Time Travel Adventures Of The 1800 Club, BOOK I Page 14

Hyder’s left and white-haired Maryellen Muldey sat next to him. She was the eldest of the group and proud of her sixty-two years. At Hyder’s right sat raven-haired Alexis Shuntly whose green eyes peered at him through thick glasses that made her look older than her forty-five years of age. Finally, there was Jerry Sullivan, who perpetually smiled and cleaned his spotless eyeglasses. Sullivan still had his thick, curly brown hair even though most people in their mid-fifties had gone gray.

  All watched as he placed the hologram at the center of the table, and the Battle of San Juan Hill started all over again. Projecting it was the very same butterfly, time-probe that had just avoided being destroyed by a Spaniard’s bullet during its intelligence-gathering mission, more than one hundred years earlier.

  “He’s definitely straying,” Alexis Shuntly said.

  Joseph Sergi agreed, “Definitely. He’s been showing little signs for a few months now, but this is the clincher. He seems reluctant to charge up San Juan Hill.”

  Hyder nodded. “I agree. All in favor of going to the next level raise your hands.” All raised their hands and Hyder declared: “Agreed. We have to do a trip. Got to find out what made Roosevelt lose his . . . his . . .”

  “Aggressiveness,” asserted Maryellen Muldey.

  They all looked at Muldey and nodded their heads.

  “Yes, his aggressiveness,” said Hyder. He pressed a button on the table, the door opened and a young man entered. Hyder smiled at him. “Ted, we have to send someone back to the 1800 Club in New York City, time frame 2011. Who’s handling that period?”

  Ted turned the pages in a small notebook, stopped and ran his finger down a list and said, “That’d be Edmund Scott. He is a direct descendant of Bill Scott, the current president of the 1800 Club for that time frame.”

  Hyder nodded and turned to the people seated at the table. “Bill Scott handled the Lincoln mission,” he said, with satisfaction. “He did an outstanding job of delivering the Gettysburg Address when President Lincoln was incapacitated for a short period. He then went on and stopped a takeover of the White House, which our probes completely missed. He took over Mr. Prescott Stevens’ place when he retired. As I said, he did an outstanding job. Especially since it was his first time travel mission. He took to it like a duck to water.” Hyder looked around the table at the others. They nodded their heads in agreement. “So, a show of hands if we agree that Bill Scott should handle this case.”

  They all raised their hands.

  DATELINE: 2011 PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB, NEW YORK CITY

  Bill Scott was reading Jack Finney’s book, Time and Again. Although he had read it twice before he found the subject of time travel, thrilling. The first two times he had read it, it was pure fiction. But now, it was reality. Bill knew how the author felt when his hero stepped back into an early New York City. He knew because he had done the same thing. Oh, not the same way as Finney’s hero did, but by opening the 1800 Club’s time travel portal, set up by Hyder’s group.

  He sat back, put the book down and sipped hot cocoa from his favorite cup, a Donald Duck mug, as he gazed out the window of his midtown New York, Townhouse apartment. It was on the top floor of the 1800 Club and the view was spectacular. He gazed at the fire roaring in the huge wood, brick and stone fireplace with the painting of Prescott Stevens over it. Prescott had run the club for twenty-five years while Bill had been a member for only two years, when Stevens picked him to be his successor. That was just five weeks ago!

  It’s been a wild five weeks, Bill thought, taking a sip of his drink.

  One of the club’s rules was to keep a record of any trip back, and Bill must have read and reread all previous trips plus his own exploit a dozen times or more. Boy, he thought, Jack Finney would have loved to have had the club at his disposal when he wrote ‘Time And Again.’

  He finished his cocoa and as he peered into the large, ornate 1802 mirror over the washbasin to straighten his cravat, the grandfather clock struck seven-thirty. Almost eight. Got to get ready for dinner, he thought as he went to his desk and looked at the evening’s menu: ‘Steak and potatoes with carrots and baby onions, all smothered in brown gravy.’ Man, Bill thought, as he patted his stomach. I’ll have to watch it or I’ll grow into this job in more ways than one.

  A knock at the door got his attention. He opened it as he put on his dinner jacket. Standing in the doorway was Matt, the right-hand man to his predecessor who Bill now inherited. Matt was helping to break him in.

  “Good evening, Matt,” Bill said. “Almost time?”

  Matt gave a hint of a bow. “Yes, sir. Dinner will be ready at eight o’clock.”

  “Did you get a head count, Matt?”

  “Yes, sir. Twenty-four members this evening.”

  “Mmmm, should be a nice evening.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll check on the food.”

  “Fine. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  Matt walked away, and Bill closed the door. He went over to a turn-of-the-century armoire and took out a white handkerchief. Bill deftly placed it in his breast pocket as he looked in a full-length mirror, and noted that the white stood out crisply against the black, three-piece suit he wore. He fixed the dark red cravat at his neck then bent over and gave a fast swipe to the polished, high-buttoned shoes he wore.

  A knock at the door at the back of his office stopped him. Bill stared at the dark mahogany door with its brass handle and lock, his eyebrows raised.

  “Prescott?”

  He walked quickly toward the time portal. Can he be visiting from back then? Bill thought as he grabbed the key that hung from a gold chain around his neck and quickly unlocked the door. He flung it open and saw his contact from the future, his grandson Edmund Scott, smiling at him.

  “Grandp . . .”

  Bill quickly put a finger to the time traveler’s lips before the young man could finish his sentence. “Hush! Don’t say it. I’m not even married yet so you can’t call me grand-anything. Not yet anyhow.” They hugged and Bill said, “Come in, Edmund, come in.”

  Scott’s future grandson walked slowly into the office. Bill quickly remembered that the air of the twenty-first century was a thick, polluted atmosphere that future people could handle for only short periods of time. He pulled out a chair.

  “Sit, Ed, sit down.”

  The tall, slim man did as he was told. “Whew, Gran . . . err . . . Bill, I mean. I know the air in this period is heavy with pollutants, but a guy forgets until he breathes it again.” He shook his head. “So, how are you?”

  Bill answered with a smile, “I’m fine. What about you? How are you doing? Can I get you anything to drink?”

  Edmund shook his head. “No thanks, Bill. Since we cleaned up our water, your water is like a super-bad case of Montezuma’s Revenge.”

  Bill cringed. “Sorry. So, what brings you here?”

  “Remember what I said the last time I was here? About Theodore Roosevelt? It looked as if he was losing the daring edge we all know he had?”

  A knock at the other door got both men’s attention. Bill got up and stopped Edmund as he started to rise. “Stay seated. It’s Matt letting me know dinner is being served.” He opened the door, and Matt saw Edmund.

  Addressing Bill, Matt said, “Excuse me, sir, I see you have company. Shall I have another place set?” Bill looked at Edmund questioningly.

  “Not for me,” Edmund said. “Actually, I’ll be on my way in a few minutes.”

  Bill turned to Matt. “I’ll be a little late, Matt. Have dinner started, and I’ll catch up.”

  “Very well, sir,” Matt said calmly and closed the door behind him.

  “You’re welcome to join us, Edmund. I’m sure you’ll fit in, and none would be the wiser.”

  “I’m . . . I’m having a hard time breathing and I’d probably pass out in the middle of dinner,” the younger man said. He looked at Bill and asked, “Will you have to try and explain to Matt how I entered
this room without ringing the front doorbell?”

  Bill shook his head. “No. Matt knows all about the club’s time travel capability. In fact, he has been going back in time for years and bringing back staples that have been gone from the grocery stores for a long time.”

  Edmund nodded as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.

  “Edmund, maybe the next time we meet, I’ll come up to your time. I’ve never been there.”

  “I can arrange that. But you do realize it’ll be like you breathing rarefied air on a high mountain.”

  “I’ll try anything once. Now, what about Roosevelt?” Bill asked.

  “Well, we had indications of things starting to go differently than they were supposed too. Little things, but changes nonetheless.”

  “Can you elaborate? I’m fascinated by how you guys in the future can see these so-called ‘little things.’”

  “Well, you know he had a house on Sagamore Hill in New York. The house was said to be full of animals he had hunted and stuffed. Well, the house has no trophies according to the latest probe we sent back. Not that I’m for him hunting wild animals, but it was the way history went, and we have to find out what made him change.” Edmund took a slow breath. “I’m sure you’re familiar with his famous charge up San Juan Hill?”

  “Sure. He broke the Spaniards entrenched on it.”

  “Well, a probe just came back and showed us that he didn’t make the charge and a group of U.S. soldiers were captured.” The time traveler took a shallow breath