Tear In Time (41 page)

  “Phin,
is that you? My eyes are still pretty blurry,” David asked, his voice sounding
hoarse.

  “In
the flesh,” Dr. Morgan responded, smiling ear to ear.

  David
squinted and refocused again. A smile spread across his face as he was able to
recognize his old mentor.

 
“David, how are you feeling? Your vitals look good. Your surgery went
remarkably well,” Dr. Morgan rattled off quickly.

  David
exhaled loudly then replied, “I'm ok, I guess. My back hurts like hell.” He
paused, then said, “Phin, did I hear you correctly? Did you say
great-great-grandfather Jebadiah?” David asked incredulously, his eyes
widening.

  Dr.
Morgan was now flashing a toothy smile as he delighted in David's confusion.

  “Yes,
David. Or should I call you ‘lad’?” Dr. Morgan joked again.

  “This
is all too confusing. Phin, what do you know about Doc and me?” David asked,
trying to make sense out of his confusion.

  David
tried to sit up but the pain of his injury stopped him short. Dr. Morgan
reached for a control panel and pushed the incline button, slowly raising the
back of the bed high enough for David to sit up without pain.

 
“First, David, I have something for you,” Dr. Morgan said with a secretive
smile.

  He
reached behind him and grabbed a large box. Handing it to David, he said, “I
often wondered what I'd say if I ever got the chance to deliver this package. I
had all these witty statements memorized, but somehow none of them seem
appropriate right now. Anyway, this package is yours. Open it. I'm absolutely
dying to see your expression,” Dr. Morgan said, not even attempting to hide his
excitement.

 
“Thanks for the package, but, Phin, you didn't answer my question. I just woke
up. Unless you're a mind reader, there's no way you would have known about
Jebadiah. How could you have possibly known there is a connection between
Jebadiah and me?” David asked, now almost demanding.

  “The
box might give you some insight, David. Go ahead. Open it,” Dr. Morgan
responded.

  David
nodded, then began to peel off the tape from the top. He pulled open the flaps
and looked inside. David's eyes grew to nearly twice their normal size. He
closed his eyes and reopened them. Slowly, a tear rolled down his cheek as he
digested the contents of the box.

 
“Recognize any of that stuff, David?” Dr. Morgan asked.

  David
lifted his head slightly and smiled. “It's mine, Phin. But how? How did you get
it?” he asked.

  “Where
do I begin? Actually, a better question would be how much time do you have?
This story is as long as it is interesting. Honestly, Hollywood should make a
movie of this,” Dr. Moran began. “Ok, let's start with my pledge to a
long-since dead Civil War doctor named Jebadiah Morgan. My dad, his dad, and a
long list of dads before him, promised each previous dad that we would pass
along the contents of that box as asked by Jebadiah himself nearly one hundred
and thirty years ago, before he passed away. It appears you made quite an
impression on my great-great-granddad; so much so that he collected all your
remaining personal effects and passed them down from generation to generation
in order to return them to you. Pretty amazing, don't you think?”

  “Wow,
this is unbelievable. No, really. No one will believe this,” David said,
shaking his head in amazement.

 
“You'll always have the skeptics, David, but have no fear: I think there is
enough evidence to support the truth,” Dr. Morgan responded. “In any case, great-great-granddad
Jebadiah knew the day you left, November twenty-fourth 1863, and also knew it
was going to be this hospital, Elanger Hospital, because of the elevator – but
what is interesting is that, after the war, rumors surfaced about two Confederate
soldiers that shot a Union general behind Signal Mountain on that very date,
and when they went to 'collect him', as they put it, the Union general vanished
before their eyes. Poof,” Dr. Morgan said, using his hands to simulate the
vanishing.

  “Wow,”
was all David could say, awestruck by the story.

 
“Great-great-granddad Jebidiah spent quite a bit of time tracking down those
two soldiers. When he finally found them, he was grief-stricken to learn of
your injury. Prior to that revelation, he had no idea that you were shot. He
just thought you entered the elevator and were transported back to your time.
After he found out you were shot in the back, he felt he might be able to do
something about it. I guess he felt – and rightly so, I might add – that if he
prepared his future sons to be trained and ready for this kind of injury, he
could save you from the grave, so to speak. So, as this story was passed down
from generation to generation, at least one successive son was trained in
medicine.

 
“Here's the intriguing part of this story. Although we knew the exact time of
your departure from 1863, we had no way of knowing when you would return. It
appears that when you travel in time, the day, month and time of your travel
stays the same: only the date changes. You traveled from here on June 8
^th
in 2005 and landed back in 1862 on that same date. So, we knew the day you
would return: we just didn’t know the year you would return, and that mystery
fueled the search for Dr. Brig. Gen. David Warner of the Army of the Potomac
for years to come. No one knew what year you would be sent forward to, so we
waited and we waited, and we waited some more. Each year that passed was like
holding a lottery ticket you knew was a winner, only you didn't know the year
it would win. You always wondered if this was the year. The anticipation of
being the one to treat you fed the obsession in my family for over a hundred
years.”

  “I
guess you're the lucky winner,” David joked.

  “My
grandfather once said his greatest disappointment in life was that he was not
the one,” Dr. Morgan said, then added, “Just imagine my excitement the day I
heard your name called out on the roster. I finally would get to meet the man
who had been a legend in my family for over a century.”

  “You may
kiss my ring at any time,” David teased.

  Dr.
Morgan smiled dryly, then continued, “That obsession, which has lasted for the
past hundred and forty-six years, drove our family to accumulate information
about you, as well as your injury. Starting back with great-great-granddad
Jebidiah, and continuing with each successive generation, we have amassed quite
a collection of your personal effects, as well as other information relating to
your time there during the war. That collection is the box you are holding in
your hands.”

  “I
feel like a child at Christmas,” David replied excitedly.

  “Go
ahead. Open the rest of your present,” Dr. Morgan said.

 
“Before I do, could you tell me what year it is?” David asked nervously.

  “It's 2009.
You've been gone about four years,” Dr. Morgan replied.

  “Wow,
four years. In my world, I've been gone a year and a half. Amazing,” David
replied.

  He
reached into the box and pulled out the first thing on top: the old picture
from the elevator. Still in broken glass, it had faded some, but was in
remarkably good shape after a hundred and forty years of travel.

  David
examined the picture briefly then remarked, “Huh, the picture changed. I’ll be
damned. I’m in this one. You know, Phin, the day I left in 1863, this photo was
retaken with me in it. I wasn’t in the original one – the one I carried with me
the whole time I was there.”

  “I
know. The story about that picture was handed down with each generation,” Dr.
Morgan replied.

  David
smiled slightly, then continued through his effects. He pushed aside his
haversack, canteen, loose papers he wrote chronicling his experience, a
collection of old photos bound together, his straight razor, his scalpel, and
other articles used for daily living. David stopped short. He looked down at
the bottom of the box in amazement.

  “Oh my
God. My Colt forty-five. Phin, I can't tell you how many times this baby saved
my life when I was fighting with Custer,” David said as he examined the
handgun, still in great shape.

  “I
heard. Actually, there are a couple of photos of you and Custer together,” Dr.
Morgan pointed out.

  “There
are? Wow, I don’t remember standing for any photographs,” David replied.

  He reached
into the box and pulled out the stack of old photos, and began to examine them,
stopping a moment or so to reflect on each one.

  “The
photographers must have just blended in with the action. It's funny. I don't
remember them being there too often,” David continued. “Huh, I'll be: there we
are, Custer and I discussing the battle plan at Gettysburg.” David paused a
moment to reflect, then said, “Boy, Phin, that friggin' battle was everything
they said it was and more. What a bloody mess. So much suffering. And the
outcome was quite disturbing.”

  “I
know. I saw your bullet wound. Pretty nasty if you ask me, although not even
close to the one you have now,” Dr. Morgan concurred.

  “No,
Phin, I'm not talking about my wound. I’m talking about the outcome of the
battle. We won,” David said emphatically. “We weren't supposed to win. Before I
arrived, the south won that battle and took Washington. After I arrived, we
stopped them at Gettysburg and held Washington. My existence in the past
changed the future.” David paused again, then said, “Speaking of which, how is
this future?”

  “Fine,
I guess. Hard to say because I don't know what the past was like before you
changed it. If you're wondering about world destruction, where the natural
order of things is disrupted, that didn't happen – or, at least I didn’t see it
happen. Seems like a pretty ok world to me,” Dr. Morgan replied.

  David
stared off into space a moment, then said, “I guess the future DID overcome,
huh?”

  Suddenly,
David had a thought, he quickly looked at Dr. Morgan and asked, “Phin, what
about Stonewall Jackson? Was he ever remembered or honored? Before I went back
in time, he rose to President of the United States. After I was there, I saved
a guy who was supposed to die. He ended up shooting Stonewall and he eventually
died of his wounds.”

  “Ah
yes, Stonewall Jackson. He's remembered, but only as a blip in history. He's
got a few statues around here in the south and he is regarded by most as a
rough, but brilliant commander, but that's as far as his notoriety has gone,”
Dr. Morgan responded.

  “Wow,
that's a shame. He really was a brave and brilliant man,” David offered, then
continued looking through the box.

  David
stopped for a moment. Looking up at Dr. Morgan he pulled an envelope from the
box. The envelope was old, and it looked it. With the parchment paper deeply
yellowed with age, he could see that the integrity of the paper was in poor
shape, fragile and ready to crack at any moment. David ran his hand over the
sealing flap and touched the wax that helped to maintain the privacy of the
contents. Turning the envelope over, he read aloud the inscription on the back.

  “Dr.
Brigadier General David Warner, Army of the Potomac, United States of America,”
David said out loud, but in modest tone, feeling a bit embarrassed about the
title. He looked up at Dr. Morgan and asked, “Phin, what is this? Any idea what
Doc wrote?”

  Dr.
Morgan cleared his throat and replied, “Actually, David, there have been heated
discussions about that very letter. Some wanted to open it, claiming they
deserved some satisfaction after a lifetime of watching for you, while others
fiercely defended its privacy. As you can see, good ethics and self-restraint
were exercised. The contents of that letter have never been seen. You are the
first.”

  David
rubbed his fingers over the wax seal, then stopped. He placed the envelope on
the bed next to him and looked inside the box again. Dr. Morgan's face
immediately twitched with frustration.