LITMIR.BIZ

      Chapter 19

      Langley, Virginia

       April 30, 2002

      Here they were. The CATE mechanism somehow, allegedly, activated “retrieve” all by itself and that needed to be investigated. For Keogh, they needed to try and craft an explanation of why he was here.

      The team started with the development of their CATE model and went through the technology although they knew Keogh wasn’t going to be able to follow the physics. But as they talked about bending time and time warps, it seemed he was understanding, nodding every now and then. He was fascinated by the picture of himself, and his yet nonexistent son as well as the handwriting that was undeniably his. Cresta had forbidden the team from mentioning Little Bighorn and his death, so they didn’t. As far as Keogh was concerned, he was needed to father a child to be born in 2003, and that was that. She would reveal Custer when she had to. For Keogh’s part, the most convincing evidence these people had was the photo and the handwriting. Although he wasn’t sure he appreciated being the stud horse in the situation, he accepted that this was another time and not his own.

      When the long presentation was over, they asked Keogh where he was at with it all.

      “I do not know. I admit the man in the photo looks like an older me, and you say it is me, so I accept that. You say the handwriting is mine, and I accept that as well because it is. I do not yet understand why there is this…time warp as you say, but I will admit there does seem to be something amiss. I need more time to process this information. If you are looking for me to abandon my past at this point, I’m afraid that is something I am not prepared to do. I am sorry.” He did not sit down but paced over to the framed copy of Edvard Munch’s painting, The Scream, hanging on one wall of the conference room. “One thing puzzles me. If you have a picture of me in…what was it? Twenty thirty-seven? And you have my handwriting from the same time frame, then is it not a foregone conclusion I remained in your time?”

      The “experts” stared at each other. Finally, Sanford shrugged.

      “You would think. But since this is a future that hasn’t happened yet, I don’t think we can be 100 percent sure. We could tie you up in a room and make sure you did your duty, but we would prefer to have your cooperation. Things will be done with integrity and professionalism and that requires your consent. Should you decide to go back to your own time, then we’ll deal with that when the time comes.”

      Cresta sighed. “Ladies and gentlemen, I think we’ve put Colonel Keogh through enough for today. This is my proposal. The accident with the transplacement receiver has got to be investigated and corrected. I am very unhappy about that.” Everyone nodded. “I don’t know how long that will take. Until that is straightened out and we have a plan going forward, I propose that the Colonel becomes my house guest for the time being.”

      She studiously ignored the smirk of Vernita Connor.

      After the meeting broke up, she approached Keogh. “I know you are going through hell right now, trying to understand what’s happened. I am going to take you to my home where you can stay and unwind. It’s safe and no one is going to know where you are or who you are. Is that okay?”

      Keogh studied her. “Why with you? Surely your doctors and your engineers could provide me with shelter? I admit I will need time to make adjustments, but would not there be gossip if I were to stay at your home?”

      “Look. I am the psychologist. I am trained to deal with any emotional shifts or bumps you may be going through. As for my team…we are all bound by our dedication to this project and our vows to not betray it. No one is going to talk or reveal information to the outside world. As far as this time is concerned, you are a friend who is spending some time with me, and nothing will be assumed to be between us because such platonic friendships are normal in these times.” She stopped. “Would you be more comfortable staying with one of the other team members? I don’t mean to pressure you or mislead you.”

      He looked down at the floor and then back at her. “No, Cresta. You are the one I trust. I guess I had hoped you would offer me shelter because you care.”

      “Come with me, Colonel. Because I do care.”

      Before going out of the building, Danny Convers offered Keogh the use of a spare sweat suit he had in his locker. With the volatile nature of their hours at times, all the team members kept some spare clothing, clean underwear, and toiletries in their lockers. Danny was not as broad through the shoulders as Keogh, but he was six feet tall so that should be close enough. Once Keogh changed, he and Cresta left the “bullpen” via the elevator, which unnerved him a bit. A moving floor that conveyed people upwards? He could not prove it, but when the door opened, they seemed to be in a miniature room like the one below, and he followed when Cresta led him through another conference room and out to the corridor. He caught the sign on the office door, which read, Dr. C. M. B. Leigh, PsyD, Department of Internal Development, so he believed her story. She took him through the corridor to another “elevator” and down to the ground level.

      “Myles? You are used to trains so you will have to think of this form of transit as a small train. These are automobiles. Break that down. These are mobile cars that move. I know you’ll be fine. This is mine. Now please get in and try to relax.”

      The “automobile” wasn’t too bad. It was cramped and constrained but not unlike a crowded Union troop train or civilian transport. The size was the strange thing. There was room for two passengers in front and two in back, not like a regular passenger train. More like a coach. That was it. But Cresta inserted a key, the coach grumbled into life, and they were pulling out of this “parking lot,” which seemed to be a place for these automated coaches to bivouac. Cresta pulled smoothly out onto the highway, and Keogh fought not to grip the arms of the seat…except there were no arms. Cresta mentioned to him he might be more comfortable looking out the side window than looking straight ahead and that proved to be true. She didn’t tell him it was the same strategy she used when traveling in London of the present day. Cabs terrified her in London, and the only way she didn’t get nervous was to stare out the side windows because the sensation of speed and imminent death was blunted.

      Fairfax County was an old county and boasted many timeworn homes which dated to Colonel times, especially on the Potomac River, and featured many pre-Civil War properties in the rural areas. That is where they were, and Keogh began to pay more attention to the countryside. The darkening shape of the hills and rivers didn’t change, and that’s what he was looking at now. He recognized these landmarks even though he might not recognize these roads. There was a sense of his Cavalry unit advancing along a path, and then Cresta turned into a long drive and…

      “Cresta, stop!” She braked to a halt and looked at her passenger.

      “Whatever is the matter?”

      “This looks like…it can’t be. This looks like the old Cocoran place. Cresta, I’ve been here. My regiment stayed here for four days back in eighteen sixty-four. I…I stayed in this very house.”

      “Yes, you may have. My ancestors were Cocorans, and they lived here in…your time.”

      She pulled into the drive, parked, and got her guest out of the car and up to the farmhouse. His mind was automatically taking notes. It seemed people in this day always locked their doors so they must not trust their neighbors or other citizens. He entered the doorway, which seemed so familiar, and abruptly stopped.

      “What in the name of the wee man are those?”

      The “wee man” was the Devil, and Cresta looked.

      “Oh, them. Don’t worry, they are my cats, Mehitable and Max. They are Sphinx. That’s a cat breed. You’ll get used to them.”

      Not likely, Keogh thought. They look like small gargoyles, and they are hissing at me. Cresta just ignored them and brought him into the main room.

      “It’s getting late. You hungry? I can make some bacon and scrambled eggs on toast. We missed that picnic we were going to have in the grass. Yeah,

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