The Time Watchers

By F. Henry Peters

About the Book
What if the fate of humanity depended on the relationship that developed between an obscure martial arts instructor and an insecure teenage girl? And what if they never met?
Imagine you had never met your mentor, who guided you through your young years, or your friend who stood by you through difficult times. Your life may have turned out quite different if people had not been there to offer advice and support. These things seem trivial in the grand scheme of the world, but let us put the philosophy on a historical level.
The Time Watchers shows us all these events would have had a dramatic change in the world’s history had the outcome been different. Yet all of them were dependent on decisions made by people who could have chosen another way.

About the Author
F. Henry Peters is on the Board of Directors for his Homeowners Association.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: Aug 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9798889255352

Book preview

introduction

A man in his seventies accompanied by a thirty-eight-year-old woman walked down the hall of the Executive Mansion. She held his arm, not to help him walk but more out of respect for her teacher. The man was proud of all his students, as they all had lived up to their potential. A senator, a Nobel Peace Prize winner, a world-renowned scientist, a captain of a nuclear submarine and her, the top negotiator for the United States in this time of peril who could ask more of students. He had no favorites amongst his students but this woman was special. She had exceeded all expectations and became a far better martial artist than he ever was. Her ability to control emotions under stressful situations was without equal, including himself. She always had this ability but it was her martial arts training that molded, shaped and gave her confidence to use it. About to face her greatest challenge ever, he had no doubt she would succeed.

The woman looked over at the man and smiled. He was a father, a teacher, a mentor and what in the Orient would be called a sensei. What her life would have been without him, she could not imagine. Through martial arts he had challenged her, pushed her to limits she did not think she had, and then respected her for the accomplishments she had achieved. His training was hard and a sane person would have quit after a week. Her instructor had then showed her how to apply the same principles to other aspects of life, school, career and personal fulfilment. In a few moments she was about to face her greatest challenge, and she knew there was too much at stake for her to fail.

snapshots in time

Pierre Ballenger sat in Canada’s Parliament building, where he waited for an audience with Prime Minister Trudeau. His goal was to persuade the prime minister to station the Black Watch, Canada’s best fighting force to West Germany.

The prime minister will see you now, stated a tall middle-aged man in a fine suit, and he was led to an office two doors down from where he was sitting.

Welcome once again, Professor Ballenger, what insights do you have for me today?

Well, Mr. Prime Minister, I have been studying the situation in East Germany and believe they will make an incursion into the West, perhaps even without Soviet consent. If they receive only a modest success, the Soviets will join the invasion and this could lead to hostilities that may lead to consequences that everyone will regret.

Don’t you think the Americans and British can handle that situation if it indeed comes to pass?

No, I do not, as they will be taken completely by surprise. Once the Soviet Central Forces are engaged, it will be impossible to push them back except through tactical nuclear weapons, hitting their central supply point as well as their navy.

Prime Minister Trudeau thought for a minute and then said, You have never been wrong, so I will give the order for them to be deployed to West Germany.

Gerhard Kruger made his way to the West German command center to speak with General Wenck. Gerhard was an analyst with BND, the equivalent of America’s CIA.

So you believe that the East Germans will invade near Erfurt?

Yes, General, I do.

The general looked at a tactical map pinned on the wall to his rear, found the location, turned and responded, The only troops stationed in the area are the Canadian Black Watch; they’re mainly for reconnaissance. It has been deemed by NATO as a low-risk area for an incursion.

That is precisely why the East Germans and, God forbid, the Soviets will attack. The Black Watch are formidable fighters but few in number and could not sustain a full out attack. That is why I suggest you work out the details to support them WHEN, not if, the attack occurs.

Do you have a timeframe, Mr. Kruger?

Yes, within the month.

I will have my staff prepare to support the Black Watch.

The lovers placed the small padlock on Gustave Flaubert Bridge in Paris as did thousands before them, signifying their eternal love. The young man smiled at his new bride and threw the key into the Seine River. They hugged each other and were about to kiss when sirens interrupted their romantic moment. Suddenly to the north, there was a light brighter than the sun and the young couple and Paris were no more.

The cabinet of Golda Meir met in secret to discuss the buildup of Iraqi forces on the Jordanian border. After five hours of deliberation, it was decided to use two of their nuclear weapons to destroy Baghdad and Basra. This would destroy their communications, rendering their air force useless, allowing the Israelis to destroy any planes foolishly launched. On January 13, 1992, the two cities were destroyed and this action caused the Iranian government to not honor their agreement with Baghdad to attack Israel.

Marshal Viktor Kulikov, commander of the Soviet Central Forces, met in a cabin deep in the Urals with Premier Brezhnev to discuss a plan drawn up by General Fromm from East Germany. Mr. Brezhnev, General Fromm is going to attack the West, I fear with or without our cooperation. His troops are well trained but the entire NATO alliance will push him back across the border, even if he makes it to France.

Brezhnev thought for a minute, then looked over at Sergey. If he can capture Fulda, then we will back him and our superior forces could conceivably take over all of Western Europe. I cannot order our military to alert status, as the Americans with their satellites would detect such a movement. Since only our intelligence agencies and you and I are the only ones that know of this, if he fails to achieve his objective we can deny any involvement. He is just one rogue East German general that has lost his mind. And Viktor, do not worry about a nuclear attack; the Americans are weak and fearful of our retaliation.

Thomas Johnson changed his flight from Tel Aviv to London to instead Alexandria, Egypt. He was returning from a British Commonwealth workshop that was hosted by Israel, the topic being Airport Security. The Commonwealth wanted security standardized methods among its members. Thomas was hoping to intercept Lady Barrick and dissuade her from her trip aboard The Seaborne Spirit. You see, Thomas had information that the cruise liner would be captured by Somali pirates and the rescue attempt would go horribly wrong, resulting in the death of herself and her young daughter. Her ten-year-old daughter, Christina, you see, would be a key player in stopping a future nuclear war.

The order for the military of the United States to stand down was given by President Tilton within a minute of the Soviet Union’s offer for a ceasefire.

General Townsend looked over at President Tilton and said, I am sure glad that the communication system developed by Excel Technical Services was in place. Without it I do not know if we could have stopped all hostilities without it. The old system would never have reached all our units in time.

Yes, responded President Tilton. This country and the world owes Brittany Cobb and her team our gratitude.

changed reality

Richard Attwood sat in the park from the Capitol Building, watching delegations from all over the world ascend the steps to attend the most important conference in the world’s history. The year was 2110 and the next few days would decide whether a workable world government would be organized. He had waited for this moment for four hundred years. Yes, four hundred years. You see, Richard Attwood was a Time Watcher. Instead of years, Time Watchers lived centuries. They have always been here, since humans started walking on two legs. Upon learning of their longevity, others would torture, kill their kind. Many Time Watchers died during the inquisition in medieval Europe and the Nazis were particular cruel. Some were burned during witch trials in early America. They could be killed like anyone else, could become drunks and drug addicts, have good days and bad days, and in fact were human. Their longevity matured them so committing acts of criminality was virtually unknown. Knowledge and wealth would be accumulated over ten human lifetimes, and they tended to reside in the upper classes of society. But some Time Watchers chose to live normal lives. The one power they had was to alter the present. Long ago Time Watchers learned that time is not linear, but like a river with eddies and back currents. Imagine a bad decision you made in the past. In the present, you have a driving under the influence charge on your record. If you were a Time Watcher, you could communicate with yourself in the past and not turn the key after the New Year’s party, hence altering your present situation. Time Watchers would not alter the past by direct intervention, but instead influenced a key person’s decision. Whether to charge or retreat, attend Harvard or Yale, or whether to enter public service or the private sector. It is said that a Time Watcher advised the Greeks at Thermopylae, a Time Watcher advised Colonel Chamberlin at Little Round Top to charge and a Time Watcher made sure that the aircraft carriers were not present at Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. Time Watchers would never harm anyone. For example, Adolf Hitler was assassinated by a Time Watcher and WWII was prevented. Due to economic conditions in Germany at the time, someone like him or far worse would ascend to power, wait until 1943, when weapons technologies improved (imagine Germany with both rockets and the A‐bomb), and start the war with Great Britain and France and emerge the victor. Time Watchers could not take technology back to their previous self, for example, equipping George Washington’s army with M16s. Time Watchers could not travel around the world to influence a prominent individual but must have been in the vicinity and had only one chance. Unlike science fiction, they could not be making attempts until the desired result was achieved. Time is fluid, not static.

Richard Attwood left the park and proceeded home to his wife, Sandra. Sandra was one of the few normal humans that knew of the Time Watchers. She wondered, after thirty years of marriage, why her husband never aged. Suddenly, Richard felt a disturbance like that of lightning striking nearby, and instead of the promising world that he knew a world of darkness and despair appeared around him.

Walking down New Hampshire Avenue to his house on Connecticut Avenue, Richard found nothing but rubble. The few people that he saw were unkempt and sullen. A few, in fact, looked like they were starving. He arrived at his house or what was left of it and walked through what was once the front door. 

The second and third floors were missing. He found nothing to indicate his wife Sandra was ever here or alive for that reason. What could have caused this devastation? He heard a noise in the rubble behind him. A skinny black youth stood behind him holding a brown envelope.

Sir, are you Richard Attwood?

Yes, I am.

I have a message from Steven Wilson. The youth handed Richard the envelope.

I have no money, but since this is my house you may keep whatever you find.

Richard opened the envelope with apprehension and found a letter inside.

Richard, I hope this message finds you. I have been at the government archives researching trying to determine what happened to our reality. There was a nuclear war between the United States and the Soviet Union in 1992. I can find no evidence that the negotiator was even alive in this alternate reality! Please meet me at the government archives in West Virginia as soon as possible.

The youth continued to rummage through the remains of the house and Richard thought that in his reality this young man would not be in the streets, as Dr. Wood’s organization had helped thousands of poor and abused teens to live a more productive life.

The negotiator went down in history as the person responsible for the world’s peace and prosperity in their old reality. Patricia Snow was taught in every school across the world as responsible for saving humanity from the brink of disaster. She, along with Christina Barrick, British Ambassador to the Soviet Union, and Senator Theodore Jackson from Pennsylvania, who served on the Armed Services Committee, were responsible for preventing a devastating nuclear war.

Richard made his way down the street toward the center of Washington, D.C., hoping to find a transportation center. On his way he passed a red-brick building that posted a sign: Internet active today. This appeared to be, in this alternate reality, equivalent to a library.

He was greeted by a women in her late fifties, who asked, May I help you?

Where is your internet station?

You may find one by the wall to the right.

Thank you.

The internet station seemed to be one hundred years old, but Richard soon was able to make sense of it. The first task was to see what political organizations existed in this reality. The United States did not exist. Alaska, Hawaii and Texas were independent nations. All the states east of the Mississippi, except Florida, which was semi‐independent, were still called the United States. Michigan, Minnesota and Wisconsin formed a union with Canada. California, Oregon and Washington formed the Pacific States of America. The Western states were called Independent America. All except the latter had socialist economies, yet still maintained somewhat of a democratic form of government. The old Soviet Union was even more dismembered, all fifteen republics now independent nations, some democracies and some dictatorships. The European Union still looked intact. Israel, unencumbered by the United States, now included Jordon, Lebanon, Syria and much of Iraq. Saudi Arabia was a protectorate of Israel. It appeared that China was the world’s leader, controlling much of the trade. Oil was still the world’s main energy source, unlike his reality, where most energy was derived from hydrogen and fusion energy. Israel controlled most of the oil trade. Union Station in Washington, D.C., was still functioning, and Richard made his way down Massachusetts Avenue to make his way to Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia, where the government archives were located. The buses and trains were not much different from one hundred years ago in his reality. Richard took a seat on one of the benches so that he could determine what form of currency was used. As he watched the comings and goings, he determined that there was not any. People just mentioned their destination and were instructed where to go. He would study this economy without money at a later date.

As he was about to go a gang of youths appeared, intimating the travelers. This situation did not last long, as two very large black men in blue uniforms with white sashes soon escorted them out of the station. Once again, he wondered what happened to Dr. Woods, who won the Nobel Peace Prize for his work, which in his reality eliminated the need for youths to join gangs. He was instructed to go to track F, which would take him to Harper’s Ferry via Dickerson and Hagerstown, Maryland. He took a seat in the third car about halfway down. The seats in the car were functional and not too uncomfortable. In about ten minutes he could feel the train moving forward, and he smelled an odor that he assumed was burning diesel fuel. The train, he calculated, was going fifty mph. The fall foliage was at its height and half an hour later, as they pulled into Dickerson station, he noticed Sugarloaf Mountain, which was quite beautiful. He wondered if the deer population survived the ravages of war.

As he was taking in the view, an elderly couple sat in the seats to the right of him. As he was listening to the couple talk he wondered what was wrong with the women, as she was talking nonsense, something about being in California. Richard wondered if she had Alzheimer’s disease, which did not exist in his reality. A doctor of Oriental descent, what was his name? Chang, yes, Dr. Chang laid the groundwork for the cure for this disease. The train soon pulled out of the station and made its way to Hagerstown. Richard looked in wonder at the Potomac River, which did not appear any different than from his reality. People were still bank fishing but he noticed no boats. Twenty minutes later they arrived in Hagerstown, where the train was loaded with passengers. During his journey Richard wondered what was missing. Cell phones! No laptops or notebooks either. After half an hour, the train resumed its journey and arrived in Harper’s Ferry without incident.

Richard Attwood made his way to the archives. At the entrance were two large white men in brown uniforms who served as security. Richard could not tell if they were private contractors or worked for the government directly.

The largest said, Yes?

I am Mr. Attwood and I am here to see Mr. Steven Wilson.

Yes, sir, please follow me.

He saw Steven was well connected in government circles in this reality as well.

Richard Attwood found Steven Wilson working on what in this reality was a primitive computer. Good evening, Steven.

Good evening, Richard. What have you found?

As stated in my letter the negotiator, Patricia Snow, does not seem to be here in this alternate reality. Also, Christina Barrick appears to have died somehow as a young girl, and no information is available on Senator Jackson. Have you tried to contact others like us? asked Richard.

I have contacted Pierre Ballenger in Montreal, as the Canadian archives appear to have sustained less damage than ours, and have sent word to Thomas Johnson in London and Gerhard Kruger in Berlin. It appears that the war was started by an invasion of West Germany by initially East German, followed by Soviet troops.

What happened to the wireless communication system? I noticed nothing that would indicate that cell phones exist in this reality.

Steven worked the mouse at the computer station. There is no indication that there ever was one.

Who developed that system?

A company called Excel Technical Services; the CEO was Brittany Cobb, the best communications engineer of the time. Steven worked the mouse. I can find no Brittany Cobb who developed any communication system. I have had not much contact with the outside world, Richard, as I have been here trying to find the point in time that altered our reality. What have you observed?

I noticed what used to be called a gang at Union Station. As you know Dr. Woods, who won a Nobel Peace Prize for his efforts, had eliminated the need for such negative youthful organizations. Steven worked the mouse. No Dr. Woods in this reality that worked with disaffected youth.

I also saw a woman that had Alzheimer’s disease on the train. Is Dr. Chang alive in this reality?

No Dr. Chang, replied Steven. Wait, I am looking at my sign-in logs and there is someone ‘piggybacking’ on my file. Whoever it is they have covered their tracks well, except on this one. They seem to have gotten careless. This person is looking for Senator Jackson! I have an address, 1100 Florida Avenue in Washington, D.C.

There was another Time Watcher alive.

Interesting, said Richard. Why have we not sensed the existence of this Time Watcher before?

We have always assumed, replied Steven, that we could sense when another Time Watcher has created another reality. Perhaps he did not change an event in his past?

Very likely, replied Richard. We must leave immediately.

Yes, replied Steven. We will go to my apartment, have a good dinner and then I will pack.

The apartment was within walking distance and consisted of two rooms, a living/dining area and a small bedroom. Steven was an excellent cook and served turkey with gravy, baked potatoes and corn. For dessert he served English pudding that Richard was quite fond of, reminding him of his life in England so many centuries ago.

They boarded the train at Harper’s Ferry and rode the route in reverse.

So, Steven, where were you when the change occurred?

I was spending time at my cabin in the mountains near here, enjoying the fall hunting and fishing. I was coming back from the trout stream when I became disoriented, and when I became aware again I noticed the forest had changed. It was very overgrown and it appeared that the wildlife population was decimated several decades ago. I found a library at Harper’s Ferry and studied the history of this reality and was quite dismayed until I remembered that I was working for the government in this reality and had priority clearance, which allowed me to access the archives at Harper’s Ferry. I sent the note hoping you were alive and my courier would find you.

The two men were silent for about an hour, until it was time to disembark at Dickerson.

As they were waiting at the station, Richard stated, What really bothers me about this reality is that a good part of the United States is heading to the Socialist ‘experiment’ and since we have both lived a very long time we know what happens to Socialist economies; they end in disaster.

I could not agree more, Richard, some have even decimated their own populations for an ideal, like China and Venezuela.

Richard and Steven departed the train station and proceeded to walk to 1100 Florida Avenue as it was only a few blocks from the station. The sun was rising, promising to rid the air of the fall morning chill.

They approached the house and Steven said, Let’s just knock. 

Alan King was dismayed, waking from a deep sleep and finding himself in this alternate reality. Although his friend and mentor, Senator Theodore Jackson, had died a century ago, the thought of his work having never been performed caused a depressing mood that was causing his health to fail. He knew he could not alter the present for personal gain, but he needed to know what happened to the senator. Computers and communications were his forte in the other reality, and he had managed to keep a portion of the internet alive in his area. He was piggybacking on someone with top-security clearance to try and find information on Senator Jackson. So far nothing in the government archives in West Virginia. 

There was a knock on the door and, upon answering, he saw two men, one tall, who introduced himself as Richard Attwood, and the other of medium but husky build, who introduced himself as Steven Wilson.

You know, you could be in serious trouble if caught trying to access the archives without clearance, said Richard Attwood.

Indeed, exclaimed Steven Wilson. Why are you trying to find information on Senator Jackson?

Alan King was about to speak until it dawned on him he was the only one that knew Theodore Jackson as Senator in the other reality.

I was his congressional aide.

Richard Attwood and Steven Wilson were, like himself, Time Watchers.

We need to know everything you know, said Steven Wilson. We know Patricia Snow was a close associate. Did you ever meet her?

Yes, several times.

Describe these events in as much detail as possible.

The first time was in Senator Jackson’s office. He introduced her and said she worked for the State Department. Both their families were originally from Western North Carolina, and he had watched her grow up to be the successful person she was. Come along, Alan, Patricia and I are going to work out with the Secret Service boys today, you may find this interesting.

They made it downstairs to the wrestling room, where Alan took a seat. Senator Jackson and Patricia Snow returned having changed, Patricia wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants. They both proceeded to put some kind of padding on their shins and some kind of padded boot on their feet, followed by boxing gloves. They both walked over to the five Secret Service agents to begin their workout. Senator Jackson was first and sparred two agents. For a big man, he sure was fast. Then it was Patricia’s turn. Alan had studied Tae Kwon Do and boxing and had never seen fighting skills like this women possessed. She was not linear as I was taught but moved to the side and back. Very fluid and calm. Perfect breathing. Used her feet mostly with the first three. It reminded him more of dancing than fighting. He could tell you those three were no challenge for her.

The fourth agent said, I am a boxer and you would not do well against me if you could not kick.

Okay, no kicks, replied Patricia Snow.

The agent threw a jab and Patricia parried and moved to the side. She continued this strategy, frustrating the agent. Kept her distance like a pro. The agent threw a right hook, exposing his side. Two jabs and a straight right to the ribs, which caused this agent to drop his hands. Patricia took a step back and when the agent turned with his hands down she spun and hit him with her fist. The agent dropped to one knee and said he had enough! The fifth agent exclaimed he was a wrestler and once he tied her up she would be done. Patricia took off her boxing gloves. He went to tackle her. Patricia moved to his back, grabbed the back of his shirt and dumped him. He tried again. This time his wrist was twisted, her left hand placed on his elbow, and she stepped back, causing the wrestler to fall face first on the mat. He jumped up, reached with his right hand to grab her arm. Patricia moved to the side, snaked her left hand around his arm, placing her hand on her right arm, locking the wrestler’s wrist. Pivoting she dropped the agent to the mat, and it appeared as if she tried to lift him off the mat. Looked painful and it must have been as the agent tapped out. When asked if he wanted to continue, No was his reply. The wrestler was exhausted, yet Patricia was not even breathing heavy. She was calm the whole time.

After a short water break, one of the agents said, All right, sweetie, let’s see how you do at gun disarm drills.

They used a real gun with the firing pin removed for realistic purposes. Patricia stood facing the agent, and as he began to draw she moved behind him, moving her hands so fast that Alan could not really see what she had done, but the gun ended up in her hands. All agents tried several times, but had this been real they all would have been dead.

Anything else?

Yes, I did some checking at State and found, although not well known by the general public, her negotiating skills were superb. She was instrumental in the China Vietnam Peace Agreement. She also worked on the agreement that led to the withdrawal of Soviet Troops from Afghanistan. 

But the one thing most people did not know in our reality was her connections went far beyond Senator Jackson. Alan was working late as usual on the NATO acceptance of Spain as a member when the senator announced he was going to a reunion of some sorts and Alan was welcome to come along. He was staying at the hotel where the reunion was taking place, but he was not comfortable with people he did not know but would stay in the lobby to relax before going to his room.

The clerk told the senator that the room was ready, and he went down the hall to where the room was located. A short while later, Patricia Snow and another woman Alan did not initially recognize, but after a few moments realized was Christina Barrick, the British Ambassador to the Soviet Union, entered the lobby.

The room is ready, ladies, and the senator has already arrived, said the desk clerk.

A short while later, although the general public would probably not recognize her, but being a techie Alan did, the designer of the wireless communications system, Brittany Cobb, arrived. She was met by a black man, whom she called Dr. Woods.

I want to thank you for all your support, said the doctor.

You are most welcome, and I will continue to support your organization, as you have helped so many underprivileged teens from delving into the world of drugs and gangs, said Ms. Cobb.

The clerk said, Good evening, and they went to join the reunion.

The last two to enter were an older gentleman and a young Oriental man, whom the clerk called Dr. Chang.

Room 105 this time. Everyone is here. How is your research coming, Dr. Chang? asked the desk clerk.

I expect to make a major breakthrough within two years, replied Dr. Chang.

Richard Attwood and Steven Wilson were aghast.

Do you realize, said Steven Wilson to no one in particular, that the six people that shaped our reality are all missing and knew one another?

And that Patricia Snow was quite skilled in the martial arts. She obviously was not born with these skills, so we must determine who her instructor was, which may lead us to why she was not negotiator in 1992.

Richard Attwood responded, We must search for the event that caused this reality and do what we can to change it.

This may be quite difficult, as virtually nothing is known about Patricia Snow’s early life. She was a private person. In our reality, her known life started as a negotiator for the Los Angeles Police Department. No information previous to that has been revealed. History concentrated on her formulating the accord that prevented nuclear war. If you remember, she was the alternate negotiator as Donald Hoffman fell ill at the last moment, heart attack, I believe.

Steven Wilson added, We must determine if Akane Yamada is alive in this reality. She may have actually known the negotiator or, if luck is with us, he may even have been her instructor at some point.

Akane Yamada was regarded as one of the most skilled and knowledgeable martial artists in the world. Being a Time Watcher, her skills accumulated over several hundred years.

Richard looked over at Alan King. Mr. King, could you work your magic on the internet and contact Ms. Yamada in Honolulu?

Call me Alan and I will get to work right away. 

introduction to the instructor

Black Cloud, the chief of this band of Sioux on the SD reservation, lectured White Eagle on the rules established by the elders regarding who may live on the reservation. This man is not native and may not establish a residency here.

But Chief Black Cloud, he has blood in his veins from the Shawnee, who settled in Northeastern Dauphin County, Pennsylvania.

That may have been two hundred years ago, but the man you are renting to has blond hair and blue eyes.

But Chief, he is teaching my son Red Feather enlightenment.

He is teaching you son how to fight, which is not enlightenment.

Red Feather wants to join the U.S. Marine Corps and the training he is receiving from the instructor may one day save his life.

He will get his training in the Corps as I did. The elders have decided this instructor must leave the reservation.

A white man in his late twenties or early thirties walked down Arch Street in a predominantly black neighborhood. He needed to familiarize himself with the surroundings, as he had just purchased on old school here to be used as a martial arts training center. This area was known for gang activities, mostly shakedowns and destroying of property, no drugs or murders YET, but the instructor had no fear, as he had been trained to handle situations like gangs. The man preferred not to carry firearms but instead today carried two escrima sticks tucked behind his back. He would have preferred his bokken, a wood version of a samurai sword, but this could not be concealed easily and would draw too much attention. He passed a black woman, say late twenties, carrying two bags of groceries in her hands and three more in a red wagon, which she was pulling behind her. After passing her, he heard some loud talking and turned to see five black youths harassing the woman. One of the youths took a bag of groceries out of the wagon.

Stop! said the woman.

Another of the youths grabbed the woman by the waist and threw her to the sidewalk.

The man walked toward the robbery, took the black woman’s hand in his and helped her to her feet. Are you hurt, ma’am?

No, just ruffled some.

Turning toward the gangsters, the white man said, Now, you have two choices, voluntarily put the groceries in the wagon or I make you put them in the wagon.

White man, I suggest you leave before we cut you.

I may be cut in the upcoming altercation, but the five of you will be hurt badly.

Five knives were pulled out. The man picked out the weakest link, an overweight youth who was standing in front of an old but still solid-wood picket fence. Before another word was spoken the man used a sidekick to the chest of this youth, who flew backwards through the fence, and there he lay unconscious. This movement stunned the others for just a second so the man could draw his escrima sticks. The youths had never seen anything like this in the hood. The man’s instructor had taught him to determine the leader in a gang situation, take him out, and the others would likely flee. Not being able to determine the leader, he would strike them all. The technique was simple: left hand strike the hand holding the knife, right hand strike the free-floating ribs. This technique was repeated three more times, resulting in three gang members lying on the street in pain. The youth still standing lunged with his knife at the white man, who simply moved to the side, trapped the knife arm with the sticks and took it from him.

The knife was placed at the youth’s throat, and the white man exclaimed, There will be no harassing the residents on this street! You gangsters may war with each other all you want, but the civilians here will be left alone to conduct their business as they see fit. If you decide not to follow my instruction, I will find you and finish this fight.

The youths, without saying a word, started to walk down the street.

Are you forgetting to do something? said the white man.

The youths turned and put the groceries in the wagon.

Do you want me to escort you home?

I will be alright, as my home is just around the corner. Why did you help me? I mean, white people don’t help black people around here.

No one deserves to have to live in fear, and I treat everyone the same no matter what their background may be. The white man turned and continued down the street.

Philadelphia Sun, June 25th, 1970. A female high school senior and her martial arts instructor thwarted a gang attack.

The students bowed to their instructor, which was a signal to end training for the evening.

Sir, said a young eighteen-year-old woman, may I have a word with you?

Of course you may.

I did as you suggested and applied to Temple University and was accepted with a scholarship as well.

I am pleased with your accomplishments in the martial arts, he said, then pointing to her newly awarded blackbelt, and your accomplishments outside the martial arts as well. Let’s change and I will walk you to your residence and we can talk. The instructor locked the door and they began to walk down the street.

Blight infected this part of the once beautiful city, and the young woman wondered if it was even safe to do so, but her instructor was awesome and would take care of any mischief that might befall them.

As they passed two abandoned buildings, they heard running and shouting and her instructor stopped.

What do we have here, an old man and a little girl.

The young woman could feel the fear choking her and felt helpless.

Shake that old bastard down for whatever he’s got, said the apparent leader.

As one of the gang members went to touch her instructor, he took a step back and unleashed a sidekick, his best technique. He spun and hit another attacker with a spinning hook kick and another went down. The remaining five surrounded her instructor and two pulled knives. One of the hoodlums lunged with a knife and her instructor stepped to the side, controlled the knife with his left hand then, placing his right hand on the side of the face, pivoted his body three hundred sixty degrees and sent this one to the street. The other knife-armed hoodlum was about fourteen and just stood there not knowing what to do. The instructor simply slapped the knife away and punched him in the stomach just enough to knock the wind out of him. A series of punches—face, kidney, face, stomach—stopped another one’s attack. Strangely, one of the gang members stood and watched the others attack her instructor, not making any effort to participate. He noticed the young woman standing there and came toward her, believing her to be an easy target. She noticed he made no effort to protect himself and reflex action caused the young woman to use her round kick, her best technique, and this person fell to the ground as if shot! Being under stress, her technique was not as strong as in class but she remembered hitting a large classmate with twice as much force but it did not affect him in the least. Another grabbed her, leaving his face totally unprotected. She remembered another student hitting her in the nose during a sparring session and her eyes filling with water. The blow did not hurt or make her nose bleed but she could not see. So she hit this punk with a perfect reverse punch in the nose. He screamed as blood flew everywhere and the young woman performed a reap, taking out this one’s legs, which caused his head to bounce off the sidewalk. The first one that her instructor took out with his sidekick was getting up, lifting his shirt, as he was doing so exposing a semi-auto pistol. Momentarily fear gripped the young woman as she thought her instructor was going to die with her watching. Then time slowed down. Her mind, it seemed, ran a million times faster than usual and out of memory. The kidney is the only major organ that is unprotected, her instructor once said.

I do not want my instructor to die, so I cannot fail and I WILL NOT fail, she thought.

From behind, she reached up, gripped the shirt collar with her left hand, and threw her right elbow, at the same time pivoting her body, into the kidney of the attacker, who immediately fell to his knees, the gun clattering on the street. She picked up the gun and, not knowing how to use it, she pulled the clip from the gun, threw it away and pulled the slide back to unload the round in the chamber as she had learned in an advanced self‐defense class (her instructor had lied about her age so she could participate). Then just as fast as it had begun, it was over. Seven gang members lay on the street.

snapshots in time

April 7, 1992: New York Times

Patricia Snow had successfully negotiated a ceasefire in Europe. The Soviet Union and its allies had agreed to halt military operations. In exchange, NATO had agreed to deactivate all medium-range nuclear missiles in Western Europe.

John Jay Adams was walking down the street to, at times it seemed, his only friend, who taught martial arts to the disadvantaged young people in this poor area of Philadelphia, when he felt the disturbance. He became disoriented for a time and soon realized that an event in time had changed. What it was, he could not imagine. In this new reality the area he lived in was even poorer. When he rounded the corner, his friend’s dojo was now an empty lot. He remembered his friend buying the old school about ten years ago from the city before it was condemned. A great despair overtook him as he walked back to his house. His home was still there, which gave him some comfort. He sat in his rocking chair and pondered what event had changed to cause this reality. He would miss his friend deeply. Due to an injury to his leg received during the First World War in the Battle of the Somme, martial arts training was out of the question but he enjoyed watching the classes the instructor taught. He was the only one to be given this privilege and was astounded by this man’s knowledge of the fighting arts. He had many discussions with the instructor when he was not teaching on various subjects and was amazed at the depth of knowledge this man possessed, especially law and history. Very little was ever discussed about his personal life, but the instructor told John Jay Adams a few pieces of personal history. The instructor was wealthy and chose to live here amongst the poor in order to do what he could to show that there is hope.

I train a few students who I feel are deserving of my knowledge, and once they obtain their blackbelt they see that anything in life is possible. The instructor once told him that he nearly died at birth, something about the umbilical cord being wrapped around his neck. How the instructor obtained his wealth and knowledge was not shared with John Jay or anyone.

John Jay was sure that no one in this neighborhood could possibly be involved in the creation of this reality. Yes, the students the instructor taught to be successful would probably not have the same life, but what possibly could the poor have on the world’s fate? John Jay did notice one thing out of place. The young woman and her daughter that lived two doors down the street with her parents were not in any of his memories of this reality. What was the little girl’s name? 

introduction to trisha beck

The trio formed some sort of unofficial gang. Dennis was middle class and Troy and Sam were from the inner city of Philadelphia. Troy and Sam were riding the train looking for a target to rob. They singled out Dennis but instead of a target Troy and Sam found someone like themselves. They both pulled knives on Dennis but he pulled one of his own, threatening to cut off their testicles if they came any closer.

Troy and Sam put their knives away, and Troy asked, You are not from this neighborhood, what are you doing here?

I was thinking on doing the very same thing to someone, replied Dennis. Watch the fear in their eyes as you take their belongings gives me a rush.

Dennis, white and of medium build, at twenty years of age became their leader as Troy and Sam were seventeen and sixteen respectively. Both were black, Troy of medium height and thin build, and Sam was small in height but somewhat stocky. At first, drinking alcohol and smoking marijuana was all the illegality committed by this gang. Then it was robbery as the trio waited outside liquor stores and forcibly took from someone who was of age to purchase alcohol. The first was an old man who, at the flash of the knives, gave up his liquor without a fight. The second was an old woman who the trio thought was going to have a heart attack or stroke when they took her vodka. Word on the streets was the cops were curious, but the three of them were low priority on their case list. Stealing alcohol from old people did not justify taking resources from murder and rape cases. Their next thrill was about to change all that.

Troy had scoped out an attractive blonde twenty-something woman who would purchase a bottle of Jack Daniels every Tuesday at five-thirty. The next Tuesday at five-thirty, Lillian purchased a bottle of Jack Daniels and was walking down the street when confronted by the trio brandishing knives and demanding the bottle.

Go away, you gangster wannabes, or I’ll tell your mothers.

Troy and Sam were not going to take that kind of talk from an uppity white woman so they took the bottle from her, cutting her left arm in the process.

Dennis said, I don’t think she understands the gravity of her situation in defying us. Go on, fellows, teach her a lesson but have a good time doing it. I would suggest by the dumpster in that alley.

Lillian was raped by all three and left in the alley until the next morning, when a passerby called police. 

Dennis, Troy and Sam laid low for two weeks, hanging out at Dennis’ apartment smoking pot and drinking beer. They were careful not to draw attention to themselves by having their parties become too loud and out of control. They did remember the adrenaline rush from the event two weeks ago and decided to plan another assault. After all, the police never came looking for them nor did they hear anything on the streets about their names being associated with the assault. After searching the neighborhood it was agreed that Rena, an attractive young black woman of about twenty who worked at the corner convenience store, would be their next rush. The store closed at ten P.M. and Rena would walk the two blocks to her apartment, a routine that the boys had studied for a week. It was decided that they would let her walk one block, where there was an unused garage where the planned assault would take place. Dennis would look out of place in this particular part of the neighborhood, so he would wait in the garage for Troy and Sam.

Rena was walking home to her apartment at 10:15 P.M. as usual when she noticed the two black teenagers walking toward her, but she was not alarmed as they looked like anyone else in the neighborhood, nor was it uncommon for teens to be out at this time of night. At a nod from Troy, Sam turned around, placed his hand over her mouth and twisted her arm behind her back, at which point they both dragged her screaming toward the garage and the waiting Dennis.

Linda Parks always took the train home from her Tae Kwon Do class. Her instructor, Chon Lee, was sponsored by her father, so he would be allowed to come to the United States. As a favor, and as a debt owed in Chon Lee’s eyes, he would train Mr. Park’s five children. Linda and her brothers and sisters were born in the United States and had assimilated into American culture, so the concept of doing something you were not particular good at for family honor was confusing to them. Her three brothers exceled as did her older sister. But martial arts were something Linda had little interest in. Besides, Tae Kwon Do was the Korean national sport whose purpose was competition, not to defend against street fights, which were quite common in this area.

Dennis, Troy and Sam noticed this petite Korean girl riding on the train Tuesday, Thursday and most Saturdays. The followed her to the jo dang and watched her train, no one impressed. The trio noticed Linda telegraphed her kicks and they felt confident they could block them. So on a Thursday night at seven o’clock, they boarded the return train to Center City and sat several seats down from Linda. No one stared or made rude comments as to give away their intentions. When Linda left the train at her stop, the trio followed her down the street and as soon as they were away from the train station, Dennis and Sam stepped in front of her with Troy at her back. Dennis and Sam asked if she had any cigarettes, to which she replied no, and Troy grabbed her around the waist. Back elbow strikes were taught by Mr. Lee and Linda executed one right on Troy’s nose, breaking it.

You bitch! shouted Troy.

She next tried a round kick on Dennis, who simply grabbed her leg and threw her to the street, hitting her head, which caused her to go into a semiconscious state. She was taken up the steps to an abandoned building that the trio had already checked out, thrown on a broken couch. Dennis was first and she moaned as he took off her skirt and underwear.

Hurry up, said Sam, it is my turn.

When Sam was finished with what he thought was lovemaking, he looked at Troy.

Go get her, buddy.

But rape was not on Troy’s mind. He straddled her and started punching her face over and over again until finally Dennis stopped him.

You are even with this gook, we need to go before anyone comes looking.

Her older brother found her late the next day and she was taken to the hospital.

The trio now got the attention of the Philadelphia Police Department. Word on the street was two detectives from different precincts were investigating their crime spree. So they decided their next victim would come from Conshohocken, where a better class of whites lived. They wanted a middle-aged woman this time that actually liked what was being done to her. Wasn’t that what some of Dennis’ magazines said, woman of this social class fantasized about being raped? They checked out several markets and found a tall blonde who wore good clothes and who bought fresh fruits and vegetables on the Sixth Street market almost every evening. A cemetery was located close to the market and the trio decided this would be appropriate for their next hit. The trio grabbed this woman and took her several rows into the cemetery, where no one from the street could see into the darkness. Instead of forcibly removing her clothes, the trio made her undress one article at a time, threatening to kill her if she screamed. Troy and Sam took their turns while Dennis preferred to watch.

The word was on the street that the police were looking but had no leads on the trio. They were not sure that the rape that occurred on Conshohocken was related. So after a two-week hiatus, Dennis, Troy, and Sam were going to try something upscale and rob a house in Upper Darby and, if the opportunity arose, have some fun along the way. They found a gorgeous house with a gate that was locked with a not-so-good-quality padlock that was quickly broken with a crowbar. The front door lock was harder to break with the crowbar but Sam did manage to do it without too much noise. No alarm went off nor did a dog come down the steps with hate on his mind. The trio had never seen such fine things, lamps, furniture, and glassware, all antique and quite valuable.

All these rich bastards have a safe somewhere, let’s go find it, Dennis said.

Upstairs went the trio, and in the second bedroom to the left they found the homeowners asleep. Dennis placed the barrel of his newly acquired Colt .357 against the man’s head, while simultaneously Troy put his hands over the woman’s mouth.

Where is the safe? Dennis whispered to the sixty-something man.

He pointed to right above his head.

Open it, whispered Dennis.

Perhaps to speed the process, Troy placed his hands on the woman’s breasts and started to knead, saying, I like this, oh, I like this.

The safe was opened directly and money, gold and silver and some jewelry was placed on the bed. Not being professional thieves, they forgot to bring something to carry their loot in so a pillowcase had to be appropriated to carry their stolen goods to the waiting car.

The trio laid low for two months and lived off the proceeds from the stolen loot which, since they did not know anyone in the underworld, was sold for a lot less than what it was worth.

After one long pot-smoking session, Dennis suggested that they try two at once.

Where would we find two girls walking together in a secluded area? said Troy.

How about Temple University? said Sam. Along the walking path.

Two nights later the trio found an ambush spot along the trail with just enough light to size up their prey. The first two girls that walked down the path together were too overweight for their tastes, but the next two were given some scrutiny.

Look at that blonde, she is hot and not very big.

Yeah, the brunette is gorgeous. Let’s go, said Dennis.

Trisha had met her friend two weeks ago in her American History class. Both were freshmen at Temple University, and her friend Britt was quite a looker brunette at five-six. Trisha was a blonde at five-four and weighed 110 pounds. Britt seemed to be one of those people who were afraid of their own shadow, and Trisha had agreed to walk her back to the dorm after her night Intro to Biology class. One of Trisha’s talents was the ability to sense danger, and after a short walk down the dark pathway to the dorm that feeling became overwhelming. Out of the shadows appeared three men who approached them and asked them if they had any money.

Trisha’s fear was soon controlled as she had been taught, and she told them in no uncertain terms, We have no money, being college students, and even if we did you would not get any.

One of the men grabbed Britt by the arm and said, Perhaps they can pay with something else.

All the color drained out of Britt’s face and she froze in fear.

Without hesitation Trisha stepped in, moved to the side and placed her thumb at the base of the little finger while at the same time applying downward pressure, breaking the thug’s wrist. Run, get help! Trisha said to Britt.

Let’s get this little bitch! said one of the other thugs as Britt ran down the path for help.

The broken-wrist thug pulled a knife from his pocket with his unbroken hand and attempted to follow Britt.

Trisha stood in his way. Britt cannot handle this but I can. I cannot fail to protect my friend, and I WILL NOT fail.

The thugs surrounded Trisha and moved toward her. Instead of fear, Trisha felt a great calm overcome her and time itself seemed to slow down. The broken-wrist punk raised the knife and in a downward motion tried to plunge his weapon into Trisha, who parried the thrust with a knife hand cut, pivoted to the side, her right hand controlling the knife, placing her left hand on his elbow and turning 360 degrees, which caused the punk to drop to the pavement face first. This move put her into kicking range of punk number two, who was of slim build. Her instructor taught her that people of this body type had weak free-floating ribs, and Trisha planted a back-leg round kick in his rib, which cracked. Re‐chambering her right leg, the next round kick landed on the side of his head, quickly putting him out of commission.

Punk number three grabbed her from behind. Trisha stomped on his foot. He let go. He muttered something about enjoying raping her. Trisha went into a left-foot-forward fighting stance and hit him in the face with a jab followed by a left hook. Stepping back with her left leg she simultaneously threw a right cross, her two knuckles of her right hand hitting the nerve endings in the jawline, which caused punk number three to crumble to the ground.

Five minutes later, when Britt returned with campus police, all were astounded to see Trisha standing over the three men, all nearly twice her size and all on the ground unconscious.

A half an hour later, Dennis, Troy and Sam were taken into custody by the Philadelphia Police and charged with five counts of rape, two counts of attempted rape and three counts of robbery.

the child lost in the mountains

Charlotte Herald, November 20th, 1942: Headlines: Searchers find the body of the nine-year-old girl who was lost in the Smoky Mountains since November 17th. Cause of death was determined to be exposure.

A Native American woman stood at the top of the mountain at dusk. Standing six feet with long black hair that had grown to her waist, she intently watched the valley below for any movement. On her right arm perched a snowy owl. For two hundred years she was the protector of the birds of prey that inhabited the region and encountered many birds she knew to be sentient. This particular owl had a connection to her and it seemed that they could actually communicate. She nodded to the bird, which flew off her arm and started to search the valley below.

The searchers found the girl in a pine thicket, tired but unharmed. She was taken back to the campground and reunited with her mother. The paramedic explained to her mother that had she fallen asleep, she would have frozen to death and was one lucky girl.

Why did you not go to sleep? asked the mother.

I tried, Mommy, but every time I went to sleep a big white owl would hoot and wake me up.

The young women looked at her beautiful sleeping six-year-old daughter. An intelligent girl, her first day at school tomorrow, her mother had no worries because she knew she would do well. And to think, if not for that white owl that kept her awake, her daughter would never have been born.

the seaborne spirit: present reality

Mahdi Bashir arrived in Alexandria, Egypt, on a mission from his boss, Mohamad Hasan, to locate possible targets heading for the Somali region of the Red Sea. His journey took him through Ethiopia and the Sudan, where he disguised himself as a Coptic priest while in Ethiopia and a Muslim cleric while in Sudan and Egypt. Mohamad Hasan was a Somali warlord and leader of pirates who wished to enhance his standing in the war-torn country. Once an ally of the Soviets (who withdrew from the country, finding their barbarism and criminality too much even by their standards), Mohamad Hasan had taken to capturing ships and holding their captives for ransom. This was accomplished by sending out small boats whose crews boarded the ships and brought the captives to the mainland to be ransomed. So far only a handful of captives had been processed, but Hasan thought if he could capture say a cruise liner the ransom would be in the millions of dollars. So he sent his trusted associated Mahdi Bashir to Alexandria for information. Mahdi could speak perfect English, his grandfather being some sort of colonial administrator in the old British Somalia. Dressed in his best clothes, he could pass for an Indian or Pakistani