Surcease of Sorrow

by Matt Inglima

  "Don't look so affright, son," Lincoln chuckled, "the laundry's a bit upset but nothin's broke."

  Nathan tried to speak but he couldn’t summon the words.

  "There y'are," the president said as he handed him the last rumpled sheet, "we got it all back together again without the aid of the king's horses or the king's men."

  "Yes, sir," Nathan said finally. "Thank you, sir."

  "One sir'll do 'er well enough," he smiled through the weary cloud that hung across his face. "Good night, son."

  Lincoln gripped Nathan’s shoulder then walked passed him and quietly entered his sons' room closing the door behind him. Nathan stood there until he heard Martha emphatically demanding, as noiselessly as possible, that they leave at once. He nodded and took in a final brief view of the sleeping hall before quickly following her out.

  PART 2

  There was no sleep for Nathan and Martha after that. Once they stepped out into the early morning air they walked together in silence like two lovers trying to process all that happened the night before. They didn't speak until a faint band of light began to glow in the west and cast it's reflection upon the waters of the Potomac.

  "You came from the future," Martha said more as a point of fact than a question.

  "Yes," Nathan replied without looking up.

  "Thank the Lord that the day will come that man will have such power," she shook her head in awe.

  "We didn't do it alone," Nathan said, "the power came to us."

  "Came to you,” she asked incredulously, "from where?"

  "Nobody knows exactly," he replied, "except that it came down to us from the sky in the year 1947."

  "From the sky," she echoed almost reverentially. "In nineteen hundred and forty-seven, praise Jesus. Like a gift from God."

  "That’s what it seems like but no, not exactly," Nathan pointed up to the sky rich with stars. "It came from out there. People from another world built it and came here with it in a flying vessel but they crashed in a place called Roswell in what will be the State of New Mexico. Our people found it and took it. So you see it really came to us by accident."

  Nathan smiled thinly thinking about how many people in his own time would go apoplectic to hear someone in his position say those very words.

  After walking another two blocks Martha frowned and shook her head. "I'm beginning to wonder if anything happens by accident at all."

  "You very well could be correct about that. The technology needed to build this thing was so far advanced that it was almost twenty years before we figured out how to turn the thing on. Even then we didn't know what we had. You see the device that sent me back here is actually the engine of that vessel that came from the stars, but it's broken, or so we think because it doesn’t go anywhere, it just sits."

  "And you go for the ride. It sure seems to work right proper for something that's broke," she said. "What about that watch you're carrying, is that connected to this engine?"

  "Yes it is," Nathan smiled at her power of observation. He had tried to communicate with Martha in the least technical way he knew how, hoping he would somehow get through to her. But it seemed that Martha possessed a very keen mind for someone of her era. "Actually the watch is a beacon and it counts backward until it reaches zero. Then the beacon is activated and returns you to your point of origin. That is provided you have the watch on your person."

  "And if you don't," she asked wearily.

  "Well then you better hope you like the time you’re in because you’d be stuck there."

  Martha burst into laughter and hugged Nathan's arm. "Oh, Lord have mercy, if my momma was here she’d say all this hoodoo is the work of the devil. And I don't know that she'd be far from it neither."

  They walked around the unfinished capitol building and started back down Pennsylvania Avenue just as the sun began to peak over the horizon. Nathan could feel warmth in the light of this new dawn as if the face of heaven had turned to him. “What a difference a day makes…” is how the old Dinah Washington song went. He could hardly believe that it had only been twenty-four hours since he arrived back in 1862.

  "Should you have done what you done," Martha asked staring out ahead.

  "What do you mean," the satisfied feeling Nathan had began to evaporate like a morning mist. It was one thing to have doubt within yourself, but to have someone else point it out was another.

  "You said that Willie was supposed to die today," she looked at him, her eyes seemed harder, more engaging. "Now that he'll live won't that change things?"

  Nathan sighed, trying to hold on to the glow that was already gone. "Technically yes, but before a trip back in time is made we have to do a CIR or Chronology Impact Report." Nathan's good humor was gone as well and he no longer cared if he was speaking too fast or if she understood what he was saying. "It’s where we compute the possible impact that even the smallest change might have on the future. Everything from swatting a fly to preventing a war and when we're done we do it again, and again to make sure there are no errors in the computations. Any activity with a 3% or greater likelihood of altering the future is deemed too risky and forbidden. The CIR’s I ran on this eventuality came back the same every single time I ran it; less than a 1%." He pointed his index finger to the sky. "Less than one-percent that's nothing."

  "What will your people think about what you've done?"

  "Frankly, they won't like it," he lowered his head. "Any intentional alteration to the past is forbidden."

  It was the first time he had given any thought to what sort of reception he would receive upon his return. Everyone trained as a time traveler had to study the illegal jump made in 2069 by two men who wanted to change the outcome of the 2000 presidential election. They had inadvertently set in motion a global chain of events that took fifty years to correct itself and nearly caused the cancellation of the entire time travel program. The CIR on their mission had a 16.66% chance of a drastic impact. They thought it would be for the better but they were wrong and for all their good intentions they were put to death.

  "1% seems like an awful big risk to take just to give a little happiness to a man who is already dead in the world you come from," Martha said as she squinted into the sunlight blazing over the rooftops on the opposite side of the street. "Oh, Lordy, today is gonna be another long day. What time does your watch say?"

  Nathan removed his watch and opened the case, the display was dark. That’s odd, he thought and pressed the stem, nothing happened. A growing tightness began in his throat and spread out to the rest of his body and he waited for the display to come to life. He had never heard of a beacon going dark before. Their power source came from the time-device itself and there was no reason he could think of that would cause it to stop working unless… unless somehow the device wasn't there in the future. Nathan's legs began to go weak. That couldn’t be, what possible effect could Willie Lincoln's life have on a visitation to this planet from extraterrestrials?

  Martha saw in his face that something was wrong and was about to ask what the matter was until a church bell began ringing. A moment later another church began ringing its bells then another until it seemed every place of worship in the city was calling its flock home. Through the din of the tolling bells a commotion could be heard near the treasury department. Nathan and Martha stared at each other and began running in that direction. By the time they got there hundreds of people had begun to fill Lafayette Park and more were coming. Dozens were climbing onto the equestrian statue of Andrew Jackson and gesturing toward the White House.

  "What's happened," Martha cried out.

  "The President's been murdered," a man shouted. "Someone shot him dead in the street as he was walking to the war department."

  A wailing the likes no one present ever heard before went up. Men wept openly while others, more brazen, praised the assassin. Nathan collapsed to his knees not caring about the crush of humanity around him. This isn't supposed to happen, was all he could think. At one point he was consci
ous of Martha shaking him, crying, "Did we cause this?" But he couldn't answer. He could only gaze at the useless watch he held in his hand. It will work, it will come back on, he thought, then I'll go back and fix this. I'll make this right!

  1% seems like an awful big risk…

  Yes it was, he finally admitted. In the scheme of time and the universe 1% is an absolute certainty. It came as no big surprise when the appointed time for his return came and nothing happened.

  On the 26th of February he was present when the hearse bearing the body of the slain president rode out of the White House gates. It was followed by a coach that contained Lincoln’s family. As it passed by he saw a small ghostly face peering out of the window. It was Willie. The boy’s eyes, swollen and red from weeping, seemed to pick Nathan out of a crowd of hundreds. In his sullen stare Nathan thought he detected a look of knowing that all of this had something to do with the strange visit he had the night before his father was murdered. Of course, it all made sense to Nathan now. Willie’s health had improved; in fact he was his old self again, probably even better than his old self. The worry had been lifted; Abraham Lincoln was no longer in fear over the life of his son. And that’s what killed him. There was no more need to be at his son’s bedside and instead he decided to take the short walk to the war department as was his custom. Only what he didn’t know, what nobody had ever known was that plotters were waiting and they had been given an opportunity they weren’t supposed to have. But they were ready just the same and they put a bullet in the president’s brain.

  I can fix this

  All that followed Lincoln’s premature death passed like a nightmarish procession. And all Nathan could do was helplessly bear witness to what he had created. Vice-president Hannibal Hamlin, the kindly gentleman from Maine, was wintering in his home state when word reached him that he was the 17th president of the United States. He was still making his way south through New Jersey when it was announced that Maryland had seceded from the Union and joined the Confederacy. Kentucky followed a week later. In the meantime, rebel forces established a blockade of Washington D. C. and were calling for the surrender of Union Forces there. Panic struck the city as word of an impending bombardment spread. President Hamlin oversaw the establishment of a provisional capitol in Philadelphia, the cradle of the Republic.

  Union armies in the west were called east to free the captured city, but the winter roads were still impassable, hopelessly delaying any help. The city continued to hold its breath in the hopes that General McClellan and the Army of the Potomac would rescue them, but it never happened. McClellan’s forces were routed and he as well as thousands of his men were taken prisoner. On March 1st the bombardment of Washington D. C. began and lasted 22 days.

  At dawn on Sunday the 23rd of March, 1862 the Confederate guns were silent and a deathlike stillness settled over the ruined city that was George Washington's dream. Through the smoky air the surviving residents were deciding what their next move would be. They all knew that it was only a matter days, if not hours, when Rebel troops would spill onto the streets and claim the capitol for Jeff Davis and the South. The blacks who hadn't escaped to the north were all the more terrified as the specter of bondage and slavery was all that awaited them. Rumors began to spread that France and England were ready to formally recognize the South as a free and independent nation.

  Since the death of President Lincoln, Nathan had been staying at the boarding house where Martha lived with her mother and three sisters. Somehow she felt responsible for this tragic man who by all the known laws of nature should not even exist. To her it seemed that he had lost all the will to survive. He spent his days transfixed on his broken watch, muttering that he could "fix this." She kept him fed and warm, all the while hoping that by some miracle it was true that he could fix it. When the Rebel guns fell silent she knew the time had come to leave, and against the pleading of her family she went to fetch Nathan.

  "Secesh soldiers are coming," she said. "It's time for us to get outta here."

  Nathan looked up at her blankly. “Don’t worry; I’m going to set all of this right. It will all be OK, you’ll see.”

  With that his gaze fell back down to his watch and it was all that Martha could take. She charged him like a bull and brought her hand down across his face with every ounce of strength she possessed. Nathan was sent flailing to the floor. He glared up at her in shock and humiliation, but at last she had his full attention.

  "You get this through that thick head of yours," she leveled a finger at him as if it was the final judgment. "In a few hours, prob'ly less, sesech soldiers will be crawling all over this city. If they get their hands on you, you won’t be fixin' nothing 'ceptin' some white man tells you so. So get on your feet and out that door."

  Nathan could only stare at her. Then at that moment the beating of a thousand drums began to swell out of the silence. Real fear entered Martha and she took a half step toward Nathan with her hand raised. It had the intended effect as he sprang to his feet immediately and followed her out the door, but not before retrieving his watch. Once outside he raised his hand to protect his eyes against the glare. He looked around and saw a thick column of black smoke rising from the ruins of the capitol building, he turned away in disgust. This is all one big mistake, he thought. The street they had chosen as their escape route was clogged with horses, wagons and people, it was completely impassable.

  "This way," Martha ordered.

  They ducked between two houses, crossed a grassy lane and made their way down along the bank of a creek. It was quieter here, but the commotion on the streets still sounded very close.

  "Where's your mother and sisters," Nathan asked.

  "They went on ahead," she said without turning to look at him, or slow down. "We're going to meet up with them outside of town."

  "Where are we going?"

  "Annapolis," she replied, "I hear our Navy still holds that town. From there we can cross the Chesapeake and make our way to Delaware."

  "Thank you," his voice cracked as tears came to his eyes, "for coming back for me."

  "Delaware is as far as we go, you and me," this time she looked back at him to show that she was sincere. "Once we're out of harm's way you go on your own."

  Nathan could only nod in agreement.

  About half an hour after they began the beating drums fell silent. Then a sound that those who heard it would later describe as the howling of demons took its place. The veterans who had been at Bull Run and dozens of other fights knew immediately that it was the call of the soldier of the South, the Rebel Yell. Nathan and Martha stopped a moment to listen then started back up the bank with greater haste. From there they took back roads and alleys. The crackling of musketry and the cries of men sounded at times to be coming from right over their shoulders. It felt as if they had been running forever and Nathan began to tire. But every time he attempted to slow down or break for rest Martha would push him harder. "Keep goin’!" She cried whenever he began to lag.

  Finally she stopped at the back of a house where she reached into her handbag and produced a small caliber 1847 Colt revolver. Nathan flinched at the sight of it because to him it made what was happening seem all the more real. For the first time he thought there was a chance that he wouldn't come out of this alive. Martha didn't give him much time to dwell on it. She took his hand and they started up the alley toward the street but they didn't get five steps before they froze in their tracks. Marching out of the east was a column of Confederate soldiers. They passed by like a swarm of locusts on their way to devour everything in their path.

  "They won't treat us like white folk, you know," she said. "To them we're livestock. We can't let them catch us."

  "We should hide," Nathan replied.

  "No, we have to run."

  Carefully they began to back away, too afraid to take their eyes off the column of men that continued to pass by the mouth of the alley. Finally they turned and dashed back behind the building. A volley of gunfire erup
ted nearby followed by the anguished screams of a woman crying, "murder!" Stray musket balls whizzed over their heads and cracked loudly against brick walls but they kept on running.

  "Hey, niggers," a voice bellowed behind them. "Stop or die where you stand!"

  Nathan looked back to see a thin, bearded man in a plaid shirt, and gray army blouse aiming a musket at them. Martha replied by raising her pistol and firing. The shot rang in Nathan's ears and through the white smudge of gun smoke he could see that the man was still standing, the bullet had missed it mark. It's intended target didn't even flinch. A smile spread across his face revealing a row of decayed teeth.

  "Go," Martha cried.

  They bolted toward the smoldering ruins of a warehouse. No sooner had they turned their backs on the soldier when Nathan heard a sharp crack behind him. It was followed by what sounded like the intense buzz of a June bug winging a path right between them. What they heard was a Minié ball sailing within inches of their heads before it tore a jagged hole in a plank of wood close by. Martha took a sudden turn to the right and started toward a large hole in a brick wall blasted by a mortar shell. She gathered her skirts up and easily slipped through the opening. Nathan followed close behind, but as he was about to pass through his clothing caught on a twisted metal brace protruding from the shattered wall. Though his waistcoat and jacket were torn and minus a few buttons he made it through unscathed until he touched his stomach and realized that his watch and chain were missing. His heart froze as he looked back at the opening.

  "What's the matter with you," Martha howled. "Come on!"

  Nathan ignored her and dashed back to look for his watch. Even the thought of the bearded gargoyle of a man hard on their heels didn't stop him. His eyes scanned the rubble but he didn't see it. The last time he knew for certain he had it was when they left Martha's house. He panicked at the thought that he might have lost it sometime after that. Martha screamed at him to forget the watch but he couldn't allow that. Then something shiny on the ground on the other side of the wall caught his eye. He practically dove at it and snatched it up off the ground.