"So, are you all in agreement that we drive down to Marietta and then on to Atlanta?" he asked, addressing me as well as the lupines. "In the event the Twelve approve our shift to see the General, we will have been to the locations involved, and that will help with the accuracy."
It was a fact that accuracy in time shifts increased with experience. As a mature traveler, I could research a location, study topography maps, focus on a period of time, and pretty much nail it to within a few days or so of my target. Any aids or assists to a novice pair was acceptable and, in any case, given Peter's fascination with the General, he'd probably enjoy visiting the museum where she was housed.
"I don't think we can get the lupines into the exhibit," I began cautiously.
Peter's face fell; he'd not considered that issue. Elani pushed her head next to his and licked his face with enthusiasm.
"It's not a problem, Peter," she said. "Kipp and I can hang out in the car, and you and Petra can fill our minds with the images."
Her offer was a mark of her inherent kindness and generosity. No one ever enjoyed being left behind, but she knew how important it was to Peter, whose face took on the excited glow of a teenager about to drive his first car or go to the prom with the homecoming queen.
We left the park behind us, with all its tragic memories; Kipp had purposefully blocked any more, uh, other worldly experiences that would be unsettling, and after returning to the hotel to check out, we dashed through a drive through to grab a bag of biscuits and hit the road again, finding Interstate 75 south which would take us to Kennesaw, Georgia and on to Atlanta.
"We'll take 85 back, and it'll be a straight shot home," Peter said, trying to talk while eating his steak biscuit.
I took a sip of coffee and turned to watch, with some amusement, Kipp and Elani decide who would get the last chicken biscuit. Finally, I acted as Solomon and divided it in half, giving Elani the larger piece since I knew that action would feed Kipp's chivalrous and generous soul. The sky above had turned overcast and rain threatened. As we headed south, I hoped the temperatures, which had hovered around freezing would climb. Atlanta, despite being a southern city, was notorious for some rather spectacular ice storms that caused massive gridlock. With that unpleasant thought hovering annoyingly in the back of my brain, I used Peter's cell phone to call Philo. After a few moments, his secretary put him on.
"What's up?" he asked.
"First off, how's my little boy?" I asked, trying to be humorous as I enquired about Fitzhugh.
"He's doing well and is getting along quite spectacularly with Peggy," he added. I thought that latter insertion was unnecessary. Kipp, following my selfish thoughts, poked me in the back of my head with his pointed nose so hard that I almost dropped Peter's cell phone.
"We're driving down to Kennesaw, Georgia and then on to Atlanta. Can you have your secretary book us a hotel where we can take Kipp and Elani? Maybe somewhere on I-85 just north of Atlanta?
"Can do," he replied. "How did the time shift go?"
"Very good; accurate, safe, predictable," I said, adding the three descriptive words that managers in the world of symbionts loved to hear, in case he didn't believe me.
After telling me he was busy and would have his secretary text Peter the accommodations, he hung up. Neither he nor I enjoyed phone conversations; it just didn't work very well considering our telepathic connections. After reassuring myself that Peter wanted to continue to drive, I settled in my seat and closed my eyes. In the rear, Elani and Kipp were playing another telepathic mind game with one another; I shut them out, and before I knew it, I fell asleep, comfortable with the warm air from the heater blowing against my face and neck.
Chapter 13
"The original General was painted dark green with orange accents, and the number was 39," Peter said as he pointed at the contemporary General that loomed in front of us. It was housed in a large, open room; the massive engine was black, with red accents, the cab interior painted green. On the front of the engine, a gold number 3 stood out. Peter pursed his lips as he considered that the current General was, perhaps, not exact in every detail. It still looked pretty good to me, no matter what.
I thought Peter would faint dead away when he first spied the General, at rest in all her splendor. The museum, a Smithsonian affiliated project, was small but well managed. He requested I take some pictures of him as he posed at different angles with a much too serious expression on his young face. I admit, the engine was structurally beautiful and physically intimidating. It didn't take much imagination to picture it steaming along, smoke belching from the smokestack. Instinctively, I realized the experience of being this close to the engine would provide Peter with the grounding he needed—me, too. There was really no way to sneak the lupines inside, so they rested in the SUV while we shot images their way. The weather was cool, so the interior of the SUV was pleasant to the heavily coated lupines.
"I'm gonna get to ride on a train!" Kipp's thoughts merged with mine with the excitement of a young child. Kipp seemed to momentarily forget he'd made train trips previously, but the notion of being pulled by a famous locomotive propelled his energy.
"Let's find the Car Shed location next," Peter said.
He continued to insist upon driving, and I'd long since given up that argument along with any lingering residual guilt. I leaned forward and found a pretty solid oldies station on the FM dial. A Karen Carpenter song, fueled by her beautiful, mellow voice, drifted through the car. Before I knew it, Kipp was singing in his thoughts, "Just like me, they long to be, close to you...". Standing, he stepped to my headrest and pressed his wet nose against the back of my neck and gave me a little lick to boot. The next thing I knew, he was whining that he didn't understand the lyrics to "Flashlight". Well, who did, I wondered? As we approached Atlanta, the traffic associated with a large city suddenly overwhelmed us, and Peter was forced to slow his pace. I saw him grimace and twist his head from side to side to work out the tension. I'd set the GPS and eventually, with patience, we arrived on Wall Street, and made our way to the general location of the old train station between Prior and Central Avenues. Peter managed to pull to the curb, flashers on. Elani insisted that her feet must touch the ground, so I hopped out and let her jump down from the SUV. After a moment of staring around the vicinity, she dipped her head down to the ground, snuffling, as if she could divine the scents from one hundred and fifty some odd years in the past. Kipp leapt out and stood beside her, the bright afternoon sun reflecting off his burnished coat. After shaking himself hard, he climbed back in, followed by Elani.
"I think I have it!" she exclaimed excitedly. "My eyes were closed, and as I took a deep breath, I felt as if I connected to the buildings that once sat here. There were vague impressions of people, long since gone, as well as the feelings of horror when the city was burned." She glanced at me, confusion on her pretty face. "Is that possible or did I insert my own impressions?"
Well, that was a good question, and there was really no good answer. I'd had a similar experience when my concentration was complete and uninterrupted by other things. Kipp, too, had felt the impressions on time left by past people, forces and events. Oddly, Peter, the one with the least experience, seemed to have an answer.
"I've read of that phenomenon in past time shift recordings," he said, as he watched the traffic carefully so that he could pull out. The GPS was set to help us wind our way to I 85, and he tried to talk while the GPS bleated out directions. "I think, Elani, it means you are extraordinarily sensitive and will be a great traveler." Peter glanced at me, his dark eyes troubled. "I've not had anything remotely happen like that, Petra. Do you think I'm doomed?"
I knew that there was a wide range of skills and capabilities within members of our species and assured Peter of that. "If anything, Peter, you will learn from Elani, and it may imprint upon you to a degree. As she experiences it, you can, too, as long as she permits you the access to her mind." I knew she would, or else I wouldn't have mentioned it t
o him.
All of us were tired–even the inexhaustible Kipp—at that point in our journey. After spending a night in a hotel just off the interstate in north Georgia, we managed to arrive home by late morning the next day. Our timing was such that we arrived on Saturday, which meant that Peter dropped me and Kipp off at my house before going on to his apartment. The front door was locked, so I dug out my key, but before I could turn it in the lock, the door flew back to reveal a smiling Fitzhugh. Just behind him stood Juno, her tail wagging so furiously that her entire hind end was shimmying.
"Petra!" Fitzhugh exclaimed before stopping himself. I realized any verbal exchange would be limited, and he merely reached out and clapped me on the shoulder. "Glad your home," he finally said. "The house was oddly empty without you here."
That was as close as I'd come to hearing that I'd been missed, but I embraced the remarks. Throwing down my duffle, I startled him with a quick hug.
"I've got things to tell you," I said, wanting to set up a mystery to keep him hanging. When his eyebrows raised in response, I added, "Strange events that seemed unusual and unexpected."
Predictably, he disappeared to brew a pot of tea while I dumped the dirty clothes from my duffle into the washing machine. I'd never been one for careful sorting and tossed everything into one load, filled the soap dispenser and turned the knob. There was a lot to be said for modern conveniences. Having lived when one went to the creek with a scrub board and a cake of lye soap–as well as times when bi-yearly ablutions were the norm—the electric washer was immensely preferable.
Kipp, after touching noses with a delighted Juno, followed her to the rug in front of the fireplace, which was roaring, and, after circling, he lay down with her. She nestled close, her grizzled muzzle stretched across his back.
Fitzhugh brought his lovely antique service in on a tray, with a tiny little server of cream as well as my honey pot crowded next to a tin of English biscuits. I made a space on the low coffee table, and after I allowed Fitzhugh to pour, I grabbed my wing chair and tucked my feet up under me.
"Kipp, help me with this," I requested. "We had a couple of interesting, uh, moments. "Kipp experienced the first, which he shared with us." I nodded at my partner.
"We were on the battlefield, and I saw a young man who'd been killed in battle. He walked towards me, and I could see him as clearly as I see you; I could even hear his cry and knew the content of his thoughts." Kipp shuddered slightly. We didn't speak while he gathered himself. A log in the fireplace broke, and a shower of sparks flew up the chimney, caught in the updraft. The room was quiet, save for the sound of the fire and the soft ticking of a mantle clock.
"Kipp let us experience it through him," I said, taking up the story. "The sound of the boy's scream was clear, completely audible, with the feelings associated. Then, we got to Atlanta and found the historical vicinity of the Car Shed. Elani was able to connect to impressions of the past, people who lived there as well as the general flow of the times."
Fitzhugh closed his eyes as he relaxed in his chair. His chin dipped down so that his beard spread like a bib across his chest. For a second I wondered if he was asleep, but then he opened his eyes to gaze at me.
"There are archives, of which I have a vague memory, that catalog both types of phenomena. The first is rare while the second seems to be something that only certain symbionts have an ability to do. It would appear Elani has that ability, and it will definitely be a boon to her and Peter." He cradled the tea cup in his hands, enjoying the warmth radiating through the thin porcelain shell.
"Peter wants to visit the time when the General was stolen and witness that event," I said, waiting for his reaction. I knew his response might give a clue as to the one of the Twelve.
Fitzhugh sat for a moment, his lips slightly pursed, before he reached out for the teapot to pour another cup. I shook my head to indicate I was fine and took a pass.
"You know, there have been many trips to that period, but none to that specific event simply because there was no question about the accuracy of the facts. The only reason one might go would be for curiosity, the sort of thing done on one's vacation. As he and Elani are in a learning mode, I think there's a good chance it will be approved."
My species has several characteristics that separate us from humans. We are telepaths; we can bond with our lupine brothers and sisters and travel through time. Kipp, who possess more of our natural instincts, can manipulate thoughts and dreams as well as enter into another symbiont's mind and not be detectable. We are also very long lived, physically quite hardy and have very slow metabolisms, which means we can endure deprivation better than humans. But we do get fatigued, and even I had to admit the recent frequency of time shifts had caught up with me, and I was, well, just tired. So I spent most of the remainder of the weekend in bed, dozing or reading, usually with Kipp cuddled up next to me, his large body acting like a heater. My house was relatively snug, but my bedroom in the rear of the house tended to stay cooler due to an annoyingly persistent north wind. But by the time Monday arrived, I was ready to return to Technicorps and get back to work. I'd let Peter and Elani take the initiative of approaching the Twelve and not worry myself with all the bother. Over an early morning breakfast that Monday, I hesitantly broached a subject with Fitzhugh, hoping he would not misinterpret my intent. Yes, as with humans, even telepaths can get it miserably wrong.
"Do you think Peggy will mind continuing to pick you up for work most days, unless I'm taking my car?" I asked, crumbling a piece of toast in my plate. Fitzhugh, who worried about my eating things like Pop Tarts, had poached eggs and presented them to me on whole grain toast. I'd taken care of the lupines while he worked; lifting my head, I peeked out the window into my back yard. Kipp and Juno were wandering through the cold-stiffened grass, dipping their heads down to sniff at the earth and allow their senses to comprehend more about the natural world than could I. Kipp's body stiffened as he came upon a particularly intriguing patch of grass. Then followed his sense of disgust as he realized some errant canine had thoughtlessly used Kipp's beloved yard as a personal toilet. I tried not to laugh as he glared at me through the window.
"I'm glad you brought it up," Fitzhugh replied. "I know you like to use the time to and from work to walk or run and trundling me back and forth is disruptive to your routine. Peggy offered to keep driving me, unless it's a bad weather day and you choose to take the car." He paused to take a sip of the coffee which was still steaming in the cup. Unexpectedly he added, "I don't want to burden your lifestyle, Petra. Maybe it's time I start looking around for a new situation since my health seems stable?" He left the question hanging.
Kipp and I never–or at least rarely–misunderstand one another since we keep our minds completely open at all times. Words alone can be interpreted in many ways, the intent of the message left to the receiver to discern. Humans had always and will always struggle with that fact. Contemporary symbionts use polite rules of order and found such enmeshment as practiced by Kipp and me to be vulgar. With that in mind, I looked at Fitzhugh, my hazel eyes locked for an instant with his dark ones.
"Fitzhugh, I've enjoyed your being here. And," I said, with a slight laugh, "unless things change, and we get to the point we can't abide one another, you and Juno may continue to live here." The pronouncement surprised me more than it did him, I think. Oddly, the two of them felt like family and I knew Kipp loved Juno intensely. "Lily, too, of course."
Fitzhugh's withered cheeks reddened slightly as he was uncomfortable with expressions of endearment. But as he dipped his head, I caught a flash of a smile, which he had managed to subdue by the time he raised his head again.
"Okay," he answered meekly, as he took another sip of coffee. "Peggy will be here soon, so I need to get ready."
Since he cooked, I would clean and managed to get the dishes washed and put away in record time. Kipp and Juno came in and kept me company, dropping down to an out of the way spot on the wooden floor. The cold weather was mak
ing Juno more stiff than usual but she still insisted on puttering around outside with Kipp. She was wearing the jaunty little jacket I'd given her at Christmas and looked fetching with the collar turned up in a rakish manner. I think in some ways, she modeled the lupine mother Kipp had lost when a young pup.
I heard a car pull up out front and in less than thirty seconds, Fitzhugh and Juno were off with Peggy, her nice, spotlessly clean SUV rolling along safely like an armored tank. My battered little car sat in the driveway looking forlorn and abandoned. It was old, had paint missing and more than one ding in the side panels, but it still ran and that was enough for me. Kipp and began our own journey, and it felt good to be back in a solid routine. I could tell Kipp enjoyed it, too.
"More car rides, and I was gonna get fat," he remarked. He walked politely at my side so as to not draw the attention of well meaning police officers who would remind us there was a leash law. His collar and leash were in my backpack and could be quickly put into play if needed. As we got farther from the congested street, he drifted away, his nose busy searching for compelling scents.
"I pulled up a couple of books on the General and the Great Locomotive Chase on my Kindle," Kipp began before noticing my raised eyebrows. "Or rather, I got Peter to download the books to my Kindle. I've been reading about the events, and I think it would make for an interesting trip as well as an exciting one. With the pre-work we've done visiting the location and the actual locomotive, I think it could be relatively safe. Get in, observe, get out," he added.
We tossed the notion around as we walked the two miles; I had clothes with me for changing later, since I planned on jogging home that evening. The frigid cold showed no signs of abating; Kipp's fur was standing on end in a natural response to the cold; he looked like a big, puffy, red fur ball. By the time we got to Technicorps, my nose was running, and my face literally hurt from the cold. Kipp twisted his head and looked at me.
The Great Locomotive Chase, 1862 Page 13