The Dagger and The Gun (Ch11)
Chapter 11 in THEDA'S TIME MACHINE. Jackson contemplates how his actions are affecting the future, and he finds out an interesting fact about Theda.
“Damnit!” Asa Jackson grunted. He pushed his dagger further into his boot, sticking the tip into the leather.
“What?” Billy said begrudgingly. Jackson preferred the icy silence of before.
“Nothing. Pulling up these damn leggings and bit my tongue after that last pothole you can’t seem to avoid.” He shot a glance sideways catching the furious blush creeping from Billy’s collar, crawling upward over his cheeks. Jackson suppressed a grin. The knife had pricked his ankle thanks to Billy’s inability to avoid the street craters left by winter’s assault.
“Should have bitten your tongue earlier, don’cha think?”
“What’s it to you? Your fun wasn’t spoilt. Maybe after gettin’ some practice tonight, you can two-step with ‘em tomarra.” He thickened the accent, bordering on mockery.
Billy’s nostrils flared and Jackson became watchful, his hand dangling over the seat, free to pull the dagger at any wrong move. Jackson didn’t expect the ride to pick up the Evora girls to be pleasant, but the car’s interior was filling with a smell that he had experienced before, and it was the scent of danger. It was an animal odor that most people never smelled, indicating that Billy was more pissed off than Jackson had imagined, and the slightest move would set him off. The human race was long removed from having to navigate the world through senses only, and Jackson’s uncanny ability to actually smell danger from another person made him feel like a throwback to other times. Maybe that’s why I can Travel. It was why he was an asset to the Army when he worked behind German enemy lines as a spy.
Jackson would have bowed out of tonight’s date with the girls, but Billy had informed him with a disgusted expression that Dr. Evora had requested Jackson accompany the daughters to a dance in Army City. For a split-second a thrill of excitement surged through him. Seeing Theda Evora again wasn’t the worst thing in the world. But there was another important thing on his mind.
He was spending too much time with Billy. The first rule Dr. Andersen drilled into him was that you walked lightly through time, that is, you avoided unnecessary interactions that might affect the future and that meant keeping away from the people in your own life. At first he thought it was nonsense. They weren’t time traveling for the fun of it. Their missions were to change the future for the better by eliminating threats in the past. But it wasn’t long before he understood what Andersen had meant. Any interactions with people you knew had the potential to affect your own existence. And he knew Billy. Not this young turk, but as a father and older man, sending his own kid off to war. Was he affecting the future with each time they met? Bad luck brought the two of them into the same barrack and even worse, Billy had taken an instant liking to Jackson’s gosh-gee persona.
His unease grew as he thought of an incident when he was fifteen, and palling around with Billy’s son. They had been at the farm, duck hunting in the marshes along the Kaw River. The scenes tumbled through Jackson’s mind like burnt umber playing cards: the rising sun illuminating the reeds until they tinged golden, the wings of redwing blackbirds flashing crimson. The boys hunkered down, eyes searching the horizon for flapping black shadows and the Depression, that crushing daily reminder of lack, receding into a passing thought. Billy was Mr. Rankin to a young Jackson, his handsome face void of the boyish angles and strong jaw, the thick hair streaked with silver. Toward the end of the morning hunt, when three dead ducks lined the grass and the bird dogs reeked of marsh water, Mr. Rankin took his coat off to shake out the remains of a broken cattail. There was a jagged scar across his right bicep. Where did you get that one, Mr. Rankin? Jackson had asked. The boys loved the war stories, not yet realizing they would have their own to tell in a few short years. Mr. Rankin paused and young Jackson, who didn’t know he possessed certain gifts, felt unease even as the elder Rankin smiled tightly. Got it before leaving for Europe in ’18. From a little scuffle over at Funston. Never stitched up right, is why you still see it.
And here Jackson was, hand ready to pull a knife on a man who was highly pissed off that he didn’t join in on torturing a war dissenter. A man whose right arm was less than a foot away. He had seen Billy shirtless, and the scar was not yet there. Did I give it to him? DO I give him that scar?
“When we pick up these girls,” Billy said, making the last turn on the dirt road that led to the house. “You let me take the lead, got it?”
“Sure,” Jackson relaxed a little. A deep sorrow for Billy passed through him with lightning quickness, because he knew that the beautiful Miss Violet Evora wasn’t in his future. He remembered his friend’s mother weaving in and out of white sheets hanging on clotheslines, whipping against a cobalt sky. Her hands were like leather and permanent worry lines carved deep chasms in her forehead. Let the man dream. He’ll be off to a nightmare soon enough.
After the incident with the Mennonite, Jackson was officially persona non grata with the other guys, and that was fine. The more they ignored him, the more he could accomplish without unwanted eyes prying after his business. Time was running out. He was going to have to find a way to get in with Evora. If he found a way into the General Building, he’d find Thrax. Tonight was a necessity.
Each window of the house was illuminated, a complete contrast from each night when Jackson dropped off the doctor after work and the only indicator that the house wasn’t abandoned was a single yellow light in the parlor window. Jackson knew why Major Whittaker had parked Evora all the way out here, alone, with only corn fields for company. If Evora ever gets sick, best he’s out here solo, far from people. He says he's working on a gas remedy, but his face tells the truth. They’re cooking up something worse than mustard gas in that General Building, and it’s gonna come down in a few days. And he doesn’t know it. He’d never allow his family to come here if he did.
Billy killed the engine and jumped out of the Stanley, failing to even close the door, and took the front steps two at a time. Jackson slowly removed himself from the car and stood, stomping his right foot lightly to make sure the dagger was secure. He glanced at the house.
Theda Evora was in one of the upper windows, hunching close to a desk lamp. He started to turn away, not wanting to be a disgusting peeper outside the girl’s window, but he caught sight of an object in her hand. She leaned closer to the light, turning the object over in her hand.
It was a gun.
Shocked, Jackson watched her put the gun in a purse and straighten up and adjust the collar on her blouse. Son of a bitch, what do we have here? Without taking his eyes from her, he reached over and slammed the car door shut.
She jumped, and peered out of the window, eyes scanning the moonless night but never falling on Jackson. She’s scared. And she’s scared because someone’s after her. He pulled his hat off angrily. He didn’t have time for this. But as the door opened and the regal Mrs. Evora greeted Billy, he knew one thing. He was going to find out who was after that girl. And he was going to eliminate him.
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