Quantum Touch Collection

Chapter 6

ONCE I"D FOUGHT through the crowd inside the door, I saw why my students had frozen in a cluster. The desks had disappeared, and so had the walls and windows. All I could do was gape along with them. A massive forest of ancient trees surrounded us. Oaks and pines towered overhead, along with other trees I did and didn"t recognize. Just beyond was a wide field pockmarked with muddy indentations. The blue-green linoleum floor had become earthen, soft. Bearded loblollies were crowned in morning mist. The sun trickled through the high canopy, our new window. The lingering pungency of sulphur invaded my nostrils in strange combination with the honey nectar of a clump of battered hyacinths. Gunpowder sweet.

We stood on a battleground. At the edge of the woods, a man with a neatly-trimmed gray beard, erect as the timber around him, looked out over the valley. He wore a Civil War uniform. A dress uniform. Confederate.

“Stay here, all of you. And be quiet.” Slowly, I approached the man. My curiosity overcame my caution. The kids, surprised and a little scared, ignored my instruction and followed as a unit, marching about five feet behind. Carefully avoiding the twisted roots, I looked at the trees, their chipped bark, and the bullet holes. Water dripped onto my hair and face. Tears, I thought, the universe mourning. Movement in the valley below caught my eye. Next to tents, soldiers filled wagons. Each step through the misty damp brought me closer to the man. The snap of a branch diverted his attention. He turned his head, first to me, then beyond to the assemblage of young people at my rear. Not startled, he calmly matched me, step for step, coming closer, past the splintered, shattered tree trunks that encircled the clearing. Upturned roots reached out like tentacles.

Tears,the universe mourning.Near enough now to count his embossed buttons, I realized I was facing General Robert E. Lee. I extended my hand, slowly so as not to alarm him, and said, “Pardon the intrusion, General. My name is Fritz Russell. These,” gesturing behind me, “are my students.” Lee looked harder, almost as if he hadn"t really seen them there until that moment. “General, I"m not sure how we came to be here, and I hope we"re not lost. Could you tell me where we are?”

The general took his time answering. He looked at the strangely dressed group of young men and women, not sure what to make of them. “Mr., uh, Russell? you said? Well Mr. Russell, this is the Appomattox Court House.” His voice, commanding yet lilting, spoke from a time I thought I knew only from books and imagination.

Understanding becoming consciousness, I asked, “General Lee, what day is today?”

The wary general responded, “April tenth.”

“1865?” I asked.

“Of course,” said Lee, growing more puzzled, becoming impatient. My studies had told me that General Lee was not known to make rash decisions or to anger quickly, but we had surprised him, and I could see caution in his eyes. He was, after all, alone, unarmed, and unprotected. Yet he appeared to sense no danger.

“General, I am aware of what has happened here, and please forgive our disturbing your quiet time. You haven"t had much lately, I know.” General Lee nodded his appreciation. I gave him a nod and signaled the class to turn around and head back to the still visible classroom door, an outline seemingly imprinted against the scenic backdrop. Once the students had turned back, I turned toward Lee, planning to wave farewell, when he called out, “Mr. Russell, may I ask you a question?”

“Of course, General.” I took a few steps back in his direction.

“You are all strangely attired. There are some young men among your students who should by rights be in uniform.” He pointed to the kids. “Where is your school?”

“Sir, you studied engineering and scientific theories at West Point. I say that because I presume new discoveries would interest you.” I paused, not sure if I should tell him, but how could I stop at that point? Tempting him, or maybe me, I answered, “General, my school is in New Jersey. But General, more important is that when we began our class today, the date was over 150 years in your future.”

“You are of course trying to hoodwink me,” said the general, his voice soft, but sharp. “I have important things to accomplish today, and I do not appreciate your wasting my time.” He turned to leave, stepping carefully on the soft ground.

“It is difficult for me to accept, too, General Lee. It appears that, at least for the moment, the door to my classroom opens a pathway that allowed us to travel to the past.”

Reversing his motion, he stared at me, silent except for the piercing blaze in his eyes as he considered this outlandish possibility. “Mr. Russell, after what I have seen for the past four years, I did not believe anything would ever again surprise me, but your presence and your proclamation are most certainly proving I can still be surprised. Astounded, even.”