was considering whether I ought to stop running and conceal myself in the woods bordering the road when I heard an automobile horn behind me.
I turned my head, fearing I would see a military vehicle filled with marines pursuing me. Instead, it was a roadster convertible. The driver was a woman, a blond.
I moved to the shoulder of the road, hoping that the car would pass me. To my surprise, it slowed
to keep pace with my speed. “Care for a ride?” the driver asked.
She didn’t wait for me to answer, but stopped the car. “Hop in,” she said.
I could see no reason to refuse the unexpected offer of help. With luck, I thought, she might be driving into Honolulu. I had no idea of how, stark naked, I could hide find a hiding place in a strange city, but it least it was a chance.
“Thank you, Ma’am,” I said automatically, as I sat down on the seat next to her and shut the car door.
“I see the heat was not too much for you,” she said in an odd tone.
I turned to look at her. She was older than I had first thought, about thirty-five. Her hair was obviously bleached. She was wearing a tennis outfit which, if I had seen one of the coeds at the university wearing it, I would have thought provocative. It seemed odd that that it would be available, let alone worn in 1941.
I considered telling her the truth, but decided against it. There was too much chance she would report me to the authorities.
“I’m a naval officer, Ma’am,” I said. “I got into some trouble at the navy base and had to make a hurried departure.”
“Oh, someone’s husband came home unexpectedly and caught you. I can understand that. There’s no need to be so formal,” she went on. “You can call me Honey. What can I call you?”
Maynard, I realized, was an unusual name, one she might recognize from the news reports about me. “You can call me Dick,” I replied, using the name of a next-door neighbor.
“That’s certainly an appropriate name for you,” she said, staring at my midsection. She was licking her lips and there was a leer on her face.
I realized that her buxom figure, combined with her scanty tennis outfit, had caused me to have an erection. Feeling extremely self-conscious, I put my hands in my lap, hoping to conceal it.
Without warning, she turned off the road.
“Where are you going?” I asked. “I thought you were going to Honolulu?”
“No,” she said. “Keep your head down! We’re going on to an army base.”
“Please stop and let me out!” I implored. “I’m not wearing any clothes. They’ll arrest me!”
“Don’t worry, Dick,” she answered. “My husband’s an army captain on the base. All the guards know me. They almost never stop me to check my car.”
I was not about to voluntarily enter an army base. I turned around to see how far I would have to run back to the main road if I prevailed upon her to stop and let me out. I did so just in time to see two military police cars speed by, their lights flashing. The effort to capture me had begun. I realized that if I went back to the road, I would almost certainly be picked up in a few minutes.
“Quick!” she said, “Duck your head down! We’re almost at the gate.”
There was no escape. I complied. As she predicted, we were not asked to stop at the gate.
“Are we safe now?” I asked. “Can I lift my head up?”
“I think we’re safe, but keep your head down! I’m going to pull up by my side door. The bushes will shield the car from the house next door. I’ll let you know when the coast is clear and then you open your door and run as fast as you can into my house!”
The car stopped and I heard her leave. A minute later she called in a low voice, “Dick, now!”
Crouching as low as I could, I jumped out of the car and sprinted to the open side door of the house. It was only a few feet and I doubted that anyone could have seen me. She shut the door after me and smiled.
“You’re safe,” she said. “Let me get you a drink.”
For the first time since my arrest, I permitted myself to relax.
“Thanks,” I said, “I’d appreciate a cup of hot coffee.”
She led me into the living room and invited me to sit down while she went back to the kitchen to get our drinks. When she had gone, I looked around at my surroundings. The furniture was all made of rattan. Remembering my bare bottom, I chose an easy chair whose cushion, I thought, would be kind to it.
I could not help smiling at the absurdity of the situation. Here I was in the living room of a married woman I had just met, sitting stark naked as I waited for her to bring me a cup of coffee.
She returned carrying on tray, on which were two glasses and a bowl of pretzels. “Here you are, Dickie,” she said, handing me one of the glasses. “I thought after what you’ve been through, you could use a martini more than a cup of coffee.”
I was about to protest, then thought the better of it. I was totally dependent on Honey for assistance; it would be folly to antagonize her. “Bottoms up,” she said. I was unable to comply; I don’t like martinis; but I managed to sip some.
She smiled. “Have some pretzels,” she offered, bending to offer me the bowl. The cut of her tennis dress left little of her ample cleavage to the imagination. I found it hard to stop from staring. She noticed my gaze, and seemed amused. I realized I was having another erection and crossed my legs in embarrassment.
“I wonder if you could get something to wear,” I appealed.
“Certainly,” she said. “As soon as we finish our drinks.”
Although I was getting dizzy, I drained the glass. “Let me get you another,” she said. I shook my head. “Thanks, later, if I may. I feel strange sitting here naked. Suppose your husband should return.”
Her face took on a disgusted look. “Lawrence won’t be here any time soon. He spends every Saturday buttering up the colonel. All he thinks about is getting promoted. You’d think that after six years as a captain he could get promoted without kissing the colonel’s ass.”
She looked so distraught, I felt sorry for her. “It’s hard not being promoted when you’ve earned it,” I said. “I know. I’ve been there myself. And it’s just as hard on you as on your husband.”
She shook her head. “Let’s not talk about him. What can I do for you?”
“I do need something to wear,” I said hopefully. Do you think I can borrow some of your husband’s old things? I’ll return them just as soon as I can.”
She got up and headed toward the hall which. “Let me look in the bedroom closet. Have another pretzel. I’ll call you as soon as I find something you can use. I’m pretty sure he has an old uniform that would fit you.”
As I waited for her summons, my mind raced ahead. I probably could prevail on her to drive me into Honolulu. Wearing an army captain’s uniform would be adequate concealment in the city from all but a thorough dragnet by the authorities. If I borrowed a few dollars from her, I could rent a hotel room and look for a job. It would take months to save enough for a nest egg, but with a little capital I might start investing in stocks using my knowledge of the future.
My thoughts were interrupted by her cry, “Dickie, come here!”
I arose and walked through the hall to the bedroom. The room was empty, but the bathroom light was on and the door was ajar.
“Hi,” I said to announce my presence. Waiting for her to come out, I looked about the room. An army uniform jacket and pants had been tossed on a chair next to the bed. On the assumption these were intended for my use, I walked over to try them on.
I had picked up the pants when the bathroom light was turned off and my hostess walked out of the bathroom. She had doffed her tennis dress in favor of a black negligee so shear that it emphasized rather than concealed her body.
I didn’t know how to respond. An almost irresistible feeling of desire, of lust seized me. At the same time, I could not forget my apprehension over my perilous situation. To the manhunt searching for me, I could not avoid thinking of what might happen if her husband arrived home unexpectedly and surprised us.
Fear won out. I stepped back. “Honey,” I said, “You’re a married woman. I can’t.”
My words might as well have not been spoken. She moved forward and grabbed me. Her lips met mine in what was had to have been the most erotic kiss ever given. I found her forcing my lips apart with her tongue. With it she explored every part of my
mouth.
At the same time her negligee fell open. I could feel her breasts against my naked chest. It was shear ecstasy!
“Dickie,” she said, “I want you!” There was no ignoring the determination in her words. Still clutching me in a tight embrace, she drew me backward to the bed and down upon her. I landed hard upon her but she gave no indication of having noticed.
Legs intertwined, we embraced on the bed. She would alternately kiss me passionately on the mouth, then move to other parts of my body. She took one of my hands and moved over her body, guiding it to her breasts and groin. Not even in my wildest erotic fantasies had I had so much fun. My erection grew and grew.
My complete lack of experience was no problem; she was a wonderful teacher. Just as my desire reached its height she took my penis with her hand and helped me to enter her. Placing her hands on my shoulders, she pushed me back and drew me toward her, groaning in synchronization with the rhythm.
Then, suddenly, it was over, my desire disappearing almost instantaneous with my climax. I kissed her tenderly. “Honey,” I said, “It was wonderful! I’ve never had anything like it! Thank you! Thank you so much!”
I almost revealed to Honey it was my first experience with a woman, but desisted. I needed her help; I could not risk lowering her opinion of me.
“That was fun,” she said smiling. “It almost seemed it was your first time with a woman.”
I thought it prudent to say nothing. I tried to roll off her, but she held me to her for a minute, before releasing me. I extricated myself and lay next to her. She reached over to the night-stand and pulled out a cigarette. “Would you like one?” she asked.
Declining, I took the matchbook she gave me and with some difficulty, lit it for her. As she puffed, my thoughts returned to my predicament. Her husband might return at any time. The sooner I was out of the house the better. I started to move away from her to dress.
She restrained me. “Where are you going, Dickie?” she asked.
“I was going to get dressed,” I admitted.
My Troubles With Time Page 19