Category: Writers Block
Don started running as soon as he heard the "mayday" call come over the radio. He knew he was a dead man, but he wasn't about to just sit there and do nothing. He started running across the desert sand forgetting about the early afternoon hot sun beating down on him and the burning sensation in his throat from the dry air. He made it only 50 feet, when the explosion, some two miles away, sent him flying into the air and then slamming him with such force into the ground that it made a crater 2 feet deep, where he then lay. Dust and sand went into his mouth and eyes as what seemed like an extremely violent dust storm raged all around him. His body went numb, but he could still think clearly. "How could this be happening in my country? Why," he thought coughing and hacking on dust and trying to breathe the now even more dry and hot air. He then had the feeling of weightlessness, as if he were floating on air into space. He could not smell or feel anything else now. He could hear, however.
There was no noise associated with the blast, but it was definantly powerful. Captain John Hitchcock was doing role call on the central military frequency just after the explosion. Don knew it was Hitchcock because of the thick New England accent. by 6 yankee 5?" No answer. Captain Hitchcock again. "Attention all units. Report immediately to the sight of the explosion! Many sgps systems are down and many officers are unaccounted for at this time."
He was doing a role call of all units within a 5-mile radius of the blast. All personnel had super global positioning systems, or SGPS, transceivers imbedded into their skin so whoever was running command could keep track of all personnel. "6 bravo 4?" Don knew that was his call sign, but he was completely paralyzed. It was as if he didn't exist or that he was just listening to the radio and not in the situation. "6 bravo 4, this is central command, over?" He tried to respond, but couldn't. "4 x-ray 4, you copy?" "Go ahead central." "Standby, I'm sending you 6 bravo 4's coordinates. I want you to go look for him, standby."
Don heard the packet of data being transmitted over the network, but couldn't reach his display to see where he was. Even if he could, his eyes were not working so it wouldn't have done him any good anyway. After that, there was yet another Earth rattling explosion, but Don was too removed from the situation
to even really notice. Clouds of dust flew up around Don and he could do nothing, but lay where he was. After this, the communications system went berzerk.
Don couldn't monitor any more of the communications because the explosion had some how forced the ear bug he was wearing out of his ear. He heard a helicopter in the distance along with sirens and posibly gun fire. The helicopter soon took all other sounds away as it came in for a landing on the hot desert. Was that the enemy? No! Don thought about moving, but couldn't feel anything to try it. All he could do was lay there in fear and prey that he wouldn't be captured. Then Don heard someone calling his name. "Don! Don! Oh shit, Don! Bill, give me a hand, I found him, and I think he's dead!" Don could not see, smell or feel. "He's alive colonel. Unconscious, but alive. What do you want to do?" "We'll stay with him and try to revive him."
Don heard himself groan in pain as soon as he began to feel his head. "Dr, he's coming to." "Yes I know, but if he does, the pain alone may kill him. I'll give him some drugs to keep him unconscious. Get on the radio and let central know what's up. Tell them we need a medic chopper out here ASAP. What little equipment we have won't do at all. he's going to have to be stabalized from here all the way to Cape Verde."
Then Donheard a loud beeping noise. The next thing he knew, he was lying in a warm bed and listening to an alarm go off. He wondered where he was. It sounded like his old clock radio from when he was a boy, but that was impossible. Maybe I'm in a hospital. Thank God I lived this long. What the hell was that annoying beeping noise?
Then, there was a knock at the door. "Come on Don get up. Your alarm has been going off for the last five minutes." Don stretched out his legs and realized they must have had him in a long bed. His feet normally hang off just about every bed he had ever layed on since he was a teen-ager. Was that Dad? "Dad?" "Yeah, who did you think it was God himself?" Don realized that his voice sounded different. High pitched and funny. His father's voice sounded much younger too now that he thought about it. Don thought maybe he was on some weird hallucinogenic drug. His father opened the door. "What's the matter Don? Are you feeling ok?" "Yeah, sure Dad. It's just that my voice sounds kind of funny." "Well, you are a growing boy. After all, you are twelve,"
said his father with a smile.
Don thought about this for a second and said: "What year is this? What day is it, Dad? What on Earth are you talking about?" He was still in a daze; overwhelmed by it all. "Ah come on Donny snap out of it. You can't sleep all day you know. I have your birthday present ready. I think you'll like it." Don finally opened his eyes very slowly, realizing that he could indeed see again. What he saw, stunned him. There was his father, looking just like he did when Don was, about, well, twelve. His hair had just started graying and he had about 1 tenth of the amount of wrinkles on his face than the last time Don saw him. Not only did this shock him, but the fact that he was in his room at home in Montana where he hadn't been since the start of the war also shocked him. Then Don remembered what he had gotten for his 12th birthday. "You mean the rifle?" His father now had a disappointing look on his face. "Oh, so you know what I got you already. How did you know?" Don looked at his father, sort of confused. "Oh, I don't know." "Well, I guess I must have given it away somehow. Anyway, come downstairs and open it when you are ready. Breakfast will be on the table in five minutes. I cooked your favorite; bacon, eggs and sausage." "Sounds good, I'll be down in five minutes," Don said slowly sitting up in bed as his father left the room.
Don slowly dressed in what must have been what he wore the day before. He looked in his closet to try and refamiliarize himself with what was there. He looked through the drawers in his dresser. Not too many clean clothes left. Just a couple of t-shirts and some sweatshirts left. He then stepped back and caught a reflection of himself in the mirror on the back of the closet door. "wooo," he mumbled aloud. Was that really him? No goattee and with a full head of hair? How could this be happening and what made it happen? As he was dressing, his military-trained mind made him stay calm, go with the flow at least until he could devise a plan. It was like no other sort of situation he or anyone else that he knew had gone through. Don knew what had happened in the battle had really occurred and he expected to die. But this? He didn't know what it was. Perhaps this was the after life. No, that couldn't be, it was too real. Not wanted to delay his father any longer, Don decided he could have a better look around later. God, this was so strange.
Don then went downstairs and it was all just how he remembered it being as a boy. Situated just past the bottom of the stairs was a hallway. Immediately
to the left was the kitchen, straight ahead was the front door leading out to the garage and off to the right was the living room. His father was waiting in the kitchen with breakfast already on the table and he was eating. "Hey Dad, I hope it tastes at least half as good as it smells." "Well, sit your butt down and find out young man, or should I say not quite so young anymore. What are your plans for today?" "Well, since I have the day off school, I think I'll read a book or something. Don't really have too much planned, why?" "Oh, just wondering. A book, a? I'm glad to hear that you are starting to read more. I guess you are growing into a man. Where do you want to go eat tonight? At Red Lobster?" Don had a hard time not reacting to the "almost a man" statement. "Uh, I thought that, um, oh, yeah that sounds great!" Don knew that the Red Lobster in town had burnt down, but apparently, that hadn't happened yet. "What's the matter? Would you rather go some place else?" "No, no, no. Sounds great!" "That's better. Say, after breakfast, would you mind going out and getting The Daily out of the mailbox while I clean up here?" "Yeah no problem Dad," Don said thinking that would be a very good opportunity to check out what date it was. Don's father finished eating first and decided to take a shower before cleaning up the kitchen. This left Don to think on his own.
"My twelfth birthday was September 10, 2001. Of course! The day after I turned 12, was that dreaded day. The day that changed everything. Was there a now a way to prevent it from happening? Maybe this is not really happening. Maybe I'm in a coma in a hospital and am dreaming. No, that couldn't be. This was real. If it's real," Don continued thinking, "than I can save thousands of lives, but how? I couldn't just call the World Trade Center with a bomb threat. I'm 12 again, not 32. And even if I managed to make people evacuate the Pentagon and World Trade Center, before the attacks, the authorities would suspect me of being involved somehow. Who could I talk to about this? The few friends I made in the army were right around my age and the only general I really knew was a real dishonest, power hungry prick. If I tried to contact the president himself, the White House would just think I was another wacko. Dad is the only one I know who might believe and stick by me. besides He's all I have left now. Time to go get the newspaper."
Don stepped out into a still crisp cool Montana morning. There was a bit of fog off to the east, but the sun was rapidly burning that off. As soon
as he retrieved the newspaper, he looked at the front page to confirm that he was indeed correct about today's date. Then, he gasped in horror and looked at it again not believing what he saw. "Tuesday September 11, 2001. How could that be? Then, he remembered vaguely that his Dad was in Billings and came back a day after his 12th birthday. After running back in the house, Don found his watch and looked at it and gasped again. 10-00 AM. That meant it was 12 noon on the east coast and that the World Trade Center was already history and there was not a damn thing he could do about it. His father turned from doing dishes. "I said I wanted the paper pretty quick, but you didn't have to run back here like a mad man." "Dad, something terrible has happened! Haven't you turned on the TV?" "Nah, why bother? I'm going to read the paper now." "Because the World Trade Center was hit by two airplanes earlier this morning and the pentagon too." "What? How do you know?" His father didn't wait for an answer, but ran into the living room to turn the only TV they had in the house on. Sure enough, there were the horrific pictures. Just as Don had remembered them the first time. Don couldn't watch the little 13-inch screen TV. He was too busy thinking and he had seen it all too many times before. He had to tell his father about what had happened. A knock at the door interrupted Don's thoughts. His father rushed by him to answer the door. Don followed him into the hallway to see who it was. It was Jace Crouch the Pastor. Don knew instantly what was going to happen, but this time he would take the future in to his own hands. He would not standby and let the only person he truly loved and respected, be humiliated.
Want to read more? Let me know so that I'm not posting all of this stuff for nothing. If not, that's fine too.
of course you are not writing for nothing lol. i enjoy it very much. can i have more? thanks KC. is touching lol.
Scottaquito,
It's good! keep it comin'.
Like the discription... when did you start writen' this?
Take care,
CRG
Pastor Crouche was a tall lanky man in his 30s with a crew cut. He had been the Pastor of Don's family's church for 2 years now. His first funeral was Don's mother's. Since then, him and his father stopped believing in all of that religious mumbo jumbo. "Sorry to bother you Mr. Woolie." "That's quite alright Father. What can I do for you?" "I was wondering if I might borrow a gun from you. I have a dog out on the farm that is quite ill and I need to put it out of it's misery." "I understand. Well, I have a Remington I could loan you, but you'll have to bring it right back in case I'm called out on duty." "Well, I was hoping for something small and light. People may take offense to seeing me walk around with a gun. Especially after this morning's events." "Well, maybe the Colt will work then." Don jumped into the conversation then. "Why not the Bereta Dad? You probably won't use that one. I'll go get it, hold on." Before either man could object, Don was off running up the stairs three at a time. Once he was upstairs, Don didn't go to his father's room. He made a b-line for the phone in his room and called the local county sheriff. "Straw speaking." Everyone in the county knew that Bob Straw was the sheriff, so there was no further introduction necessary. "Good morning Bob, it's Jason Woolie." Don said in the deepest voice he could muster. Straw knew his father because his father was on the town's watch committee that was recently formed because of the rise in crime. "Oh hi Jason, I was going to call you about patrol hours soon, but I'm glued to the..." "Bob listen, Pastor Crouche just came by my house and wanted to borrow one of my guns. I had no reason to tell him no, but he's on his way back home now to kill his wife." "What the hell are you talking about Jason?" "Get someone out there now before it's too late. He told me he needed the gun to put down a suffering dog. The problem with that story is that he doesn't have a dog." With that, Don hung up the phone and ran to get the gun Pastor Crouche had requested. He found the gun in the top drawer of his father's nightstand and expertly took the gun apart and pulled out the firing pin. Don loaded the gun quickly, flipped the safety off and ran back downstairs.
"What took so long Donny?" "Sorry Dad. I couldn't find the shells to load the thing. Anyway, Pastor, here it is. The safety is already off, so all you have to do is pull the trigger. It's all loaded and ready to go." Don's father gave him a strange look. "Do you understand how it works father," asked his father. "Yes, I do. I sure hate to do this, but the Lord would hate me if I didn't." "Yes, I see. Well just be sure to return it ASAP." "Yes, I will. Thank you Mr. Woolie and you to Donny." With that, the Pastor was gone. Don couldn't believe what he may have just done. Saved his father a lot of trouble, the Pastor's wife's life and this was only within a few minutes. What could he do in a few years? After his father waved goodbye to Father Crouche, (Don's friend Mike and him called him Father Crotch), he motioned for Don to come into the living room. "I think we need to talk." Don followed his father into the living room his heart racing, ears ringing and mind thinking so fast Don could not process his own thoughts anymore. He had a seat on the only easy chair in the room across from the love seat, which was now their only couch. They had other furniture before, but it brought back too many memories of Don's mother. "Yeah Dad?" "Why were you acting like that when Father Crouche was here? How do you know so much about guns, Don? Yes, I did get you a rifle for your birthday, but that by no means makes you an expert on such matters. You haven't even seen the damn thing yet! And why did you insist on the bareta anyway?" Don had the answer to the last question and he heard himself blurt it out. "Because, I know how to take the firing pin out of that gun." "Are you telling me that you took the firing pin out of that gun I just gave Jace? That Pastor is going to be one pissed off man, Don. And he's going to blame me for the defective gun," his father shouted his face fuming. And then, his father had a big grin on his face. "Hahahahaha! You got me Donny! Hahaha you smart little shit you! Hahaha!" Don hated to burst his bubble, but he had no choice. "I'm afraid to tell you that I'm not kidding Dad," Don said pulling the firing pin out of his pants pocket and holding it up for his father to see. "Why did you do that?" "Dad, Jace Crouche was not going to use that gun to help a helpless dog, he was going to shoot his wife and then himself." "What?" "The man is a lunatic. Probably has schizophrenia or something. He sees visions, hears voices, and talks to disembodied spirits. Probably one of Those voices in his head put him up to this mess. I figure a man like that should not be trusted with a gun. At any rate, I phoned the sheriff while I was upstairs, telling him that I was you and alerted him of the situation." "You what? Donny, what the hell has gotten into you! Do you know what sort of trouble you're getting me into? You could land me in jail by doing shit like this!" His father looked like his eyes were about ready to pop out of their sockets. "Calm down Dad, calm down. That's what is going on. The cops will be by and I want you to take credit for doing this. If by chance it fails, then tell them I did it. But if it's true, I do not want the publicity and I don't think it'll do you any good either. But had this gone through, you would have been a ruined man Dad. After all, it would have been your gun that killed them." "Donny! What in the hell are you talking about? I am now a ruined man because of your foolishness!" "Dad! Please just listen to me and trust me once. We'll know what's going on in a few minutes. And I can assure you, the outcome won't be what you expect." "Why, what are you, the beholder of the future or something?" "Yeah, something like that," Don said with a smile. His father was not at all amused.
Ten minutes later, the sheriff himself showed up. Don's father let him in nervously. "Well Jason, I don't know how you spotted what was going on, but when we busted the door down at Crouche's place a few minutes ago, he was cursing God and holding your Bareta to his wife's forehead. He was trying to fire it, but it was nonoperational. He's in the county jail now and if you can later, please stop by so we can take a statement from you. How can we reward you?"? You don't need to Bob. I prefer that this be kept quiet. The fact that the woman is still alive and that maniac is behind bars is enough for me." "Are you sure? It could do miracles on your reputation." "Yes, I know. I don't want to be viewed as anything other than your average everyday citizen though. If it's alright with you, I'll drop by in the morning to give you the mandatory statement." Bob looked a bit puzzled when Jason said all this, but went along with it. "No problem. Thank you for letting us know. Here's your gun back. We got Mr. Crouche's confession already so we will not be needing it. I have to get back to work. I just wanted to drop by and let you know what a hell of a job you did this morning." "Thanks sheriff. Glad I could help," Don's father said sort of uneasily. Don's father walked the sheriff to the door and they said their goodbyes. Don was in shock. It had worked! Now that his Father was letting the sheriff go, Don could escape to his room and do some thinking.
An hour or so later, Don's father called him back downstairs. Don took the notes he had written with him. What was there was by no means a finished product, but it was a good start. So, he went back down to the livingroom to talk with his father. "Ok Donny, now we really need to have a talk. How did you know this was going to happen? No bullshit now, I want the truth. What happened to you?" Don looked over at his father a bit apprehensively. "i wish I knew myself Dad. All I know for sure is that my last memory before awaking this morning was of being injured in an explosion. Someone picked me up, gave me a narcotic injection and then I was in my bed upstairs and the year is now 2001." by 2021! Yes, you will be 32 in 2021, but you must have just had a nightmare or something. Anything else is just ludicrous Don!" "Well, I thought maybe that was the case, but I haven't the slightest idea
what happened yesterday, September 10, 2001." "That's serious." "You don't have any idea how serious. I am here with the full knowledge of my future Dad. I thought maybe it was a nightmare too, but then the terrorist attacks happened just like I remembered them happening, Crouche came by asking for a gun just like I remembered it, so it must be true." "That's impossible!" "Well, maybe you think so, but Dad, I can speak seven languages I couldn't yesterday; French, German, Spanish Italian, Chinese, Korean, and a bit of Africaans. I remember 4 years of high school, another 5 at Boston College and then doing research with the US army on weapons development and designing a missile defense system which orbits the Earth. I was on reserve and was called up during the attempted siege of New Gallis in Arizona by the New League of Nations; Russia China, Cuba, and many other countries. Do you think I could have learned seven languages over night and that a 12 year old can make this stuff up?" His father then switched to Italian. "Ju ful merda!" (you're full of shit) Don then laued and said "va' a farti fatter Dad!" (fuck you Dad) After another few exchanges of words which set both of their moods to a bit of a lighter tone, Don's father realizes that Don just had an argument with him in Italian. They had been to Italy once when Don's mother was still alive to visit her parents, but Don didn't want anything to do with the language. "How could this happen then?" "I don't know. I was reading up on time theories awhile back, or I should say I will in 15 years and no one seems to know much about the whole concept. Other than that time seems to exists as a parallel dimension. Somehow, I must have been thrown back along it. Maybe from whatever was in the bomb, maybe the narcotic injection, or maybe a combination of the two. Either way, I'm here now and I know what is going to happen 5, 10, 15, even 20 years from now. We have a chance to change that Dad. But do you believe me?" "Well, I guess I have no other choice. But, Don, one man can't change the world." "If I already have stopped to deaths from occurring in a matter of hours, think of what the two of us could do in 20 years Dad." his So, if you can tell the future, why don't you tell me who planned these attacks." "We don't know for certain. The government will blame it on the Teliban and then we will overthrow the afghan government. In two years, Bush goes after Iraq and in three amd a half the US and it's allies pull out of Iraq in humiliation 2 years after Bush declares victory. It will break the UN apart, this whole thing. In another eight years, the New League of Nations is formed and it's all down hill from there." "So how can we prevent all of this from happening?" his father asked.
l organization here in Montana in 5 years and" "But we don't have any money Don." "We will. I know who won each year's Stanley cup, super bowl, NBA championship, and even some major Kentucky derby events. I wrote a list earlier. We make money betting off that." Don put the list in his father's lap. "Gambling?" "No, not at all. You don't gamble on a sure thing, do you? Anyway, after we haul in some cash, and form a political organization, I think we can elect you president by 2012. besides That's when we get a president which really turns things in the wrong direction. He was good to his wife and signed a good tenor, but that's all. Through his adapted foreign policies, he the war on our soil." "Me president? I know nothing about international decisions." "I do Dad. I know all of the wrong ones. besides Who would not vote for someone that is always right?" "Ok, so how do I start?" "Judge Branson will call soon. As I remember it, that happened about an hour, cops showed up with your gun and the news of the homicide-suicide. Needless to say, they weren't too happy about who you gave that gun to. That was around 11-00 when they showed up, it's now 12-40, so that call will come soon. He's going to ask you to help him run for mayor of Billings. That call is important because it can be the beginning of our plan." "One more thing, how about me. No never mind, I don't want to know when I die." "Couldn't tell you that anyway Dad. I saw you the day I flew out of here. You were 68 and still flying your own plane." The phone rings. "Answer it Dad, I'll tell you what to say." "Hello, yes this is Jason Woolie." Don suddenly had a bad headache and the next thing he knew he was back in Arizona. "I'm afraid we lost him colonel. He's dead. Write it down on the dead list. Don Woolie captain. Dead, November 3, 2021. Sure is a shame." "Yeah, isn't it always doctor?" Don then heard his father shouting his name. "Donny! Are you all right? I have the judge on the phone what do I tell him?" What was going on? Don thought he slept in his room last night. "What are you talking about Dad?" "You mean you don't remember? The battle of New Galous? What do I tell the judge?" "What do you mean tell the judge? What's the matter?" "You don't remember. I'll have to do it all by myself. If time does indeed exist as a parallel dimension, you must have died out there, but I have to stop that from happening. I have to save your life." "Dad, what are you talking about? I said I'd help you plow the fields tomorrow if that's what you mean. How did I get down here Dad?" "No Don. Never mind, you're too yung to know now." "Too yung?" said donny sitting up with a yawn. "What do you mean too yung dad. I'm 12 now, remember? Hey, what'd you get me for my birthday dad? You have been telling me about how much I'll like this present, so can I have it now? What is it? I'm dying to know."
hmmm, interesting
I agree with the last poster.