Assassins of History- Transference Read online

  During the hyperspace return to Axeylon 5, Jargunn communicated what he had found and the possible implications of a clothing transfer to Lord Dendaras.

  “Interesting”, responded Lord Dendaras. “At least the imposter has possibly kept his 21st century identity to a minimum.”

  Jargunn informed Lord Dendaras that he had almost been discovered, but had escaped without being seen by any humans. He also passed along that dawn was now breaking on ‘Earth 3’ and asked if his orders were still to track the imposter only at night and, once he caught the imposter, to kill him.

  Lord Dendaras responded, “I have changed my mind. Don’t kill him. We need to interrogate him. Monitor this imposter’s travels, but, as always, without disruption to or discovery by the local residents. I want a full report of his activities. We will talk again after your next foray to ‘Earth 3’.”

  “Yes, Sire,” Jargunn responded with a grimace. Already tired of this boring job, Jargunn thought, “Lord Dendaras had only said not to kill the human. I would love to have a clandestine meeting with this imposter and give him a few lumps and bruises for all the chaos he has caused. But, I doubt I could get away with it. So, Human, you better show up soon or I might just forget my orders. Unfortunate accidents on Earth Planets have been known to happen.”

  

  The next morning a deep sense of melancholy affected my mind and I went into a soul-bleeding stupor. I evaded Hattie’s kin folks by feigning fatigue. I stayed in bed until they left for work and got in bed early that night before they came home from work.

  During the day I constantly wasted time pondering my situation. I wondered if my wife was desperate since I hadn’t contacted her in what seemed like a month, but had to be just a few days. I felt so guilty for not communicating with her even though it was impossible. I longed to go back to my own 21st century. I kept wondering if it was possible to return. I raised the questions, “If I could go back, would I be back in the same place, the Antietam Battlefield Park, and at the same moment I left it? Or, would I have lost the amount of days spent in this parallel universe?” I even envisioned traveling back to my universe in the Sphere. However, I reasoned, “I probably killed one of the beings affiliated with the Sphere so getting a return ride in the Sphere is out. I bet those beings would like to get their hands on me. I wonder why they haven’t found me.” Each time I thought about possible alien retribution, I broke out in a cold sweat.

  For another day I evaded the Gray family and tried to answer a multitude of unanswerable questions that my conscious mind peppered me with, but to no avail. After a few hours of contemplation on the subjects, I would get an ensuing severe headache and have to quit trying to figure a way out of my plight.

  Each time at this point of mental exhaustion, I would sit under a tree in what seemed an opiate-induced state and watch the barge traffic on the Potomac. In the afternoon I shuffled south down the road along the river and stared at the late blooms of some of the flowering weeds along the river bank for a few hours.

  My moping around had Hattie worried. She had tried to engage me in conversation over the last two days when I meandered in for a late breakfast or an early dinner. I barely answered her. I was feeling so depressed and desperate. The thought of committing suicide even crossed my mind. I knew that wasn’t the answer, but I hated being in what was an incomprehensible situation.

  Finally, after two days of soul searching I came to the conclusion that, if I was going to find a way back home, it would take time plus I better embed myself deeply in this culture to evade any aliens trying to find me. So, I decided to really enmesh myself in the role of the local school teacher. I had the job already. Why not take advantage of it? Also, I determined for the second time since my arrival, there would be no more moping around and no more pity parties. I would face the consequences come what may.

  I ate an early supper for the last time and went to my room. As I lay in bed, one disconcerting thought crept into my consciousness, “If I keep asking people about the progress of the Civil War up to this point, they’re ultimately going to get suspicious and it could blow my cover. My background story of how I got here was flimsy at best. I don’t need anyone researching the facts of how I arrived in this part of the country.”

  After a particularly fruitless hour of mentally groping for a plan that would solve my lack of Civil War knowledge in this universe without causing suspicion, a workable idea popped in my head. I could go to the newspaper office in Harpers Ferry to do Civil War research on the pretext of seeing the historic city before school started. There I could familiarize myself with the Civil War information I needed to know both for my own aggrandizement and for teaching at school.

  There was just one important point I needed answered before putting this part of my plan into action. In this time period back in my old universe, the Yanks had possession of that city. I needed to find out whether the Rebs or the Yanks were garrisoned there now. If the Rebs occupied it, I shouldn’t have any trouble entering and leaving the town.

  So with this genesis of a plan imbedded in my mind, I slipped off to a sound sleep for the first time in days. I mean nights.

  When I ventured in for breakfast the next day, I was a different person. I could tell that Hattie noticed a change in my behavior. She responded with a happy attitude. We had a lively conversation about what had been occurring in town and at the mill.

  Ultimately, I brought the palaver around to the Civil War news. Then pretending my unfamiliarity with the Civil War in the east, I ventured one last ignorance question, “When I was living in Arkansas, I never asked anyone about what had happened to Harpers Ferry during the war. Please tell me, is it occupied by the Yanks?”

  She looked at me with that “he’s still definitely addled” look and said, “Lord have mercy child. Where ya been? Stuck in a cave? General Jackson done took Harpers Ferry in May of last year. He has an army in the Valley (Shenandoah Valley) and been keeping tha Yanks at bay for nigh on to a year and a half. They’s been trying to get at him, but Ole Joe Johnston has been giving ‘em fits over near tha coast for about tha same length of time. They traded off helping each other when tha Yanks come out of Washington City and head this way or toward Fredericksburg.”

  I muttered, “Well, I haven’t been keeping up with tha particulars. I just know’d I wanted to be in this here part of tha country and not under Yankee rule.” She just sighed and shook her head.

  Then I ventured, “How far is it to Harpers Ferry?”

  “’Bout eighteen miles and much too far to walk unless ya planned to spend tha night. Ya planning to go down therah?” she responded.

  “Since I’ve heard so much about it, I would like to check out tha town,” I answered.

  ”Ya could rent a horse or a horse and buggy at tha livery stable in town,” she suggested with a smile. I could tell she would be glad to get rid of me for a few days.

  “Thanks for tha idea, Hattie. I think I’ll leave first thing in tha morning.” That brought an even bigger smile to her face.

  

  The Dark Mage’s Log: ‘Earth 3’ Date: 18620915

  Since Jargunn had been given his new assignment on the spur of the moment, he had not been able to properly research and prepare for his mission. He never had been in this time period on ‘Earth 3’. Once back at Axeylon 5, he contacted the Eternal Oracle for information concerning the local ‘Earth 3’ government entities of 1862, detail maps of the area, in which he had been operating, and an in-depth study of the primitive method of navigation up a waterway against a current.

  After a short nap, Jargunn learned from the information supplied by the Eternal Oracle that the governmental entities in his area of operations were the states of Virginia and Maryland. Also, in ‘Earth 3’ a small man-made waterway called a canal, which implemented a lock system, allowed movement of vessels against a waterway’s current. The canal in his area of operation was the Cincinnati and Ohio Canal (C&O Canal).

  Jargunn also studi
ed the detailed maps of the area he had traversed during the preceding ‘Earth 3’ night and what was on the other side of the waterway called the Potomac River. He deduced that the imposter had traveled to the river in order to cross from Maryland into Virginia. On further study Jargunn believed the imposter had chosen one of two possible methods of crossing the river.

  Either the imposter had forded the river somewhere near where the primitive lock on the C&O Canal was located or he had crossed the river using a spanning structure called a bridge. Jargunn thought the imposter had chosen to ford the river because there wouldn’t be as much traffic.

  Once it was fully dark on ‘Earth 3’, Jargunn returned and landed his ACV near the ford so as to be down river from the lock and thus preclude any Earth animal reaction to his presence. He exited the vehicle and willed it back into orbit.

  He had a hunch the imposter had used the ford to cross the river. True to his assumption, his tracker picked up the imposter’s scent on the eastern bank of the Potomac River near what his maps called Boteler’s Ford.

  Jargunn switched on his cloaking device and crossed the Potomac at the ford. There was one thing that was eerie in his crossing. He walked on a dry river bed across the river because there was a dry space between his body and the river’s flow. The water never touched him.

  Once on the other side of the river, Jargunn switched off the cloaking mode, found the imposter’s scent with his tracker again and followed it up the bank to one of three buildings situated on the west bank of the river. He found only one of the buildings to be inhabited. There was a family seated around a rectangular table eating a meal. The scent of the imposter was heavy in this abode. Thus, he must be present at the table.

  Jargunn switched off his tracker and implemented his cloaking device. Taking out his recorder, he crept toward an open window to catch any information that might be imparted by the inhabitants.

  All of a sudden an earth animal in a nearby structure started making a loud nasal sound just like the animals near the lock. To add to the cacophony it also began kicking at the walls of its paddock. The sound was very abrasive. So, Jargunn had to retreat from the area or risk being discovered.

  Jargunn wondered, “How could these four-legged Earth animals detect me even in a cloaking mode, and why do they react the way they do when I am near to them?”

  

  I was up at dawn, rip-roaring and ready to go. At last I had a workable plan and a mission to accomplish. Harpers Ferry, here I come. One of the first things I was going to check at their newspaper office was whether John Brown had attacked the town on October 16, 1859.

  Before heading out, I sat down to a hearty breakfast with the whole Gray clan. It was the first time I had a chance to talk with Hattie’s brothers and her Papa. I introduced myself to the men and we all shook hands. They all had very strong grips and I wondered how my grip felt to them. I hope it gave the impression of strength. We males always wonder about that when we shake hands. I knew that my non-calloused hand indicated I hadn’t had to perform manual labor for a living.

  I learned that Hattie’s brother, who was dubbed A.B., was formally named Albert Benjamin and her other brother, C.D., was short for Charles Doss. Both men were of average height, five feet, four inches tall and both weighed about one hundred forty pounds. The muscles in their forearms, which were visible from their rolled-up shirt sleeves, stood out vividly. Also, their neck muscles appeared like ropes from their skulls to their shoulders. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on them. They asked some of the same questions about my past that Hattie had rendered and seemed satisfied with my patent answers.

  Papa, who must have topped out at five feet, two inches and weighed one hundred ten pounds dripping wet, possessed the commanding force in the room. He sat at the head of the table as any God-ordained potentate and ate without looking at me, but you could tell he was taking in all my answers to the Gray brothers’ questions with a critical eye or make that a critical ear.

  It took a while to tell my story again, which was beginning to sound a little far-fetched even to me. However, I stuck to the particulars and put a little passion in the telling to hopefully dispel any speculation that I might be a Yankee spy or escaped criminal. I hoped my version of the information would get around to the rest of the town. Having paid Hattie ten dollars didn’t hurt either.

  At one point in the interrogation Hattie chimed in, “Jim’s been given tha job of school teacher by Mr. Throckmorton for tha next session of school.”

  That brought an affirmative, “Hum”, from Papa as he glanced up to look at me more closely. I believe her outburst had allayed any fears that I would not be able to provide the monthly rent. My newest rent subsidy was undoubtedly what had provided the beef steak served at this morning’s breakfast.

  Eventually, the brothers ran out of questions and we ate the rest of the morning meal in awkward silence. Every once in a while, I looked up and saw one of the brothers taking a surreptitious glance my way then quickly look away. I knew they were very doubtful of the tale I had spun of my sudden appearance in Virginia.

  Finally, the meal was finished and the brothers left to do some weeding work and check on their fields of corn. Later they would join Papa, who left to open the mill for business.

  I asked Hattie, “Mind if I use Papa’s razor again?”

  She fetched the heinous weapon, and as she handed it to me, ordered, “Mind what yar doing this time.” I nodded in the affirmative. I took the necessaries out to the stump again and only cut myself twice without the previous degree of bloodletting. I also brushed my teeth.

  Once I reentered the house, Hattie gave me some bread, cheese and some salted pork, which she put in a poke sack and tied the end with a strip of rawhide. She handed me a full canteen of water and uttered, “Yar gonna need this too.”

  I had worn my new suit to breakfast. So, I donned my new hat, which I was rather proud of, and stuffed another sack with my handy newspaper, the old shirt I had worn when Hattie found me, a change of socks and my dental paraphernalia.

  After tying the ends of the sacks together with Hattie’s rawhide strip, I slung the sacks over my left shoulder like saddle bags. I stood before Hattie and told her, “I might be gone for a few days.”

  She smiled and then confessed, “I’s worried ‘bout ya for a bit, but I’m glad ya done revived yaself.” She smiled that gap-tooth smile that I had come to appreciate and I hugged her goodbye. I guess she felt protective of me, since she had been the rescuer and caregiver for this wandering and unusual person who had abruptly come into her life. My sudden appearance on the bank of the Potomac and almost on her doorstep must have been the beginning of an adventure that was a reprieve from her humdrum life.

  I then held her at arm’s length, smiled and expressed, “Hattie, thanks for everything. I owe you my life.” She looked down with an embarrassed grin and uttered, “Twirtn’t nothing.” I quickly hugged her again and promised, “I’ll take care of myself. Don’t worry ‘bout me.”

  “I ain’t gonna worry too much, but watch out for bad men on tha road,” she added. I nodded that I would and left for the livery stable in town.

  I hadn’t walked too far when the sun started breaking over the eastern horizon and the partly cloudy sky erupted with streaks of pink fluff that looked like cotton candy. I just stood for a long moment and beheld the magnificent handy work of Mother Nature. Then I quickly focused on the job at hand.

  When I arrived in town, I pulled out my watch. It indicated 7:00 a.m. I went to the livery stable and heard someone in the back working in a stall. As I approached the sound, I could see that there were three horses in the stable. One was a black stallion, which fixed me with a fierce stare and laid back his ears. Another was a red and white mare that was contentedly munching hay. The last was a small brown gelding that was just standing in its stall with a dopey-eyed gaze.

  I continued my approach to the back stall, steering clear of the stinking refuse in the main thoroughfare. O
nce I got to the stall from which the sounds of labor were emanating, I stopped and observed the worker.

  He was mucking out one of the stalls and the reeking waste that I had deftly maneuvered around was from his previous efforts. He sensed my presence and looked up.

  I said, “I’m Jim Hager, the new school teacher. I need to hire a mount for a few days for a trip to Harpers Ferry.”

  The idea of collecting a rent fee peaked his interest, so he propped his rake on a stall wall, touched his hand to his forehead and introduced himself, “I’m Bill Heintz, tha owner of this herah livery.” Getting right down to business he asked, “How long ya planning to be gone?”

  I responded. “’Bout three days, I reckon.”

  Looking back at the stalls of horses, he informed me, “Tha black stallion and tha mare ain’t mine to rent. They’s just stabled herah by a local family. But I could rent ya tha brown gelding.”

  “How much would ya charge?” I asked.

  “Bout $1.00 a day in advance, but ya gots to promise me that ya’ll return Beauregard in good condition,” he stipulated.

  “That I’ll do, Mr. Heintz,” I promised. “However, I’ll need to wait for tha bank to open to withdraw money for tha trip and to pay for tha rent of yar horse. I will return with tha money as soon as tha bank opens,” I advised. I actually had some money in my pocket, but wanted to draw out more money for the journey.

  With the dealing done, we shook hands and I left the livery stable.

  To kill time, I walked to the cafe I had frequented the day before. I ordered a cup of coffee, sat at an empty table and laid my poke sacks on the floor. A man at another table in a black suit that was almost identical to mine said hello. I smiled and responded with, “Hello, this is a fine day isn’t it?”

  He was a little taken back by my forwardness, but responded, “Yes, it is a fine day that the Lord hath given us.”