Chapter Twenty
RETURN TO THE PRESENT
Mike Watkins, working at his lab table was startled by the sudden sound of rushing air. It reminded him of a flock of birds passing overhead. Turning he could see something similar to a wispy mist of vapor forming in the center of the room where Pegasus had been sitting. Placing the instrument he was holding onto the nearby table he ventured out of his laboratory room into the wide expanse of the Exit-Entrance Portal room.
One step, then another, the closer he walked towards the center of the room the more the vapor began to take shape. Well I’ll be a monkey’s uncle, he thought, the Captain’s made it back. “Yes sir! Yes sir?” he said out loud, “That’s got to be him!” The employees in the surrounding offices heard the commotion and began to assemble around the interior stainless walls. They all wanted to see the fruits of their accomplishment too.
Whoosh! It felt as if all the air from within the interior was being sucked into the vapor in the middle of the room. It was as if a miniature tornado were trying to form inside the building. Louder and louder the noise of the wind grew. Mr. Watkins, who at first was delighted to see the Captain returning, was now beginning to become alarmed. Maybe this wasn’t Captain Scarburg! This might be a tear in the fabric of time - in theory everything, and he meant everything in the entire universe, could be sucked into the hole if a tear had occurred. What can I do, he thought? Nothing... nothing could be done if a tear existed, it was too late; however, as his last nerve was being tattered the winds began to subside. The blowing, whistling, wind like noise began to subside, and the metallic form of Pegasus began to take shape. Its silver outline became clearer and clearer. The fabric of time was not tearing it was just Captain Scarburg announcing his return home. Mike looked up on the wall to check the clock.
The time was: 2:30:02 p.m. November 20, 2012.
Twenty-four hour plus a few seconds had since the Captain had left earlier, but in the short period of time the whole universe had changed. Pegasus left Washington in one Parallel Universe, arrived in Texas in another, allowed the President to get killed, which changed the Universe again and returned back to Washington. As Anhur had said: revisiting our past could reap changes that can affect the future as well as the past.
The sound of escaping air was the same sound Captain Scarburg and Clem had heard as they stood in the midnight darkness, miles from anywhere, in a deserted cow pasture forty miles north of Dallas, Texas. Mike Watkins could hear that very same sound; however, mixed in with the noise he heard the soft, melodious sound of Amazing Grace playing on the bagpipes. Slowly the hissing of air and the sound of music stopped; the hatch on the side slowly opened and the first thing Mr. Watkins saw was a head topped with an old, brown, sweat stained, tattered cowboy hat. It was sitting atop Captain Scarburg’s head as he sheepishly peeped outside.
“Welcome home Captain... hope you had a pleasant trip,” Mike said grinning from the bottom of the entrance stairs hoping his heart would return to its normal beat.
“How long have I been gone Mike?”
“Hmmm... I’d say a day plus a couple of seconds, maybe, at best.”
“Yes, welcome home Captain Scarburg. Hope you had a pleasant trip.”
“That is amazing, ‘a day plus a couple of seconds’ huh? Just simply amazing,” said the Captain. “Just amazing!”
“Amazing!! I can think of other words that would be more appropriate,” said Mr. Rousseau.
Turning to Mr. Ryan Rousseau, Chief of Experimental Design and also the Flight Director, the Captain asked, “What were you expecting Ryan? Anything less than returning would have been failure, don’t you think?”
Captain Scarburg, stepped into the changing room, removed the red flight suit, red flannel shirt and the blue denim overalls. He now observed, what he believed, were the most beautiful blue and red colors he had ever seen. He grinned; he couldn’t help but think about Clem and the ‘overHALLS’. He removed the shirt and overalls, and placed them into a large bag to carry upstairs. He put on his dark blue three-piece suit, swung the black shoulder bag over his shoulder, and started toward the elevator.
Passing the security guard he stopped briefly to inform him that what he had seen and heard in the past few minutes were to be considered “Top Secret.” After this conversation, the Captain strolled down the hall to the elevator. He was deliberately walking slowly trying to allow himself time to figure out what he was to say to the ones he had left upstairs in the conference room, besides the stench of cow manure needed a few minutes to dissipate too.
And most of all would Bud be there? He wanted that more than anything.
BACK TO THE MEETING
The elevator door opened - Captain Scarburg stood there for a moment hesitant to make that first step, then he stepped into its interior. Five floors up the door automatically opened. Again he was hesitant - his destination was just across the hall.
Into the conference room, Captain Scarburg walked. Old, brown, sweat stained, tattered cowboy hat and all. His boots made the same leathery sound on the tiles as they had when he left to go downstairs. Glancing toward the massive mahogany conference table, his heart sank!
The chair next to Lou was still empty - Bud had not returned.
‘Why? What was the purpose of my travel into the past and my attempt to change history if it failed to do the one thing I wanted: to bring my grandson back, safe, sound and alive, he thought.
“Grandpa,” said Gabby, “did you bring your information back upstairs?” There was no response. He just stood there, blankly staring at the empty chair. “Grandpa! Did you get the information you went after? I noticed you brought back a new fashion item. Is that decrepit item you’re wearing a hat?”
Lou ventured an answer, “I believe it is Gabby, but I think it needs an oil change.”
Gabby, laughing answered, “I think a flush would be better!! Grandpa that hat smells awful!”
Deep in thought Grandpa answered, “Yes... yes I did - I surely did,” he said.
Lou and Gabby looked at each other with a puzzled look, obviously their Grandpa had more on his mind than the old, brown, sweat stained, tattered cowboy hat.
Stopping at the head of the table he just gazed intently again at the empty seat. Why? Why? He thought to himself. He did not even hear Lou or Gabby’s remarks - it was as if he were in a vacuum. He was so absorbed by the fact that his death defying time-travel effort did not influence the future. Obviously the Western Asia War did, in fact, happen after all. His mission had been a total failure!! Well obviously to the extent he did not change history enough to allow grandson Bud to live.
“Grandpa? Grandpa? Did you hear me,” said Gabby. “Grandpa, are you all right?”
“What...? What did you say, oh... oh yeah? Yeah, I’m fine just thinking. Thanks Gabby, I just went for some data, and I have all the information now,” he said. “Lou, Sam Lin and Si Lei would you please come forward and check the seal you put on my bag.” Each in turn, checked the seal. “Okay, tell the group, out loud, that the seal is intact and has not been tampered with or replaced.” All three confirmed the seal had not been touched since they secured it. As they were returning to their seats, Grandpa broke the seal and opened his bag. He removed a number of large, thick brown envelopes and walked around the table giving one to each person. “Don’t open this envelope until I instruct you to do so, okay. You all remember what we were talking about before I left?”
“Durn right! I do,” spoke Gabby. “I said I was NOT going to get into that darn Pegasus thing, and I also said, ‘Grandpa, are you crazy? We don’t even know if the contraption works!”
“Right you are Gabby, good memory.”
“What do you mean my memory’s good Grandpa? It has only been a few minutes. You’re trying to tell me something aren’t you? What is it?”
“Okay Gabby, you’re right. First can anyone tell me whom our current President is?”
Always the comic, Gabby, holding up her hand said, “M
e, me, teacher, call on me.”
“Okay Gabby, who is it?”
“Grandpa, this is a hard one, but I’m going to say Barack Obama.”
“Very good my girl, you get an ‘A’, here’s a harder one - who knows the date President John Kennedy was assassinated?”
Each around the table looked at each other questioning what was Grandpa up to.
“Forrest how about the date,” Grandpa asked.
“Sure Grandpa, everyone knows it was November 22, 1963.”
“A brief few minutes ago we were all sitting here talking about taking a ride on Pegasus and one of you, I won’t call her name, but her initials are Gabriella Scarburg Friedman, said the ‘darn thing won’t work’, am I correct?”
“Yes you are Grandpa, but I still say it probably won’t work - I betcha I’m right on this one.”
“Sorry grand-daughter, but you are wrong - so... so... wrong, you...”
Grandpa did not get to the end of his sentence when the rear door to the hallway swung wide open and in stepped a shadowy apparition. The figure entering just stood as if frozen, in the doorway silhouetted by the light in the corridor behind. It was too dark for Grandpa to make out the face. Who in the blazes is interrupting my meeting? he thought. Before he could say a word the shadowy vision spoke...
“Hey folks, starting this shindig without me? What’d I miss? Hey Grandpa hit the lights, so I can find my seat.”
If Grandpa’s heart were weak, it would have become apparent at that very moment - the person speaking was... his... his... HIS GRANDSON - it was Bud. Bud was alive!
The time wa... wa... was... the time was... well the time was just perfect....