OUT OF TIME

by Andy Scorah

He called it slow time. That period between the start of an experiment and the finding out its results. For Ben Sheppard, time seemed to slow down during these periods. Hence, the name he gave it. He was passing his slow time, as usual, standing at the cliff’s edge, looking out at the Atlantic Ocean, found at the end of the Coast Artillery road. There, behind him, the behemoth Delta-T Sage radar arose like some mystical beast above the forest. Yet, this parking lot was his retreat. After the experiments had started, there was no need for his presence. Or so he thought.

Ben had been at Camp Hero " a disused Air Force Station five miles away from the small town of Montauk, in upstate New York " for the better part of a year now. Camp Hero was built during the Cold War to look like a fishing village in the Hamptons. And, because of so, it became a destination for the rich and shameless in the summer months after its construction. In 1969, as the story goes, Camp Hero Air Force Station was “closed down” and handed over to the National Park Service. However, the reality of the situation is more conspiracy than theory, because, for those who know, there is no better place to hide a secret than in plain sight.

For instance, fantastic things had been accomplished at Camp Hero while it was in operation; like the continuation of various experiments that had started inside of Nazi concentration camps. Certain experiments had been redefined at Camp Hero before ’69, hence its name. Gigantic steps had been taken in population control through amplified microwave technology and Psychotronic mind manipulation. Also during that time is when they had learned how to create super soldiers through an intense series of mind-altering experiments, collectively known as MK-Ultra. The survivors of MK-Ultra conditioning became men and women far stronger and much more intelligent than any batch of grunts could ever aspire to be. They went in normal children and came out robotic assassins, undetectable spies, or any kind of super soldier they had wanted, they could make. And, now, they had the Chair " a donation from their true masters " that moved the experiments from the realm of satanic torture to that of pseudo-sorcery.

Today’s experiment, for example, was a continuation of a psychic enhancement program that started a month ago as a joke to materialize a bottle, specifically, of Budweiser upon the Colonel’s desk. Cameron Bielek, the resident psychic, made that very bottle appear for a minute at the destine spot by focusing all of his mental energy on said bottle, projected that focused energy across the Station into the Colonel’s office; all because Preston Moon dared Cameron to try it.

It started just like that, as a game. That is, until the Colonel came stumbling into the Room, gasping about a disappearing bottle he had unconsciously drank. It would seem that Cameron’s focus was great enough to influence the Colonel’s acknowledgment of an imaginary bottle through the thirst reflex. Or so was Ben Sheppard’s prognosis.

And, nnow, they were utilizing the Chair, given to them last week by the Cadzinn " a ‘friendly’ off world race, known as the Greys, who had visited Earth for centuries " who watched over, and on the odd occasion, helped humanity along. Ben did not fully understand not trust the Cadzinn’s motives. Yet, he had no choice but to work alongside them. Again and again, as he already did. Obviously, he was in these experiments too deep to pullout of them. No one can get into this line of work, he thought bleakly, while watching a seagull soar above the ocean below, then pullout like a porn star, and hope to live....

The Chair’s primary function, designated as a “psychic amplifier,” and was wired up to a Riken 10000 supercomputer---a beast of a machine---and one of only two in existence. The combination of the Chair and Riken took a person’s psychic energy, collected by the Chair, and enhanced it, or amplified it, to theoretically the most powerful “weapon” known to humanity: a focused mind. The Riken was a massive array setup in a two-mile round ‘collider tunnel’ and cryogenically cooled during operation. This allowed the massive amount of energy it built up to flow freely throughout its structure, making sure it did not overheat and melt Camp Hero down into a pool of molten slag.

Ben’s thoughts about the Chair and its power coupling were interrupted by the sound of a jeep pulling up behind him. He turned and saw Master Sergeant Duncan Pharrel pull to a halt.

Through a cupped hand, Master Sergeant Pharrel yelled, “Mr. Sheppard, sir, you’re required back at the lab, sir!”

Ben turned toward the jeep and walked across the parking lot. “Results already, Duncan? That’s great!” he said, as he jumping into the passenger’s seat.

Master Sergeant Pharrel, with an anxious glance, answered, “Uh.... Kind of, sir…. You, err, uhm, gotta’ see it to believe it!”

With a half-cocked smile, Ben said, “From what I’ve seen these past few months, Duncan, I’m ready to believe anything!”

As the jeep pulled away from the cliff’s edge, Ben became aware that his slow time passed rather quickly today. He smiled to himself, and commented to Sergeant Master Pharrel, “So you saw the results, huh?”

“W-w-well,” he stammered, a dull blur of trees passing behind his clean-shaven profile. “Yeah, I did. But I think it’s best for you to see it for yourself, sir.”

“It, huh?”

The dead ominous air that permeated the base was somehow less gloomy around HQ, which was housed down a ways from the radar tower where the Chair and the Room sat in its subbasement, and the Sage radar towered above it all.

Parking in front of HQ, Master Sergeant Pharrel escorted Ben into Colonel Eichen’s office.

Colonel Eichen was a stout man in his late 40’s, had with a squared full head of white hair, and he was a man good enough to keep a secret. He was hunched over a group of papers and photos that covered his desk. When Ben was introduced to the room, he took notice of a curious item that stood out among the mess. Is that a Snick"

“Ah, Sheppard, there you are,” said the Colonel with a look of displease. And, without offering Ben a seat, he continued saying, “We have no idea how you figured out that the Cadzinn like these here Snicker’s bars, but I’ll be damned, my boy, if we don’t have them working for peanuts now! And it’s about time too, after all we lost in that damned Dulce War with their cronies!”

“Sir?”

“Never mind that, soldier. That is all.”

Master Sergeant Duncan Pharrel saluted, “Sir, yes, sir!” and promptly left the room, closing the door behind him.

Colonel Eichen sat back in his chair, ran a thick hand through his shock of white hair, looked up at Ben standing there. Then he looked back at the mess on his desk before he returning his attention back to Ben. “You know, Sheppard, I really didn’t want you on this team. Hell, I still think you’re flaky at best.” The Colonel looked down at the Snickers bar on his desk. He picked it up between thumb and forefinger and started to rotate it, thumping it on end after end. “But, then, after negotiations to finally get the Chair lent to us, you make this fluke encounter with a Cadzinn and your break-time snack ... ” The Colonel sighed, set the Snickers bar down, and began to tidy up his desk.

Ben rolled his eyes and coughed into his hand. Then he said, “They seem to love them, sir. The Snickers bars, I mean. After all, they sold us the Chair in for only twenty boxes!” ... plus 10 cases of coffee, and 15 cases of hot chocolate; but no mention of that needed to be made. Ben was imaging the first time he had given coffee to a Cadzinn.... Just one sip and the grey skinned, bug-eyed, off-worlder was roaring drunk in two minutes flat. Then it stayed that way for three days! It was a nightmare having to hide it from base security during its most roaring of moments. As for the hot chocolate, well, that had been more embarrassing.... “Care for a steaming mug of alien Viagra?” the men asked each other now.

“Astounding,” Eichen said, putting his papers in order, and shaking Ben from his own thoughts, “as that may be, Sheppard, that is not why I called you here.

Ben waited patient as can be to hear what “it” was that his work had resulted in.

“I wanted to let you know that we have received clearance for the extra funding we requested because of your ‘psychological discovery’.” Grudgingly, and without looking up from his papers, the Colonel added, “And the higher-ups wanted me to let you know that you can have all the extra staff you requested.... Maybe more if you keep it up.”

Doing his best to look surprised, Ben wasn’t sure if he was pulling it off right. Then again, the Colonel was nose deep in his papers and didn’t look up. Ben snorted, and said, “Thank you, sir. I would like Prof. Blake, from Brookhaven National Laboratories, to come and join us, sir.”

“Consider it done, Sheppard. Consider it done.” He looked up at Ben. “Is that all?” Ben looked thoughtful for a moment before shaking his head negative. “Very well then, Sheppard. Very well. You may go now.” Eichen waved a hand in dismissal and looked satisfied with ordering his papers. He took a pen out of its holder on his desk and began to write a note.

“Thank you, sir.” Ben said, then turned and exited the room. And fuck you very much. He hated these weekly summonses to the base commander, who didn’t have any real power over him. He also hated calling Eichen ‘sir’, as well, even though he was used to it already. They had banged heads in the past, when Ben was in the army he served under the Eichen up at HAARP, located in Gakona, Alaska, before he transferred out to Brookhaven Labs to work in the Psychotronics department alongside Professor Stuart Blake. Although the work was military in nature and application, Ben was rated a civilian after transfer. It was great the way it worked! No more red tape, but a few lengths of orange instead. He worked at Brookhaven for two years before he received the call that changed everything. “Ben!” the caller said, full of excitement. “Drive up to Camp Hero and join the team, man! You can lead our Psychic program here! Just think about it....” Little did he know what he was transferring to. And the rest, as they say, is esoteric history.

Time for me to check on the children, Ben thought to himself, as he exited out of HQ and headed across base to the radar tower. Even though a stale, dead air permeated the base, especially inside of the radar tower itself, Ben always got a special feeling from being in the area. Other than it being a professional endeavour for him, it was a spiritual hig. And like anybody who has felt that joyful spiritual high, Ben needed his daily fix. Again.

When he entered the control room he was greeted by Billy Joe Clanton’s hands wrapped round the throat of Steve Jones -- who was being throttled back over a table.

With a vein pulsating out of his forehead, Billy Joe screamed, “Take it back, Jonesy!”

Steve Jones could not take anything back, even if he tried, as he was rapidly turning blue. Luckily, for him, though, Ben pried Billy Joe’s hands off his neck before he got Smurfed.

Standing between the two men, Ben grunted, “Let me guess, Ike again, wasn’t it, Steve? You two, alone, are worse than a pack of caffeinated Cadzinn!”

Billy Joe was a superb computer geek who also happened to be related to Ike Clanton, of Tombstone / OK Corral fame, and all the other guys at the Station loved to wind him up about it.

“Sorry, Boss,” said both men as they straightened up and looked sheepish. Steve Jones looked around absent-mindedly, rubbing his neck. Billy Joe just looked around.

The control room they were in was eight floors below the Radar tower, but it suspended above the Room in a Panopticon viewing chamber, with windows all around it. The main computer station that ran the Riken was here, as were all the gadgets and gizmos required for running different experiments in the Room below. Ben quickly checked each device for damage from the two men’s tomfoolery, and everything was in working order.

A chittering sound issued from the corner of the room. Ben turned and saw Xatacho, the Cadzinn Overseer, looking glassy-eyed as usual. The Greyling was holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a Snickers bar in the other. He gave Ben a pelvic gesture of greeting. Ben rolled his eyes and turned to the monitoring station, knowing Xatacho won’t remember him in two minutes anyway. “Progress report Billy; if you’ve calmed down enough.”

Before Billy Joe could speak, a high-pitched whining-sound filled the room. It seemed to ‘tilt’ and ‘stretch’ before it ‘snapped back’, throwing everybody to the floor. Everybody except Xatacho, who screeched in response then started to dry heave erratically, spilling its coffee.

“What the…” grunted Steve Jones, getting to his feet.

Ben jumped up and flew across the monitoring station, checking several monitor displays as he went. “These results don’t check,” he shouted to nobody in particular.

Billy Joe got up and went to look at the CCTV camera monitors that were recording in the tubes and focused on the Chair. In a hollow tone, he said, “Boss, you better take a look at this....”

Ben Sheppard then Steve Jones walked over to the CCTV monitoring station. On camera-4, they could see Cameron sitting placid in the Chair, his eyes closed. He was still deep in his self-imposed trance that he used to get “in the zone” to access his powers within. The Chair itself looked like a hi-tech dentist’s chair, but with cables leading off it to the Riken. However, in front of Cameron’s quite form, there pulsated an ethereal greenish-blue mist, a kind that the Montauk Boys had never been seen before.

In the silence of the Control room Xatacho farted as Steve Jones, Billy Joe, and Ben Sheppard watched ... something walk out of the blue-green mist. It was a ... a ... a cowboy! complete with a six-shooter, a roughened leather trench coat, and a black pilgrim’s hat.

Ignoring the three humans, Xatacho chattered to himself as he staggered into the middle of the control room. He let out a loud belch stopped him in his tracks. Then, in a drunken stupor, the Greyling wobbled for a moment before he face-planting on the tile floor. His coffee cup and Snicker’s bar flew out of his stick-like hands.

“Shit!” shouted Ben. “We need to get down there, fast!... No, no! Wait!” He tapped his top lip. “One of you, Steve! come with me. And you, Billy, stay here to keep monitoring!”

Billy Joe saluted, “Sir, yes, Sir!” as Ben Sheppard and Steve Jones ran out of the radar tower’s control room, into the access tube, and descended to the Room below.

The drunken, disgruntled cowboy looked down at the man asleep(?) in the torture chair(?). He pushed back his pilgrim’s hat, and cocked his six-shooter, alert as a coyote at night. He looked back at the blue-green mist and saw … he wasn’t sure what he saw, because he never saw anything like it before. That is, before he had stepped through it the first time. And he had seen a lot of crazy stuff in his life. Especially on peyote! But now that he was seeing this mirage from the other side, it reminded him of a bonfire and a sandstorm brewing together, but neither was consuming either. He was shocked to see what should have been the rear of the Bird Cage theatre, where he was going to take a leak. But, now, instead of … of ... the back alley of the theatre, he was in this place ... wherever this place was. He shook his head, took off his pilgrim’s hat, rubbed his head and his eyes, put his hat back on, and then, against his better judgment, walked back through the blue-green mist....

Moments later, Ben Sheppard and Steve Jones showed up on camera-4. The blue-green mist had began to dissipate before they entered the Room, but it lingered around long enough for them to see it close up. Through it, they saw the drunken cowboy looking back at them, not sure if he should shoot them. The two men, one dressed in army fatigues and the other in a smock, looked at the bewildered cowboy through the milky mist that cut through space and time. Then, like smoke, the mist continued to thin out in an unfelt breeze. But, unlike smoke in a breeze, the blue-green mist stood within an invisible boundary, until it faded away into nothingness.

“Boss!” Billy Joe’s voice boomed over the Room’s intercom system. “Boss! Can you hear me?”

Blinking a few times, Ben closed his mouth before he walked over to the wall speaker to answer. “Yeah, Billy, I can hear you loud and clear. Did the cameras pick up the event?”

Up in the control room, Billy Joe looked over at the monitor station. “I’m checking the data bank now, Boss. I’ll report back in a few minutes.” Behind him, Xatacho picked himself up off the tile floor. He had a bewildered look that only a Greyling can have.

Down in the Room, Steve Jones wandered over in front of the Chair, to where the blue-green mist had been a moment ago. He put his hands up, expecting to find a gossamer leftover. Instead, he felt a cold oily space in its place. “Hey, uh, Boss…?”

“Yeah, Steve?”

“Come feel the air right here.”

“What,” said Ben, his attention turning from the wall speaker to Steve Jones, then to Cameron, then down at to floor again, then back up to Steve Jones. “What?!”

Continuing to grope the empty air in front of him, Steve Jones said, “This space right here, it’s … it’s different somehow. It feels cold, and … uh, oily. See for yourself, Boss. How would you describe it?”

Ben stopped besides the undisturbed Cameron, sitting rigid in the Chair, and sniffed. “It smells like sulfuroxide,” he said. “And burnt ozone.” He stepped over to Steve Jones, who also sniffed.

“Yeah, Boss, you’re right!”

“Boss!” Billy Joes’s voice burst over the intercom again. “It looks like the entire event was recorded by each camera. Unfortunately, there was a small jump in each video when the portal opened. From the looks of it, that’s when we were hit by that ultrasound distortion about, uh, five minutes ago. How’s Cameron doing?”

Noticing that the air in front of the Chair did, indeed, feel colder and … oily? Slick ... like after a rainstorm, Ben thought. But aloud, he said, “Cameron’s alive and well. But, you know the procedure, Billy, ‘Clear and quarantine’.

Without comment, Billy Joe slammed his hand down on a button that activated the procedure of sealing off all doors to the Room below. Xatacho, however, was wandering around control room, searching for his lost cup of coffee and the Snicker’s bar he had. Oblivious to the Greyling, Billy Joe quickly studied the myriad of displays about him then activated the intercom. “Guys, I’m getting a strange reading here from the area about six-feet in front of the Chair.”

Ben asked, “Radiation?”

“No,” answered Billy Joe. “The readings are, uh, stranger than radiation but safe.” He rubbed his chin while glancing over the monitors one more time. “I’m getting a zero-time reading in front of the Chair, Boss. It’s covering an area of about eight-to-ten feet in diameter. And all the other readings are either up, down, or off our known scale!”

Ben scratched his head, then said, “Try adjusting the Delta-T by 90 degrees and see what happens.”

Billy Joe input the information, and the Delta-T antenna rotated into a new position. Then Billy Joe adjusted the power input from the Riken. A deep hum filled both the control room he was in, and the Room below where Ben and Steve Jones were at.

A flick of another switch and two Tesla Coils lowered down on either side of the zero-time area in the Room below. Billy Joe’s voice burst out of the intercom speaker again, saying “I have activated the Tesla array, boys. Be careful not to get zapped down there.”

At his cautioning, Ben and Steve Jones moved to the back of the Room behind a shielded workstation. The deep hum increased, and the two men heard the ‘crackle-snap’ sound of the Tesla Coils powering up. Little bolts of lightning began to spark off the top of both. As the lightning began to grow, it snaked and arched in a wild, illuminating show, making the air pop and sizzle and feel electrified. The blue-green mist started to reappear.

“Shepard!” It was Colonel Eichen on the intercom. “What in Sam-hill is going on down there?”

“Sir, we had a containment breach on the collider, sir.” Ben lied. “No injuries occurred, but we had to seal ourselves inside just in case of radiation. There seems to be none so far, but we’re sorting out the situation, sir.”

“Okay, then....” The Colonel chewed his lip for a moment. “If this is down to you, Sheppard, or if you’re up to somethun, you best bet I am gonna have your gizzard on a platter, boy!”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Ben grimaced and silenced Eichen’s channel, pleased to do so.

Huge forks of lightning shot up between the Tesla Coils. The surging energy mounted, waiting to work its way up to the Delta-T antenna perched above the Sage radar. With an audible bang, and a shiver down the back of each man on station, full power was reached and a stream of electricity joined the Tesla Coils to the Delta-T antenna. Light and shadow danced around the Room worse than before. And, in the zero-time area, the image of a doorway began to appear within the swirling blue-green mist. The entire image rippled like a pool of disturbed pool water.

Up in the control room, Billy Joe worked furiously, moving from station to station, manipulating the huge gigawatts of power seething throughout the Riken. After ten minutes, he sat back and wiped the sweat from his brow. He had done it: the zero-time area was completely stable.

Turning to view the readout screens, he studied each intently. Now that he was calmer, the readouts started to make sense. Kind of.... Xatacho wandered over to where he sat, and the Greyling’s thoughts echoed in Billy Joe’s mind. “You have achieved portalisation to the past,” it said. Although the Cadzinn can use his mouth to speak verbal, he chose to use his native telepathic ability to impart something of direct importance such as this.

Billy Joe knew such, but still, it took him off guard. He stilled his mind as best he could and focused on the facts at hand. His Quantum Physics were rusty, at best, but he could tell from all the display readouts he was observing that they had uncovered something very particular, if not unusual. “Hmm....” he thought out loud. “Xatacho, I think the boys downstairs need to hear this news of yours.”

Making sure that the zero-time field was firm and holding steady, Billy Joe called down to the Room. “Boss, I’ll be down in a minute. I got some news you need to hear.” He cut the line and made for the access tube. “Come, Xatacho!”

The Cadzinn waddled after him, mumbling to himself and happily chewing on a lint-covered Snicker’s bar he found lying under a chair next to an empty coffee cup.

With the portal open and stabilized, Ben stood in front of it, rubbing his face. The cowboy was long gone, but unfamiliar sounds echoed back through it. The Tesla Coils were back in their raised, but they still crackled with power every now and then. And, although his cloths were singed in spots, Cameron was far enough away from the Tesla Coils that he was unaffected by the activation procedure. Steve Jones was sitting at the workstation collecting his thoughts.

“What do you think it was?” he asked Ben.

“According to the resident chocolate freak,” said Billy Joe, entering the Room, “it’s a time portal!”

Ben turned and looked at Billy as if he had said the vilest kind of expletive.

“I mean, the cowboy points to it. Where else could he have come from but the past.” Billy Joe smiled at his own logic. Xatacho came up from behind him, blinking and nodding his bulbous head.

Shaken from his thoughts, Ben called out, “Steve, didn’t you mention that you spotted some drones down here?”

“Yeah, I think so, Boss.... Yeah! Yeah! I saw them last year ... I think....”

“Good. Go get me one.”

Steve Jones snapped a salute, “Aye, aye, Sir!” and jogged off to parts unknown to find a drone.

Billy Joe joined Ben Sheppard standing in front of the portal. They both looked at the milky, blue-green mist that dancing before them. It swirled in on itself, like a spiral galaxy. And little flashes of lightening blossomed and disappeared here and there, coalescing into proto-stars that were trapped inside of a black hole.

“You know, Billy, we could be standing on the cusp of history here....”

“Or on the edge of hell, Boss....”

The enormity of the implications that the portal represented hit both them. Ben’s legs suddenly felt like Jell-O, and Billy Joe wanted to throw up. They were both aware, acutely aware of what the military could try to do with a discovery like this.

Xatacho broke into their thoughts, projecting, “For now, brothers, we will guard this event like a secret. We have led humanity to this moment. Yet, there is still much to do!”

“What do you mean, Xatacho?” Ben surprised himself, as he rarely used the Cadzinn’s name.

“My people are prohibited by … what you call, the ‘Galactic Federation’ from manipulating the time lines directly.” He finished off the last piece of the lint-laced Snicker’s bar he had before continuing. “Humanity is under no such restrictions, or prohibitions as we Cadzinn are. So we have guided you humans with an influence we knew you could not resist.”

Steve Jones returned just then carrying the drone kit. “Lookie, Boss! It was in the same a storage area i thought it was in, a ways down the hall there. Can you believe it!”

Xatacho decided he had said enough, and, not so graciously, turned away and made haste for the access tube, screaming something about, “More coffee ... and more chocolate bars!”

Billy Joe looked after him and shook his head. So did Ben.

The drone kit that Steve Jones found consisted of a quadricopter with an under slung camera, its control deck, and its monitor. It was originally developed for checking up on hidden troop positions, for police to monitor crowds from a distance, and/or the border patrol staff to chase down illegals with. But now, for the first time, it was going to be used to catch a glimpse of the past. Hopefully....

Steve Jones set down the kit, walked into the next room and drug a table over to the side of the Chair to set up the drone’s control deck and monitor upon. Once done, he placed the drone in the front of the portal, then walked back to the table and sat its control deck.

Billy Joe joined the other two men behind the table to watch the monitor as Steve Jones activated the drone. It arose with an angry, buzzing sound, which none of the men seemed to notice. It hovered in front of the swirling blue-green portal for a moment, turned invisible.

“Its cloaking device works perfect,” observed Ben.

Using the control sticks, Steve Jones maneuvered the drone this way and that, getting a feel for the controls. “Ready, Boss. How do you want to play it?”

Ben felt like he should say something memorable. Although, his only thought was, Come on! What is this, the movies? Ben Sheppard isn’t the kind of guy who shows feeling. That’s what the military likes me.... So he settled on saying, “All right, Captain, send her two-feet past the aperture.”

Slowly, the drone passed through the threshold of the mystical portal and its angry buzzing came back to the men as an echo; as if the drone was in a room down the hall.

“Can’t you mask that damned buzzing sound,” asked Ben. “It’s rather loud and angry-sounding.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Steve, looking down at the control deck. “That would be the best thing to do. Wouldn’t it?” He toggled a switch and the angry buzzing died away.

“Good,” commented Ben. “Now take her up twenty feet.”

The three men looked from monitor to the portal and back to the monitor. At first, the screen was just a bright blur. But, slowly, the image began to make sense as the drone began to rise. A painted wooden structure streaked by. Steve Jones manipulated the second control stick, and each man held his breath.

Billy Joe whispered, “The first view of the past....”

On the monitor, a live street scene straight out of any American Western film beamed in greeting. It was daytime, possibly high noon, and a wide, dirt street ran from the left to the right. It was bordered by many wooden and clapboard buildings with a few adobe and brick buildings sprinkled throughout. Almost at random, some of the buildings had balconies and walkways abutting their fronts. Drunken revelry was roaring from a few of them. Suddenly, a stagecoach pulled into view at the top left corner of the scene. It stopped in front of a long busy building whose entrance was two small swinging doors. The driver and stagehands jumped down to tend the horses and to open the door for the stagecoach’s occupants. Everywhere, townsfolk were going about their personal business’. Some people walked into the scene, some walked out of it; some entered the busy building, some staggered out of it; others marvelled at those exiting the stagecoach. Each person in turn was dressed in the dust-ridden clothing of the bygone era: women wearing high heeled boots under flowing dresses with their hair done up, more sensibly dressed women were herding children; most men had stylized facial hair and were dressed either like a cowboy or businessman " the former usually wore a two-gallon Stetson hat with a wide brim, a trench coat, and cowboy boots with spurs " all the children wore similar fashions but suited to their size, minus the spurs. The invisible drone captured all this in mere seconds before its camera zoomed in on a sign that was at the corner to its airborne position. It read, Crystal Palace Saloon and Hotel, naming the long busy building.

“Oh my god,” Billy Joe uttered. “It’s Tombstone!”

“Fuck off!” the other two men said simultaneously, and looking dumbfounded at their companion.

“It is,” exclaimed Billy Joe, and the three of them stood silent staring hard at the monitor. The Tesla Coils crackled softly in the background. Billy Joe broke the unnerving silence, saying, “I swear, if I’m right, Boss, the building the drone came out of ... is right behind the Bird Cage!”

“Hummph!” commented Steve Jones, bringing the zoom back. Then he maneuvered the drone around to the front of the building it was hovering over; and there it was, painted across the top of it: Bird Cage Theatre.

“Never doubt a Clanton!” said Billy Joe, feeling uppity, and stabbing a forefinger at the monitor.

“Of all the tart-n-blasted--- I take back what I said about earlier, Billy.” Steve slapped his knee. “Shoot, this Clanton boy does know his roots!”

Ben just stared at the monitor, his jaw no longer attached to his face.

Nobody took notice of when Xatacho returned, nor of his bulbous head peering between their shoulders at the monitor, nor of the Greyling casually wandering into the portal to fulfill his mission.

“Let’s bring the drone back,” Ben said.

Steve manipulated the control stick and the drone returned smoothly to the present day landing with a thunk in front of them.

For several seconds they looked at each other, the crackle of the Tesla coils the only sound.

Billy Joe finally broke the silence with, “So when WE gonna go through.”

“Nobody’s going through, at least not yet” Ben stepped around the drone control and stood in front of the portal.

“Ben’s right, we gotta take this to the Colonel”

Billy Joe threw his hands in the air, a look of distaste on his face.

“That’s right, give it to the military,” he shouted, “We all know what they will do with it, and it will not be from the school of Mother Theresa that’s a fact”

Ben turned from the portal and said, “Steve, go get Xatacho, we need to ask him a few questions”

Steve scurried off to find the alien.

Ben was scared, more scared than at any other time in his life. What they had opened could be the gates of hell and lead to the destruction of the world as we know it, Billy Joe was right the powers that be would use it for their own selfish ends, just as all the experiments carried out at this base. How he had got involved with it all he had no idea and when he realized what was happening he was in too deep. Steve and Ben seemed to be of the same mind as him-self. They had joined the program all gung-ho thinking their work was helping the country, it all changed when they witnessed a 12 year old boy being water boarded as part of the trauma based mind control program. When he tried to complain, they showed him a body with double tap holes in its chest and forehead leaving him with no doubt what would happen to him if he pursued the matter.

His reverie is interrupted with the blustery return of Steve, red faced and panting.

“Xatachos gone” he bent over hands on knees, “I’ve looked everywhere”

“Shit!” Ben looked at the portal, knowing where the grey pain in the butt alien had gone.

“He’s gone through ain’t he boss” Billy Joe laughed.

“Looks that way, if so the brown stuff has hit the spinning blades”

They were definitely in the shit, history books never mentioned any graylings in Tombstone and all the nasty stuff that time travel can cause flooded through his mind. He furtively glanced about to see if anything looked different, would he know?

“Okay I think we need to go through and get him back”

Billy Joe gave out a cowboy whoop and did a little dance, Steve went white.

“We got a problem then boss” Billy Joe said, “We cannot go wandering around dressed like we are”

Ben looked at their clothes, combat pants, t-shirts white science coats.

“Your right, we would turn some heads, any suggestions”

“I got a denim shirt and jeans in my locker” Steve said, “I could go through and try to borrow some clothes for you two”

“Great the first person to travel through time is a thief,” Ben laughed, “Ok we got no choice I suppose”

Steve scurried off to change into his pseudo western gear.

“Are you sure about this boss, we don’t know what effects it will have on the human body” Billy Joe said.

“I’m trusting in our friend Xatacho knowing what he’s doing” Ben said, “Hes a carbon based being like us so we should be fine…hopefully”

“Wish I had your faith”

Steve arrived at that moment dressed in denim.

“Any advice before I go?”

“Just be careful, don’t attract attention, and most of all come back in one piece”

Steve hitched up his jeans cowboy style and stepped towards the portal.

“Okay, here goes nothing,” with that, he stepped through and was gone.

“Billy Joe, contact the colonel and tell him we got a massive Freon leak down here”

“We don’t have any Freon down here”

“He don’t know that”

As soon as he stepped into the portal Steve felt/heard a zap sound inside his head, he closed his eyes expecting to be whooshed away. There was nothing, no sense of movement at all. He still felt solidness beneath his feet and the only other feeling was air flowing around him. He took a step forward and stumbled to his knees as the floor went out from under him. His breath is knocked out of him as he landed on what felt like sandy ground. His eyes are still closed but all his other senses seemed heightened. A strong breeze caressed his right cheek and somewhere overhead a strong sun beat down. Smells assaulted his nostrils, horse shit mixed with the smell of cabbage, human excrement and urine. He could hear sounds of people laughing somewhere behind him, a gunshot in the distance followed by several more. Wooden creaking noises came from all around him.

He opened one eye and gazed upon a pile of horse dung next to a fresh cowboy dump, horse and master must have gone at the same time. He quickly pushed himself away from the offending pile and slammed into a wall. Steve opened both eyes. He was looking across a medium-sized sand and rock covered area at a single story wooden building set at an angle to what he supposed was a street, with hitching posts out front and a flat roof. To his right grew a cluster of trees and to his left across another street sat more buildings that are wooden. The streets were just rough mud baked with sand.

The reality of where he was hit him like an earthquake and he started shaking. Pull yourself together, he told himself as he rose to his feet. He looked around; there was no sign of anyone noticing his sudden appearance out of thin air. Steve felt like Valentine Michael Smith, from that Heinlein novel for he was indeed a stranger in this land and time.

Impressum

Texte: Andrew Scorah
Bildmaterialien: Andrew Scorah
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 11.03.2012

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