War and Time

There were nearly 3,000 British regulars captured, killed or wounded in the Siege of Fort William Henry but Bartholomew, Isaac and Kash were not among them. Six months had passed since its fall and the trio were hunkered down in an Adirondack cabin for the harsh New York winter.

Bartholomew stirred a heavily watered down rabbit stew over the crackling blaze of the fireplace while Isaac cleaned his rusty musket. Kash sat in a chair by the window watching the snow cover the pine trees that surrounded their wooden abode.

"Damn the French," said Isaac with total disdain as he tossed his weapon aside with his twig like hands.

Bartholomew responded with a grunt without looking away from his stew. He was the largest of the three men both in figure and most recently in hunger.

"What say you, Kash?" asked Isaac.

Kash was knocked out of his winter trance. "What's up?"

"The French, good boy."

Dear god, thought Kash, not the French again. "Yeah, dude, the French blow."

"What's that you said? The French blow? Blow what, dear Kash?"

Kash jumped back into character with a half assed British accent, "Nothing, dear Isaac, my good sire and gentleman of the good and powerful Lord above. I agree the French are despicable worms."

Isaac nodded stupidly.

"Stew is ready," interjected Bartholomew.

"Ah yes, the stew," Isaac stood and walked towards the table, slapping Kash on the back as he sat, "Let us feast."

Kash gave a smile.

"Dear Kash, forgive me, but remind me where you call home just once more. Every time I hear your accent it is very bizzare. I can hardly place my finger on it."

This idiot. I've told him a thousand times where I "call home" thought Kash as he struggled to remember where he had told them where he calls home.

"Well it is a small village near the, uh, Times river."

"The River Thames?"

"Yes that's the one."

"That's shit," said Bartholomew.

"Pardon?" asked Isaac.

"Shit," returned Bartholomew. Kash looked at him with worrisome eyes. Bartholomew continued, "first you say you are from the mountains, then the countryside, now you say you are from a village by the River Thames? You lie, Kash. Why are you lying?"

Kash panicked, "Uh, the horrors of war, I guess. My memory has gone with my innocence I suppose."

Isaac put his hand to his heart, "Uh, the poor chap. War is the devil, young Kash. We sympathize with-"

"Shit," Bartholomew took a spoonful of stew to his mouth, "you have not seen war."

"I beg your pardon."

"We found you miles from the fort back in August. No weapon, no wounds mental or physical plus what kind of bloody name is Kash?

A sick one, bro. Kash money.

Bartholomew shook his head, "You are very feminine. Not like a man who has watched their friends die in their arms."

Kash crossed his legs and sat back in his chair. He thought about criticizing Bartholomew for making such a misogynistic comment but thought better of it. He had been found out.

"Where do you call home really?"

Isaac was on the edge of his seat. He looked to Kash who struggled to come up with a response. Finally, Kash dropped his accent and said, "Here, Lake George. Well kinda from here."

"What do you mean, kind of?"

"Like, I'm from Lake George in 2021, not 17-whatever."

Isaac stood up from his chair and backed away from the time traveler to retrieve his gun while Bartholomew sized him up.

"Shit."

"Not shit."

Isaac pointed the gun at Kash an whimpered. "What kind of devil's work is this? Why would you come back to 1757 and join in on this war with the French and the savages."

Kash rolled his eyes. "Dude, Isaac, you can't say savages, bro. It's mad offensive."

Click, Isaac cocked back the flint lock on his musket.

Kash threw up his hands, "Alright look, there's this virus in 2021. Coronavirus."

"What in God's name is a virus?" Bartholomew grew impatient.

Kash rubbed his hands on his face. Keep your cool, Kash. "Like an illness or disease."

"Like smallpox?"

"Exactly like smallpox."

Bartholomew nodded, "Drink about 12 bottles of fresh ale and that will be gone in a week."

"Well they closed all of the bars and taverns so that cure isn't possible."

"Damn," Bartholomew took another spoonful of stew.

"Right, virus, go on then, why did you come here then?" Isaac kept his gun pointed at Kash.

"I was bored as all hell, this virus shut everything down and I wanted a drink. My buddy had this pill, he said it would 'detach my consciousness' you know, he said 'time is relative' and all that stuff."

"What are you talking about?" Isaac became frustrated.

"Don't worry about the specifics. All you need to know is I thought a seventeenth century tavern would be a cool a place as any to have a drink."

"Eighteenth century," corrected Bartholomew.

"Whatever, I took this pill and ended up here," Kash repositioned himself on his chair, "I just wish I paid enough attention in class to know this is when the American Revolution was going on."

"American what?!" asked Isaac.

"Sorry, French and Indi- whatever."

"So what do you do now? Do you have more of this time travel medicine?" asked Bartholomew.

"No. I did but I lost it."

Isaac looked uncomfortably away from the two men as he put down his gun.

"What, Isaac?"

"Nothing."

"What, Isaac?!" Kash grew angry.

Isaac took a small blue pill out of his pocket, "I found it on the floor a few months back. I did not know what is was."

Kash snatched it from Isaac, "That's shit, give me that!"

"What will you do now?" asked Bartholomew.

"Go back I guess."

"How does it work, Kash?" asked Isaac.

"Think about were I want to go and take it."

"Where will you go?"

"I don't want to miss any years off my life by going forward. Maybe 2018, relive the college years and ease my way back into modern times. Prepare for the inevitable."

Bartholomew stood from his seat and patted the boy on the back, "Good knowing you, friend. Godspeed."

Kash nodded at him and to Isaac then threw back the pill. The room began to spin and there was a devine flash of light. Suddenly he was in the street with a old Model T barreling toward him. He jumped out of the way onto the sidewalk as the driver honked and yelled obscenities at him.

Kash looked around confused. He saw men in suits and hats, women in old fashioned dresses but worst of all, masks. He darted to the nearest newspaper, it read: February 20th 1918: Influenza Pandemic Reaches US: Resticitions Issued on Public Gatherings.

Kash threw the paper to the ground. "Damn!"