Prisoner in Time (Time travel) (32 page)

“They’re coming. I see ‘em,” Geoff shouted anxiously.

Seconds later, David stood next to him and took aim.

“Man, they’re a long ways out. Any tips for a non-sharp shooter?” he asked.

“Yeah, breathe out and shoot,” Geoff replied quickly. Seeing a puzzled look on David’s face, he continued, “Take a breath, then exhale. At the bottom of that breath, you’ll have a couple of seconds to shoot. Aim fast and steadily squeeze the trigger. When you do this, it forces you to shoot instead of aiming over and over, growing more inaccurate by the second.”

David practiced the instructions. He breathed out, sighted his rifle, then pretended to squeeze the trigger. He repeated the process several more times, as Geoff watched the soldiers nearing.

Staring across the field, Geoff’s nerves were frayed. With moisture building up in his hands, he shook them out, wiped them on his pants, then returned them to his rifle. David watched the teen as he tried to cope with the stress of the battle.

“Good luck, Geoff. I know you’ll do fine. I’ve watched you. You have more courage and skill than most of those veterans down there,” he said, pointing down the bluff to the skirmish line.

“Yeah, right,” he responded, sarcastically.

“No, I’m serious. You have a strength that others don’t. If you can just keep a cool head, I’m sure you’ll be ok.”

“And what about you? Aren’t you scared? Or do you have
nerves of steel
,” he replied, accentuating his words for humor.

David stared at Geoff. His face lost all expression.

“To be perfectly honest… I’m scared shitless. It never gets any easier,” he replied.

Geoff nodded in understanding and smiled, happy he wasn’t alone in his fears.

Glancing back to the Union line, he immediately stiffened and took aim.

“This is it,” he said, grimly. “They’re about three hundred yards away.”

“Ready when you are. I’ll fire after you,” David said, his heart now pounding wildly.

Seconds later, Geoff breathed out, and squeezed the trigger. The rifle roared to life. In the distance, a man in blue fell to his knees.

David took a deep breath and exhaled. Instantly, he jerked the trigger back, bringing the rifle to life. As Geoff reached for his next weapon, David watched the Union line for results. Realizing he missed, he began to reload his weapon.

Geoff squeezed his trigger and quickly picked up his next rifle. Out in the field, another man fell. He aimed the weapon, squeezed the trigger once more and dropped his third enemy soldier. As he began to reload, David shot off another round.

Geoff turned to him in surprise.

“How’re you loading so fast?” he asked, while pouring the charge down the barrel.

“Skilled hands of a surgeon?” David joked, then added, “I don’t know. I didn’t even realize I was loading that fast.”

“Faster than me, that’s for sure,” he responded.

Before Geoff finished loading his weapon, David had reloaded his and was ready to shoot once more. He lifted the barrel, aimed and fired. Watching the Union line, he realized once again, he missed.

“Dammit, I’m not getting it. I’m just wasting rounds,” he said in frustration.

As Geoff quickly reloaded his guns, he watched David trying to shoot.

“You have to slow down. You’re too jerky,” Geoff said, then added, “You’re breathing right. Just slow it down.”

As Geoff fired his weapon, David tried to do the same. Out in the distance only one man fell.

Suddenly, the Union line charged. At nearly a full run, Geoff now aimed ahead of the enemy. As he pulled his trigger, his bullet once again hit its mark.

David unloaded his weapon and watched momentarily.

“Missed again!” he shouted angrily. “I better wait until they get closer. I’ll end up using all my ammo before they’re in my range.”

“The wind is blowing from the left. Aim about an inch to the right of your target. They’re also too far away to aim straight at them. From here you have to aim about two inches above their heads,” Geoff instructed as he squeezed off another shot.

“An inch to the right and two inches above their heads,” David reiterated.

He lined up on the enemy and breathed out and fired. Geoff fired his own rifle a moment later.

“How’d you do?” he asked.

David frowned and reloaded.

As Geoff turned back toward the battlefield, the whole of the Union line fired their own weapons, then broke out into a fast run. Seconds later, splinters erupted from the logs in front of Geoff’s face. Instantly, he fell backward, clutching his eyes in pain.

“Son of a bitch! I’ve been hit,” he shrieked as he lay on the ground.

“Oh my God, No!” David shouted in panicked tone.

Quickly, he knelt down and examined his wounds. Moving Geoff’s hands away, tiny scrapes and abrasions streaked across his cheeks. David took out his canteen and poured water over Geoff’s face, carefully washing away bits of wood and blood. As he examined the cleaned wound further, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’ll be ok… just scratches,” he reported.

“Man, feels like my face is on fire,” Geoff responded, then added, “And my eyes sting so bad, I can barely see.”

“Let me have a look,” David said, now pushed back Geoff’s eyelids.

He examined both eyes, then released him.

“I don’t see anything. Probably just superficial trauma,” he reported. He thought for a moment, then asked, “Are you able to shoot?”

Geoff squinted, then winced.

“Dammit, my eyes keep watering. There’s no way I can aim right now,” Geoff responded in pain.

“Can you load a gun,” David asked, desperation now beginning to sound in his voice.

“I don’t know. I can try.”

As David sat up, he grabbed the rifles and leaned them against the logs. While he reloaded his weapon, Geoff struggled to load the others.

David looked out over the field. Apprehension consumed him.

“Man, this isn’t good. Those guys look unstoppable this time,” he said.

“Shoot man, just shoot,” Geoff blurted out in fear. “Never mind talking, just keep shooting.”

Fumbling with the ramrod, he finished with one rifle, handed it to David, and continued on with the others. David quickly took the gun and fired.

“Missed,” he said in disgust.

He grabbed another rifle, aimed and fired.

As Geoff’s eyes watered, he closed them and reloaded by feel. Nervously, he listened to reports by David of the enemy’s location.

“They’re almost in range,” he shouted anxiously, then added, “my range, that is.”

He fired again.

“Got ‘im!” he shouted in relief. “They’re close.”

Geoff listened intently. He heard a cacophony of unending rifle blasts. Further away, he heard the cries of agony as the wounded lay dying. Frightened and disoriented, he tried to block out the horrific sounds, but it was no use. With shaking hands, he continued to reload.

With increasing frequency, David now was hitting his mark. Nearly every shot he fired, another Union soldier fell. Further below him, the Rebels forces were doing the same. Unfortunately, their efforts weren’t good enough.

“This is bad! This is really bad!” David shouted in panicked tone.

“What? What is it?” Geoff blurted out, now coming to his feet.

“They’re not slowing down. The Union charge is still advancing. They’re only about a hundred yards away.”

“What the hell man, somebody’s got to do something,” Geoff shouted, trying to focus through watering eyes. “What are our boys doing?”

“What the hell you think they’re doing. They’re shooting. They’re just not putting out enough firepower to stop them.”

David looked over to the worried teen and shouted, “Come on man, reload. They need every gun they can get.”

For a moment, Geoff glared at David, then realized the gravity of his statement. Without another word, he continued to load the rifles.

-----*-----*-----*-----

Sgt. Cooper shouted orders to his men, hoping to keep the pressure on the enemy. As the Union men neared, the Rebels frantically reloaded and fired. Less than fifty yards away, he braced for the inevitable.

At the Union’s closest point, he knew they would make contact first. As he raced down the skirmish line, he grabbed several of his best men in preparation for overrun. Positioning them opposite the nearest attackers, he shouted his final orders.

“Keep low, keep firing. Force ‘em to empty their weapons before the wall. Once they cross, be on ‘em like fleas on a hound,” he shouted. “They all ‘ill be bridging us here first. If we all can push them rats back before the line catches up with ‘em, the rest should turn and run too.”

As he repeated his message to other parts of the line, his men lowered their bodies below the wall and fired relentlessly. Several yards away, the enemy’s charge was briefly halted. Almost immediately, they regrouped and charged again.

“Fire you devils,” Sgt. Cooper roared to his men. “Fire on them blue dogs.”

Only feet from the wall, the Union men caught the full fury of the desperate Rebels. As bullets ripped through their flesh, they cried out in anguish and collapsed. Instantly, others replaced them and forged ahead.

Union Pvt. Bobby Callahan stood at the wall of logs and fired his weapon. With his heart pounding and his mind frantic with fear, his shaking hands jerked his rifle and the bullet flew high over the enemy’s heads. Leveling his bayonet, he kicked at the highest log on the wall, sending several logs crashing to the other side. Instantly, he lunged through the gaping hole left in its place. Thrusting his bayonet forward, his assault was stopped short. Standing at the ready, four Rebels blocked his attack and thrust their own bayonets deep into his stomach. He let out a guttural shriek.

Even before Pvt. Callahan fell dead, his comrades poured through the opening. With their weapons spent, they attacked by bayonet. Flooding through the gap, they heard the deafening sound of rifle fire.

Standing opposite the Union attackers, the Rebel force held their rifles low and waited. As Union men flowed through the wall, they unleashed their weapons at point blank range. Instantly, a dozen Union men fell dead. Undaunted, more took their place. Standing at the ready, more men in gray fired at the stampeding men in blue.

In one great effort, several Union men charged at once. With the Rebel weapons fired, the odds were now even and they charged ahead boldly. Pouring through the gap in the wall, they fought by hand and by bayonet. Those that couldn’t fit through the gap, scaled the wall beside it. As bayonets pierced bodies and knives slashed through arteries and flesh, others grappled with fists and feet. Fighting savagely, both sides refused to submit.

Spread out across the skirmish line, Rebel men continued to fire. With the melee unfolding further down the line, they increased the intensity of their fight. Reloading faster and aiming more accurately, they prevented the Union attackers from advancing further.

Sgt. Cooper grasped his bloody knife and wildly slashed the throat of an enemy soldier. As the man dropped, the sergeant heard a loud groan beside him. He spun around and watched one of his men being run through. Anger surged inside him. Instantly, he lunged forward and stabbed the Union man in the chest. He stepped back and bumped into something solid. Turning quick, he saw a blue uniform. In a blink of an eye, he stabbed the man in the throat, pulled his knife and stabbed another man beside him. As they fell, more took their place. Charging toward him, three more men lunged with bayonets. As he blocked one, it diverted the path of the other two, barely missing him. In seconds, the three attackers felt the slashing brutality of his bowie knife. As they fell by his feet, he stood back and observed the violent brawl. Desperation swept his body as he realized the futility of their plight. Grossly outnumbered, he knew they needed a miracle, one he felt would never come.