flight. "Look it up," she'd said when she grabbed his shirt and dragged him into the kitchen. He hadn't given it another thought until now.
Look it up. Very Well. A quick trip to the bookshelves in the den should satisfy his curiosity.
After locating a dictionary among the eclectic array of books, he flipped it open and glanced at a guide word: antebellum.
"Oh, there's another one I meant to look for," he said to himself as he glanced down to the bottom of the page.
He read the definition, then squinted with concentration and read it again.
antebellum - before the war. Usually
in reference to the American Civil War.
American Civil War? Could they be referring to the Revolutionary War? He'd never heard it described as a civil war.
He laid the dictionary to the side and scanned the bookshelves again. Somewhere there was an encyclopedia Elise had shown him earlier.
Not sure exactly how to find his topic he pulled out the A and C volumes. He found it under C.
"Ah, here it is," he said and settled back to get comfortable.
He was back on the edge of his seat in an instant. A cold sweat dampened his shirt and a knot suddenly formed in his throat.
The very first piece of information was:
Civil War (1861-1865)
He readjusted his precarious seat on the edge of the couch and read on. He read about how more lives were lost in that war than all the other wars in American history combined.
My God! How many wars had there been?
He read about the slavery issue and the differing attitudes between North and South. This was no news to him. He'd long debated the morality and legality of slavery, and had heard a few radical suggestions of a southern nation.
He visualized the first shots at Fort Sumter, the raid on Harper's Ferry, the southern states seceding from the Union. He saw the pictures of dead soldiers in trenches, some missing parts of their bodies. There were pictures of a man named Lincoln in one of the camp tents; of the most famous generals of both sides. There were black men in Northern uniform, and the caption said twenty-three of them had been given the highest honor for bravery.
He read about two ironclad ships battling with no apparent victor; the battles of Bull Run, Antietam, Shiloh and Gettysburg. He read about the Emancipation Proclamation, Sherman's march to the sea, and every other word written in the book about it, ending with the South's surrender and the president named Lincoln's assassination.
He felt like he was going to throw up. Sweat drenched his shirt, and he couldn't swallow past the constriction in his throat. He got up and numbly walked to the bathroom, turned on the cold water and stuck his head under it.
Dear God Almighty He stood and raised his eyes to heaven. Water ran unheeded down his back and chest. This is going to happen in twenty years. Just twenty years. No. Not twenty years. It's already happened. These men are already dead. One hundred and thirty years ago. No one is left alive from when it happened. Except me. I'm alive. I'm alive and some of my friends died in a war one hundred and thirty years ago.
For the first time since waking in this time, he felt a wave of depression settle over him like a heavy, suffocating blanket. He plunged his head back under the cold water. After several seconds he calmly dried off and walked back into the den, picked up the book, and turned to the last page that was titled "related topics."
*******
Elise roared into the driveway, not bothering to call out as she stormed into the house. She'd seen the den light on and knew where to find Reed this time.
Bless his heart, he waited up for me, she thought as she clattered up the sweeping staircase and down the hall. She jumped the last couple of feet to land squarely in the middle of the doorway, arms flung wide and a huge, stupid smile on her face. When her gaze took in the room her head jerked back and she
Look it up. Very Well. A quick trip to the bookshelves in the den should satisfy his curiosity.
After locating a dictionary among the eclectic array of books, he flipped it open and glanced at a guide word: antebellum.
"Oh, there's another one I meant to look for," he said to himself as he glanced down to the bottom of the page.
He read the definition, then squinted with concentration and read it again.
antebellum - before the war. Usually
in reference to the American Civil War.
American Civil War? Could they be referring to the Revolutionary War? He'd never heard it described as a civil war.
He laid the dictionary to the side and scanned the bookshelves again. Somewhere there was an encyclopedia Elise had shown him earlier.
Not sure exactly how to find his topic he pulled out the A and C volumes. He found it under C.
"Ah, here it is," he said and settled back to get comfortable.
He was back on the edge of his seat in an instant. A cold sweat dampened his shirt and a knot suddenly formed in his throat.
The very first piece of information was:
Civil War (1861-1865)
He readjusted his precarious seat on the edge of the couch and read on. He read about how more lives were lost in that war than all the other wars in American history combined.
My God! How many wars had there been?
He read about the slavery issue and the differing attitudes between North and South. This was no news to him. He'd long debated the morality and legality of slavery, and had heard a few radical suggestions of a southern nation.
He visualized the first shots at Fort Sumter, the raid on Harper's Ferry, the southern states seceding from the Union. He saw the pictures of dead soldiers in trenches, some missing parts of their bodies. There were pictures of a man named Lincoln in one of the camp tents; of the most famous generals of both sides. There were black men in Northern uniform, and the caption said twenty-three of them had been given the highest honor for bravery.
He read about two ironclad ships battling with no apparent victor; the battles of Bull Run, Antietam, Shiloh and Gettysburg. He read about the Emancipation Proclamation, Sherman's march to the sea, and every other word written in the book about it, ending with the South's surrender and the president named Lincoln's assassination.
He felt like he was going to throw up. Sweat drenched his shirt, and he couldn't swallow past the constriction in his throat. He got up and numbly walked to the bathroom, turned on the cold water and stuck his head under it.
Dear God Almighty He stood and raised his eyes to heaven. Water ran unheeded down his back and chest. This is going to happen in twenty years. Just twenty years. No. Not twenty years. It's already happened. These men are already dead. One hundred and thirty years ago. No one is left alive from when it happened. Except me. I'm alive. I'm alive and some of my friends died in a war one hundred and thirty years ago.
For the first time since waking in this time, he felt a wave of depression settle over him like a heavy, suffocating blanket. He plunged his head back under the cold water. After several seconds he calmly dried off and walked back into the den, picked up the book, and turned to the last page that was titled "related topics."
*******
Elise roared into the driveway, not bothering to call out as she stormed into the house. She'd seen the den light on and knew where to find Reed this time.
Bless his heart, he waited up for me, she thought as she clattered up the sweeping staircase and down the hall. She jumped the last couple of feet to land squarely in the middle of the doorway, arms flung wide and a huge, stupid smile on her face. When her gaze took in the room her head jerked back and she
Similar Books
