Prisoner in Time (Time travel) Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: Christopher David Petersen
watched the flow of men cross over the hastily strewn logs and boulders in retreat. Nervous beads of sweat formed under his cap and dripped down his forehead as he wondered about his turn to escape.
He heard a dull “thud” in the grass beside him. Looking down, he saw a raised bump that streaked along the surface, showing the path of the bullet. Snapping him back into focus, the scared seventeen-year-old reached for his powder flask and began to reload. His hands trembled slightly as he poured a measure of black powder into the muzzle of his rifle. As more Confederate bullets passed nearby, he loaded wadding and a lead ball, then rammed the contents down the barrel.
He raised his weapon, then suddenly felt his jacket tug along his right shoulder. He turned quickly and noticed the torn and ragged seam where a bullet had passed through. Immediately, his stomach churned with fear. He considered turning and running for safety, but a sense of duty held him to his station.
He raised his weapon and searched for a target. His eyes immediately sighted a waving Confederate flag. Staring through the sights on his gun, he lined them up with the limping figure a hundred yards up the hill. He took a deep breath, exhaled and pulled the trigger. A cloud of smoke and flames instantly discharged out the end of the gun barrel.
The bullet roared through the crisp December air, barely losing altitude as it traveled. Halfway to its target, the limping man stared down the sights of his own weapon. Lined up with a young man of seventeen, he began to squeeze the trigger.
-----*-----*-----*-----
High up on the distant bluff, Gen. Hood stared anxiously at the action taking place far out on the western slope of Compton’s Hill. Watching through his field glasses, he squeezed their metal frames involuntarily in anticipation of the heightened drama. Seated beside him, Captain Gabriel squinted hard, but it was no use. The action taking placing was far beyond the limits of his vision. Impatiently he shifted in his saddle and waited for reports from his superior.
“My God, he’s been wounded,” Gen. Hood announced in distressing tone.
He shot Captain Gabriel a fearful look, then quickly returned to his field glasses. Captain Gabriel shielded his eyes and squinted harder.
“Sir, he’s too far away. Can I borrow your glasses momentarily?” he asked, in respectful tone.
The General didn’t answer. Still concentrating intently on the action, he rolled his finger over a dial and sharpened the focus.
“He’s ok… he’s limping now. It’s only a leg wound,” the General shouted as he continued to monitor the brave man’s actions. “He just fired again.”
He shot Captain Gabriel an approving nod and said, “By God, he’s tougher than Injun leather.”
“General Hood Sir. Please, may I borrow your glasses? I’ll return them in short order,” Captain Gabriel pleaded.
General Hood continued to observe, his stare went unbroken. Suddenly, his shoulders hunched and his face became drawn. Slowly he lowered his field glasses.
-----*-----*-----*-----
Arles felt a shiver run through him as his blood-soaked pant leg cooled in the December air and chilled his body. He looked down at his gray wool pants and noticed his right leg was completely red. For the first time, he realized the extent of his bleeding. Looking back behind him, he noticed a trail of blood in the grass.
“Mangy blue dogs,” he cursed under his breath.
He lifted his rifle once more in the air and waved the Confederate flag. Lowering the barrel, he took aim at a young soldier a hundred yards away. As he stared down his sights, he saw a cloud of smoke rise from the young man’s rifle.
Arles swallowed hard. For a moment, time seemed to slow as he listened to the faint sound of a whistling bullet. He closed his eyes and waited.
In an instant, Arles felt the impact to his stomach like the
He heard a dull “thud” in the grass beside him. Looking down, he saw a raised bump that streaked along the surface, showing the path of the bullet. Snapping him back into focus, the scared seventeen-year-old reached for his powder flask and began to reload. His hands trembled slightly as he poured a measure of black powder into the muzzle of his rifle. As more Confederate bullets passed nearby, he loaded wadding and a lead ball, then rammed the contents down the barrel.
He raised his weapon, then suddenly felt his jacket tug along his right shoulder. He turned quickly and noticed the torn and ragged seam where a bullet had passed through. Immediately, his stomach churned with fear. He considered turning and running for safety, but a sense of duty held him to his station.
He raised his weapon and searched for a target. His eyes immediately sighted a waving Confederate flag. Staring through the sights on his gun, he lined them up with the limping figure a hundred yards up the hill. He took a deep breath, exhaled and pulled the trigger. A cloud of smoke and flames instantly discharged out the end of the gun barrel.
The bullet roared through the crisp December air, barely losing altitude as it traveled. Halfway to its target, the limping man stared down the sights of his own weapon. Lined up with a young man of seventeen, he began to squeeze the trigger.
-----*-----*-----*-----
High up on the distant bluff, Gen. Hood stared anxiously at the action taking place far out on the western slope of Compton’s Hill. Watching through his field glasses, he squeezed their metal frames involuntarily in anticipation of the heightened drama. Seated beside him, Captain Gabriel squinted hard, but it was no use. The action taking placing was far beyond the limits of his vision. Impatiently he shifted in his saddle and waited for reports from his superior.
“My God, he’s been wounded,” Gen. Hood announced in distressing tone.
He shot Captain Gabriel a fearful look, then quickly returned to his field glasses. Captain Gabriel shielded his eyes and squinted harder.
“Sir, he’s too far away. Can I borrow your glasses momentarily?” he asked, in respectful tone.
The General didn’t answer. Still concentrating intently on the action, he rolled his finger over a dial and sharpened the focus.
“He’s ok… he’s limping now. It’s only a leg wound,” the General shouted as he continued to monitor the brave man’s actions. “He just fired again.”
He shot Captain Gabriel an approving nod and said, “By God, he’s tougher than Injun leather.”
“General Hood Sir. Please, may I borrow your glasses? I’ll return them in short order,” Captain Gabriel pleaded.
General Hood continued to observe, his stare went unbroken. Suddenly, his shoulders hunched and his face became drawn. Slowly he lowered his field glasses.
-----*-----*-----*-----
Arles felt a shiver run through him as his blood-soaked pant leg cooled in the December air and chilled his body. He looked down at his gray wool pants and noticed his right leg was completely red. For the first time, he realized the extent of his bleeding. Looking back behind him, he noticed a trail of blood in the grass.
“Mangy blue dogs,” he cursed under his breath.
He lifted his rifle once more in the air and waved the Confederate flag. Lowering the barrel, he took aim at a young soldier a hundred yards away. As he stared down his sights, he saw a cloud of smoke rise from the young man’s rifle.
Arles swallowed hard. For a moment, time seemed to slow as he listened to the faint sound of a whistling bullet. He closed his eyes and waited.
In an instant, Arles felt the impact to his stomach like the
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