Shift (ChronoShift Trilogy) (7 page)

He couldn’t remember exactly what time he had shifted out of Red’s bunkhouse.

It was a crucial matter.  The idea of popping back to 1890 inside the bunkhouse and running into his former self gave Mark the willies.  Something about the idea of meeting himself as a separate person made him queasy.

If he shifted back while outside the bunkhouse and got the time wrong, he might appear out of nowhere in front of Red.  That would blow everything.  Coming into too late, which would mean disappearing for a period of time, would probably deem him unreliable and unfit for work in Red’s eyes.  No, somehow he had to shift back at just the right moment to intercept Red before he discovered Mark was missing.

He strolled back to the Burgess / Johnson home and made a beeline for the back yard.  Red had come knocking somewhere around 5:00 AM.  So, to be safe, he gave himself an extra hour and set the device’s target time to 4:00 AM of that same morning.  He stood behind the rotting bunkhouse and pushed the button.

Darkness.

It was night again.  Early morning actually.  The bunkhouse once more looked fresh and crisp, no weeds choking its frame into oblivion.

He couldn’t help but be awed by the time-travel process, the whole concept of it really.  He resisted the temptation to peek in the bunkhouse window.  It was an easy thing to resist.   He had no desire to even
see
another version of himself.  Who knew what kind of havoc or paradoxes it might wreak.

He ducked into the shadows and let time tick by.  An hour passed and the sudden, overwhelming urge to pee came upon him.  Did he have time?  Dang it, what time had Red come anyway?  He didn’t want to have to start over.

He wasn’t going to make it.  He’d best just hurry.  He ran off the path a short ways and emptied his bladder as fast as he could.  He’d made it back to the bunkhouse lawn when he heard Red knocking on the door.

“Up an at’em, Carpen!  We got work to do.”

“Over here, Red.  I’m up already.”

“Dagnabit, boy!  You scairt the dickens out of me!”

“Sorry, had to relieve myself.”

“Well, let’s get to it, Carpen.  Lots of work to do, yessir, lots to do!”

Mark worked harder over the next few days than he had in years.  His trim and toughened body grew firmer under the hot Georgia sun and thicker with Leah’s generous cooking.

Red spared him no task.  Milking cows, collecting eggs, harvesting corn, removing stumps, he did it all.

Finally, Sept. 12
^th
arrived, the day of reckoning.

Red thought there might be some rich soil in a field he owned to the northwest of the farm, but they’d have to clear it of trees before it could be plowed the following spring.  Red decided that would be the work for the day.  Frankly, it would be enough work for several months.

The field was a twenty minute walk from the house.  Upon arrival, the hair on Mark's arm stood on end, an odd foreboding running through him in shivers.  He attributed it to his foreknowledge of the tragedy about to unfold.

“Hey, Carpen!  Head on o’er to those sprouts yonder and start takin’ ‘em out ifn’ yer don’t mind.”

“Why don’t I stay up here and help you with these bigger ones?”

“Cause it’ll take us twice as long that’s why!”

Mark hesitated.  He couldn’t just leave Red by himself.  That would be a fatal mistake....to Red.   He could quit and just sit there, watching Red work until whatever was going to happen, happened.  All kinds of problems with that plan though.

“What’s the matter with ya Carpen?  What’s the problem?”

“I’ve got a funny feeling is all.  I can’t leave you alone up here.  I don’t know why, but when my gut says something, I follow my gut, no two ways about it.”

Red grunted.  “I ain’t nobody to argue with nobody’s gut, so if’n you insist, I guess that’s how we’ll do it.”

They’d burnt through half the day when it happened.

Red was chopping away at a good-sized pine tree.  He’d cut a little more than halfway through, not enough for it to fall under normal circumstances, but there must have been some weakened strands in the back side of the trunk.  Red was walking away from the tree to get a feel for where it was going to fall when the trunk cracked like a gunshot.

The tree creaked and began a slow, heavy descent that accelerated quickly.  Red whipped his head back and saw what was happening.  He tried to jump out of the way, but his foot slipped on some wet leaves, and he went down on one knee.  The falling tree wouldn’t give him time to recover before it struck.

As ready as Mark had been for something to happen, he still wasn't sure he’d have enough time to intervene.  Thankfully, instinct propelled his body into action while his mind was still processing.  He launched himself into Red’s body, striking him full force in the side and shoulder, and knocked him clear of the danger.  The effort was not sufficient to save Mark’s own ankle though, which lay trapped beneath the fallen trunk.

Red’s expression displayed a mixture of disbelief, awe, and fear.  He’d just come very close to dying and he knew it.  Quietly, he rose and set to work digging to free Mark’s leg.  Amazingly, it was not broken.  While an ankle might survive such with only some bruising to show for it, a skull would have been a different story.

Red called it a day and they walked back to the house in silence.

Dost thou love life?  Then do not squander time,

for that's the stuff life is made of.

                        ~ Benjamin Franklin

September 13
^th
, 1890 – Cleveland, GA

The next morning, breakfast was bigger than the morning feast Leah normally prepared.  She’d really outdone herself.  The kids scrambled in and hastily sat down before Red said Grace.

Bowing their heads, Red led them in prayer as usual, but this morning, he seemed to take a little longer than normal in thanking his God.

“Quite a spread, Leah.”

“It was Red’s idea, said today we needed to celebrate.  He’s takin’ a holiday from work too.”  She giggled softly.  An intimate moment passed between the couple.

Mark looked at Red quizzically, “What are we celebrating, Red?”

Grinning, he slapped Mark on the shoulder, laughing, “Why, boy!  You done saved my bacon, don’t you realize that?  If it weren’t fer the likes of you, I’d be a corpse, sure enough.  Figure that’s a mighty fine cause fer celebration.”

Mark grinned back.  “I tend to agree”.  He bit into a biscuit loaded with strawberry jam.

“Carpen, I do truly thank ya fer what ya done out there yesterday.”

Mark shrugged, “Wasn’t nothing.  You would have done the same.”

“Maybe, but that ain’t how it worked out.”

“Really, it’s nothing.”

“If’n ya don’t mind, I’d like to give you something.”

Mark sat there, unsure of what was coming and not just a little embarrassed by the attention.

Red’s smile widened.  “I thought about it all night, and I’m going to give you that field we were clearing over there.  That’s the least a man can pay for his life!”

Mark couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Red....seriously, that’s not necessary.  I did what anybody would have done.  Plus, I work for you.  It’s my job to look out for you, right?”

“Ya don’t work fer me no more, boy, ye’ll be working yer own land!”

Red was dead serious too.  There was nothing Mark could say to talk him out of it.  The plot Red was giving him turned out to be about 40 acres.  Red insisted they go over to the land office later that day and file the deed change.  Mark considered bugging out to 2011, but hey....why not let the guy do what he wants, make him feel better.

After walking the property, they went to the land office and transferred the deed.  Mark felt bad, as if he’d cheated in order to profit from Red somehow.  He supposed giving away a piece of land was better than your life, and Red wouldn’t be satisfied if Mark didn’t accept it.  Plus, in saving Red’s life, Mark
had
risked his own as well.

What really amazed him was that he, Mark Carpen, had just changed history.  Red Johnson had actually died in an old version of history.  Now, because of Mark’s intervention, Red would live out many more days with his family.  His kids would never see an orphanage.  The impact would probably affect Red’s family tree for generations.

It occurred to him that this land Red had given him could be the start of a way out of the financial hole he was in.

A plan began to form in his mind.  He could beat all the lawyers and corrupt politicians at their own game.

Mark began to get excited.

He bid the Johnson's farewell and went on his way.  If this plan worked, he was going to be very busy.  There wouldn’t be much time to come back and visit.

September 13
^th
, 2011 – Cleveland, GA

Shifting forward to 2011, Mark was anxious to find out what his property was now worth.  He could only imagine the inflation in price on 40 acres over a period of 120 years.  Surely he could sell it for at least $2,000 - $3,000 per acre now.

He was headed to the Citgo to call information to find an appraisal company when he realized he didn't even have a quarter to use a public telephone.  He would have to borrow a few dollars from someone to get started.  No way around it.

Mark cursed.  He was officially going to become a beggar.  He hated the idea.

Then, it occurred to him that if he asked the appraisal company to come out, their fee would be at least several hundred dollars, and he didn't have the money to pay that either.  He now owned a property that was potentially worth a decent amount of money, but the key word was
potentially
.  He couldn’t buy a Coke right now, much less pay for an appraisal.

Maybe he could just check with the county land registry and look up the land lot there.  They would have it assessed at a certain value for tax purposes, and that would give him an idea of what it was really worth.  The assessments were usually low....

            Taxes!
 Property taxes would not have been paid for 118 years.  His property would have been seized by the government long before 2011.  Probably around 1895 or thereabouts.  When it came to collecting its money, the government had a way of being on top of things.  The acreage would not have been in his name for a long time. 

            This was going to be a lot more complicated than he’d anticipated.

He needed cash.  Somehow, he had to get some.  He needed to get back to Lawrenceville.  Once he got home, he could redeem himself.

September 15
^th
, 1890 – Cleveland, GA

“Carpen! I didn’ ‘spect to see ya ag’in so soon.  Ya seemed mighty sure ya’d be gone a good spell, but, it’s good to see ya, ‘gardless.”

“Red, I hate to say it, but I need to sell the field you gave me.  Do you know anybody in a position to buy it?”

Leah stood behind Red, washing dishes.  Her face fell.  She looked rattled, but not for the reason Mark thought.

“Sorry, but I ain’t got the cash to do it, friend, or I would,” Red answered.

“No, no, I didn’t expect you to,” Mark said.

“Ya cain’t sell it to that horsewhippin’ Lancaster!” Leah blurted, “You just cain’t!”  Her outburst was completely out of character.

“Leah, hush up, dagnabit!”

“Who’s Lancaster?”

“Dagnabit, woman!   Sorry, Carpen.  I didn’ want to tell yer about him, not that I mind yer sellin’ to somebody’s else or makin’ a profit, surely not.  It’s jes’, well, there’s this gentleman....”

“Ain’t no gentleman!”

“....who’s been after me to buy them acres for some time.  I ne’er did aim to sell to him.  Didn’ take to him, if’n yer know what I mean.  Seemed shifty, like som’tin else were behind it.  Feel free to sell to ‘im if’n ya got a mind to though.”

Mark seated himself at the table and thought.  “Red, if you don’t like the man, then I probably wouldn’t either.  Is there anybody else?”

“Nope.”  The farmer shook his head slowly.

“Well, how about a trade then? Are you willing to trade me for my land?”

“What yer got in mind?”

“Would you give me a horse for it?”

Red’s face lit up, his grin spreading from ear to ear.

“How about some fresh made biscuits with strawberry jam to go with it,” Leah smiled.