Prisoner in Time (Time travel) Read Online Free PDF

blow from a sledgehammer. As the bullet pierced his jacket, it tore through his belly and into his internal organs, finally exiting through his back. He let out a guttural moan and dropped to his knees. For a moment, he knelt in shock, then fell forward and lay motionless on the ground. Excruciating pain radiated from his wound and he let out a blood curdling shriek. With his eyes closed tight, he took shallow breaths and tried to overcome the pain.
     
    He opened his eyes. Lying beside him, he saw the blood stained flag he so cherished. He smiled at it like an old friend. Slowly, delicately, he moved his hand from his side and placed it on top of the flag. Wincing in pain, he rubbed his fingers over the heavy woven cloth and felt the pride of the Confederacy.
     
    Arles felt weak and his pain began to dull. As he closed his eyes, his rapid breathing became slow and shallow. Drifting off, he recalled his loving wife and children, and their memory gave him comfort.
     
    He heard a dull “thud” and opened his eyes. His flag had moved and now carried a large hole through its center. The sight of the desecration angered him once more.
     
    “Sons-a-bitches,” he said in a low tone, barely audible.
     
    He dragged the flag closer to him and touched the hole. Just like him, bullet ridden and blood stained, the life of the flag was drawing to a close. Its existence would end much like his life: buried and forgotten. In his clouded state, he made one last decision.
     
    Still lying on his stomach, he moved his hands out in front of him. Using all his strength, he pushed on the ground and shoved himself to a kneeling position. With one last effort, he splayed his legs and dropped to a seated position with his legs nearly crossed in front of him. Crying out in agony, he breathed heavily and absorbed the pain. In shock and shaking, his eyes had trouble focusing. Reaching for his rifle, he dragged his hand over the grass, jerking it slightly from side to side to keep it moving. As his fingers touched the weapon, he grabbed it and pulled it slowly in front of him. With each tug, he winced in pain, and tears streamed from his eyes.
     
    Slowly, deliberately, he began to raise the barrel of his gun. With each new height he raised it to, he cried out in pain from the effort. A minute later, he rested the butt of the gun on the ground between his legs. Over the roar of nearby gunfire, he heard the faint sound of his flag flapping in the wind. His eyes drew to the sound. Looking up, he smiled at the sight of his Confederate flag fulfilling its duty one last time.
     
    Arles closed his eyes and breathed his last breath. As his body lost its remaining strength, he rolled slightly forward and stopped, his body held upright as the gun’s hammer hooked inside his jacket. Although Arles’ heart had stopped moments before, his spirit lived on in his flag. Waving proudly in the wind for all to see, the flag now became a symbol of courage that inspired his fellow comrades to greatness. Charging down the hill, the angry wave of Confederate soldiers pushed back the enemy, creating a hole in the Union defenses large enough for the Confederates to safely slip away.
     
    -----*-----*-----*-----
     
    General Hood stared momentarily at the ground in sadness. With his mind racing with emotion, he glanced over to Captain Gabriel. Nodding approvingly and said, “Collect this Arles Moore’s body and flag. He won’t soon be forgotten. He will have a hero’s burial.”
     
    “Yes Sir,” Captain Gabriel replied.
     
    -----*-----*-----*-----

Chapter 3
     
    Nashville , Tennessee 
    February 0 8, 2013 
     
    The bright orange,‘seventy-three dodge pickup slowed abruptly and veered toward the turn lane as the driver prepared to turn into the Fifty-Nine Diner. Waiting impatiently for oncoming traffic, he revved the engine loudly. Music blared from inside the closed cab, almost shutting out the roar of the engine. As seconds ticked by, he released the