The Time Doctors' Chronicles

By J E Moore

Two doctor/scientists transport into the past in an attempt to correct anomalies in the American Revolution and the Civil War, followed then by World War Two - only to be faced later by the Apocalypse and Armageddon. It begins: The British had won the Revolutionary War and America was still a colony. One man is sent back to Valley Forge - the site of the Continental Army's crushing defeat in an attempt the reestablish true history and restore the future. Next, they learn the Civil War had been fought to draw which resulted in two independent American countries, the USA and CSA. One man is sent back in an attempt to neutralize a secret weapon from the future which enabled the South to change the tide against the North's superior war-machine. He returns to now learn Nazi Germany has prevailed in World War Two and rules North America and all of Europe. After a correction with Einstein's help they next find the Earth has suffered a plague which is the Apocalypse and all have perished except Albinos and voracious animals. Finally, the doctors pursue other time travelers who had caused all the previous problems but unexpectedly they, themselves become trapped in a time line of where escaping to the past or future means death by disintegration or going into the flames of Armageddon - the planet's ultimate destruction . They need to devise a correction fast, however...

• Language: English
• Publisher: J E Moore
• Release date: Feb 14, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311270382

J E Moore

J E (John) Moore, a retired telephone company Electronic Technician lives in south Florida with his wife, Joyce and many of their large family nearby.

Book preview

The Time Doctors’ Chronicles… by J.E. Moore

ISBN-9781311270382 ©2016

Table of Contents

Dedication and acknowledgement

Prologue

Chapter One: The American Revolution

Chapter Two: The American Civil War

Chapter Three: World War Two

Chapter Four: The Apocalypse

Chapter Five: Armageddon and Beyond

A Bonus short story – ‘Code name: Pandora

Dedication and acknowledgement

I think I can do this.

You can do anything you want, she agreed.

This book is dedicated to Joyce, my wife and soulmate who has loved and supported me in all my endeavors.

This is what she does.

We shall share this victory together.

And… a special thanks to my friend, Gary Chapman for his proofreading and analysis.

Prologue

Have you ever experienced Déjà vu, the feeling of your having been somewhere before but can’t remember the details of why? Perhaps there is a valid reason. You may have lived in a different past or future which was altered by a Time Traveler’s intervention. Do you really want to know who you are… or were? Read the story, then decide.

Chapter One: The American Revolution

The beginning, the year is 1990

My name is Maxwell Bitterman and I still find it difficult to believe what I and my associate, Jean-Luc Debois have accomplished within the last six months. We have decided our discoveries, inventions and escapades shall not become known until after the last man standing of we two, has passed away into the Lord’s promise and even ten years beyond. On said day, The Holy See of the Vatican will be presented our documentation which is currently being stored in a secure vault by Lloyd’s of London. We do this in order to protect our fellow citizens and loved ones in hope to hold fast to this present system of things and be able to rest in peace. God save the King, President, Dictator or whomever is in charge of the American government hereafter, amen.

"In addition, we also choose at this time, not to continue the fight if there are further occurrences. Our current burden of knowledge and its possible consequences taxes us to our very souls and makes one wonder: Is any part of history real? Does there exist an unknown factor in the equation of the universe? Or is the ability to bend and reshape time to achieve one’s desire the constant itself? I pray not."

Therefore, based on our extraordinary venture the questions which now beg to be answered between Jean-Luc and I on a personal level are: Was the famous writer, H.G. Wells a visionary, a modern prophet or a time traveler? And… are visitors from the future among us here and now? Will today’s or tomorrow’s unexpected changes be known only to us again? Our journey began just outside Falls Church, Virginia. The year is irrelevant as you will see.

It was Monday morning and the two men were reviewing the newspaper after finishing breakfast then planned as usual to retreat to their respective underground laboratories in a facility built during the Cold War with the Soviet Union. Located in the rural countryside, their abode had been intended as a secret, bombproof shelter for a coalition of upper echelon, senior politicians in case of an attack on Washington, D.C. The facility never progressed beyond constructing a realistic farmhouse and barn atop a subterranean complex which hadn’t become fully operational. It had concrete walls infused with lead to stop radiation, a purified, recycled air/ ventilation system, lighting, plumbing and a top of the line, regenerative power plant which had the capacity to run a small town. DeBois’ great uncle bought the compound at a steal when the threat of its becoming known it was being funded by the U.S. taxpayer’s dollar for a clique of Survivalist, blueblood politicians as a refuge after the enemy missiles had destroyed Greater D.C. Over the years Max, an electrical engineer possessing a Doctorate in physics, with his friend Jean-Luc, a biochemist and medical doctor, were able to establish large, cutting edge laboratories for each’s expertise.

Both men were well off and single; their lives were filled with research, experimentation and applied development. The associates’ blood lines included Albert Einstein and Louis Pasteur, although both Max and Jean-Luc’s branch of the family tree had been removed and not officially recognized due to past, denounced lifestyles such as debauchery, adultery, illegitimate children, etcetera by their predecessors.

Max, remarked Jean-Luc, I wonder why this newspaper, The Colonial Chronicle was delivered here this morning instead of our daily Washington Post. It has a distinct British flavor and I haven’t found any material presented with an American viewpoint.

I agree. The A section keeps quoting the positions of the Parliament in London and the Sports is filled with soccer, rugby and even cricket, returned Bitterman. Perhaps, it’s a special edition to show how the English view us from across the Pond.

I am not entertained, returned DeBois. I have been following the U.S. Open tennis tournament in Flushing Meadows and there’s no mention of it. There’s a very good French player who has advanced to the quarter finals. Quite unusual, we are known best as clay court players and Flushing has fast, hard courts.

I am aware. I hope he does well. A pause, What say we treat ourselves to lunch today away from our usual café in the grocery store shopping center? How about a ride into town to find a new eatery and purchase a proper newspaper? suggested Max.

Jean-Luc wholeheartedly agreed and the two friends and associates drove away from the barn where Bitterman kept his vintage BMW which he had purchased direct from the Munich factory twenty-some years ago while touring the olde country on Holiday.

You know monsieur, I always get a little nervous when you drive this right-side, steering wheel vehicle. Why didn’t you buy the standard American version?

I was so enamored by London’s beauty and research opportunities I strongly considered establishing permanent residence, answered Max. "As for the BMW brand, I am German. I’m sure you sympathize. After all, you own a French car."

Oui, except I bought my Peugeot in Philadelphia and the steering wheel is on the left where it should be, retorted DeBois. Neither man had noticed Jean-Luc’s coupe, still parked in the barn now had the steering wheel on the right-side also.

They rode the farm’s mile-long, asphalt driveway to the connecting freeway which went directly into the town of Falls Church five miles distant. Traffic appears light today, commented Max and was about to turn right onto the four-lane, divided highway.

Stop! yelled Jean-Luc and seized Bitterman’s shoulder. Look. Coming toward them was an eighteen wheeler in the left lane – on their side.

Oh my, Max mumbled. Thank you so much. What is that fool doing there? He could kill someone… a lot of some ones, and leaned on the horn to gain his attention.

He must have fallen asleep, assessed DeBois. Then unexpectedly the truck driver gave a friendly wave but made no attempt to pull off or crossover to where he should be after passing them.

He must be crazy! shouted Jean-Luc.

Or maybe not, stated Bitterman as he pointed to four more cars coming behind him and the traffic on the other side of the four-lane flowing in the opposite direction. Finally after a little thought, Max said, This reminds me of the traffic in England.

DeBois stared in puzzlement, Do you think it has something to do with road construction or Civil Defense? What shall we do? wondered Jean-Luc aloud.

I can handle it, stated Max. Let’s investigate this anomaly. He smiled, After all, we still have to eat, monsieur. His wary passenger just grunted.

After they had traversed a mere three miles they spied in the distance what appeared to be a roadside eatery and slowed. I see a number of parked cars, commented Max. Normally, that’s a good indicator.

Yes, agreed Jean-Luc. This would be much better than roaming about the village in search of a decent establishment.

Bitterman turned into the parking lot – had they continued on the highway they would have soon encountered a sixty kilometer speed sign. Check it out, said Max. It resembles an old English pub. How quaint. Didn’t there used to be a Denny’s here?

I don’t know anything about the prior establishment. As for this, it appears quaint with the possibility of providing palatable food, I hope, responded DeBois. "If this were a real pub in London town there would be no food, merely warm beer and deep-fried potato chips. Remember, the Brits are famous for drinking their lunch. Such Cretins. All of France knows a glass of fine wine and a few small, sweet cakes enjoyed outside under a veranda is the only civilized way to pass the noonday partaking."

Upon entering they noticed a periodical stand filled with several publications which appeared to be British or European. Max quipped, Jean-Luc, did I make a wrong turn at the Atlantic Ocean or what?

After seating themselves and reviewing the menus placed on the table, Bitterman noted, Yes, it appears we’re about to dine in an authentic English pub replica. Fish and chips, bangers and mash, kippers and that disgusting blood pudding for dessert. Yuck. A service person passed by and Max inquired, Hello there. Is anyone going to take our order, sir?

Pardon? with a pause. Why no, you go to the counter, place your order and they will serve you when it’s ready, answered the young lad wearing three-quartered length tapered pants and a ruffled white shirt. Eying the pair’s frumpy, casual attire, Are you from another country?

Err, no… we don’t get out much. We’re out of touch with the current trends.

When it came time to pay the bill, they discovered all their currency had mysteriously changed into British sterling, the reason being they both kept their wallets in bedrooms above the insulated subterranean lab.] Jean-Luc, I think it’s best not to call attention to this oddity at this time, and paid with a question to the cash register operator. Would you please tell us the location of the closest library? and received directions which placed it next to the local post office.

The library, Max? asked his friend.

Yes, something looks awful fishy and I don’t mean the cod, answered Bitterman. If I’m correct we’re going to require a history lesson or two. [In 1990 the Internet’s W.W.W. was not available] Think about my invention I’ve been working on over the last few years, now add the possibility someone else has already done it and altered the past which of course would impact the future, our present.

My Lord, gasped DeBois. "Not that. Let’s hope instead we’ve driven into a grand-style, British celebration or a massive European-themed amusement park. Those two possibilities are plausible considerations. After all, we haven’t visited Falls Church for nigh on two years. Who knows what changes have occurred."

Upon arrival at the library they saw a Union Jack flag flying outside the post office and similar little flag decals on the mail trucks. Max gave Jean-Luc a I-told-you-so glance and received a sad shake of the head from his colleague.

Bitterman inquired where they may find material regarding the American Revolution. The woman appeared puzzled at first then replied, Do you mean the North American Colonial Uprising? Somewhat saddened, they nodded ‘Yes’ and were directed to its designated section. The men flipped through dozens of books embellishing the English campaigns, victories and military commanders’ glory. Finally, they came to what they were seeking: The deciding defeat of the rebel colonist’s Army of the Potomac at Valley Forge. As they poured through the pages they learned: English forces had captured and occupied Philadelphia, the largest American city, the fledging Continental Congress had fled to York, Pennsylvania only to have their temporary barn meeting place surrounded by Loyalists militia who locked and burned it to the ground. All perished in a fiery death – a fine example had been made. The Royal Navy had blockaded all the major ports on the eastern seacoast preventing any assistance to the disloyal Colonial rebels. The French attempted to help the upstart Americans by delivering supplies via Canada but it was too little, too late and too distant to be effective. After numerous skirmishes both enemy forces hunkered-down to wait out the impending winter. After the American general, George Washington fell ill and died from pneumonia at Valley Forge in January his eleven thousand man, rag-tag army dwindled to a mere four thousand due to infectious diseases, lack of food and cowardly desertions. The valiant British Army attacked and crushed the remaining rebellious mob in the early Spring then quick marched on New York and secured the city. The French offered a formal apology to England for interfering – stating they were misled by Benjamin Franklin and withdrew from the North American continent. They also ceased hostile actions worldwide against Great Britain in a gesture of penitence. The Uprising had been quashed and peace ensued under the rightful reign of the Crown.

It was nine p.m., the library’s closing time and the attendant called to advise the only two remaining patrons. The pair having garnished enough information, shuffled out in a dejected mood. Hardly a word had been spoken on the return trip to their farmhouse. Jean-Luc made a point to look inside his auto after Max had parked the BMW in the attached garage to the barn and saw his Peugeot’s steering wheel was now on the right side and sighed. They bade each other ‘good night’, knowing little sleep would ensue and a long discussion was expected in the morning.

The next day…

I don’t think my digestive system could tolerate a steady diet of that English swill they call food, bemoaned DeBois.

I agree, returned Bitterman. But I believe greater issues are at the forefront. For example, are we now to expect knocks on the door for inspections and permits? Are we at risk for our secret laboratories and especially the subterranean power plant? Who knows what our current status is? Are we going to be living on the street in a month or worse, have the Bobbies arrive and charge us with being some kind of public threat? I can just imagine us stating in court: Sorry, your Honor, we woke up one day and our world had been turned upside down. You and all these English types shouldn’t exist. I don’t believe we could find a barrister willing to present that type of defense. We would be locked away forever for being deep-cell terrorists or bound and confined in a padded room.

Indeed, but what shall we do? We already resemble outsiders… foreigners to the general population. I guess I could return to my birthplace, France and you to Germany. Is that what we want? Is that our sole recourse? DeBois fretted aloud.

No… I don’t think so, countered Max. I tried to consider all our options last night; my head has not yet hit the pillow. Jean-Luc responded he had gone without sleep as well. "Statistically, we can’t be the only people who remember our now former American way of life. I’m sure other unusual circumstances have insulated scores of people from being assimilated by this shocking turn of events. I suspect the lead infused into the bunker’s concrete was our determining factor. If by chance, we so-called survivors were all assembled in one place we would probably be looked upon as a lunatic fringe by the rest of the world. This has happened before. And also, I seriously doubt the other unaffected souls possess the resources to facilitate a return to what we feel is the true past. No, I believe we alone have within reach the unique ability to correct this altercation in history. But first my friend, do we really want to? Is this apparent British government better or worse than what we had? That is the real question we must decide before planning or attempting a rectification."

DeBois gulped while in deep thought, I didn’t consider you and I becoming an instrument of change. We would be two against the world, history and Time itself. It is almost an incomprehensible notion… but tell me more.

As you know, began Bitterman, I have been working on my project a little over four years. Its function has been feasible on paper for quite some time. I have not previously attempted to assemble and test its validity due to the fact several key components didn’t exist until a few weeks ago. I successfully invented what was lacking and tested each circuit pack separately. In theory, I have everything I require. The next step would be to put the total package together and give it a whirl, then proceed based on the test results.

Ye gads, do you mean your transporter machine is almost ready for an actual test? Max nodded his chin. "That’s beyond amazing!" declared DeBois.

Yes... and maybe not so amazing either, injected Bitterman. From what we gleaned in the library it may have been done before. If so, it was probably by someone from the future. I have strong doubts an operational machine existed in the past. They simply did not have the technology available. He reflected, Yes, I’ll be ready for a trial run in about ten days. Would you be so kind as to assist me?

Of course, mon ami! I would be honored. Whatever you desire… except I decline in advance the opportunity to be a test subject.

Max smiled and consoled, I think we can work around that. A faint look of relief washed over DeBois. "And on your side of the fence Jean-Luc, how goes the research on your project? Are you making progress?"

Why yes, and thank you for asking. I also am nearing a test stage, he answered. Isn’t that quite the coincidence?

Indeed, commended Bitterman. You being able to temporarily render a living mammal invisible and return it to its natural state unharmed is beyond amazing also.

I have to confess, I had to make some concessions and adjustments, conceded DeBois.

I found on a molecular level, visual dematerialization cannot be achieved without fatal consequences when returning to its original state so I developed an alternate chemical process which ironically has been right under our noses for thousands of years. It’s the ability to adapt color-wise to our immediate surroundings such as numerous creatures already do, most notably lizards. Likewise, my formula exists solely on paper but I stand ready to mix the chemicals and begin trials.

Wonderful. It should be very interesting, especially since a human would have to be naked to blend in, quipped Max. "I think I’ll pass on being your guinea pig also."

Oui, a minor complication but my project is still not as exciting as your time machine.

Taking a step forward, Our tasks are at hand and it appears we’re going to have to pick up the pace my friend, as he patted Jean-Luc’s shoulder… before the new civil authorities discover us and force a shutdown.

DeBois paced about then returned to stare face to face with his associate. Do you realize we have inadvertently answered your previous question of, Do we want to effect a change… a correction in the time line? Based on our presently stated progress reports, the answer appears to be a resounding Yes, or at least to have a proper go at it."

You’re correct my friend, agreed Bitterman. As he returned his friend’s earnest gaze, Our mission henceforth is to travel into the past and prevent the father of our adopted country, George Washington from dying at Valley Forge. They shook hands. God save and direct us. Tomorrow we begin our journey.

The testing began and after many long work days...

Max explained to Jean-Luc the basics of his first procedure. I shall begin by creating a molecular blueprint of my three test objects by using a specially designed spectrum analyzer I developed by combining and modifying four currently in-use hospital lab screening instruments. By mapping the subjects before and after then making a comparison, I’ll have a concise picture of which materials or chemicals suffer distortions or deterioration.

Are you anticipating a problem? asked DeBois. And, what are you using for test subjects?

I have no negative expectations regarding stability and frankly would be quite surprised if a fault occurs at this stage. He appeared confident. For my first trial I’m going to use a crystal wine glass, a raw egg and a fresh-cut rose. Of course, all is predicated on the belief I am truly able to send them back in time and effect a successful retrieval.

How will you be able to distinguish whether they simply disappear then reappear at the origination point without actually traversing back and forth within a time warp? poised Jean-Luc.

That will not be ascertained by this particular experiment. I am merely testing structural continuance and integrity. If all goes well, the validity of which you speak will be established on my second test when I retrieve an object from a known fixed site in the past and draw it into the future – being our present. Patience, my friend. Bitterman had previously placed the three selected objects on the floor under a seven foot high mounted apparatus which resembled a three-foot wide sun lamp. A six inch in diameter coax cable connected the lamp to a computer approximately in size to an SUV automobile. Would you like to observe the first test?

Of course, bubbled DeBois. I expected your apparatus to be on a much grander scale, at least comparable in size to our farmhouse above.

That line of thought would have been logical ten years ago, but not so now. My invention incorporates hundreds of nano-circuit boards thus greatly reducing size, explained Max. That being said, let’s flip the switch so to speak and see what happens, as he typed in a series of codes. You’ll need to learn this procedure. I’ll teach you later but don’t fret; it’s all documented in the instruction manual lying on the console.

The first test had been a success in every regard and the sequential two others were completed within ten days. Bitterman had been able to establish a rough time line and most importantly send and retrieve a small, live potbellied pig in what he estimated to be a seven day loop. This selected mammal had been chosen on Doctor DeBois’ recommendation because of its similar anatomy to a human’s and was easier to physically control compared to a jittery monkey. Jean-Luc performed the before and after molecular scans, physical exams and blood work. He also personally used a second pig for his own experiment because its skin was readily visible. His tests were also successful – the animal was able to blend color-wise with its environment. Both men were ready to commence with their final experiment. DeBois also served as his own test subject and it went as planned, all that remained was post screening and several days of observation. Max’s test was to be a bit more complicated.

I hope you weren’t offended by my joke when you were naked and going through your color transformations, offered Max.

Oh, are you referring to when you asked me if I had ever considered having a penal implant? responded Jean-Luc. "The answer is, no. We French understand technique, not size is of essence. Please try to remember your little sarcastic humor when I’m typing the codes into the time machine for your transfer. We’ll see who has the smallest weenie then, monsieur. Oui?"

Max’s final test consisted of his being sent back four weeks with Jean-Luc at the controls. After arriving at the projected site which was still located within the laboratory and verifying his surroundings he would circle the date on a wall-mounted calendar and pencil in the precise time to the second of his arrival. He then would trigger a handheld transponder which activated a red light on the console, rang a bell and printed a message: Ready to come home! Upon receiving, Doctor DeBois was to input the return code sequence which would allow the time machine to zero & lock-in Bitterman’s coordinates then retrieve the subject from any location within a hundred miles. All factions performed perfectly and Max’s calendar time stamp was off only by five seconds which he attributed later to being ‘travel time’.

Jean-Luc, thank you so much for your assistance. I felt no discomfort. At first I was surrounded by an impenetrable bright, white light which quickly faded to reality in ten seconds. I believe it would be advisable to have one’s eyes closed on future excursions. Now, I need you to check me out and in doing please pay special attention to my vision. Again all of Max’s tests and examinations during the following five days passed with flying colors.

My friend, I believe it’s time to review our accomplishments and reevaluate whether we still wish to pursue the course we discussed two months ago, poised Bitterman. How say ye? Doctor DeBois gave the American ‘thumbs up’ with a sly grin.

I concur, joined Max. Let’s sleep well tonight. We’ve earned our satisfactions. Tomorrow we shall devise a Game Plan to save George Washington from dying at Valley Forge!

Max insisted on being the traveler. He