Prisoner in Time (Time travel) (5 page)

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Nashville
, Tennessee 

February 0
8, 2013 

The bright orange,‘seventy-three dodge pickup slowed abruptly and veered toward the turn lane as the driver prepared to turn into the Fifty-Nine Diner. Waiting impatiently for oncoming traffic, he revved the engine loudly. Music blared from inside the closed cab, almost shutting out the roar of the engine. As seconds ticked by, he released the brakes and hit the gas, causing the truck to lurch forward momentarily, then stomping on the brakes, bringing the pickup to a sudden stop several feet ahead.

Even before oncoming traffic cleared, the driver hit the accelerator, causing the rear tires to spin in place on the wet pavement. Instantly the truck lurched forward once more, this time crossing into the other lane, narrowing missing the rear bumper of the last car in line.

As he entered the parking lot of the Fifty-Nine Diner, he raced around several parked cars, squealing his oversized tires, finally coming to an abrupt stop in a parking space in front of the restaurant. Seated inside and watching through the window, the spectacle did not go unnoticed.

Geoff Robbins sat at a window booth at the front of the diner and sipped his glass of coke through a straw. Beads of condensation dribbled down from the exterior of the glass and puddled on the table at its base. As he waited patiently for his friends to arrive, he ran his finger through the water and dragged it around the table top, creating a figure-eight design on its surface.

Sitting quietly, he rested his other hand on the side of this head and twirled his curly brown hair. With boredom setting in, he wiped away his water designs and checked his watch for the time.

“Come on guys. Let’s go already,” he said to himself in frustration. “The school dance will be over before we even get there.”

Suddenly, he heard the loud rev of an engine. Staring through the misty water-beaded windows, he spotted headlights near the entrance to the diner. He watched with curiosity as the bright orange truck lurched forward, then stopped… lurched forward, then stopped again.

“What the…?” he said, cutting himself off as he tried to make sense out of the strange scene taking place in the street.

He watched the truck jump forward again, then stop.

“What a doofus,” he said, chuckling to himself through his disgust.

Focusing more intently now, he gasped in disbelief as he watched the reckless maneuvering of the truck as it narrowly missed the oncoming car’s rear bumper.

“What an idiot?” he said out loud.

Realizing his volume, he scanned the patrons around him, only to see that they too, were equally disturbed by the spectacle in the street.

“Is Hero Boy one of you?” Carl Beckwith, the manager of the diner asked.

“No way… we don’t like him either,” Geoff shot back.

“Hmm, there’s just something not right about that kid,” Carl added.

Geoff nodded agreeably then stared back out the window. Not far behind the orange truck, a car pulled into the parking lot and parked in an open area away for the other cars. All the doors popped open and four teenagers emerged. With the light rain beginning to intensify, they ran toward the entrance.

Geoff smiled as they entered the diner and waved, “Hey guys, over here.”

The four teens smiled and walked back to the window booth, each man filing in on each side of the table.

“Where’s Bobby?” Geoff asked of Gregg, now seated directly across from him.

“Beats me… he’s your brother. Maybe I should be asking you,” Gregg teased.

“He’s always late. As my dad always says, ‘he’d be late for his own funeral’,” Ted added.

“Your dad said that about Bobby?” Geoff asked, mildly insulted.

“Duh… my dad doesn’t even know Bobby,” Ted teased, then continued. “I was just using one of his lines to describe him.” Seated next to Geoff, he elbowed him in the side and added, “Brainless.”

“I’m not brainless, you dork,” Geoff shot back.

He pulled his straw from his glass and flicked it at Ted, the cold fluid momentarily shocking him.

“Knock it off you idiot,” Ted retorted, wiping the drops of soda from his face.

Instantly, Ted reached his arm around Geoff’s neck in headlock fashion, and began to playfully choke him. Geoff crossed his eyes and hung his tongue from the side of his mouth, feigning asphyxiation. As the other three laughed, their childish antics were quickly silenced.

“Ok you morons, that’ll be enough. Recess ended hours ago,” Carl said, standing menacingly at the edge of the teenager’s booth. He pretended to be angry for a moment, then smiled, “So are you guys ordering or do I have to put you to work?”

Ted quickly released his grip and they all straightened themselves within the booth.

Carl softened this posture and said, “You guys headed to the dance tonight?”

“Yes Sir. We’re just waiting for our other friend to show up,” Sam said, seated at the entrance of the booth. “He should be here shortly.”

“This friend you’re waiting for wouldn’t happen to be Hero Boy would it?” Carl said, eyeing the table suspiciously.

“No Sir. As I said before, we don’t even like him,” Geoff reiterated.

Carl stared out the window at the orange truck and shook his head. Looking back at the table of teenagers, he said, “Take a good look boys, that’s the true definition of someone going nowhere fast.” He shook his head in disgust once more, then added, “Ok, are you guys ordering or just waiting?”

“Just waiting Sir,” Bill said politely, seated next to Ted at the end.

“No problemo’… just give me a shout when you want to order something,” Carl responded. He smiled cordially, then turned and walked back toward the main counter, eyeing the orange truck through the window as he went.

“Dang, he really has it out for Arles, doesn’t he?” Geoff asked of no one in particular.

“Arles? Who’s Arles?” Greg asked, suspecting the answer.

“Hero Boy is Arles… that’s his real name: Arles Gideon Moore,” Geoff replied. He paused a moment, then added, “The seventh.”

“The seventh?” Greg laughed. “What gives… and how do you know so much about Hero Boy?”

“He’s in my gym class. I get to hear him brag about his great great-grandfather, ‘the Civil War hero’ all the time,” Geoff responded.

“Man, I must be living on another planet. I didn’t know his great grandfather was a Civil War hero,” Greg said, now curious.

“That’s because you haven’t lived here long enough to know him, brainless,” Ted shot back in teasing form.

Greg ignored the insult and replied, “Funny, I’ve seen him around. I just thought he was a loser. I didn’t know his great great grandfather was some kind of war hero… not that it makes
him
anything special. But it is kind of a cool history.”

“First of all, it’s great great grandfather… that’s two greats in there. Second, it’s really not that cool. The old man picked up a flag in the middle of a battle and held his ground or something, then got himself shot,” Ted responded.

“Doesn’t sound like much of a hero to me,” Greg replied.

“Hero Boy said it was his great great grandfather’s actions that were instrumental in turning the tide of a famous battle. He said that his great great grandfather held off the Yankees long enough so the Rebs could mount a counter attack and win or something like that. After the battle, he was recognized for his bravery and awarded some kind of medal and dubbed a war hero,” Geoff added.

“Huh, I never heard that story. It’s kind of interesting,” Greg replied.

“Not when you’ve heard Hero Boy brag about it a zillion freakin’ times,” Sam said.

“So, for over a hundred years, the name Arless Gideon Moore was passed down from generation to generation, keeping the hero image alive,” Bill said, then added, “And, from what we’ve all heard, the family has been trying to live off that glory ever since.”

Greg turned around in his seat and peered out the window. Even inside, the five teenagers could still hear the music blaring from the truck. Greg scanned the length of the vehicle, then focused on the artwork painted on the passenger’s door. A rebel flag had been hand-painted across it, with the word ‘HERO’ written above the flag and ‘GGG’ written below it.

Turning to the others, Greg said, “So, I’m guessing that GGG means great great grandfather?”

“You guessed it,” Geoff responded.

“Wow, how… obnoxious,” Greg said. He smirked and added, “And totally uncool.”

“And creepy,” Bill added.

“And weird,” Sam cut in.

“And brainless,” Ted finished.

All five turned again and stared at the pickup, each one finding humor painted in the artwork. Suddenly, the music stopped and the driver’s door flung opened. As the rains poured down, a skinny teenager darted from the truck to the entrance of the diner. Once inside, the five foot-ten, thin, darkly dressed young man stood in the reception area and stomped his heavy leather boots loudly, as he pretended to remove excess water. All eyes turned his way as he began to shout out about the rain.

“Damn rain. Gonna ruin my expensive combat boots,” he said loudly.

From inside the kitchen area, Carl looked out through a doorway window and noticed Arles standing just inside the diner. He could see his short cropped hair and the rebel flag tattooed to the side of this temple. Anger welled inside him as he thought about the young delinquent disrupting his diner once again. From inside the kitchen, he stormed out through the door and stood at the front counter.

“Look Hero Boy, I’ve told you before, if you want to come in here, you do it quietly, without disturbing my customers, otherwise… leave,” Carl shouted, pointed back toward the door.

“FINE! Where do I sit? And the name’s Arles Gideon Moore the Seventh, not Hero Boy,” he spat defiantly.

Carl bit his lip for a moment, trying to control his anger. Pointing to a lone corner booth away from the patrons, he said loudly, “Over there.”

Arles shot the far corner booth a quick glance, stared at the customers menacingly, then headed for the back of the restaurant. Carl stood behind the counter and watched the disruptive teen take his seat. He nodded apologetically to several customers, then made his way back into the kitchen.

“Nice… real nice,” Geoff said in a low sarcastic tone.

“And Hero Boy gets a time out once again,” Ted joked.

“I guess being the great great grandson of a war hero isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Greg joked.

With Arles seated alone at the back of the restaurant and the commotion of his antics forgotten, the five teens returned to their own casual conversation.

“What the heck, man? Where’s Bobby?” Greg asked, now staring at his watch.

“Must be the rain. He’ll be here shortly,” Geoff said confidently.

“If he’s not here in ten minutes, I’m leaving without him. He’ll just have to meet us there,” Bill said firmly.

“I think we should leave now. He’s a big boy. He doesn’t need us to hold his hand walking into the dance,” Ted said.

“Yeah. He knows where the school is. He can catch up,” Bill added.

“I’m not leaving my brother behind. You guys can go if you want, but I’m staying,” Geoff responded.

“We’ll give him a few more minutes,” Bill said, checking his watch.