Cragbridge Hall, Volume 2: The Avatar Battle (6 page)

“Because of the substantial amount of energy it takes, he must store enough to power the burst,” Grandpa explained. “That’s probably why he has taken so long to act. Some friends and I have devised some equipment to register such a large amount of energy. There was another burst nearly ten minutes ago.”

Amazing. Abby knew her grandpa had been busy while she was studying, writing papers, and preparing for tests, but she hadn’t known that he had been working on equipment to detect energy bursts.

Grandpa’s old but agile hands worked the Bridge. “We must be quick,” he said. In the far half of the room a faded image began to form. Two men walked down a sidewalk between a tall brick building and a road. The building was several stories tall, with rounded windows on top and pillars supporting decorative eaves. The men both wore suits, one dark with a matching hat, the other a nearly white coat and dark pants. One of the men carried a dark brown leather suitcase.

“This is Germany in early May, 1937,” Grandpa explained. Then he sped up the image. The two men walked down the street and turned. Then they disappeared. “This is the moment Muns’s men are in time.” Grandpa rewound the image and they appeared again. “They have not changed anything yet. Coming in through a burst is disorienting, so it buys us some time.”

Grandpa cleared his throat. “The men just spent what would be thousands of dollars today to book passage on the
Hindenburg
. Now, like all the other passengers, they are probably going into town to buy dinner before the flight, and it is our chance to stop them.”

“What’s the
Hindenburg
?” Abby asked.

Grandpa worked the controls at the console of the Bridge. In a moment, the scene before them faded and another appeared. What looked like a magnificent blimp floated in the air across the room. It was massive, several football fields in length, like an ocean liner in the sky. It glided over a large city with crowded streets of people gazing up at the amazing flying spectacle, taking pictures.

A question formed in Abby’s mind, but she sensed now was not the time to ask.

“This blimp, or dirigible, is the
Hindenburg
,” Grandpa said. The wind shifted, and the large vessel slewed closer to what appeared to be a giant tower. Another giant gust hit and the blimp began to try to turn around. Abby marveled at the dirigible. “As our history now stands, the end of this flight of the
Hindenburg
destroyed dirigible travel forever,” Grandpa said.

In a flash, the massive blimp burst into flames.

Abby couldn’t tell what started the fire, but it spread in a hurry. The back half of the dirigible exploded in flame and smoke. Gasps turned into screams. The massive craft sunk as the blazes engulfed it.

“It was a terrible tragedy,” Grandpa said. “The
Titanic
of the sky.”

Abby swallowed hard. That was fitting—the kind of detail Muns would use in his revenge. Abby, Derick, and the others had foiled Muns’s last attempt on the
Titanic
, so now he was going to alter the fate of the
Titanic
of the sky.

“I believe these intruders in the past are going to try and stop it.” Grandpa raised his hand. “Though that may be appealing on the surface, it could have disastrous consequences. He may prevent one terror, but that act could cause many more. It may change everything from then until now. Some people would survive that did not survive in our current history. Those people would interact with others, changing what is now our past. They could marry, which would change the families we now have. They could cause new accidents; their children could do the same. People who exist now might disappear because their parents never married or died in the alternate history. This could change entire countries. Leaders may never be born. It could change even the course of our reality.” He waved his cane emphatically. “We must stop Muns before he changes the past and sends us all on a path to destruction.”

• • •

Could he do this? Could he charge an enemy when he didn’t have any ammunition? Derick looked around at the men and boys with him. Would they? Could they face almost certain death?

Someone yelled, intense and shrill. Soon more battle cries from his regiment blended into one cacophonous roar. They held their guns firmly and began to charge down the hill. Soldier after soldier passed Derick. They were risking it all. Was it this important that the United States stay together? If they didn’t stay together, would the slaves be freed in all the states? Would all the states progress as they had? Would they then be able to stand against others in world wars? Derick wasn’t sure of all the answers, but he knew this moment was important. But was it important enough to die for? He wasn’t sure what reasons each of these men had, but they acted. They bravely rushed their enemy.

Derick looked at his legs, willing them to move. He knew this was a simulation, yet he didn’t want to feel the bullets, the pain. It was not his life on the line, but he still wavered.

Something caught his attention ahead—a sword flashing. A man in a uniform much like Derick’s was charging down the hillside. He was some sort of leader, but Derick didn’t know his name. Doubt and wonder swirled through Derick’s mind as the man raced a good ten paces ahead of all his men. He would be the first to meet the enemy. He would be the prime target. Yet he charged on.

Derick had to have the same character, the same heart as these men if he was going to pass the test. He had to truly be willing to die.

Derick searched himself. He had to fight against a different enemy, one who would change history, maybe even destroy it all. He had to gain his key, his weapon, but first he would have to be willing to charge down a hill almost without one.

Derick groaned, letting the deep sound grow into a yell. He leaned forward and began to speed down the hill. He gained momentum, rushing down the mountainside with his musket extended in front of him, a dirty bayonet on its tip.

He leapt over a tree root and shifted to avoid a patch of uneven ground. He pushed himself harder, trying to catch up to the men who bravely charged in front of him. He tried not to imagine himself—and the whole line of men with him—gunned down as they tried to do something brave.

Adrenaline pulsed through him. He felt courageous.

Until he saw the enemy with their guns raised.

• • •

Abby imagined what life might be like if the
Hindenburg
hadn’t caught on fire. Would they have modern dirigibles? She couldn’t help but wish to ride in one. But as for Grandpa’s arguments, she had heard them before—and so had the coaches. It was hard to swallow at first, but she understood. Grandpa must have been giving the speech for Mackleprank.

“Plus,” Grandpa continued, “we need tragedies. They teach us. We learn from them. Without tragedies, our hearts do not commit to avoid future ones. Without tragedies, many of our hearts would not turn to others, open up to them. And without tragedies, we do not have heroes, for they are not formed without great conflicts. For example,” Grandpa fast-forwarded the image, “I believe there are some heroes in this very event.” The flaming blimp approached a spot to land and anchor. In the middle of all the chaos, a boy ran from his safety on the ground into the flames, trying to save the others.

Abby wondered if she could run into a fire to help.

“I do not know his name. I haven’t had time to study this episode in history, but I remember his courage.”

“Harry J. King,” Coach Horne said, his fingers moving, looking up the information on his rings. “He was a baggage handler.”

“Thank you,” Grandpa said to the coach. “He deserves to be remembered.” He turned back to everyone. “This is what I propose, though it will require your trust. Abby, Coach Adonavich, and I will turn our keys. Then we will send Dr. Mackleprank in to retrieve the two men and bring them back out through the Bridge.”

Send in Dr. Mackleprank? That wasn’t what Abby was expecting.

“No disrespect to Mackleprank,” Coach Horne said, “but shouldn’t Coach Adonavich and I go in as well? That way we guarantee we get it done.” That made sense. Especially since Coach Horne was a former world champion weight lifter and Coach Adonavich had been an Olympic gymnast.

“You are still recovering from the last Bridge incident,” Coach Adonavich said, motioning toward Coach Horne’s chest and leg, where he had taken two bullets at the beginning of the school year. “I’ll join Dr. Mackleprank.”

“I hoped both of you would be willing to stand by if we needed your physical prowess,” Grandpa said to the two coaches. “However, I am going to ask you to wait and only cross into the past if necessary. The fewer people we send means the smaller chance of doing irreparable harm. I think we’ll find that Dr. Mackleprank is aptly suited for the task. Though he does not have a key, I trust him completely and have invited him here precisely for this chore.” He nodded in the doctor’s direction.

Dr. Mackleprank looked at Grandpa, his eyes wide. Abby thought he looked nervous. “I’m more than willing, but are you sure?”

“Yes,” said Grandpa. “If anything goes wrong we will send the two coaches in after you.” He looked over at the coaches for confirmation. They nodded.

“If I can get in okay, we should be fine,” Dr. Mackleprank said.

Abby wasn’t sure what that meant. Did he doubt that he could actually go back in time? She didn’t blame him; this was all new to him. She might wonder too if she hadn’t already seen—and done—it. She remembered crossing over, the heat and then the chill. She remembered the terror she faced. She knew firsthand that it worked.

“I ask you to please trust me,” Grandpa said. “That includes Dr. Mackleprank.”

“But if I am manning the keys,” Coach Adonavich said, “I will be several steps away from entering the past if Dr. Mackleprank needs me.”

“True,” Grandpa admitted. “I would feel much better if you didn’t have to worry about the keys and could simply stand ready to enter the past if necessary. It would be ideal if we had one more person here with a key.”

• • •

Derick’s voice joined the shrill yell. More gunfire from the enemy.

He could see them clearer now, but he saw something new in their faces—surprise. There was no way they would have expected this. The distance shortened. They would meet in thirty feet.

More shots. More echoing yells.

Several men fell.

Twenty feet.

Some of the enemy started to turn and run.

Fifteen.

Their shooting was more accurate now, the men so close. Still more of the opposing army pivoted and looked downhill.

Ten.

The charge with bayonets was sweeping the enemy back down from where they had climbed.

Ugh!

Derick fell back, reeling to the right. He hit the ground hard, scratching dirt deep into his forehead. He clutched at his chest and rolled over.

He had been shot.

Derick slowly stood, wincing and gritting his teeth. A ball of metal was somewhere between his ribs. He glanced down at his hand and then his chest. Blood. Dark red everywhere.

He tried to raise his gun, but fell forward. He plunged the bayonet into the dirt and used the musket for a brace. He couldn’t give up now.

7

Stand Back

Grandpa put his key in the console. Abby reached down and once again pulled on the upper rim of her belt buckle. The buckle shifted and she pressed her finger against the metal compartment underneath. It quickly verified the tiny ridges in her fingerprint and opened to reveal her key.

She placed the metal key in the slot next to her grandfather.

Coach Adonavich ran her thumb along the side of her shoe. A slot in the heel opened and she pulled out her key. Grandpa had obviously been very busy helping all those with keys to keep them secret and safe. Abby wondered if he had set up the same system in several different styles of shoes so Coach Adonavich could always have the key with her. He had made Abby several belts for that reason. The coach stepped forward with her key.

• • •

Derick fought to keep the pain from taking over his mind, his whole body. He had to keep going. He had to have the heart of the men around him. It was not whether he was shot or not. It was whether he kept trying.

Derick gritted his teeth and lifted his bayonet in front of him. His mind felt slow and hazy. Maybe it would be better to lay down and rest, hoping someone could give him some medical attention. Pain pulsed through him again. It gripped his mind.

No. His fellow soldiers were still running down the mountain with only bayonets as weapons. They needed him.

He screamed, the sound drowning out the pain. He moved his body down the mountain, each step uneven, but he began to gain momentum.

Then he saw an enemy soldier, his gun pointed at Derick.

This was it.

He could move on with one musket ball to the ribs, but he knew he couldn’t take another.

The only thing Derick knew to do was barrel onward. He took in another breath and screamed again.

The enemy looked up from his gun and looked around. Then he raised his barrel to the sky.