The Gettysburg Zone Part 4

Richard Hampton was pacing the kitchen frantically, ignoring his wife's offering of tea. "She knows better! While she lives under my roof..."
Marjorie calmly sipped her tea. "Karen has never been late before, dear. Maybe they had car trouble."
"Show a child the path of righteousness and he will not stray!" He had begun to paraphrase.
"She is eighteen, Richard. And a very responsible young woman." She put her empty cup in the sink and linked her arm in her husband's. "Let's go to bed."
"I won't be able to sleep. I'll work on Sunday's sermon in the study. But you go on." He kissed his wife on the cheek and left the kitchen.
One o'clock faded soundlessly into two and then three. At four thirty the stillness of the morning was shattered by an insistent knock at the door. Marjoried grabbed a robe and hurried downstairs to head off a confrontation between father and daughter.Karen had probably forgotten her key. Marjorie smiled, remembering Karen's jeans. They were too tight for anything to fit in the pockets! Richard got to the door first and flung it open.
Marjorie skidded to a halt behind him in slippered feet. Standing in the doorway was a Pennsylvania State Trooper. In his hands was a single house key with the letter "K" dangling from the key ring. Marjorie fainted and slid to the floor. Karen Hampton was officially missing.
The trooper was as reassuring as possible. They had spotted someone burglarizing a 1969 Charger parked along the Tneytown Road. During the apprehension and subsequent investigation they found Karen's key on the front seat. Registration check showed the car belonged to one Paul David Jefferson. Neither Paul nor Karen were anywhere around the car. The would be car thief was charged with burglary but cleared of any wrong doing in the disappearance of Karen and Paul He knew nothing of any other missing persons. He would not learn of the other five missing persons for over 24 hours.
"Reverend Hampton, there's nothing to suggest foul play at this time. Your daughter and Jefferson could've gone with friends in another car." He'd seen action in Vietnam but telling a parent that a child was missing was much worse. "What's your daughter's relationship to Jefferson?"
Richard frowned. "They've dated."
Marjorie cleared her throat. "Paul is Karen's boyfriend." She saw Richard's jaw clench out of the corner of her eye.
The trooper made a mark in his notebook. "Does he beat her?"
Marjorie was shocked. "Heavens no! They're quite suited to each other."
Another notation. "Is she sexually active?"
Richard fielded that one. "No! She signed an abstinance pledge."
The trooper removed his hat. "I mean no disrespect, but that's a bit unrealistic."
"Are you implying that my daughter is shacked up somewhere with this punk?"
"I'm in no way trying to impune your daughter's honor. Miss hampton is 18. The only thing she can't legally do is drink...but we did find several empty beer cans in the car."
Richard groaned and Marjorie squeezed his hand for support. "Is there anything we can do, officer?"
He handed her his card. "Check her room for anything out of the ordinary...missing clothes, a note. If...when Miss Hampton returns, call me."
After the trooper left the couple just stood in the entryway holding on to each other for dear life. She felt her husband's tears on her cheek and he wasn't a man to cry. She looked up to see a fear in his eyes that terrified her. Karen couldn't be missing. She was obedient and responsible. Richard looked heavenward. "Don't let her be dead. Dear God, don't let her be dead!" he screamed. A vigil had begun.



Chris scrambled to his feet first. "Judas Priest! That was too fuckin' close!"
Paul had instinctively grabbed karen and dived for cover when the lightning struck the monument. He got to his feet and looked up at the star-filled sky. What a weird storm! "It's clear already, baby." There was no answer. He turned suddenly and paled in the moonlight. Karen lay at his feet, quiet and deathly still. Blood had begun to pool around her head, darkening her blond hair. There was a ragged gash just below her left temple.
The wound was pumping blood at a furious pace. Her breathing was shallow. He dropped to his knees beside her. "Oh, God! Chris! George! Mike! Help me!" He took off his t-shirt and wound it about her head, careful to cradle her in his lap as he did so. She never moved. He gently tapped her cheeks to no avail. He felt tears streaming down his face.
Mike pulled a penlight from his pocket. He was a volunteer fireman and a certified EMT. When he flashed the light in Karen's eyes, he noticed that her pupils were dilated but, even in her unconscious state, her eyes tried to follow the light. He put his ear to her chest. Her heart sounded strong but that could all change in the blink of an eye. She needed a hopsital and fast. Head wounds always bled out fast. And he guessed her to be around one hundred and twenty five pounds. (She'd compliment his appraisal later. She was five foot seven and a hundred and thirty two pounds.) But Mike was trying to weigh all of his guesstimations when Paul tossed the keys to his car to George and he took off like the wind. While he was gone, Paul pulled her up into his lap and rocked her, his tears falling onto her cheek as he offered gentle encouragement to her. He'd get her help. She could trust him.
Chris looked around helplessly. Something was wrong...very, very wrong. Hadn't there been a monument with a lion or something ferocious just outside the park? The fieldstone fence was there but the monument was gone. Did the lightning totally destroy it? He looked down toward the charred remains of the jam box. That, too, was gone. Hell! The asphalt road was gone! "Paul?"
Paul was Catholic but after seeing his father abuse his mother for years and have his prayers go unanswered, he was certain that there was no God. So he stopped believing. But the young woman in his arms believed wholeheartedly, so he prayed. When Chris called his name, he glared at him. "What do you want, man? Can't you see she's hurt?"
"Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," he quoted.
Mike was beginning to get angry. "What the hell is your problem?"
Chris made a sweeping gesture with his hand. "There ain't no road, man! No monuments! No lights from town! Where's the traffic noise from 15?"
Paul surveyed their surroundings. Chris was right. They had been ducking raindrops in the middle of Wright Avenue before the lightning struck. Now they were in the middle of a pasture. Before he could question it further, George returned on foot. The Charger was gone and so was the Gettysburg they knew. Mike checked karen's pulse. It was a little weak. She needed help. But from shere? Paul stroked her face. She knew he didn't love her but she'd given her body to him freely anyway. And what had he given her? Pain, both physical and emotional. She couldn't die. Paul got up and hoisted her into his arms. Carrying her as carefully as a newborn, he set out for the Taneytown road.. Once again, there was no blacktop, but there was a rutted dirt road.. Paul hung a left and headed toward where Gettysburg should be. The others followed in silence. About a quarter of a mile from the starting point the band of nomads came upon what looked like a vacant house. He stumbled up the cobblestone walkway, staggering under the weight of what he carried in his heart as well as in his arms. Karen whimpered softly as he kicked at the front door. The others had just caught up when the front door creaked open. The long, deadly barrel of a single barrel shot gun was pointed directly at Paul's face.
There was a soft glow almost like candle light coming from inside. The voice behind the gun was gruff and heavily accented. "Ye best have a good excuse or pray the Lord take ye now!"
Paul swallowed hard. "A lady's been hurt. She may be dying."
The barrel retreated and the door flew open wide. A grizzled man with flaming red hair and a full red beard stood in the doorway in bare feet and wearing a ridiculous old nightshirt. He leaned the gun against the wall and gently removed the blood soaked t-shirt from Karen's head.
The man was silent for only a moment."Get her in here! Put the lass on the divan. I'll go fetch some water."
Paul gently laid Karen on the couch and surveyed the room he stood in. A grandfather's clock ticked off the seconds in one corner. George tapped Paul on the shoulder. "There's not one light. No T.V., no radio..where in the hell are we?"
Robin shivered and rubbed her her arms to chase the chill. "Some kinda twilight zone."
The owner of the house came back and busied himself tending to Karen. "The name's Angus MacTavish. And who might ye be?" Angus asked over his shoulder. They all introduced themself. Karen moaned softly as Angus picked small bits of rock from the wound. Angus felt a lump form in his throat as he looked down at the girl in the soft glow of the hurricane lamp. She was much younger but she held a remarkable similarity to his long dead Annabelle. She'd died in childbirth more than twenty years before. The baby, a son, died a day later.
Paul cleared his throat. "Is she gonna live?"
Angus's laughter boomed through the little house. "Aye. 'Tis not a mortal wound. She's young and strong. She'll live. But the lass is going to have a powerful headache come the morrow." He bandaged the wound and poured a liberal amount of amber liquid over it. Karen hadn't come to yet but her brows furrowed in a sign of distress. Angus put his large hand under her and and raised her up. Putting the glass to her lips he trickled the rest of the contents down her throat. She came up off the couch like a shot, sputtering and choking. He winked at Paul. "Nothin' a wee bit of scotch whiskey can't cure...inside or out. There, there, lassie. Easy. You're safe now." Angus watched Paul sit next to the girl. She layed her head on his shoulder. Their means of dress were foreign to him. Ladies didn't wear britches and yet there were three of them dressed that very way in his very parlor! And the one called Karen actually seemed to be wearing a man's shirt! It was hopelessly stained with blood, beyond cleaning. The rest of them wore shirts with foreign words and strange pictures on them. AC/DC, Guns and Roses, Motley Crue and Aerosmith.
Mike broke the awkward silence. "Excuse me, sir...what is the date?"
Angus scratched his head for a second. "Aye! It be June 20th."
Paul swallowed hard. He had taken Karen to Little Round Top on June 24th, not the 20th! 'Wh-What year?"
Angus was quick. "Are ye daft, man? It be the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and sixty three." Karen passed out again. Angus went to the sideboard and brought back a small vial of smelling salts, waving it under her nose. Her eyes fluttered open. The blue pools were glassy. The lass had taken a nasty bump. A little closer to the temple and she wouldn't have survived. Angus refilled the glass and held it out for Karen.
She retreated further into Paul's arms and shook her head. "I don't drink."
He closed her fingers around the glass and stood up. "You'll be havin' a hideous headache in a little bit. A wee bit of scotch will take the edge off of it for ye. Sip it while I go clean up."
When they were sure he was out of earshot the room erupted in jumble of hushed whispers. Karen did as Angus instructed and sipped the burning liquid. She made a face as it burned a path to her stomach. Her head was fuzzy but she wasn't sure if it was the blow or the scotch. When she sat the glass down waves of nausea and dizziness washed over her, but she beat them back and snapped her fingers for silence. She had to concentrate on focusing. "Theoretically this is possible." Her voice sounded weak. Paul looked at her like she'd lost her mind. Her head was starting to hurt so she sipped some more of the scotch. "If time as we know it runs in a neverending circle or two parallel lines, time travel is possible."
Traci's eyes widened with recognition. "Einstein's theory of relativity or some shit like that."
Karen rubbed the back of her neck. The pain was beginning at the base of her skull. Robin fished in her pocket and pulled out some Tylenol and passed them to her. She looked at the last remnant's of the world left behind and took three of those bad boys. "We're either in the house of some nut who shuns modern conveniences or we're in 1863. Either way we have to be careful."
Chris wasn't buying the sci fi crap. "Why?"
"We could change history and that could be devastating."
He shrugged it off. "How, Miss Einstein?"
She looked directly into his eyes and lowered her voice to a biting whisper. Chris was a Texas native but he'd been in Gettysburg since he was young. He no longer had an accent and he considered himself an expert on everything pertaining to the three day battle. Generally no one listened to his ramblings. But now accuracy was key. "If this is 1863, the Battle of Gettysburg hasn't happened.. The Emmancipation Proclamation hasn't even been written. George is a second class citizen."
George clenched his fists at his sides. The veins in his neck bulged. "I'm not even that high on the food chain and you know it!"
She nodded somberly. "He could be sent south as a slave." Another not so cheery thought surfaced and she gulped the last of the scotch to chase her fears. "I'm from Virginia, the heart of the Confederacy. I can't hide my accent. I could be charged with treason and hanged. At the very least we could change the outcome of the battle and the national anthem would be 'Dixie'. While it wouldn't bother me, I doubt y'sll would like it." She felt Paul's arm snake around her waist.
George looked down at her. "That puts me in a hell of a position, Karen."
She didn't hesitate to clasp his hand between hers. "George I know my southern heritage is hated because it stands for everything bad your race has suffered. Do you trust me enough to follow my lead even when it's offensive?" He nodded. "Blacks weren't treated very well here even though the north claimed the whole war was about putting slavery to an end. If I claim you as my slave..."
George bent to kiss her cheek. She was risking her life to protect him. "Whatever you say, Mistress Karen."
Chris exploded. "You all are fuckin' nuts! I'm goin' home."
Mike shoved his forefinger into Chris's chest. "Oh, yeah? Just how do you intend to do that? Catch the next time shuttle bound for 1994 and shoot off into the stars?"
Robin linked her arm with Mike's. "Give my regards to Orion's Belt. None of us are ever goin' home!"
Angus MacTavish came in from the kitchen to silence. He'd donned his work clothes. "Come into the kitchen. travellers. Ye look tired and hungry. I heated some victuals. Once ye be fed, ye can all bed down for the night." Paul helped Karen to her feet and they made a slightly unsteady way to the kitchen. The table was laden with bowls of dark, hearty stew, warm, crusty bread, fresh butter and milk rich with cream. He watched the blond lass eat slowly and wished he had something stronger to take away her pain. So mamy questions and not a single answer. Why were they dressed so queer? The Hampton lass was definitely from the south, not merely Maryland but far deeper. He wondered why she would venture into enemy territory. Was she a spy? Angus set a mug of coffee and the dreaded bottle of scotch in front of her. "What are ye doin' in Gettysburg? You're a southron, are ye not?"
Karen stopped eating and poured a liberal dose of the scotch into her coffee. Lord knew she needed it for the pain! The coffee made the scotch almost bearable. "Yes, I am. We're traveling."
"Lass, there's a war on!."
"Yes, sir. I'm from Richmond. The south is unfriendly toward..." She hoped Paul would forgive her for her next words. "It's not friendly for a southern woman married to a Yankee man." Her eyes pleaded with him not to give her up.
Paul got up from the table and stood behind her and massaged her neck. "It's not safe for my wife in Richmond. The blockade has made even the most basic goods impossible to get.." He could tell she was impressed by hi limited knowledge of history.
Surprisingly, Angus MacTavish smiled and his leathery skin crinkled around his pale blue eyes. Somehow he didn't seem as gruff and grizzled. "Forgive me, lass, you bein' southron and all. But it's good news that our boys in blue be whippin' them rebs in some manner."
Karen felt herself stiffen. It made no earthly sense why that comment should bother her but it did. "Could we please discuss this in the morning?"
Angus let the men bed down in the barn. Traci and Robin shared a room at the top of the stairs. He led the couple to the room next to his,and handed Paul the hurricane lamp before closing the door behind them. As soon as the door clicked shut, Paul turned to face her. "I thought you didn't want to be married," he said stiffly.
Karen patted the bed next to her but he remained standing. She tried unseccessfully to supress a yawn. When he made no move to join her on the feather bed, she laid back against the cloud soft pillows. "Oh, for heaven's sake. I'm not gonna rape you! Sit down." When he was seated on the bed but somewhat at a distance from her, she propped herself up on one elbow. "We're not married, Paul. But that old gentleman wouldn't give us a moment alone if he knew that. Hold me...please?"
He still had his doubts about her motives but she looked so hurt and vulnerable that he couldn't deny her. He took off her shoes and socks and she curled up against him fully clothed. He stroked her back. "Better?"
She didn't open her eyes. "Mmm. I feel all warm and fuzzy." Her words were starting to slur.
Paul smiled. "You're drunk."
"A wee bit too much of the wee bit, I think.' For a long time she was quiet When she spoke, it startled him. "Paul?"
"What?"
"I'm scared. Don't let me go. Promise me."
He held her tighter. "I'm scared, too, baby, and I'm not gonna let you go. Go to sleep."
Another long silence before she spoke again. "Paul?"
"What?"
She looked up at him. Her eyes were liquid blue. Her left eye, the side of the injury. had difficulty focusing. It was dilated and it worried him. "I..I love you. Really." For the life of him he couldn't return the sentiment. If she was hurt by that, she didn't show it. Soon she was sleeping soundly in his arms. When he was satisfied that she was merely fast asleep and not unconscious, he allowed himself to drift off, never leaving her side.
Angus's feet hit the floor about an hour later than usual but still around dawn. As he passed the lass's room, he paused. He'd heard her admit that she wasn't married to that young whippersnapper. He opened the door slowly. It creaked in protest and Angus made a mental note to oil it. He looked in, wondering if he could tiptoe in and out without notice. He finally decided that it didn't matter. It was his house. The lass was laying on her left side, her blond hair partially hiding her face. The whippersnapper was tight against her, in spoon fashion. They were both still dressed in those damned queer clothes! At least he hadn't been trifling with her. He gingerly pushed her hair away from her face and had to catch his breath. In the first light of dawn she looked even more like his blessed Annabelle. Her skin was smooth, fair and unlined. Most ladies were married by at least sixteen and he guessed her to be older than that. There was fresh blood on the bandage. That would need changing but he'd let her rest a little longer. She stirred but didn't wake so he grabbed the wash pitcher and basin and quietly tiptoed from the room. She'd be wantin' a hot bath before breakfast.
The sweet smells of the country floated in through the window. The drapes fluttered in the breeze. Paul awoke with a start. At first he didn't know where he was. Then he felt the the warmth of her body against him and it came back to him. She was the only bright spot in the nightmare he was trapped in. And he still wasn't quite sure of her motives. Blood darkened the bandage. There was tap at the door and he slipped away from her without waking her. He opened the door to Angus. The old man strode wordlessly into the room on short, stocky legs and put the pitcher and bowl on the washstand along with fresh linen bandages, sweet smelling soap and the ever present bottle of scotch. As he was leaving the room, he put a large, furry hand on Paul's arm and yanked him out into the hallway. There was a hard glimmer in the old man's eyes.
" If you're not married to her, are ye married to one of the other lasses?"
"No!"
"Then Karen be your mistress?"
"Sort of but..."
Angus fixed a murderous stare on Paul. "You'll not be molestin' that lass under my roof! Tonight you'll be bunkin' in the barn with the rest of them fellas." He turned to walk away but paused. "And if I catch ye triflin' with her... with or without her consent...I'll take a buggywhip to ye meself! See that her bandage is changed."
Paul sat down heavily on the bed and Karen woke up. She sat up but something drove her back down. Paul couldn't resist teasing her. "Hangover?"
The bright sunlight hurt her eyes so she closed them. "I don't know. I've never had one. It hurts like hell!" she groaned.
He watched her stretch those long legs with cat like grace. They were well defined like those of a dancer or a gymnast and he knew only too well how it felt to be caught in their embrace. He cleared his throat and tried to get his mind on other things. "I need to find the bathroom."
She pointed to a wooden foot stool-like thing across the room but he didn't understand. "Those are the 'facilities'. I won't look. I've already seen it, remember?"
He finally decided to go with the flow, so to speak. But he did turn his back to her. She was so damned exasperating! One minute she was daddy's little girl, sweet, modest and virginal. In the blink of an eye she was playful, devilish and downright seductive! But she wasn't a virgin anymore and that was his fault. When he turned around, she was sitting up on the side of the bed. She was ghostly white and he immediately went to her side.
"Want some help?"
"With what?"
"I'll change your bandage and wash your hair. Angus heard us talking. He knows we're not married. The old goat threatened to horsewhip me if I touched you again, so..."
Her head shot up a little too fast and she grimaced. "Horsewhip you?"
He poured the hot water into the basin and gingerly removed the bandage. It didn't look as bad in the morning light. There was some dried blood in her hair so she let him wash and rinse her long blond hair with the lavender soap. He tossed the water out of the window and refilled it before locking the door. Angus be damned. Seeing her quizzical look, he folded his arms across his chest and tapped his foot with mock impatience. "Strip."
Her blue eyes widened. "I beg your pardon?"
"I can't wash your back with your clothes on."
"B-But..."
"I know you're not shy. Take 'em off!" He soaped the cloth as she hesitantly removed her shirt. "Where's your bra?"
"A hundred and thirty one years in the future, somewhere along Wright Avenue." She looked at the locked door nervously. "Look...I don't want you hurt because of me."
"I'll take my chances." He still couldn't say he loved her. He gently pushed her back on the bed and removed her jeans. "You're worth it."
She watched his jeans slide to the floor. "I'm serious. I don't want you hurt."
"But I hurt you yesterday. Honor demands that I make it up to you." He put his lips to her breast.
"Yours or mine?" He didn't answer. He showed her. It didn't hurt as much this time but she still winced. She'd given up on her expectations, believing those responses must've come from a porn script. But almost suddenly they were there...the bells and whistles, along with a few stars and fireworks!
Then someone knocked at the door and the lovers froze.
"Karen? It's me...Robin. Angus sent me up with your breakfast tray."
Paul dropped his head in a show of relief. She felt his tongue flick across her nipple. Karen took a deep breath. "Oh, God! Robin, not now...please!"
Robin sat the tray down and hurried off to her room. Angus was ranting and raving about chastity. If she went back downstairs, it might prompt him to check on Karen. That would be a disaster. From what she could gleen from her friend's voice, it would be a disaster in more ways than one. She giggled and started going through the dresses Angus had laid out for her inspection. She had been worried about her own sex life but that was no longer a concern. With Karen in the house Angus would be far too busy to notice every time she and Mike walked off to the woods. The preacher's daughter had spunk. Robin had to give her that. She hadn't liked or trusted Karen at first, but she soon learned that the girl was anything but a walking stereotype. She was a multi-facetted young woman who was a lot of fun to be around. And she could really keep that pain in the ass, Chris Connors, in line. Yep. If anyone could turn this nightmare into paradise, Karen Hampton would be the one to do it.
Paul looked down into the smokiest blue eyes he'd ever seen and went into teasing mode. He knew that she'd been on the brink of something when Robin interupted. He started to withdraw but she locked those damned long legs around him and he knew the tease was over. She closed her eyes and he watched her expressions without her knowing. She bit her lip as her body tensed beneath him and she buried her head in his shoulder. When he felt her nails dig into his back he knew it was safe to let himself go as well. It took her a long time to recover sufficiently to complete her bath and she was silent during all of it. He could paractically see the gears working in that blond head as he washed her back and it amused him, but he didn't break the silence. He watched her finsh washing herself. She tore off a clean part of her ruined shirt and brushed her teeth. Finally she turned to him, eyes flashing blue fire.
"Do you like pain?"
He sat bolt upright. He suddenly remembered that it had only been her second time and he was panic stricken. "Did I hurt you?"
"Not me, you idiot! You!" She dropped one of Angus's nightshirts over her five foot seven inch frame and frowned. It didn't cover much but it would have to do for the time being. She sat down on the bed and drew her legs up under her. She saw his fascination with that little act and she grabbed his chin to force him to look at her. With her right hand she pointed two fingers at her eyes. "Up here, Paul!"
It was all he could do not to laugh. He licked his lips. "But the view is so sweet!"
She brought her hand up against his ear not hard enough to hurt but enough to get his attention. "Be serious!" she snapped.
Oh! He loved that! Her meaning was all too clear. For all her bravado, she couldn't discuss what had obviously happened to her. She had gone from temptress to preacher's daughter in zero to three seconds!! He could see right then that their relationship would never be dull! He was going to make her discuss it. "I thought what we did was anything but painful."
"Do you know how hard it was for me to keep my mouth shut?"
He remembered her expressions just fine and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I have a good idea. You seemed to like it...a lot! You do know what happened, right?"
She hated to let her inexperience show so plainly...and to him of all people! "Not exactly, but..."
"You've never...never touched yourself?"
"No! Because..."
He laughed. "Because it's a sin? Tell me you don't believe that!"
"Don't ever question my adhereance to the Bible! I might stumble, but my faith is part of who I am. Accept it."
"Okay! Okay! Don't get your panties in a bunch. Oops! I forgot. You aren't wearing any."
She looked heavenward and counted to ten. "Angus will hurt you! Do you not get that? It's not in your best interest to..."
"Ring your chimes?" he interupted. Before she could come back on that, he grabbed her shoulders and kissed her. "You started this, lady. You let me worry about Angus. I'm gonna get your tray and I'm goin' down to eat." He did exactly as he said. As he closed the door he finally laughed. He'd left her slack jawwed and speachless!