“Does the term breaking and entering mean anything to you two?” Gordon said.
Mike began to have memory lapses.
“You’re alive? I mean, where’ve you been?” Mike asked.
“Just looking around,” Gordon said.
Ray also had memory lapses.
“You were dead.”
“No. Looks like I’m alive,” Gordon said.
“Let us have a hug,” Mike said.
The three hugged for a while—that is, until another reenactor walked by and Mike changed the subject.
“Have you seen the girl?”
“What girl?”
The girl in white we almost hit this morning,” Mike replied.
“Oh,” Gordon said with a smile. “The ghost girl, who only you seem to see?”
“Yes, that girl.” The memory of her faded. “We were just about to go inside, you want to come?” Mike asked.
“Don’t you think it’s getting late?” Gordon said.
“No, the reenactment doesn’t get started until tomorrow morning.”
“It’s Friday night and they’re having a good old fashioned square dance at the big top tent tonight,” Gordon informed them.
“What, go to the big kick-off dance with no women of our own and stand around and watch others have fun. Great, thanks, but no thanks,” Mike said, and then he tried to open the door.
“Come on, Mike, everybody we know will be there,” Gordon said.
“There should be some good eats at the tent.” Ray said. “Besides, the barn is locked up.”
“Two to one. We win. Let’s go,” Gordon said, and started to walk toward the big top tent. Mike stood there trying to remember the girl in white.
“Okay, hold up. I’m coming,” Mike said.
They walked toward the big top tent that was set up for a square dance. Mike felt a weird sense of loneliness as he walked. He felt like he had lost someone close to him, but he didn’t know who. Mike stopped and turned to have one last look at the barn. He tried to remember, but couldn’t. He ran to catch up with his two friends.
EPILOGUE
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
A 1974 yellow and brown Ford Bronco pulled up in front of a two-and-a-half-story white bungalow in Bloomfield, Ohio. Behind the wheel was a 27-year-old man with hard facial features, wearing dark sunglasses.
Coming down the steps of the front porch was a slightly overweight man in shorts and a Confederate T-shirt. He was 25 with reddish hair and smoking a cigarette.
The driver exited the truck and walked around the back to greet the man from the house.
“How you doing this fine sunshiny morning, Ray?”
“I’m doing well on this beautiful morning in the republic of Bloomfield. Thanks for asking, Mike.”
“You ready for the 150th anniversary of Cedar Creek?”
“Ready as I’m gonna get.”
“Pack your gear in the back here and let’s get down the road. We have a long drive in front of us.”
“Heard that,” Ray said. “Why couldn’t Gordy come with us this trip?”
“This is his first week at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. He’s the youngest intern they ever had and he doesn’t want to mess that up.”
“He kept going to medical school a secret the whole time he was in the Fire Department,” Ray said.
“Good for him. I’m glad he got that internship at Johns Hopkins. Just think, one of our very own buddies will one day be a doctor.”
“I’m proud of him too,” Ray said. “If you’re going to leave the Fire Department, becoming a doctor is a good reason.”
After packing, both men jumped in the truck. Ray looked out the truck window as if to say goodbye to his house. Mike stared out the windshield for a long moment.
“What are you thinking about?” Ray asked.
Mike snapped out of it. “Remember the Gettysburg trip and that girl in white we almost hit on the road?”
“What about it?”
“I sometimes dream about knowing her. Like we met and fell in love. Then I wake and she’s gone.”
“Well, that sucks,” Ray said.
“Think I’ll ever meet her?”
“Don’t know. We’ll have another chance at it down in Virginia.”
With that Mike put the Bronco in gear and stepped on the gas. Down the road they went, leaving spirals of dirt rising into the air.
“We need to make a stop,” Mike told Ray.
“Where?”
“Gas station.”
Mike pulled the Bronco up to the pumps at the cheapest gas station in town. He turned off the engine and went inside to pay. The cashier looked familiar.
“Do I know you?” Mike asked.
“Maybe, maybe not. A lot of people come in here.”
“What’s your name?” Mike asked as he handed the man a fifty-dollar bill.
“Victor Hatch. I manage this place.” He placed the cash by the register and pushed a button. “Pump’s ready.”
“Thanks, man.” Mike started for the door.
“Wait. Are you with the Guard?” Victor asked.
“Nah. Not me.”
“Oh. I thought you might have known me from the Guard. I serve one weekend every month. I’m a corporal,” he said proudly.
“Cool. Thanks for your service. Have a nice day.”
“You, too. Come back soon.”
Mike went to the gas pump and had a flashback. He became lightheaded and bent over, placing his hands on his knees. For an instant, he recalled a figure dressed in black. Then he saw the man’s face, and he remembered who and what Victor was.
He was the supervisor of the ISS unit that had killed Gordon. Mike shook his head in disbelief. Then, as fast as it had come—the memory was gone.
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Johns Hopkins Hospital, Baltimore, Maryland. A 22-year-old intern walked down the hallway to the medical closet. He had a calm, friendly demeanor about him. His soft facial features added to his pleasantness. When he got to the closet, he unwittingly opened the door too fast and hit the auburn-haired young lady standing inside.
“Watch it, buster,” the girl said.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t think anyone was in here.”
“That’s your trouble. You didn’t think.”
He closed the door behind him and she turned to see who he was. There she stood, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and she was captivated by his smile. They stared at one another, as if having a glimpse of memory.
“Do I know you?” he asked.
“That’s strange. You do look familiar, but I don’t think we’ve met,” she said.
“My name is Gordy... Gordon Smart. I’m the new intern. Just started this week.”
“I’m Doctor Burns—Jenny. Pleased to meet you. Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around.” She had what she came for and was about to leave.
“Wait. Would you like to go out sometime—I mean go for a coffee, or something.”
“Sure. I’d like that,” Jenny said. Her lustrous green eyes were radiant.
Gordon smiled. “I’ll see you tonight then—when we get off, I mean.”
“Okay. May I get past now? I have patients to see.”
“Oh, by all means.” Gordon stepped out of the way. As she went by he took in the scent of her perfume. She left the closet and started up the hall. He watched her walk. Just before she turned the corner she looked back at him. He faltered a raised hand to give a wave and then he saw her wave back at him. He smiled and waved.
He got the supplies he needed and went about his business. He had a little more lift in his step that day. He felt something he never felt before—love.
Saturday, October 15, 1863
It was a warm, sunny morning in Gettysburg. The fighting was all over. The guns were silent. The cheers of victory from the Union lines had stopped. The Army of Northern Virginia was on its way home. The Union had been saved. The sleepy little crossroads communi
ty was still buzzing about what took place there.
Across the stream in Pitzer Woods, stood a two-story white farmhouse with a wraparound porch on the front. A whitewashed picket fence bordered the property. In the backyard a beautiful blonde was hanging her clothes on the line.
Sarah Peterson was at home at her father’s house, doing the laundry. She stared off into space. She was thinking of her lost love, Michael. She had sacrificed her love for him to save his life and the lives of their friends. That was the price she had to pay for interfering with the timeline. She accepted that. As she hung another garment on the clothesline, she remembered Michael telling her, “Why don’t you use the new Maytag dryer I bought you?”
I told him I liked hanging the clothes on the line to give them that fresh air smell and what did he say? “That’s why they invented dryer towels. Just toss one in the dryer and bam—you have the smell of fresh air.” I told him that I was comfortable with the way my mother taught me.
She smiled as a tear formed in her eye, then she went about her work.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To my wife, Nancy, for her love, support, patience, and understanding, thank you very much.
A special thanks goes out to my nephew, John Godfrey Jr. for his time and effort in designing the cover.
In addition, I would like to thank the following people for their assistance; without their help this book would not have been written:
Susan Bafford, her feedback was critical to the start of this project.
Francis Olow, for her editing skills.
Robert Broomall, historian, author, and friend.
My writer’s group: Sharon Broomall, Chris Vaughn, Dave Hewitt, Bob Knapp, Joe Long, Krystelle Banno, Jeff Eller, and Terry Emery.
The following organizations: The First Maryland Volunteer Infantry Regiment, Third Maryland Volunteer Infantry Regiment, Seventh Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry Regiment, and the National Regiment.
Also, I would like to thank my readers. Your feedback helped me complete this book. Thank you all very much.
Published by Sunbury Press, Inc.
Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania
www.sunburypress.com
NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by Charles K. Godfrey.
Cover Copyright © 2015 by Sunbury Press, Inc.
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ISBN: 978-1-62006-575-4 (Trade Paperback)
ISBN: 978-1-62006-576-1 (Mobipocket)
ISBN: 978-1-62006-577-8 (ePub)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2015933710
FIRST SUNBURY PRESS EDITION: February 2015
Product of the United States of America
0 1 1 2 3 5 8 13 21 34 55
Set in Bookman Old Style
Designed by Crystal Devine
Cover by John Godfrey
Edited by Zachary Johnson
Continue the Enlightenment!
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Copyright
Death Machine Page 21