by Edward Gates
“I swear to you. It’ll be the best story you ever heard.”
Charlie explained it all as plainly as he could. Clemens was speechless.
“I wanted to tell you the truth, but there was no way you would have believed me.” Charlie looked at his friend, who was gazing off to the side. “Look, I know this all sounds impossible and ridiculous, but you saw those two and you saw them vanish.” Clemens looked back at Charlie quizzically. “Don’t worry about shooting one of them. They weren’t real.”
“What do ya mean, they weren’t real? I dropped one. You saw it.”
“Yep, yep. You sure did. But you didn’t kill it. You can’t kill it… they’re not alive. You just sorta damaged it. They’re what we call androids. They are made to look human, act human, talk human. But they’re really machines. When the government first started policing time travel they had human agents. But the humans started to interact with the people and get involved in the events of the time eras they visited. That interaction could have disastrous results for the future. So they made the androids. They’re programmed to never interact or interfere with anyone from the space or time they visit, unless, of course, it’s absolutely necessary. That’s why he never did anything to protect himself from you. He wasn’t allowed.” Charlie looked away for a moment thoughtfully. “There have been some occasions where they’ve talked to people, but they won’t touch or harm anyone. They’ll be back to track me, but you and your family are in no danger. They probably won’t even acknowledge your existence when they come back.”
“You really think they’ll be back?”
“I know they will. They’ll never stop looking for me. Not unless they’re directed to do so,” Charlie said. “When they come back, just ignore them and stay away from them. They won’t be here long.”
“What was that light?”
“It’s pure energy. It’s how we travel. It’s complicated. When I go, you’ll see the same thing.”
“When you go?” Clemens looked at Charlie. “What do you mean, ‘go’?”
“I can’t stay here, Clemens. As much as I want to, I can’t. They’ll be back. The next time they see me there won’t be any talking. I have to go and I have to go now. They’ll always be coming after me. I can’t have you and your family involved in any of this. You have to believe me, it’s best that I leave.”
Charlie sat down on his makeshift bed and looked at Clemens. The blacksmith looked like a man who had just lost a fight. The two stared silently at each other.
“I… I… really don’t know what to say, Charlie. …or, uh… Archie.”
“Charlie’s fine.” He smiled at the big blacksmith. “I told you it would be hard to swallow this story.”
Clemens smiled. “I must admit, it’s the best tall tale I ever heard.” He scratched his head and looked to the ground. “I don’t know what to believe. What you’re telling me don’t seem real. But I saw them fellas disappear like you said. I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to understand it. Just believe that I never intended to take advantage of you or hurt you or Jed in any way. You’re a good man. God only knows what would have happened to me if you hadn’t helped me.”
“Why can’t you stay here? When they come back we’ll drive ‘em off, just like we did. We can hold them off.” Clemens stood.
Charlie shook his head. “That won’t work. Those two just made me realize that I don’t really belong here. I’ve already interfered with your lives way too much. Who knows how many future timelines I’ve already affected? No. I can’t stay here. You need to get back to your life before you met me.”
Clemens shook his head. Charlie could see that this was way too much for this simple man to comprehend. “I don’t understand most of what you said. I can’t imagine any of this.”
“You just need to trust me. Can you do that?” Clemens nodded. “Good. Now when those two come back, they’ll just appear in a flash of light at the exact spot where they last stood. Just leave them be. They probably won’t move around much and they won’t be here very long. They’ll find out that I jumped again and then they’ll leave right away and won’t ever be back here again. You understand this?”
Clemens nodded. “Yep. Just leave ‘em be.”
“Right.” Charlie smiled. “Now I need your help with one more thing.”
“Sure, Charlie. What can I do to help you?”
Charlie dumped the contents of the haversack on the table and spread out the soldier’s belongings. “I need you to tell me what all these things are, and if I need them.”
Clemens let out a hearty laugh.
10
Departure
Clemens went through the haversack contents that Charlie had dumped on the table, wrinkling his nose in disgust as he threw out the meager rations and hardtack crackers. His eyes were drawn to a knife in a leather scabbard. The knife’s handle was a stained and polished bone and the curved blade was about eight inches long and sharp as a razor on both edges.
“This here’s a Russell Green River knife. It will save your life someday. Keep it handy.” He handed the knife to Charlie.
Next, he came across a kit for cleaning the firearm. “You keep this with you, too. Burnt powder will pit up that pistol in no time. Keep it oiled and clean.” Charlie nodded. “This boy must’ve been a brand-new recruit. Most regulars throw a lot of this stuff away so they won’t have so much weight to carry. You’ll want to keep this blanket and ground cloth.” He rolled up the ground cloth with the blanket and tied it on both ends. “You wear this across your shoulder. They call it a mule collar.”
Clemens turned his attention back to the items. “All right. Let’s see here. You got a bullet mold, looks like for a rifle. You won’t need it. Comb, pencil, this here’s a shaving kit with a straight razor, and…” Clemens’s eyes lit up with a big smile. “Oh boy, a pipe and some baccy.” He looked up at Charlie. “You use tobacco?”
Charlie shook his head.
“Good. Then I’ll keep the chaw, the pipe, and the tobacco.” Clemens went back to sorting through the items. “These here are match tins.” He shook them. “They both got matches in them. This is a steel-and-flint pouch. You use this to start a fire when you run out of matches.” He set the pouch aside and straightened up. “Most important. You’ll need that pistol. Learn how to use it like it’s a part of ya. Keep it loaded and, like I said, keep it clean and dry.”
Charlie slipped the knife scabbard onto his pistol belt and strapped the holster around his waist.
A sad look came over Clemens’s face as he put the items back in the haversack and handed it and the blanket roll to Charlie. “I sure do hate to see you go.” He lowered his head. “Jed’s gonna be all broke up about you leaving. He’s grown real fond of you.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I could stay. Jed’s a fine boy. You should be real proud of him. But you have to believe me, there’s no other way.” Charlie picked up the haversack.
“Now look here.” Clemens opened the pouch, set some straw in a small pile on the table and struck the steel bar across the piece of flint a few times. Each strike generated a number of sparks onto the straw pile. The blacksmith blew gently on the smoldering sparks and the straw ignited into a small fire. Then he doused the fire with a ladle from the water bucket. “Nothing to it. Understand?”
Charlie nodded. Clemens handed the pouch to him and he put it in the haversack. Charlie looked at his friend. “How’d you learn so much about all this stuff? And how’d you learn to shoot like you do?”
“Fought Mexicans in forty-seven. Had a belly full of war.” A shadow crossed his face. “Musta run out of other people to fight so now we’re fighting ourselves.” He shook his head. “Don’t make no damn sense.” He let out a heavy sigh, waved his hand as if to shoo away his memory and forced a smile. “Think you’ll ever be back in these parts?”
“You never know. I know I’ll never forget you and Jed. If I ever find myself back in this part of the country, you can b
et I’ll be by for a visit.” Charlie strapped the haversack across his back, picked up the mule collar and tied it across his shoulder like Clemens showed him. He strapped his time belt around him and looked at Clemens.
“Where you gonna go?”
Charlie looked away for a moment in thought and then looked back at Clemens and smiled. “You know, I haven’t got the slightest idea. You got any suggestions?” They both laughed.
“I want to get away from this war.” Charlie leaned against the worktable and Clemens sat back down on the box.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I’m sure this whole thing will be over shortly. It’s been going on almost two years, now. It can’t go on too much more like this.” Clemens frowned, his disgust with the war plainly visible.
Charlie looked away, wanting to tell him that the war would go on for another three years. “Well, just ride it out best you can.”
“If you want to get away from the war, you’ll have to head west. I don’t know much about those parts. I been through Arkansas and southern Texas with the Army back in forty-six, forty-seven. Never been anywhere else. But I heard that it’s wide open and the government’s got land just for the taking.” He smiled at Charlie. “Sure I can’t talk ya into stayin’?”
Charlie shook his head. “Like I said, I wish I could. I like it here with your family. But, I know I’d have to just run off later on. The quicker I leave, the better it’ll be for everyone.” He stood, took a few steps away from Clemens and turned on the time belt. A blue-green light surrounded him and the virtual display appeared within it. Clemens jumped up from the box and stumbled backwards away from the light.
“Relax, Clemens, it’s not gonna hurt you.” Clemens stood back away and just stared with his mouth open and eyes wide. Charlie did a search of western cities in 1862. “What about Springfield, Missouri?” he asked from within the light. Clemens didn’t answer. Charlie shut down the time belt and the light vanished.
“I never saw anything like that!” Clemens exclaimed. “This is too much to believe.”
Charlie walked to him and placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “You’ll see it again when those agents come back and that will be the last time.” He looked off to the side. “At least I hope you won’t see it again.” He looked back at Clemens. “Clem? Look at me. You ever heard of Springfield?”
Clemens looked at Charlie, still shocked by what he had just witnessed. “Huh? Springfield?”
“Clemens. Springfield. Do you know anything about Springfield?” Charlie said, his hand still on his friend’s shoulder.
“Springfield… yeah, Springfield.” Suddenly Clemens looked at Charlie with wide eyes. “I mean, no! No, not Springfield. You can’t go there.”
“Why not? What’s so bad about Springfield?”
“If you want to get away from the war, that’s the last place you want to go. Some folks say this damn war started in that area of Missouri.”
“I thought the war started in South Carolina. At Fort Sumter.”
“That’s where the armies first fought. But the trouble really started a few years before with them Kansas and Missouri folk. Half that area is pro-slave and the other half is agin it. They’re still fighting among themselves.” Clemens stared at Charlie with the expression of a man seeing a vision of disaster. “No, you need to stay clear of there.”
Charlie leaned against the work table. “Well, I guess there isn’t any place not touched by this war.” Clemens didn’t reply. “I’ll try and find another. I’m going to turn on that light again, so don’t get nervous.”
“Fort Smith!” Clemens blurted out. “Fort Smith, Arkansas is where you want to go.”
“Fort Smith? Sounds like an army camp.”
“It is.”
“Whose army?”
“Don’t know. At least, not at this point.” Clemens walked to Charlie and looked him in the eye. “I been through there with the Army. Nice Southern folk. They got a town there that’s been there longer than the fort.”
“Why the hell would I go to an army camp to get away from the war?”
“I don’t think the war got there. At least not yet, anyway. If you want to head west, that’ll be where you want to start.”
Charlie smiled. “Okay. Fort Smith it is.” With his mule collar across his shoulder, a haversack on his back and a loaded pistol on his hip, Charlie turned on the time belt and found the coordinates for Fort Smith. He looked at neighboring towns and selected Clarksville, which appeared to be along a tributary of the Arkansas River quite a few miles from Fort Smith. He figured he would jump there, instead of Fort Smith, to keep the time-agents at bay. Since the only way they could track him was by the belt, then he wouldn’t use the belt; he’d jump to Clarksville and find a more conventional way to travel to Fort Smith. He punched in the coordinates for Clarksville, set the time to the middle of the night and looked out at Clemens. “You take care. Thanks for everything. Tell Jed I had no choice. I’ll get back here to see you if I can.” He watched the timer count down and closed his eyes. In a flash he was gone.
Clemens’s knees buckled and he quickly sat down on the box. He sat motionless, staring at the spot that moments ago had been occupied by his new friend. After a while he looked over at the canvas-covered hay bale where Charlie had slept and then glanced at the hook holding his borrowed Confederate army blouse. “That boy forgot his coat.” He chuckled under his breath and then wiped the moistness from his eye.
11
Clarksville
Charlie lay half awake. He was unaware of his surroundings and had fleeting flashes of being among a crowd of other voices, but the only words he could make out were “Michael” and “San Francisco.” In those light flashes, a red and purple bloody mass crept toward him. He wanted to scream but wasn’t sure he had a voice. He had the sensation of something hitting his face. It felt like hot lead being dripped on him, burning every place it hit. He wanted to run away but was not aware of his body. It was as if his brain just hovered and existed without mass.
Within a few moments, the drops became more frequent and the burning of each eased to where they were cool and refreshing. The darkness and the bloody mass in his mind faded into rational thoughts. He opened his eyes. The transformation was complete. He abruptly sat up on the ground and sucked in a long breath of air, still trembling from the nightmare. He looked up to the black sky, void of stars and moonlight. It was raining.
“Rain,” he said. “That would explain a lot.”
His eyes adjusted to the darkness; he saw he was in a forest and could hear a river running nearby. According to the coordinates he had used, Clarksville should be about a mile or so upstream. He had to get to the river to see which way it flowed. Just then there was a rustle amidst the trees. He froze and knelt down alongside a tree. Two figures approached, moving quickly through the trees.
“I’m tellin’ you, there was something here. I saw a light and heard a loud crash,” the first figure said.
“Well, it’s raining, you blue-belly galoot. It was probably just lightning.” The two stopped about ten yards away from Charlie. They both wore uniforms and carried rifles. Charlie knew they were army, but it was too dark to see which army.
“Well, I don’t see a damn thing. You pulled me off my post for nothing.”
“I swear I saw something.”
“There ain’t nothin’ here. No lightnin’ strike, no busted trees, no smoke or fire. Nothin’! I’m headin’ back to camp.” The soldier turned and began walking back the way he had come. The other soldier took one last look around and then turned to follow him.
Charlie stood and began to shadow them, moving from the cover of one tree to another as quietly as he could. After a short distance, they reached the top of a small rise. The two soldiers stopped, had a brief conversation and then separated. Charlie stood behind a tree and peered down the other side of the rise at the soldiers’ encampment. He was amazed at the hundreds of small white tents neatly aligned in rows
and columns and illuminated by nearby campfires. Smoke hung close to the ground from campfires struggling to stay ablaze in the rain. Sentries patrolled the grounds and, as they passed close to a fire, Charlie could see the blue of their uniform. It was a Union camp.
Charlie fought the urge to go into the camp to get some shelter from the rain. No, it would be best to stay hidden. He backed down the rise and returned to the river, walking upstream along the bank for a good hour. The sound of the rain and the occasional rumble of distant thunder drowned out his footsteps. The inky darkness that had filled his world for the last hour or so began to slip into a drab gray as dawn approached.
He could see where another stream joined the river. Clarksville was a short way up this stream. Already this morning there were some boats on the river. Some were small crafts with a couple of men fishing and others were larger vessels, some empty and others heavily laden with cargo. That’s it! A boat. I’ll take a boat to Fort Smith. He smiled, and a sense of relief eased through him. He had to find a way to get passage on a boat that was going to Fort Smith.
He turned and followed the stream to Clarksville. Deciding on a means of travel to Fort Smith was just one of the issues he had to resolve. He was cold, wet, hungry and tired. He had no money and no friends. He hoped to find a kind soul like Clemens, but he knew there would be little chance of that. With the Union Army bivouacked just a few miles outside this small southern village, strangers would not be very welcome.
Early on this rainy morning Clarksville was not very busy. Charlie stood just outside the town, hidden by trees and shrubs, and watched some people move about. A couple of Union soldiers patrolled the streets. Two Union officers on horseback rode into the city. It dawned on him that he was wearing Confederate army gear. He stripped off his haversack, pistol belt and mule collar. He put the time belt back in the canvas bag, placed it in the haversack, set these items behind a tree and covered them with brush.