The Great Locomotive Chase, 1862 Read online

  The Great Locomotive Chase, 1862

  A Symbiont Time Travel Adventure

  Book Four

  by

  T. L. B. Wood

  Published by ePublishing Works!

  www.epublishingworks.com

  ISBN: 978-1-94783-318-0

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  Please Note

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Copyright © 2018 by T. L. B. Wood. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Meet the Author

  For Henry and Jesse

  The supreme happiness of life is the conviction of being loved for yourself or, more correctly, being loved in spite of yourself.–Victor Hugo

  Chapter 1

  "You want me to do what?" I asked, feeling no shame in the sharp tone of my voice which held an unmistakably hostile edge.

  "I think you heard me clearly enough," Philo replied calmly. From behind his desk, he reached forward to casually rearrange some papers and pens as if that was more important than my query. A small desk clock ticked softly, expectantly, as the room fell silent.

  I sat quietly for a moment, trying to regain control over my temper. After all, Philo Marshall was my oldest friend, and I'd always trusted his judgment and council. But things had changed between us when he was elected to be the leader of the Twelve, the group that made decisions for our colony of symbionts. Feeling a familiar mind touch mine, I stared over at Kipp, who lay on the floor nearby. His tail thumped out a slow, steady rhythm as his amber eyes looked up at mine. In the manner of well matched telepaths, his thoughts merged with mine like the water from two streams pouring into one deep reservoir.

  Of course, our relationship was unique. I'd met Kipp while on a fact finding time shift to a far distant age to observe an ancient civilization. My travelling partner, Tula, was killed, and without our symbiotic bond, I had no way to return to my contemporary home. Kipp found me and saved me, literally and figuratively, and after managing to forge a connection, we made the trip back to present days. Our trust in one another was unparalleled.

  "I'd hate to be compelled to insist, Petra, but we really need you to do this." Philo raised his eyebrows and added, "And you, after all, work here, right?"

  I felt my face flush with heat. It was rare I'd been angry with Philo but was furious at that moment. Fortunately, Kipp privately counseled me to keep my occasionally intemperate tongue in my mouth.

  Kipp was a unique addition to our collective, since he had all the original assets and skills possessed by our early ancestors. Unfortunately, all contemporary symbionts had lost many of those talents and functioned at a level markedly below Kipp's. Telepathically he entered my mind and began to help me to cool my anger without Philo having any notion that he had done so. Of course, in any case, Philo wouldn't have eavesdropped on my thoughts since modern symbionts had adopted rules of civility that prohibited such intrusion.

  Turning my head, I gazed out the large window of Philo's office; it faced north and overlooked the pretty courtyard, which, in spring, was filled with flowers such as azaleas and hydrangeas. It was summertime, and the crepe myrtles abounded, their limbs bent heavily from the weight of countless blossoms. A large yellow poplar threw its massive shadow against the side of the Technicorps office building which was nestled in the heart of Research Triangle Park. I'd lived in this part of North Carolina–the piedmont with its gently rolling green hills–for many years. At some point, Kipp and I would be transferred out, to live in another collective. The humans with whom we worked and lived would eventually become suspicious at my lack of aging, since symbionts were naturally long lived.

  Symbionts have existed alongside human for centuries, that fact having been carefully concealed from the human species. And there was a good reason for the covert nature of our relationship. With the ability to travel back in time, symbionts could change the progression of history, and it would be all too seductive for humans to manipulate that fact. As far as my neighbors on my quiet street knew, I was a reasonably attractive woman in my late twenties who lived with a large, reddish colored dog. They would never have guessed that the dog, Kipp, had an intelligence superior to most humans and skills surpassing all living symbionts.

  I gazed at Kipp and again he thumped his tail in response. His large, upright ears swiveled in my direction as he tried to cross his eyes, failing miserably. I knew he was trying to humor me out of my agitation with Philo.

  "I know you and Kipp are having an intense discussion to which I am not privy," Philo finally remarked. "Petra, the reason we need to push the issue is that, quite frankly, our kind are losing the skills that make us unique. Fewer of us are willing to become travelers; it's a complicated, difficult life style that pretty much destroys the option of home and family. It's harder and harder for us to create the bond needed to time shift, as you well know. When we find two interested candidates who test as compatible partners, we have to move on it."

  "But Peter Keaton?" I began, shaking my head. "He's only fifty years old, with no experience."

  "Petra," Philo said, his voice patient but strained, "you once had no experience, either. All learners have to start somewhere." He looked more than a little tired; the gray was overtaking his hair, and his dark eyes were shadowed.

  I'd had enough at that point. Philo was correct in that I worked at Technicorps, and if I wanted a paycheck, I'd need to do whatever was asked of me. Globally, our colonies worked to surreptitiously benefit mankind through research in a diverse number of areas. My specific talent was to visit the scenes of past unsolved mysteries and bring lost information to the present. Some was shared, with care, with humans, while most was cataloged by Fitzhugh, the keeper of our history of a species. By no means were we allowed to interfere with humanity or the progression of time as fate had designed.

  After a terse goodbye t
o Philo, Kipp and I made our way outside. It was a late summer day; the sun was completing its predestined arc of the bright blue canopy, and the sky was gracefully streaked with the lavender gray tones of impending twilight. A flock of birds soared overhead, turning suddenly with the amazing ability of their kind to avoid collisions as they twisted and banked on their journey south. Kipp paused, craning his neck back, as he stared at the birds.

  "I really don't know how they do that," he said. "I've tried to comprehend their thoughts, but it's difficult because there are so many of them in a tight area."

  "Well, I wish I could read their little bird brains, but I'm having trouble just dealing with my own kind right now." With that comment, I gave Kipp a silent salute at his advanced ability to read, to some degree, the notions of the baser creatures of the earth. Certainly none of my contemporaries could manage such a thing.

  "You will make up with Philo," Kipp said, with a confident nod. "Your friendship is too deep to stay angry for long."

  Well, of course I knew he was correct. There were two beings on earth who could be totally honest with me. One was a humanoid symbiont, Philo Marshall, and the other was Kipp, a lupine and my superior in all ways calculable.

  The warmth of the fading day was thankfully mild. The weather in the piedmont was unpredictable. There could be harsh cold, with snow that impeded travel, while the summers could be so hot as to rival a tropical zone. But those were the extremes, and the waning summer had been gentle, with only a few days when the temperature went above the mid nineties. I'd lived in North Carolina long enough to become accustomed to its climate. Since my birth in 1604, I'd been challenged with different homes, as well as a variety of cultures that required a broadening of the mind and attire that tested my tolerance and adaptability. To this day, I despise a crinoline as well as a corset.

  We walked along a familiar route that meandered close to the series of streets that led to my little house on a tree lined avenue. The sidewalks were broken from the roots of stubborn old trees, and despite the city having promised to repave the pathway, they remained a jagged reminder of the past. I, for one, was happy to see them unchanged. My neighbors thought of me as a mildly eccentric woman who gave lectures at the local universities, both Duke and UNC, as well as NC State in Raleigh. My students gave me rave reviews for historical presentations that seemed so real, my listeners could actually pretend they were present for the events described. Little did they know that I had, indeed, visited such times and even participated in some of the events that I subsequently unraveled for them like a piece of worn fabric.

  As we strolled past a field where the long grass stood in tangled masses, I smiled and looked at Kipp, who returned my glance. In that abandoned pasture, we'd rescued a kitten which grew into the mighty Lily, now residing with an overly indulgent Fitzhugh. A surge of love flowed through me. Yes, Kipp was mine and I was his, as long as we chose to maintain our bond. There was no room for a mate or children, and that very fact was why so few symbionts would bond as did Kipp and I for travel. I'd had a husband and child, but both had died in an accident many years ago. At this point in my life, I was happy to be Kipp's partner and travel to the past in search of answers to the imponderable.

  As I reflected upon those thoughts, a series of exquisitely painful memories flooded my mind, despite my conscious effort to restrain the self-indulgent musing. During my last trip with Kipp when we travelled to London in the late 1800's, I'd allowed myself to become involved with a human man who'd fallen in love with me. There was really no greater crime, if that was, indeed, the correct word, than for us symbionts to become emotionally involved with human beings. There was absolutely no future in such an alliance, and the chance of changing the progression of history was too profound. We were, as a species, to leave a tiny footprint or, more preferably, none at all.

  "Is it possible?" I asked Kipp, looking down at him.

  He was a remarkably handsome lupine, with a thick and slightly wavy coat of an unusual deep auburn color. His plumed tail was carried proudly over his broad back, while his eyes, glowing amber orbs lined with dark fur, stared back with intelligence and sensitivity.

  "No, I don't think we can go back in time without leaving at least a hint of memory behind," he answered, after giving my thought consideration. "I'm certain Perdy remembered us to the end of her days. I'd like to think the same of sweet Alice," he added, dipping his head. He had strong and sentimental thoughts about some of the people we met on our first journey together.

  "I think it's just a story told to us when we are learning to keep us on the right path," I finally concluded, feeling pleased with my analysis. Tilting my head back, I allowed the waning rays of sunlight to touch my face; it was a pleasurable moment, and I closed my eyes for just a second.

  The concept of being a novice and of learning caused me to consider, more rationally, Philo and his request. I was not completely stupid and realized that the young ones of our kind needed teachers. Perhaps it was selfishness, but I had no desire to take along a couple of trainees as I worked. The journeys were difficult enough without a couple of inexperienced travelers thrown into the mix.

  "You are thinking of yourself," Kipp pointed out helpfully, yawning as he stared ahead at a large dog which was blocking our path. The dog, from a distance, saw the equally enormous Kipp as a potential challenger, but he would, as did they all, scamper off when he realized that Kipp was no dog. I'd seen Kipp scare off a pair of hungry wolves; there was no dog who would threaten him. The dog, as predicted, turned and dashed off, plowing through a hole in a ragged hedge in his haste to be gone.

  "But, I'm thinking of myself, too," Kipp added with typical Kipp honesty. "The other side of the equation is Elani, and you will recall she has a crush on me." He rolled his eyes as he looked at me. "What am I gonna do with that?"

  I was forced to laugh. At least Peter didn't have a crush on me, or at least I didn't think so. I was truly old enough to be his mother, but symbionts aged so uniquely that one would never know. Fitzhugh was more than 1300 years old, that achievement being pretty remarkable in itself. At around 400 plus, I was comfortably young but not too far off from middle age. The thought caused me to think of my Victorian love interest, William Harrow. He'd probably thought I was in my twenties, wondering why I was a spinster at such an age. I'd lived over two centuries and then some before he was born. And that was a sobering thought.

  "I'm not sure I want to agree, Kipp, but I don't know how to decline. Philo is correct in that I work for Technicorps... so do you. We may have to quit, and then what would we do?" I looked ahead down the street, watching as a stray cat cautiously crossed the road, his head down as he slunk along hoping to avoid attention.

  "I don't think we can refuse, Petra." Kipp nuzzled my hand. "Philo wouldn't ask us to do this unless he thought we were the best candidates, and he is, after all, a good friend. I'm sure he would have collaborated with Fitzhugh and Juno, too."

  In short order, we arrived at my little house; I took pleasure in its familiarity. As we stood on the front porch and I fumbled for the door key, my eyes took in the iron railings that had become weathered, with bits of rust showing through the faded paint. The front door was also in dire need of a makeover, and the windows needed cleaning, inside and out. I was not overly attached to material things, but I confess my home was a refuge of comfort and security. From the chipped ceramic tiles on the kitchen counter to the rooms filled with little bits of what some might think to be useless discards, I was surrounded by the golden warmth of history. I would look at a piece of old pottery and wonder through whose hands it had passed and what had become of those people. As I unlocked the door, the phone was ringing. It was Philo, exasperated I'd left Technicorps without the issue of serving as a symbiont instructor being settled. Yes, we were a telepathic species but there were distance limitations on what could be discerned. Kipp by far had the best telepathic nose, so to speak, and could detect the faint ping of other symbionts even when he cou
ldn't understand the thoughts.

  "I'm coming by tomorrow morning," Philo announced brusquely, his tone clipped and impatient. "We didn't get finished today, and I need to report by Monday."

  "I've got yard work to do," I replied lamely, crossing my eyes to amuse Kipp–since he managed that sort of thing poorly—who sat at my feet, staring up at me.

  "Then I'll watch," Philo responded and hung up in my face.

  Tossing the phone on the counter, not caring if it might break, I walked to my bedroom, Kipp following, his toenails ticking on the bruised hardwood floors of my house. Passing beneath a light fixture, I glanced up recalling the moment I spied it in the dusty, neglected corner of a junk store. It was stained glass–real stuff, not fake–and there had only been one tiny flaw in a pane of amber glass. To my way of thinking, the imperfection only made the piece more precious.

  "You have an unusual way of looking at the world," Kipp observed.

  Ignoring him, I paused at my dresser. With a quick glance in the mirror, I reached up and carefully felt for the fastener of the delicate strand of pearls nestled against my throat. Just touching them reminded me of Harrow, who'd bestowed that precious gift to me. Looking up again, I wondered what he'd seen when he gazed at me. Staring back at my reflection, I observed an oval face framed by dark hair, hazel eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across a too large nose. Whatever it was, he'd liked my face and eventually loved me. Kipp came up behind me and nuzzled my hand with his soft mouth.

  "Let go of the thoughts, Petra. They only make you sad."