Quantum Touch Collection

Chapter 11

AS THE KIDS LEFT, Ashley scurried down the hallway and through the crowd of book bags. “Where have you been?” he asked.

Johnny Clayton overheard and answered for me. “Mr. Gilbert, you gotta go in there and see. It"s really cool. We just met Robert E. Lee. Mr. R, how did you do that?” Ashley glanced at Johnny, bemused, and turned to me. So, I guessed, he hadn"t seen much when he looked in.

“I looked for you after last period. Your room was empty.”

“I saw you look in the window. Dinner will be the most interesting meal you"ll have this week, I promise. I"ll tell you later.”

“Tell me what?”

“You"re not going to believe this. I"m not sure I do.”

“WHAT are you talking about?” He sounded exasperated. He didn"t understand. I knew I didn"t.

“Too much to tell. Later.” Looking through the window, I said, “Room looks like it always does.”

Ashley asked, “And you were expecting something different? What did Johnny mean about meeting Robert E. Lee?”

“Ash, I really don"t know what happened, but, yeah, we met Robert E. Lee on the day after he surrendered. I"ll tell you the whole story, but later. I have to get through the rest of the day first.”

As Ash walked away, I twisted the doorknob, again feeling a tingle. I stepped through and saw a large building with a Ford sign across the top. Before I could see more, a club rushed my vision, collided with my cheek, and knocked me backwards. I hit the floor with a groan, and Ashley ran back to help me up. He stopped laughing when he saw blood dripping down my face.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

With students gathering around me, I said I didn"t know. “I must have tripped and hit my face on something.” Fran Lawrence handed me a tissue.

“You need to go to the nurse, Mr. R. You have a gash on your cheek. And it"s starting to swell.”

Ashley took over. “One of you, go to the cafeteria and get some ice in a cup. And ask for a dish towel, a clean one.” He pulled my hand away. “Stay put, Fritz. Will someone go get Ms. Wharton? Tell her what happened.”

I tried to stand but Ashley held me down. Now surrounded by my class and his, I told him to let me move to a wall, so I could sit up. All the while, I kept thinking about what I had so briefly seen.

The ice arrived first, followed shortly by Nurse Wharton and the principal. Just what I need.

Just what I need.“What happened, Mr. Russell? Are you okay? Why are all you students standing around? Get to your classes.” I told him the students were mine and Ashley"s and we had told them to stay. “Well then, that"s okay I guess, but what happened?

When I told him I didn"t know, he said I needed to be more careful. And then he said he hoped nothing was seriously wrong, because he didn"t want to be filling out accident reports. We could all tell how irritated he was from his deep red cheeks.

The nurse pried the icepack from my hand and with a none-too-gentle prod said that I had a bruise and a small cut. Mr. McAllister said he was glad to hear it. She asked if I could stand. Ash and one of the boys pulled me up.

“Keep pressure on it and come to my office. I"ll bandage it there.”

George said he would cover for me. From the rear of my group, a couple of moans irritated George even more. “Everyone inside NOW,” he said.

A bandage and a couple of ibuprofens later, I opened my door. George hustled past me without a word. The kids clapped softly as the door clicked shut. Marion Hickok asked if I was okay. I assured her that no permanent damage had been done, and the ice was helping.

Joe DiVincenzo said, “Hey, Mr. R. We heard you turned the class into a forest, and we"re going to speak to Robert E. Lee.”

“Joe, do you really believe that?” I glanced at my notes. “Okay, class, open your books to page 287. With the time we have left, we"ll discuss the events that led to World War II.”

Marion Hickok raised her hand. “Yes, Marion?”

“Mr. R, while we were waiting, Johnny Clayton said you told Robert E. Lee about computers and cars.” I watched the class waiting, watching me.

“We have other things to discuss. I"ll tell you about it sometime. Today we"re going to talk about the Treaty of Versailles.” Outside, a stormy sky still filled the windows, but it wasn"t as cloudy as the looks on the kids" faces. Close by, there was a flash followed by a rumble.

Fran Lawrence asked, “Mr. Russell, is it true that if you count the seconds from a lightning flash until thunder that the number of seconds will tell you how far away the storm is?”

“No, Fran,” I said. “It will depend on temperature and humidity. Sound travels about one mile every five seconds in normal conditions, but that doesn"t account for altitude. Now, Can We Discuss the Versailles Treaty? Steve Christopher, will you read the main points of the treaty?”

As Steve read, I stood at the windows and watched the cars go by. The rain bounced on their windshields like popcorn. I wondered what had just occurred. I"m not a spectator to history. I"m an eyewitness. Why didn"t this class find the same scene? What"s different? And where WAS I when I got hit? When I turned back, I realized that the classroom was deafeningly quiet.

I"m not a spectator to history. I"m an eyewitness. Why didn"t this class find the same scene? What"s different? And where WAS I when I got hit?Marion Hickok raised her hand tentatively. “Mr. Russell, are you sure you"re okay?”

“Yes, thank you, Marion, I"m fine. Let"s see hands. How did the treaty prepare the groundwork for the future?” Hands went up. Tom Wyle didn"t usually volunteer. “Yes, Tom?”

“By creating the League of Nations, it gave us an organization that was supposed to prevent future wars.”

“How did that work out, Tom?”

“Not too well, Mr. R,” said Tom, a little pink, and then asserted, “but it was a good idea.”

“It was, and it is,” I agreed. “What do we have today that does something similar?”

“The United Nations,” said three or four out loud.

“Why didn"t the League work?” Again, hands went up. New hands. Bill Taggert? Wow, something"s going on. But what? “Yes, Bill?”

Bill Taggert? Wow, something"s going on. But what?“First of all, the United States didn"t join.” His voice cracked, unaccustomed to participating. “And the treaty made Germany accept blame for the war and took away land from them. So the Germans weren"t really very happy.”

“Good, Bill.” Kevin Maher"s hand was up. What"s happening here today? “Kevin.”

What"s happening here today?“They made Germany pay repairments.”

“Reparations,” I corrected.

“Yeah, that"s it,” said Kevin.

“Keep going, Kevin”

“Well, the treaty tried to make all countries reduce their arms.”

A voice from the back of the class called out, “And their legs.” Steve Christopher. I shook my head as the class laughed.

“Steve, other than body parts, what did disarming mean?”

“Well, I think it made all countries make their armies smaller to prevent another war. And it made countries tell each other what they were doing.”

“Seems like a good idea, doesn"t it?” I asked. “Transparency of action, communication between countries, reduction in military strength. The treaty also had an agreement between members to protect each other from outside aggression, like NATO today. Can anyone see any weaknesses here?” I looked around the room. “Sam Olberman, what do you think?” Sam had been staring out the window.

Looking back at me, he seemed not to be paying attention. Or maybe he was deep in thought. I gave him the benefit of the doubt. “Um, well, it"s like there"s no way to make a country agree.”

“All the signers agreed. Could they change their minds?”

Sam said, “I guess so.”

“Can you think of a country that did?”

Sam glanced at the maps on the front wall. “Germany?”

“Good one, Sam. We"ll get into that more in a couple of weeks. Can anyone think of another?”

Sarah Bright spoke up and said, “Japan.”

“Good, Sarah,” I said. “Can you tell us more?”

Sarah continued, “So Japan was one of our allies in World War I, and the treaty gave Japan all the islands in the Pacific that Germany owned. And the Japanese were totally our enemies in World War II.”

“Terrific answer, Sarah.” I said. She smiled, and I decided to fill in some details. “The Germans had colonized islands in the Pacific. Not all the islands, but they had not really developed them. The Japanese wanted to build an empire in China and in the western and southern Pacific and were already developing control in the entire region. After World War I, the government in Japan came under control of pro-military politicians and military officers. As the Japanese developed the area, they came in conflict with the U.S. and Britain by the early1930s. We"ll get to that later also. Can anyone think of another factor which influenced the outcome of the treaty?” No hands went up. “What about economically?”

“The Roaring Twenties,” said Eddie Bauer.

“What about them?”

“Well, things were good.”

“Where were they good, Eddie?”

“Uh, everywhere?”

It was time to teach. “The war had been devastating to Europe. Millions of young men on both sides were killed or wounded. It ruined much of France and Belgium, where most of the war was fought. Germany was slammed by reparations and losing territory, including the Rhineland, where it mined most of its coal and got most of its timber. That"s where industry was, too. Terrible inflation crippled the German economy. Before the war, Germany was the strongest economy in Europe.” I walked back and forth in front of the class. “In the U.S., where normal life was not interrupted by the battles, the recession ended more quickly. Before the war, the United States had owed more money to foreigners than foreigners owed it. During the war, that switched, and it stayed that way until the 1980s.” The bell rang ending the class.

“Aren"t you going to tell us what happened last period?” asked Sam.

“Not today, Sam, maybe later.” It was the end of fifth period.

Before they made it out the door, I said “We"ll continue this on Monday.” I heard the usual groans.

Ashley walked in. “You look like you have an addition built on your face. So what did happen?”

Bewildered, I shook my head and said, “At the house. I"ll tell you what happened there. Not here.”

“You know, the kids have one hell of a tale they"re telling, and it seems that some of the teachers are getting filled in, too.”

“I wish I could explain, but I can"t.”

Tom Jaffrey walked in. “That must have been a very interesting class, Fritz. Three of my fourth-period students didn"t show up, and when I saw them in the hall, they said you would explain.”

“I kept them through the fourth, Tom. Sorry. We had a project with a special guest.” General Lee sitting on a tree stump flashed in my mind. “I thought it would be worth their time. I suppose you"ve heard the story already?”

Mr. Jaffrey said, “Uh huh. You"re going to have to show a bunch of us how you did it, "cause I haven"t seen them this excited about, well, anything.”

“Tom, when I have it all figured out, I"ll have the office set up an in-service for the whole staff. Promise. But I"m still working out some details.”

“Sounds good to me. Gotta run.” I was glad he left.

Ashley listened, befuddled. “You actually set that up?”

“Nope. You"d have known. I just told him that so he wouldn"t keep pushing—like present company. Look, Ash, before today is over, I"m going to need to explain this, whatever it was, to a bunch of teachers and to George. I don"t really know what happened.” I put the icepack on my cheek. “So expect a good dinner and a long chat. But right now, I have to call Linda and let her know you"re coming and bringing wine.” Ashley gave me a thumbs-up.

I had lunch monitor duty the first half of sixth period, keeping order in the freed chaos. Three different teachers asked what had happened to their fourth-period students. I refined the story for each of them. It was good practice for what I suspected was coming. Funny, I thought, I never thought of myself as a born liar. But I"m getting pretty good at this. Knowing I had almost made it through the day, I flipped through my notes and then picked up the book on the right side of my desk. I thumbed to the pages I had paperclipped. A Ford sign. At the bottom of the picture, inside a circle, two feet protruded from a foggy rectangle. The caption read, “This photograph taken at River Rouge that day has never been explained. Whose feet were they? And what was the strange rectangle?” I examined the shoes and lifted my right foot. They were the same. I put the book in my briefcase. Is this a coincidence? Or is that really me? If I were wearing running shoes instead of wingtips, I"d know. And the puzzle would be even bigger. What made me put on good shoes this morning?

Funny,I never thought of myself as a born liar. But I"m getting pretty good at this.Is this a coincidence? Or is that really me? If I were wearing running shoes instead of wingtips, I"d know. And the puzzle would be even bigger. What made me put on good shoes this morning?Just before the start of seventh period, I went out in the hall to wait for the next class. Seniors. Most of them were already there, talking among themselves, unusually clamor free.

Mike Malloy said, “Mr. Russell, is it true, what everybody"s saying?”

“Not now, Mike.” He touched his cheek as though I had slapped him. “Sorry Mike, I didn"t mean for it to come out like that.”

“It"s okay, Mr. R,” said Mike, his eyes on his shoes.

“Okay, everyone, go into the classroom.” My fingers got another shock. It was like static, but different, longer lasting. The class filed through the door. And joined a mass of people. As I followed them in, bells were clanging, sirens blowing, and the crowd wailing and screaming. I looked at the surroundings, tallish buildings, shops, and then I looked at the class, all students" eyes on me.

“Mr. R, where are we?” asked Jen Bennett.

“I don"t know.” I turned from side to side, then behind me, to see if I recognized anything.

One of the men in the crowd, derbied, turned to see who was behind him. He muttered, “Washington Place.” Then I squinted across the smoky street. A sign on the building read “Triangle Waist Company” and below it, “Meyers, Cronin and Wallach”. There was too much smoke and disbelief to see more. Coughing everywhere. Eyes watering.

“Oh my God,” shouted Rose McGowan, pointing. “Look!” A woman jumped from a ninth-floor window, her dress trailing flames, like a rocket heading the wrong way. Others followed. We heard the screams as they grabbed the air to stop their falls, the crushing sounds as the bodies hit, thuds on the sidewalk. The crowd groaned and howled. Tears added to the moisture in the air. My students were crying, too.

“Where are the fire escapes?” Jen asked.

“That"s what we all want to know,” said a man with a thick mustache. “It"s always the same. They lock the exits and the staircase doors in that place.”

“Can"t we do something?” yelled Jacob Steinberg. As we watched, firemen went in and out, heads hung, trying to be useful but failing. Their ladders were too short to reach the upper floors.

I looked at my watch: 4:58. I knew that couldn"t be right but didn"t have a moment to think about it. Police arrived in front of us, holding back the crowd. From the ninth floor, another fireman signaled that the fire was out. Across the street, bodies of the jumpers were lying in a chaotic jumble on the sidewalk, blood sneaking to the curb.

“Kids, let"s go.” Nudging people out of the way, we headed through the crowd toward a storefront door that stood out like the rectangle I had seen with General Lee, except it was outlined in fluorescent blue. I opened the door and shepherded the kids through. But instead of the classroom or the school hallway, the door led to the front of a large building, larger than a warehouse, and another crowd.

The street corner sign told us we were at 26th Street. The jostling crowd pushed us into the building, into what appeared to be a dock, but there were no ships. The only light emanated from the upper windows and widely scattered electric bulbs ten feet above us. Some people carried lanterns. Others had flashlights. Sobs of grief gushed from the crowd. Moving further, we saw open coffins, filled with bodies, some burned beyond recognition. Murmurs engulfed the class, and a yell came from up ahead, a man, his agony loud and painful, in foreign-accented English, “That"s my little girl.”

The pink sky and dark horizon told us evening had arrived. I looked at my watch again. Seven o"clock. Time must have shifted somehow when we came in here. That would explain how they had already set up a morgue. Or was it morning? I gathered the class as best I could and, shouting above the din, I told them, “Keep moving through. Get a partner and stick together. Make sure everyone is here.” I moved them all ahead of me, trying to count them. “Go to the door. Let"s get out of here.” Exiting through the pandemonium, the class gathered outside. Nearby, newsboys shouted “Extra, extra. Read all about the fire at Triangle.”

“Follow me,” I said. We walked away from the crowd, led by a force I neither controlled nor understood. Finally, a door with a brightly lit outline. I twisted the handle. The hallway. “Everyone in here. NOW.” I pushed the door shut. Hard. I opened it again, and there was our classroom, empty, normal. I hurried everyone in.

Jacob Steinberg, his voice trembling, asked, “What did you do, Mr. R?”

“It looks like we walked in on the Triangle Shirtwaist Company fire. We haven"t studied that yet. Listen, you guys all have your last class in a few minutes. If you can, I want you to come back for a few minutes after eighth period. It"s not detention. We need to talk about this.” The class mumbled in agreement. Jen Bennett asked for a tissue. “But do us all a favor. Don"t say anything to anyone yet, not even your friends. Until we talk.” Short of breath myself, I saw on their faces that they had returned from a distant place. “I know it"s going to be hard, but it"s only one period. Then come right back here. All right?” I examined the stunned faces, some with tears remaining. “It"s really important not to say anything. I need you to do this. Please.” Reluctant okay"s whispered from around the room. The bell rang. “I"ll see you in forty-five minutes.”