The Time Rippers Book 2: Gettysburg by Pete Bertino - HTML preview

Date: August 3, 2011 Universe: 1

Doug “Dig” Robins stood on the fenced in concrete walkway, lined with bench’s and a trio of metal sculptures towering high above him, known as Penn’s Landing facing the Delaware river,

beyond the river was the state of New Jersey.

Below him cars drove north and south along I-95

oblivious of the time traveler above them that

watched the river they drove beside. The last time he had looked at this river was in a alternate

universe were pirates ruled over the plague ridden city and its waterfront with violence and fear.

Dig spent the last two days walking, filled with heart ache and guilt. The sound of his back pack falling behind the bar of Club Enlightenment with a clatter, still rung in his ears like an annoying tune.

The summer sun beat down on him as he closed his eyes tight leaning his head on the iron bars of the walkway to keep people from falling over to the traffic below. The clatter was not the Q pad falling to the floor, there had been a rubber mat behind the bar to keep a glass or bottle from breaking.

The clatter was the time bomb falling into an

empty sink, to angry with himself to bother looking down he grabbed his pack and left Marisa in a

hurry as much in a hurry as when he stood in the batters box back in high school. It was a strike out,

a big one that cost lives. He had walked here straight from a bar and grill called Stokes that sat on Oregon avenue many blocks away.

He had gone in and sat on a stool at the far corner.

It was cool and blessedly quiet, a few men with white hair and wrinkles sat at the other end

watching a Phillies game on a flat screen TV

chained to the wall with no sound. The bartender, a man of equal age to the current patrons, made his way to him and asked what he was having.

“Granddad, straight.” he said digging out a wad of fives and ones he had gotten from bar tending at Club Enlightenment almost two decades earlier, he gave the man a five and told him to keep it, the bartender thanked him for the two dollar tip and a moment later set the drink in front of him with a nod. Dig believed in good tipping.

The smell of bars are all the same, he thought

while breathing in the familiar yeasty smell of beer soaked into the woodwork like a varnish. He

looked down at the stubby shot glass, filled with the amber liquid wanting to grab it and swallow it down and ask for a double. All he did was stare at it, he thought he would do it, but his arms felt to heavy to move.

Why don’t I get it over with? He asked himself. I

killed her, its my fault. So pity is the path you’ll take then, his mind countered.

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Dig hated that feeling, it was Cami his ex girlfriend who would taunt him about it when he was trying to apologize and felt truly sad for his belligerence or his drinking.

“Pity party for Dig.” she would say with a childish titter and give him that hateful smile that would re-ignite his anger like gasoline to a hot coal.

He took a sniff of the glass in front of him and recoiled, it was a harsh smell with too many

memories, soaked in self loathing pity, with mental pictures of his father being sullen and sometimes weeping quietly. He unconsciously sneered at the glass and felt angry he was once again seeking

solace in a bottle.

“Somthin the matter?” asked the bartender with a cautious look, arms folded over his chest. He was old but his arms were muscular and covered with a tattoo of Semper Fi on one arm and a bulldog in a red shirt with USMC stamped in yellow letters on the other.

“Huh,” Dig blurted out.

“Somthin the matter with your drink?” he asked in a neutral tone.

“No, just with me.” he said getting up and walked back outside, escaping the stony eyed look of the bartender that expected trouble from him, feeling his eyes burrowing into the back of his skull as he went back into the sunshine.

He looked back at the door that was mostly glass but it was hard to see back inside, he knew the old man was watching him so he left. The death of his father was as sudden and unexpected as Marisa’s, but her death was hooded with guilt and anger at himself. His stomach would lurch each time he

remembered the clatter of the time bomb.

He did make one stop before he made it to Penn’s Landing, near Juniper street. He stopped a few feet before he reached its corner, wondering what

stood were the club had been in 1993. He walked there with hardly a glance up, feeling fatigue from the high summer sun and the endless hours of

walking.

His feet felt welded to the ground, swallowing

back tears like a salty drink but could not force

himself to go around the corner and see what was there now. His body trembled at the thought of

what he had caused, that Marisa was dead and he was bare inches away from taking up his old hobby again. He felt faint and sat down on a nearby set of steps facing away from Juniper street, wishing he was at the covered bridge back in his hometown of Porter watching the Schuylkill river.

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That thought made him head to Penn’s Landing,

watching the Delaware river instead. It relaxed his thoughts and eased his heartache and the near failure of his sobriety. Still the guilt weighed on him, like an anchor as he opened his eyes again at the river.

His heart pounded with dread as he heard the

clatter repeat itself over and over in his mind while watching the water with the occasional boat going by. He turned away and walked back down

the pathway feeling the wad of money he still had in his pocket wondering if he had enough for

another night at a hotel.

He stood facing south and looked down out the

hundreds of cars driving on the interstate, the sun reflecting brightly on them like polished mirrors.

People walked back and forth behind him,

admiring the view of the river and the giant metal sculpture of three people hand in hand in mid

stride like the worlds tallest family. Some sat on

the benches talking and laughing, toting water bottles and shopping bags from the various stores on South street that lay behind the walkway.

He looked to his right and saw a petite girl of about twenty with a nose ring and hair so blond it was almost white carrying a guitar case and a

blanket striped with many colors. She wore a

white a-shirt that revealed a black bra underneath and skinny jeans. She laid out the blanket and

removed an acoustic guitar and left open her case for donations, Dig assumed, and began playing a song made popular by the late great Kurt Cobain.

Dig smiled a hollow smile and looked back out

into the traffic, watching the parade of cars, trying to ignore the self pity that wanted to eat away at him. I’m weak, if the bartender hadn’t said

anything I probably would be getting rolled out of that bar by now, he thought helplessly.

The blond haired girl finished her rendition of

“Heart Shaped Box” and began playing something Dig couldn’t place, people walked by tossing a

few coins into the guitar case when Dig looked

over at her, giving everybody a bright smile and hearty thank you.

Dig smiled again, but it was closer to a real smile, he wondered if Marisa had ever done that when

she was that age. He looked back into the traffic as the smile on his face faded into concentration

again. Thinking about how weak he had become

again, I’ll probably be drunk before day is done, he thought.

The sun made its westerly descent as he gripped the bars in front of him with hot hands, lost in that feeling of self loathing and weakness, wishing he could be strong like his friend AM. He didn’t think he could go back to ripping, he wasn’t like AM or his odd cousin Quake. They were good men who

gave up everything for the duty of protecting the world, without

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the hope of ever being recognized as being heroic or honorable for doing such, while he, Dig, looked for a good reason to give up and maybe finally

jump into bottle and then into the river, in hopes of being washed out of the world forever.

He thought about what Marisa said to him that

afternoon when he kissed her, and he professed

that he was afraid. Afraid that he was weak, even if he hadn’t been from another time he would have pushed her away because of that, but she wasn’t buying it. She said: “Your making excuses,

everybody has a bad time in their lives, we've both have. And your strong, every bad thing that has happened to you... it’s just...it's like your...”

“I’m bullet proof”

The blond haired girl sang out with heart and

passion that brought Dig out of his memory like a cold bucket of water had been thrown on him.

“Ricochet, you take your aim

fire away, fire away”

He pried his hands from the iron bars and slowly walked away from the southbound traffic like a

man in a dream and walked closer to the girl sitting cross legged and singing with a fiery sounds that filled the stifling summer air like a welcome

breeze, a few people had stopped to listen to her playing.

“You shoot me down, but I

won’t fall I am titanium”

He felt himself being drawn to the words like a thirsty horse to water, heart thundering in his chest like a locomotive running at full speed.

“Stone hard, machine gun,

fired at the ones who run

stone hard, as bulletproof glass”

The song must have been very popular, when she finished most of the people that had stopped to listen had applauded and dropped dollar bills into her case before leaving. Dig stared at the girl for a moment before she looked up and noticed him.

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“Whats up,” she said when she saw him, giving

him the smile that she gave everyone else. But it faltered when she looked closely at him and saw how pale he was. “hey you OK?”

“Yeah,” he said with a slight nod. “that song. Did you write it?”

“Yeah right.” she said with laugh “I heard it

online a few weeks ago, you sure your okay? You look wasted.”

He rummaged in his pocket and took out a fistful of bills and dropped it into the open case.

“Can you play it for me again?”

She watched the clump of bills drop into the case

and looked up at him with a sweet smile.

“Sure, I’ll play it again, Sam.”

“Huh?” Dig said confused.

“Not a Bogey fan, that’s okay.” she said with a laugh and started playing Titanium again.

The lyrics filled him with a strength he hadn’t known was still inside him, he never felt so good because of a song but he did. He couldn’t

understand, then thought of something AM said to him once about music being the poetry that sings to our souls, that any ones heart could be touched by music. AM would normally talk about history and law and time travel, it was unusual to hear him say those kinds of things, which was why Dig

remembered.

The girl finished playing with a satisfied grin and looked up at him laying her instrument on her lap with that bright smile again.

“How’s that, Sam?”

“Wow.” was all he could think to say.

“Cool beans,” she said with a soft chuckle “I don’t get asked for encores that often.”

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“Did you go to school to learn how to play?”

“Yeah, Girard Academic Music Academy.” she

said while absently tuning up her guitar.

“Really?” he said with a startled look on his face.

“Yeah, why? Did you go there, too?” she asked

with a raised eyebrow.

“No, a friend did. A long time ago.”

She gave him a look of sympathy, and nodded,

recognizing what kind of friend this person must have been to him being no stranger to heartbreak herself.

“I hope it was a good friend.” she said with a look of compassion.

“She was. Your very good, you know that?” he said feeling better for the first time in days.

“Aw shucks, I'm a little off today. I played it better yesterday.” she said blushing a little.

“You in college?”

“Yeah, well, I'm trying to earn some cash for it anyway. My teacher said I'm natural at piano but my guitar playing needs to get better. I don't think I can be a rock star play in piano.” she said with a shrug.

“Sure you could, there's Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, Ray Manzerick played the organ, John

Lennon.”

“Yeah?” she said with a smile that was more than lovely on her. “There before our time though.”

“Yeah, but we still remember them. See ya later.”

She turned and watched the man walk away

wanting to ask if he was okay again, but he was at

the end of the walkway turning down Front street before she could. Too bad, she

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thought, she reminded him of Channing Tatum with shaggy hair and looked like he needed some

loving. Seeing the wad of bills he had left she decided to pack up early and head home.

Dig felt a renewed sense of strength, the blond girls singing had lifted him up like a prayer. He still felt the burning sense of guilt,but the music had dulled it down. It felt right that he shouldn’t give in, he tottered on the edge of failure and got pulled back by a young girl playing out her heart for spare change on a side walk. No, he couldn’t give up, even AM said he had courage and he was not one

to use words lightly.

His friend needed him, and the world needed

protecting. If I ever give up my life, he thought, I’ll do it to protect the world and his friend. With his mind set, Dig headed for the Mifflin street subway station.

Abraham “AM” Lincoln woke up on the couch of

his apartment late in the afternoon, the lump on his head and the pain of his fall were both gone. When he returned after the rip, the historian in him cried out to see what changes had been wrought by the

tragedy of the bombing. He read the Daily News starting from the night of the fire on, but the change

in the universe was minuscule.

The club was never rebuilt, the lot stood empty and was now grass and weeds. The neighbors on

Juniper street for the most part moved back into there homes by the end of summer when the clean up was completed and the search for any clues

about the bombing was finished, to this day the reason remains a mystery, except to AM and Dig.

The police simply maintained it was a drug deal gone bad.

He felt deep sadness about what had happened to Dig. Wondering if he had been too hasty in

bringing Dig into the fold, but he didn’t think so.

Dig had fallen in love, the same as he did. He

hadn’t failed in retrieving the cubes, and worked tirelessly in doing so. Love couldn't destroy the world, Sister Eva had told him, but it rocked Dig's world pretty hard.

AM thought of those words and logged on to

Facebook. He typed in Angie’s name and saw her

profile picture. The banner picture showed her

getting a kiss on one cheek by a boy of about nine years of age, and the other cheek being kissed by a man about her age. Her last name was in

parenthesis’s, she was married now.

After a quick shower and shave, AM left the apartment for the subway hoping Dig would return but not believing he would. Even if Quake could figure out how to get the boxes to work properly.

Having someone along made the whole situation

more bearable, he wondered not for the first time if his Uncle Howdy ever thought about that.

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His mom and Aunt Patty said he was a private

person that only opened up at the stubborn

persistence of his brothers daughter. He sighed heavily realizing finally that he was not a private person at all but trying to keep a secret, a secret big enough to destroy the many versions of this Earth if the secret had been found out by the wrong people.

He felt upset by Quake and Dig getting off on the wrong foot as well, they had more in common than he did with his cousin, a strong dislike of bullies and a love of gaming, something AM was not

partial too, and they both had a determination in them to get things done that rivaled his own. AM

nosed his way through the pedestrians, waiting for the bus, to the door behind the subway station

feeling anxious to start ripping again to so he could forget about his problems in the present.

He made his way down the steel staircase into the

labyrinth hearing Quakes voice echo through the hallways. He sometimes left the door to the safe room open to let out the heat when summer was at its highest. He was usually only that hot and shouting when gaming online, he hoped that meant he made a break through with the box and was

blowing off steam.

He felt a little better as he got closer and saw the door propped open, but stopped dead cold when

another voice more familiar echoed with it.

“YOU FUCK!!!” Dig shouted in a high voice.

“Damn it!” AM said charging for the safe room.

AM ran through the doorway, getting ready to

break up what ever was brewing, and stopped on

the top step in utter amazement to see them both sitting side by side clicking away furiously on keyboards and mouse’s playing Call Of Duty.

Their backs were to him, hunched over in

concentration, looking into the large monitors that showed a graphical version of a European town decimated by war.

“You dumb Nazi fucker!” Dig said with pretend

disgust.

“See what happens when you fuck with the best!”

Quake said with a smirk that Dig answered with a smile and a middle finger.

“Ha, mother fucker! I got you that time, you bitch.”

Dig said with his own smirk.

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“Agwa! My finger slipped!” said Quake easily

enough and began guzzling a tall can of energy

drink that sweat as much as he did.

“Up your ass, maybe.” Dig looked over and saw

AM looking at them confused. “Hey there’s Mr

Lincoln, lookin confused.”

“Huh,” AM said feeling lost.

“Don’t he look confused man?” Dig said with a

slight elbow to Quakes ribs.

“Like a bisexual at an orgy.” he said still eyeing the computer screen, wearing his black horn

rimmed glasses that he wore only when gaming.

“What the hell is this?” AM asked expecting a

shouting match or possibly a fist fight having to be

stopped but not the companionable vulgar taunts of two friends gaming.

“PAC-Man, what does it look like?” Quake said

finally turning from the screen, wiping sweat from his brow with his arm.

“I just thought, well never mind.” AM said with a small smile “You’re back I see.” he said walking over and giving Dig a handshake.

“Yeah. I’m back, though chubby here says you may not need me anymore.” Dig said with a smirk and cocked a thumb at Quake.

“What do you mean?” AM asked.

“What this tall mother fucker means is, the box you found can control the Willies easier than a Stiffy.”

Quake said up ending a tall can of energy drink and set it down after loud belch.

“Really, how...”

Before AM could say anything, Quake took a newspaper, hidden between the metropolis of computer towers, that looked fresh and held it up

to AM without a word. It was the 11

Philadelphia Enquirer from the mid seventies, a picture of Richard Nixon was on the front, the

headline above it said Nixon Resigns in bold black font.

“You ripped?” AM asked taking the paper and

scanning the article below.

“Yeah, I did. No one was here and I stayed long enough to grab a paper, only a few hours passed here. I tell ya, I never saw uglier fuckin clothes. I still had to think of a clock and hold still but it was as easy as walking through a door.”

“Unbelievable,” AM said handing the paper back.

“what else did you find?”

“Never a thank you, ungrateful fuck.” Quake said with a shake of his head.

“Thank you, Quake” AM said with a roll of his

eyes “ what else did you find?”

Quake turned back to his computer screen and

exited out of the game and typed quickly on the

keyboard. The Earth appeared in 3d format with a blue worm hole hugging its surface, he tapped on the space key and zoomed in on the worm hole

where a tiny green dot was blinking.

“Here is the last cube of our universe,

approximately twenty five miles outside

Conshohocken PA.”

“When, what year?” AM asked licking his lips that felt as rough and dry as sandpaper.

“1863, May to be precise.” Quake said with a look over his shoulder seeing the worry in AM's face.

Dig looked at AM, then at Quake, then back at AM

before finally speaking.

“What? Why the long faces? This is good, isn’t it?

We'll be near home and we can walk it in a few

days, hell its nothing but nature trails, it'll be deserted.”

“Maybe, maybe not. In 1863 the country is the

middle of the Civil War. Pennsylvania is a border state, south of PA is the Conf...” the last word died on his lips with a sneer that looked vicious

“enemy.”

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“Oh,” Dig said feeling stupid “but that was mostly in the south wasn't it? The battles I mean.”

“Yeah, but the enemy sent raiders over to the

Union lines often in search of supplies, then there's Gettysburg. It will be fought just a few month after we arrive. Damn it!” AM said slamming his fist

down on the table were Quake and Dig sat, making them jump and knocking over a couple of empty

cans of energy drink, one of them hitting the floor with a hollow bonk.

“Relax cuz,” Quake said picking up the empty can and sitting it back on the table. “there's no

evidence the rebels ever got that far north. And Gettysburg is a lot miles south and west of

Conshohocken. You'll see blue backs long before any rebels.”

“And that’s not any better. Being found by the army whether our or theirs would be a recipe for

disaster. I want total anonymity. We might be digging up a cube while a regiment stops by to run a drill or on their way to the front lines, how are we to explain our presence wearing a headset

connected to a Qpad if they decided we were

spying for the south? They might line us up with a blind fold and a cigarette.”

“Shit. Could that happen?” Dig asked looking pale.

“Yes, I have no doubt. We need to keep low, this what I have been dreading. We may not see

anyone, but I hate the idea of being so close to history.”

“You might be over reacting ya know,” Quake said

“most of that area is forest. It still is, there's lots of places for the army to play, and there aren't any

roads where you'll be going.”

“I guess we'll find out soon enough. So what about the box, what did you find out about it.”

Quake got up and rummaged behind the towers and brought over the box minus it's cube like button.

There was a hole now where it once sat, its inside was lined with the plastic material that had a green tint to it, Dig put the keyboards and mice on top of the monitors, so Quake could sit the box down. The three of them stood over it looking down on the box.

“You should've pulled instead of pushing the

button. It comes right out, its like a router for a computer to pick up WIFI. It has the same hole for an adapter like the cubes, I used the router instead

of a cube on the Qpads. I picked up the signal for the last cube right away but

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we still need more cubes to locate the others, plus it makes ripping more accurate. Check this shit out.” he said proudly.

He took out the Qpad adorned with the doppler and pointed to a calender surrounded with blue swirls.

“There's also a way to pick the time you go, look here.”

On the right hand corner of the screen was an old fashioned alarm clock with two tiny gold bells on its top, the clocks hands stood at twelve. Quake was able to move the hands with his finger tip

easily.

“Go around once for morning, twice for afternoon and night. Easy as a drunk girl on prom night.”

Quake said with finality and handed AM the Qpad.

He gave Quake a big smile and shook his hand.

“You did good, Quake. Thank you. I wish you had let me do the test run though.”

“Gwakwa, I didn't think Dig would be back and figured I would test it to make sure it sent me to the right time. I didn't want you to get stuck again and planned on comin with you if you needed, but now that he's back I'm keepin my ass in 2011.”

“Come on, man. You don't wanna play war and

deal out lead to some rebel scum?” Dig said with a laugh.

“I deal in codes, bitch.” he said with a serious look.

“OK, so do we go now then?” Dig asked.

“No, not yet.” AM said. “We need to do a few

things first.”

An hour later Dig and AM sat in AM's car crossing the Delaware river on the Ben Franklin bridge

headed for New Jersey. The summer traffic going into the garden state was light and they were

Jersey side in minutes. Dig leaned his head out the window feeling the breeze rush through his hair making it whip wildly into his face.

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“So what happened with you two?” AM asked.

“Oh, well. I came back and he was playing

COD...” he said bringing his head back in.

“COD?” he asked confused.

“Call of Duty, the game.”

AM nodded finally understanding.

“He asked me to play so I played. We didn’t talk really. Just kind of shot the shit. Ya know?”

AM nodded, knowing it was mostly his Autism that kept Quake from being a big talker unless he was in a really good mood, or engaged in an online

‘clusterfuckin frag fest’ as Quake would call it sometimes.

“So why are we going to Jersey?” Dig asked.

“You are, I'm dropping you off at this place.”

AM handed his Qpad, that showed a web site, to Dig.

“Cherry Hill Dude Ranch. Why am I going to a

dude ranch? We’re not goin to the old west are

we?”

“No but there are not going to be any cars for

almost five decades. We'll need horses and I'm

guessing you have never ridden one.”

“No I haven’t you fuckin snob. Have you?” Dig

asked feeling intrigued by the idea.

“Yes, I went to this place every year from grade school on, they’ll make any city boy into a cowboy with enough time.”

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“Was it fun?” Dig asked scrolling the page that showed a girl of ten or twelve riding a large horse with the biggest grin Dig had ever seen.

“I didn't care for the horses.” he said with a quick look at Dig waiting for the follow up question.

“Why didn’t you like it. Looks pretty cool to me.”

he said handing the Qpad back.

AM sighed before answering.

“A horse broke my coccyx and I spent the summer of my junior year with my ass in a sling.”

Dig looked at AM trying not to laugh but couldn’t keep from holding it in. He put his hand over his eyes as he shook with laughter. AM kept his eyes on the road, letting Dig get over the laughing fit everyone seemed to acquire when he told them the story.

“So a horse broke your ass?” he said wiping tears of joy from his eyes his chest hitching with

laughter.

“Yes, I haven’t been on one since then and don’t look forward to getting on one again.” he said

ignoring Digs laughs.

“I’m sorry for laughing, did you piss it off or something?”

“I don’t know, I got down from it and walked behind it to grab my hat because it blew off and it gave kick with a hind leg that sent me head first into a bush. I had to use a bed pan for six weeks.”

“Shit...I mean uh.” Dig burst out with laughter again, and finally AM smiled a little.

“So how are you doing?” AM asked when Dig got

over his second laughing fit.

“I don’t know, I keep trying to forget it. I don’t know if that’s the right thing to do, but every time I think about it, I start blaming myself and...uh fuck I don’t know. I keep thinking its a bad dream I’m gonna wake up from but...I don’t know. It was my fault in the end so I don’t even want to think about it. I fucked up too much already.”

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“Dig, you’re human. Everybody....”

“Aw fuck that! I could’ve fucked the whole world up. I should’ve just stayed in that moldy ass

basement digging, she might still be alive, if I had.

It’s too late now, so fuck it. We got a job to do.

Right?”

Dig looked at AM, but he remained silent. He had the same thoughts when he left Angie, though she was able to continue her life unlike Marisa.

Telling him that might just reaffirm him that he should have never gone to the club that night, and would make him feel worse than he already did.

So he kept silent for the rest of the trip, by sunset they had reached the dude ranch.

They turned onto a dusty road with a large wooden sign on its left with the initials RR surrounded by a lasso design burned into the wood. The dude

ranch sat on thirty acres of land with a cozy

looking one story home at its edge that had a large barn off to its far left and a row of horse stables beside it. In the distance Dig could see an old man leading a horse into one of the stables. It was a large animal, its muscles rippled under its dark brown hide, but looked docile as its tail swished at the flies that buzzed it.

Dig got out of the car and was greeted by the

pleasant smell of hay and sweet grass and the

whinny of a horse, presumably the one he saw

being led into the stable. AM stayed in the car and began counting out hundred dollar bills while Dig took in the scenery, it may have been south Jersey, but to Dig it could have easily been a ranch in the old west, there was scrub brush dotted through out the area.

AM got out of the car holding the stack of bills walking over to Dig.

“Take this, and take it to the old man at the stable, his name is Red Ramblin. He’s expecting you, I’ll be back in a few days if you can still walk.”

“Red Ramblin? That’s a hell of a cowboy name.

What are you gonna do until then?” he asked taking the money and shoving it into his back pocket.

“Research, were going to be leaving from

Philadelphia in 1863, and I don’t know the layout of Conshohocken that far back, and a new

wardrobe. We’ll be talking to people more than I’d like but that will be unavoidable, we’ll need to buy horses.”

“Your worried we’ll get found out? Don’t be so

paranoid.”

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“Paranoia is one thing, caution is another. Good luck, and tell Red to try and leave you in one

piece.” he said shaking Dig’s hand and made his way back to his car.

“You make it sound like I’m gonna kill myself.”

Dig said with a half smile.

“You will if you don’t listen to Red, trust me.” AM

said before starting the car and driving off.

With a honk of his horn AM headed back to the city of Philadelphia. Already planning where to begin his pre rip journey, he had plenty of places to go for period clothing that would be as good as the garments that were worn back in the mid nineteenth century, he wanted to look exactly like any traveler of that era.

He was meticulous about his dress when ripping, to the point were Quake had on numerous

occasions called him anal. But never paranoid, Dig saying that caused him to think for half a moment.

“Am I paranoid?” he asked the empty car.

In all his rips, he had never been accosted or

bothered by anyone except during the rip to 1993.

He blamed himself for that lapse, he knew the crime statistics for the city and never bothered to factor that in, perhaps being more paranoid would have prevented the events of 1993 from happening.

“It’s all in the past now,” he said to the empty car.

They had no one to worry about now, there were

no enemies. It was just himself and Dig that would be out there, with Quake back home in the safe

room. As long as they watched out for one another and kept both eyes open and be more careful about where they were going, surely trouble wouldn’t

cross their paths.

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