A Chaucer’s Tale #5
Interlude
“Wow,” was all I could manage after she was done.
“That was so good!” said the girl in the yellow blanket, snuggling into the couch.
The girl who had told the story smiled, slightly uncomfortable with the attention. “Thanks,” she said.
The guy who had told the pineapple story ran a hand through his hair again, looking out the window at the still-dark skies. “Who’s next?” he asked, looking at the girl who quoted Chaucer.
She, in turn, shook her head. “I’ll pass this round.”
“I’ll tell one!” said the girl under the yellow blanket. She rubbed her hands together. “Once upon a time, there was a young man named Drake.”
Story #5 Drake saves the Archduke
Drake knew letters to Santa didn’t do anything, but his mother loved Make-A-Wish, and the more letters sent, the more money was raised. So he paused at the booth in the mall to write a short letter. He thought about what he wanted.
Dear Santa, he started, thinking hard, This Christmas, I want to see world peace.
That was rather lofty, he thought. So, he changed his request, scratching out what he had just written and writing something different. This Christmas, I want to see world peace the chance to save Franz Ferdinand, he wrote, thinking back to his history course.
Yeah, that would do it. Something small, but something momentous. He signed his name, Drake Fennley, then slipped the note into the mailbox on the table. The volunteer behind the desk smiled and waved her thanks, and Drake smiled back. His mother, waiting patiently by the AT&T store a few feet past, put her arm around him as he walked up, glowing with pride.
Unbeknownst to all of them, as the card slipped into the mailbox, a keyword was flagged: Wish.
Not want, not need – wish. These notes did not go with all the rest – these went to the big man in red himself, Santa Claus. And wishes were what Santa did the best.
On Christmas morning, Drake tore through his presents, not noticing the small envelope with his name on it tucked against the trunk of the tree. As he finished opening his new Star Wars Lego set, his eyes fell on the nondescript white envelope. “What’s that?” he asked his mother, picking it up.
“I don’t know,” she said, taking it with a curious expression. “Why don’t you open it?” She handed it back.
Drake carefully opened it, pulling out the small note. “Be ready at 4:00?” he read curiously. He looked up at the clock. It was only 10:00 AM, so it was several hours away.
By the time it came around, Drake had already forgotten about the note. He was sitting in his room, setting up battles between his old and new starships. However, a peculiar sound caught his attention from the corner of the room, and he turned around to see a blue… something in the corner. The only description Drake could come up with was ‘rupture.’ It looked like the air itself had been ripped open, and behind it was an undulating blue mass.
“What in the…” Drake asked, putting his Legos down and starting to walk forward. Then, suddenly, he felt a pull on his center. With a yell of surprise, he fell forward, directly into the dark blue mass.
He landed on his hands on a hard surface – rock? He pushed himself up, clenching his scraped hands. Old fashioned vehicles blew past near him. He stood on a crowded sidewalk in what appeared to be a major city.
“Here he comes!” someone shouted, but the voices was muffled, like it was coming underwater. “The Archduke!”
Drake’s mouth dropped open, piecing the story together. “Sarajevo,” he said. “Franz Ferdinand.” “I wish for a chance to save Franz Ferdinand.” He looked up the street, seeing the Archduke’s coach rolling toward them. He began to move, but it was hard – like running through water.
“Still going, even though he was attacked,” someone else said. “What power, what fortitude!”
“I think he’s an idiot, personally,” another voice chimed in. “Look at that. He’s asking for trouble.”
Drake looked around, and saw it. The store where the assassin sat was just down the street. He could see the young man perking up, noting the excitement of the crowd.
“This is happening right now,” Drake realized. He didn’t have time to waste – he ran forward, moving as if underwater, inching toward the man who had his hand thrust into his coat pocket, clearly hiding a gun.
Beside him, the rest of time seemed to slow down with him. The Archduke’s car slowed to a crawl. The cheering crowd lifted their hands and voices, but they did not come down or cease. There was only Drake running through them, slowly, but persistently.
He arrived at the assassin only seconds before the carriage. Drawing on his limited football experience, he lowered his body and plowed into the still form. They both tumbled to the ground, and time suddenly snapped back to its usual speed. The coach rolled past, the Archduke and his wife unharmed.
Around Drake, men and women screamed as they saw the sprawled hand holding a gun. “Get him!” a tall man shouted, dropping down to wrest the gun from his grip. Drake picked himself up, and time began to slow again. In front of him, a rupture opened again, and he sprinted toward it.
“Wait,” a distant voice called. Drake looked behind him to see a man wearing a large overcoat and fedora, moving in the same strange slowness, but not stopped like the rest of the world. A glow wrapped around his body, and he stretched out a hand. “Who are you? How did you…”
Then Drake fell through the rupture, and the rest of the words were cut off.
He found himself laying in the center of his room, looking at one of the new Star Wars ships he had received. “I… I just saved Franz Ferdinand,” he said. “I just changed world history!”
Drake pushed himself to his feet, stumbling to his door. It was a shock to be looking for his schoolbooks on Christmas Day, but he had to be certain. Was it a dream? A hallucination? Or was it real? Had he, Drake Fennley, just changed the shape of the world?
After a brief search, he found the books in his backpack. With shaking hands, he flipped to the section on World War 1. As he turned the final page, his heart sank. “The First World War,” he read with a sigh. Then he noticed something. The dates were different – instead of having started in 1914, it read as started in 1915.
“Well, at least that’s something,” he said, taking a closer look.
The section said very little about Franz Ferdinand. Instead of the lengthy discourse on the failed assassination attempts and subsequent successful one that had been there, it only mentioned that he contracted pneumonia the following winter and passed away. The Serbian rebels saw this it as their chance to rise up, but when they did, Austria moved to quash their rebellion. After this, nearly the same exact chain of events occurred to start the First World War.
“So I didn’t change anything,” Drake said, sighing.
“I wouldn’t say that,” another voice said.
Drake spun, staring in shock at the same man who had hailed him in Sarajevo. “What? Who are you? How did you get in here?”
“I followed your time-trail back here,” the man said, taking off his fedora and running his hand through the thick blond curls underneath. “My name’s Brandon. I’m a Time Traveler. It’s nice to meet you, Drake.”
Drake started. “How do you-“
“It’s on your backpack, kid,” Brandon replied. “I came to explain a few things. And ask some questions. First, how did you get to 1914?”
“A… Time-hole-warp-thing opened in my room,” Drake said.
Brandon sighed. “Figures. Did you ask Santa to go back in time?”
Drake nodded hesitantly. “I mean, not directly, but yeah.”
“Great,” Brandon said. “I’ll need to talk to him about that.”
“Santa?” Drake asked.
“That’s now what I’m here to answer, kid,” Brandon replied. “That story is long and confusing, and I’m not going into it with you.” He cleared his throat. “What I will say is that you did more than you thought. The Second World War isn’t how it used to be because of you. It takes longer to start, and Hitler’s overthrown more easily.”
“That’s great!”
“Except, instead of coming to the U.S.,” Brandon continued, “German scientists end up in Russia, so they get nuclear power first. Russia takes that power and holds the rest of the world hostage. The Third World War starts a year after the Second ended, and is so bloody and brutal that most of Europe and Asia, as well as North America, are destroyed.” He pulled a square contraption from his coat pocket. It almost looked like a cell phone, but was thicker. “In fact, we’re currently in what used to be Paraguay, but is now the United America Alliance. You’re lucky. I’m from what used to be London – now a quagmire of pestilence.” He shook his head. “It used to be so nice, before your little trip.”
“I did that?” Drake asked. “I caused all those deaths?”
“No,” Brandon said. “War did.” He ran his hand through his hair again. “History wants to be right. That’s why what you did initially caused very little reaction. But what happened after? Well, Time-Splitters – that’s what we call ourselves – got cocky. They thought they could change things, too. Except they weren’t as fortuitous as yourself. Instead, Russia ended up with the nukes and London ended up dead.” He looked off into space and shook his head.
“But,” Brandon continued, coming back to himself, “You happen to be in a very interesting position. Most times, you don’t get the chance, but since it wasn’t your Time-Splitting that caused the break, but Santa’s,” he laughed when he said it, “You can opt to not go back and change anything. Franz Ferdinand dies on June 28th, 1914. War breaks out within the next few months, and everything is as you know it. Or, you choose to accept what happened, and I’ll get you a guidebook to the United America Alliance.”
Drake thought for a second. “I guess,” he said, thinking it over. “I guess I take it back.” He looked up. “They made their choices. It’s not up to me to change them.”
“Though we may have hindsight, that hindsight is not 20/20,” Brandon said, nodding. He grimaced. “And 2020 is not hindsight,” he added.
“What?” Drake asked.
Brandon smiled. “Don’t worry about it, and forget I said anything. You made right decision by Time-Splitter standards, that’s the important part.” He stuck out a hand. “You got lucky, Drake,” he said as they shook hands. “When I just starting, I messed up, and I had to dig my way out of what happened. Literally.” He let go of the hand and a glow started to coalesce around him. “Maybe I’ll tell you about it someday. But, until then, stay on time.”
With a slow salute, Brandon disappeared with a small pop.
Drake woke up to find himself sitting in his bed, looking at his Star Wars ships again. He looked at his watch.
4:05.
His mother shouted his name from the living room. Drake hurried out his room, surprised to find a shopping bag waiting for him. “A man dropped a book off for you,” she said. “I asked him to stay, but he said he had other business to take care of.”
“What’s the book?” Drake asked, taking the bag. He reached in, and his mouth opened in shock. A cartoon version of him could be seen tackling a young man holding a gun. The title read, “Drake Saves the Archduke!”
In the front flap was a short inscription.
Just so you don’t forget. Stay on time. Your friend, Brandon.