Chapter 3 of A Texas Son in Washington's Army

      Carl heard the sound of footsteps moving closer. He dared not move, He could see no artificial light coming from the direction of the footsteps but he dared not turn his light on. He heard a half Irish half normal American accent call out “Who’s there? Be you a redcoat or a runaway slave?” Carl thought he must have ended up in some colonial role play. Like the civil war reenactors who get deep into character. Carl slowly stood up and tried to find the silhouette. Kept his rifle slung in front of him and put his hand where his Beretta was. He slowly walked out into the open area where the moonlight could illuminate him. “Hello there, I didn’t mean to interrupt your role play, but you scared me.” Carl could see a man step out, holding a musket and wearing clothes just like in his dream. “I do not understand what you mean by role play sir. Are you a redcoat?” Carl had little patience for games and began walking towards the gentleman. “That will be close enough!” the man exclaimed. He held up the musket and pointed it at Carl. Carl immediately reacted to this threat by stepping to the side and forward with a speed and sureness that it looked rehearsed. He grabbed the musket barrel and pushed it to the side as the man pulled the trigger. Carl was taken back. He had not imagined there would be actual powder in a role player’s fake musket. He quickly pulled on the musket and it fell the ground. Carl reached up and grabbed the man by the coat and reached down for his Benchmade. With a single push of the button the blade flicked open and he held the blade to the man’s abdomen. “I have no intention of hurting you, but why have you tried to shoot me?” He looked the man in the eyes. His smell was all wrong. He didn’t smell like what you would expect. No aftershave or scented body scrub. It was a very musky smell like you would smell in a tent full of Joes that hadn’t showered in weeks down range.

     Just as Carl was expecting an answer he felt a blow to the back of the head. His knees went weak, but he was not knocked unconscious. As his knees buckled he fell back and reached for his rifle that was slung across his chest and flipped the lever from safe to semi. He pointed it at a large black man who was standing over him with a log in his hand. There was a pause, and he could see that the man was unarmed. He turned on his tactical light and shined it in the man’s eyes. He was able to scoot himself back enough to put about 5 feet between them. He then directed them “Freeze. Do not move or I will shoot you.” The white man in the tricorn hat was standing off at an angle and stood there silently as Carl pointed the rifle at the black man who hit him in the head. He could feel the warm blood running down the back of his neck, but he ignored it. “Who are you, and how are you making that light?” Carl was once again thrown off guard by that question. “It’s a flashlight, how else would I do that? Listen, I’m going to stand up and lower my weapon. When I do, I think we need to straighten something out.”

     As Carl stood up and lowered his weapon he placed the selector switch to safe and kept the light on. It helped illuminate the area without being blinding to whoever it pointed at. “My name is Carl Houston. I simply camped out here for the night. When I woke up my truck was gone and then I heard the two of you traveling and talking.” Both men looked at each other, confusion on the larger man’s face. The smaller man in the hat seemed just as surprised but his face was less confusion and more amazement. “My name is Thomas Jefferson and this is my slave James Hemmings. We are traveling to Philadelphia to attend the continental congress.” Carl simply stared at them straight faced. He was tiring of the role play and just wanted them to break character. He was beginning to worry about where his truck went. “Listen, I don’t have time for you to stay in character. Who are you really? Obviously you are not Jefferson, he’s been dead 200 years.” Jefferson and James both looked at each other but this time they both looked confused. “Sir” Jefferson began to ask, “Where do you think you are?” “I’m outside Quincy, Massachusetts. I stopped to camp for the night before visiting Peacefield tomorrow” Jefferson thought for a second. “I’m not familiar with either of those two locations. However sir, you are not in Massachusetts, you are in Pennsylvania, outside Philadelphia.” Carl could not breathe for a second. Obviously this man was lying. There is no way he magically transported through space and ended up in a different state. Maybe his GPS app was broken and it brought him here by mistake. Then all of a sudden he realized the horses, the musket, and the weird accent were not adding up. “What year is it?” Carl asked fervently and with some clear panic. “Why good sir it’s June 17th seventeen hundred and seventy five.” Carl of course did not believe him. Show me your ID. Who are you really?” Jefferson did not like being called a liar by a man who had just accosted him. “What is eye dee and why do you think I am lying to you?” Carl was panicking. This wasn’t a normal situation and nothing his reflexes knew how to handle. He saw the musket still on the ground so he placed his right hand on his pistol grip, with his thumb wrapped around and resting on the safety, index finger pointed out hovering just over the trigger housing. He realized his knife had fallen when he was hit on the head but he left that for later. He still had his Gurkha blade in the back. “Ok, let’s all just calm down and talk this through. You are telling me it’s 1775 and your name is Thomas Jefferson and this man’s name is James Hemmings and he is your slave?” Jefferson was having a hard time understanding some of his words but he made out enough to answer the question. “That is in fact the reality of this situation sir, yes.”

     Carl eased up on the grip of his rifle and placed his back against a tree. He felt utterly lost and panicked. His mind was swimming and he suddenly remembered the dream he had. June 17th, 1775 was when the second continental congress was meeting and they will soon learn of the battle of Bunker Hill. Holy shit he’s traveling to Philly. How the fuck did I get here! How do I get home? Did I just destroy my future by even being here? Fuck I wish I had paid more attention to that professor talking about time yesterday. “I’m gonna act like all of this is true for right now, but I have some questions.” Jefferson held up his hand, pointer finger extended up with the rest folded down. “What is gonna? Your manner of speech is quite peculiar.” Carl realized communication me become an issue if this was in fact Jefferson. He tried reading the Federalist paper several times but the manner of writing made it hard for him to comprehend and now he wished he had powered through it. It very could help him communicate better. He had allowed video historians to tell him what the papers meant instead, often no two interpreting them the same way. “I’ll explain my side in one moment, would you both care to sit down with me here next to where my fire was?” Carl slowly moved over to the unlit fire. He looked around for more dried leaves and twigs. He quickly gathered what was immediately around him and realized there wasn’t actually a fire there. The stones were gone and only that which was in contact with his body was actually here. Good thing I slept with my go bag against me. Carl looked for rocks and placed them in a circle. “Well I guess my fire is gone too, but I’ll build one real quick.” He arranged the twigs and leaves and pulled out his lighter from his pocket. He pushed down on the button that ignited a small blue flame in a cone. He quickly lit the leaves on fire which slowly began to spread to the twigs. Once he was done he looked up and James had gotten up James was running back towards the road where the horses should be. “What is that device you just used to light those leaves on fire?” Jefferson asked. Carl felt uneasy. He was perfectly willing to accept this may be some weird joke but he doubted these two could act that well. “This is a lighter. It’s used for making small flames you can use to light things on fire.” Jefferson cocked his head slightly. “Ingenious. How do you confine the flame in that small device?” Carl had no desire to begin explaining how everything works. He thought for a minute as to how to give the most succinct answer to this question. “The body here” He held up the lighter pointing to the area that held the fuel, “holds a flammable liquid which feeds up into the area here” he moved his finger over to the business end of the lighter, “and when you click this button it creates a spark which ignites the fuel.” Jefferson thought on that for a second as Carl studied his reaction.

     “Are you gonna go after James?” Carl asked after what felt like minutes had passed by. “Oh no, he has most likely returned to the horses. A flame coming from a device would seem to be magic for him.” Carl took a second to register that he was basically calling James simple. All the evidence was staring Carl in the face that he was no longer in his same time and place yet he refused to accept it. Jefferson looked at Carl and took notice for the first time of his clothes, the AR-15 hanging in front of him, even as he sat on the ground, and his boots because he could see the laces hanging down. Carl usually slept with his boots on when he slept outside, but would loosen them to make them more comfortable. “Your manner of dress is very different if I may say so myself Mr…..” Carl realized he had not actually introduced himself when Jefferson had. “My name is Carl Houston. I am not sure I can explain fully what has happened but in short, I am not from around here.” “Well that much is obvious Mr. Houston. I was trying to make it into town tonight but I think we shall camp out here with you if that is acceptable.” Carl really had no reason to say no. If he really had been transported through time then he would need someone to get information from. He also had to decide how much information he could give. The very fact that he was here talking with Jefferson was problematic from a physics perspective. Then again if this was the circular version of time, then nothing he did would matter because it technically already happened. Just trying to think through it made Carl’s head spin. He nodded and began arranging his things. He pulled his rifle off and placed it on the ground next to him. He pulled out his phone and turned the light function on and began looking for his knife that fell when James hit him. “What is that you have in your hand Mr. Houston?”

     Carl had gotten momentarily comfortable and pulled out his phone without thinking. He had no desire to stay up all night discussing every piece of gear and equipment he had on him. “That can be for another time.” Carl said as he looked around. Jefferson saw the knife next to where he was seated and picked it up. He turned it so the blade was facing him and extended it out towards Carl. “Thank you sir.” Carl pressed the button and closed the blade and then stuck it back in his front right pocket. “Mr. Jefferson, I am sure you have many questions. Honestly so do I, although I think my questions will most likely remain unanswered. So allow me to start, and once what I say turns out to be true, we can further discuss how to handle this situation.” Jefferson nodded. He could tell Jefferson was not a man of many words either, which fell in line with much of what he had read. “I am not good with dates in the slightest, but when you arrive to the second continental congress at some point John Adams will receive news about the battle of Bunker Hill. General Warren will have been killed, and his body mutilated.” Jefferson thought on that. He knew that this meant outright war with England was imminent assuming Carl was telling the truth. “Once you confirmed that, I am hoping to have something of substance to tell you.” Jefferson got up and dusted off his pants. “I am going to inform James we will be staying here for the night. With that Jefferson walked back towards his horses, stopping to pick up his musket.

     Carl reached in his backpack and found his bottle of water. He unscrewed the wide cap and poured it over the back of his head to clean away the blood. He felt back there and it had already started to scab over. He reached back in his bag and found his pressure dressing he kept in there. No, I’ll save that for later, not good for a head wound. He instead grabbed his woobie and used it to place pressure to help stop the rest of the bleeding. He picked up his phone with the other hand and turned it off. Battery is at 55 percent. I could do a slow charge but with no signal right now its usefulness is minimal. There were still multiple thoughts bouncing around in Carl’s head. There was no way this was real, then how could this not be real? How did he get there? How will he get back? What will the higher order effects be for changing history? He felt overwhelmed for the first time in recent memory. He usually knew how to take action, or reserve action, but now he had no information for a good decision. He was also going to camp out with Thomas Jefferson and James Hemmings. Don’t bring up sally. Don’t bring up Sally. Carl kept telling himself to keep his mouth shut.

     Jefferson and James came back leading their horses. They pulled out blankets and bedrolls. The fire was going well now. James finished setting up his bed far away from the fire and then went looking for fire wood. Carl noticed this and looked at Jefferson and asked “So is he setting up away from the fire but still going to gather fire wood?” as he pointed to James walking away. “Yes, I normally do not bed near the slaves.” Carl knew he was not in his element, and he had listened to enough people talk about context in regard to the framers. Especially in regards to Jefferson. He realized that he may have a new mission after all. “Mr. Jefferson in the year two thousand and eight the United States of America elects its first black President. None of this makes sense I’m sure. You haven’t even managed to gain independence yet, but you will. But this country, this free country, will become the most powerful entity on the earth. The largest military, the largest economy, the largest of everything, both the good and the bad. You will be singularly judged in the harshest of terms because of the disparity between your writings and your actions. We will fight a civil war in the mid eighteen hundreds which will pit brother against brother, state against state, and clinch the power of the federal government over the states. Slavery is the singularly largest issue still plaguing our” Carl pointed at Jefferson, then James, and back to himself “country and we are still feeling the effects in twenty nineteen.” Jefferson simply stared at Carl. Many of the writings Carl was talking about, especially the Declaration of Independence, did not exist yet. “I am but a Virginian delegate to the continental congress. Who are you to put the pressure of an entire newly formed confederacy on me sir?”

     Carl thought about this. He was essentially blaming Jefferson for something that to him, has not happened yet. How do you hold people responsible for things that happened outside of their possible foresight? “The pressure was yours the moment you decided to attend the congress. Every member has the pressure of the future of American civilization in their hands. The decisions will be yours to make, eventually. Washington, Adams, Jefferson. First three presidents. You will be in a position by the time you get elected to do something so outrageous, so principled that it could fix the majority of problems regarding race in America.” Jefferson took all that in. Carl was already regretting dumping on Jefferson. He would need a push, because Carl already knew what would happen if he kept his mouth shut. “Washington is the first president?” Jefferson queried. “You will learn why short enough” Carl stated dismissively. “My main concern right now is, where the hell do I get clothes so I can fit in?”

     Jefferson picked through some of his attire and found some clothes that could be used for Carl. They went to bed and woke up just before dawn. Carl managed to sleep through the entire night, but not without another dream. He found himself once again in front of a large white and sickly looking tree. The white was dirty, like bark had fallen off and only the tree underneath could be seen. A woman stood at the base of the tree and solemnly looked at the puddle beneath the tree branches. It was all but gone. Carl, tyranny is being legitimized. The tree is dying. You gave up hope because you felt you no longer had a purpose. A course correction is in order. Carl could not actually see the woman’s mouth moving, nor could he actually hear her say anything. The words simply appeared in his head. Obviously this was a dream similar to the ones he would have every Monday night after taking his weekly malaria medication. “How can I correct the course of over 200 years of history from the beginning?” Carl decided to play along with is dream. Why not? Carl, you gave up hope. You were going to give in to the demons. You know you didn’t make a difference and living with that fact has broken you. I offer you a chance to be useful.