Return to Sender: A Civil War Time Travel Novel (Dyna-Tyme Genetics Time Travel Series Book 1) Read online

  Return to Sender

  Fred H. Holmes

  Please visit

  www.FredHHolmes.com

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  www.KamelPress.com

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  Copyright © 2015 by Fred H. Holmes. All rights reserved. Proudly prepared for publication by Kamel Press, LLC.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means without permission from the author.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-62487-043-9 - Paperback

  978-1-62487-044-6 - eBook

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2015932086

  Published in the USA.

  Dedicated

  to

  Mike Crump,

  the adverb assassin,

  Allen Dickenson,

  the detail doctor,

  and my wife, Mary,

  the chief of the grammar police.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  When Do I Leave?

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Dyna-Tyme Genetics

  Two Years Earlier

  UNLIKE MOST research scientists, Ralph took time to name his mice. And mouse 232 sported the name Herkimer. Ralph injected the DNA/RNA cocktail into Herkimer, placed him back in his cage, and turned to take a sip of coffee. When he turned back, Herkimer was gone.

  He checked the door to the cage and found it closed tightly. He looked around the area, but there was no sign of Herkimer. He opened the cage and looked under the little pile of shavings… still no Herkimer. He thought it strange when he saw the little plastic tag with the number 232 lying on the cage floor. It was normally clipped to Herkimer’s ear. Where did that little rat go?

  “Lida, would you come here for a minute?”

  Lida Mitushi came into the room. “I’m pretty busy, Ralph. What do you need?”

  “I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I think I lost my mouse.”

  She peered into the cage. “Is this the mouse you’re looking for?”

  There was Herkimer, scurrying around the cage as mice like to do, poking his nose into the pile of shavings, and nibbling at his food. But the little plastic tag with the number 232 was still lying on the cage floor.

  “Amazing! He wasn’t there a second ago; the mouse was gone! Hmmm… I wonder how he got the tag off.”

  “Maybe you’ve had too much coffee. Why don’t you take a break; you’re seeing things.”

  Ralph inserted the syringe into the vial marked RTSL-TEST and drew exactly 5cc, then reached into the cage and picked up Herkimer. “Stay here, Lida, I’m going to give him another shot, and we’ll see who’s crazy.”

  Dyna-Tyme Executive Offices

  Present Time

  Rumfeld Dixon… Rummy to his friends… swiveled his chair to gaze out the large corner window at the lush, beautiful hills of Northern Virginia. Today, however, he had an important meeting on his mind. He adjusted his red tie over his immaculate white shirt, looking every bit the executive, with a pinstriped Armani suit fitted perfectly on his solid six-foot frame. With his first finger and thumb, he tweezed a thin manila folder. It was the only thing interrupting the spotless sheen of his desktop.

  Now was not the time to enjoy his stature as CEO of Dyna-Tyme Genetics or bask in the glow of past successes. It was time to concentrate on the meeting at hand, the outcome of which might change the future of the world. Rummy was about to interview the man he considered the best candidate to lead the team known to its members as Operation RTSL.

  The intercom beeped, and he touched the button, “Yes, Velma?”

  “Mr. Venable is here.”

  Rummy eased his way around his desk until he leaned against the heavy mahogany, tightening his grip on the folder.

  The door opened and Carleton Venable VI stepped into the office. Shorter than Rummy by a couple of inches, he looked no less impressive.

  “Mr. Dixon?”

  “Glad you could make it, Carleton. Take a seat,” Rummy said, indicating the two leather armchairs in front of his desk. Carleton sat.

  Hitching the pleat of his trousers, Rummy sat in the chair facing his guest, casually holding the folder labeled with Carleton’s name and marked “Private.”

  “This is an impressive office,” Carleton said, turning his head past the corner window and the two Monets on the wall facing him. On the wall to his left was an undergraduate diploma from Virginia Military Institute and a MBA from William and Mary.

  As Carleton surveyed the room, Rummy eyed him and thought, he’s perfect… maybe a tad taller than he had hoped and he needed to lose a few pounds, but close to perfect.

  “I see you managed to survive VMI.”

  Rummy nodded, “Yes, tough school. You did your undergraduate work there as well?”

  “Yes, sixth in line in my family to graduate, Mr. Dixon.” Just mentioning VMI caused him to straighten his one-hundred-seventy pound frame and sit up straighter. He focused his dark blue eyes on Rummy and smiled, revealing a perfect set of white teeth. His eyes stopped on the man momentarily and then continued viewing the room.

  “Call me Rummy. That’s short for Rumfeld. I’ve been saddled with that nickname since grade school. Would you care for a cup of coffee or a cold soda?”

  “Coffee, black, will be fine,” Carleton said, turning his head as he finished taking in the rest of the room. He caught a glimpse of a large painting behind him and twisted in his seat to see that the wall was taken up with a large portrait of a stunning woman. “Beautiful woman.”

  Rummy spoke into the intercom. “Velma, two black coffees, please. Yes, she is beautiful, isn’t she? That’s my wife, Ginger.”

  “What can I do for you, Rummy? It’s nearly two o’clock, we’re in the middle of picking soy beans. I need to get back soon to help Joshua supervise the picking and the tally, not to mention a mountain of paperwork waiting.”

  Rummy hunched forward with a slight shrug of his shoulders, as he often did when trying to sell the Board of Directors on one of his numerous schemes.

  “Carleton, we… Dyna-Tyme… are involved in the most important project since the decoding of the human genome which, incidentally, bears directly on what I am going to tell you. The genome contains all the instructions to support life. What we are doing goes quite a bit further.”

  Hunching a little more, he continued, “It’ll take an hour or so to explain this project to you, but when I’m done you will be amazed and probably astounded. If you can give me this time, hold your questions, listen carefull
y, and reserve judgment until you have all the information, you’ll find it one of the most important hours of your life.”

  There was a light knock on the door as Velma entered, rolling a brass cart with a carafe of coffee and two cups adorned with the VMI logo. Leaving the cart between them, she smiled at Carleton and left.

  Rummy moved forward slightly, focused his grey eyes directly into Carleton’s, and with his charisma and years of practice persuading people, looked deep inside.

  “Will you give me the time?”

  “I guess Joshua can handle the soy beans for an hour or so. Sure, I’ll listen.”

  Rummy leaned back, “Good, I’ll start from the beginning. By the way, I’d like you to keep this information confidential. I won’t ask you to sign anything. I’m sure that as a fellow graduate of VMI, I can rely on your word.”

  Carleton nodded, “No problem with that.”

  “As you may know, Dyna-Tyme Genetics is a leader in DNA research and specializes in modifying or mutating genes that cause aging and diseases associated with aging. We’re a leader in our field, and some of our research has led to arresting the advance of Alzheimer’s disease, Parkinson’s, some types of heart disease, and other degenerative diseases originating in the genes. We have success with inherited conditions, as well as genes that have been damaged by environmental causes.” Rummy paused and took a sip of his coffee.

  “I’m aware of your company and some of your work, although I won’t pretend to understand exactly what you do. It’s a small town.”

  Rummy continued, “Even though my education was in genetics, I leave the scientific procedures to our staff of young, innovative scientists. We seek out and hire the best minds in the field of genetic engineering to handle the research, while, as CEO, I carefully supervise the progress of all our projects. I have more use for my MBA.

  “We’ve developed methods, using nanotechnology, whereby we can correct damaged DNA. Then using our patented replication process, RTSL, we send, in about twenty seconds, the modified and corrected DNA to every cell in the body, replacing the damaged DNA in all cells.”

  “In twenty seconds?!” Carleton asked.

  “That’s the time it takes a molecule to travel through the average human body.”

  “That’s fast, miracle-like.”

  “I’ll try to avoid the confusion of too many details, because the scientific methods we use are very complicated. In some cases the replication is, as you say, a miracle and instantly cures the problem. In others, it initiates the healing process or arrests the progress of the disease.”

  “It must be exciting and rewarding work.”

  “You have no idea how motivating it is to see wracking tremors stopped in their tracks, or parents recognizing their children for the first time in years.

  “Nevertheless, we’re not here to talk about that. We have specialized researchers who are assigned a specific problem, such as Parkinson’s, and spend their time focused on their respective assignments. But we leave some of our most brilliant research minds unfettered by assignments and let them loose to see what new “miracles” they can discover.

  “As well as DNA assigned to specific purposes, the human body also has what is referred to as junk DNA that doesn’t seem to have much purpose, or we don’t yet understand its use.

  “Recently, one of our brilliant minds got lucky.”

  Carleton picked up his cup, took a sip of coffee, and then balanced the cup carefully on the knee of his tan slacks. From Rummy’s demeanor, Carleton sensed something important coming, so he replaced the cup on the cart, folded his blue shirt sleeves up one cuff, and paid full attention to what Rummy said next.

  “One of our researchers, while examining some of this junk DNA, found a piece that had unusual properties. It seems to have a builtin clock and GPS that tracks our life moment-by-moment. Upon examining the same DNA in deceased mice, the clock and GPS stopped when they died, marking the last time and location. It confirms why many scientists believe that the migratory patterns of birds and other instinctive phenomena are controlled or influenced by DNA.

  Rummy continued. “It’s interesting but not earth shaking. Remember, we have the ability to make changes in the DNA using our overlay, or splicing technique, which is part of RTSL.”

  “Uh?… ”

  “It stands for Remote, Temporal, Synchronous Link. That’s the project name.

  “Upon further investigation, we found that by adjusting the overlay, we could move the time marker back and forth like the bar on the bottom of a video you download to your computer. Move it back and the video goes backward, then starts forward again. We moved the bar backwards in the DNA of a mouse, replicated it to all the other cells, and, to our surprise, the mouse disappeared. A few minutes later, the mouse reappeared with no discernible change.

  “We had no idea what happened to the mouse. We tried moving the bar forward and nothing happened. We could only guess that we moved the mouse backwards in its timeline. We thought the reason nothing happened when we moved the bar forward was that we couldn’t move the mouse into a time that hadn’t happened yet. Best guess, anyways.

  “That begged the question, what made the mouse reappear? More research connected the length of the splice to the time the mouse would be gone. The longer the splice, the longer the mouse would be gone before he reappeared.

  “Think of it this way… If we were to add an overlay that pegged the time as of five minutes ago, the mouse would go back in time and then move forward in past time for five minutes until the splice ran out. Then he would be in current time again, which would also be moving forward, so he would be back in the present time at the same location.

  “Other questions arose. If we were in the same time, why didn’t we remember a mouse appearing? We could only conclude that the mouse, in its own timeline, just took the position where it was at that time in the past, and we didn’t know the difference. For example, if a mouse was in a cage thirty minutes ago, and we sent the same mouse back in time thirty minutes, it would just replace itself in the cage with no discernible difference.

  “We then tried a double splice of the DNA. We spliced a section with the bar moved backwards and then, slightly ahead, we added a section with the bar moved to present time. Once we replicated this DNA, the mouse disappeared and then a few minutes later, reappeared. We controlled the movement of the mouse instead of just waiting for the splice to run out.”

  “This is incredulous,” Carleton said. “It sounds like you’re trying to tell me that you sent a mouse back in time.”

  “Then brought it back,” Rummy added.

  “But this was all speculation. We had no way of proving it. Obviously, the mouse couldn’t talk. We might have sent it to an alternate universe as far as we could tell.

  “We tried it with hundreds of mice, and then graduated to dogs, and finally chimpanzees. The results were all the same; the subjects disappeared, and then reappeared. But we still didn’t know where they went. We performed autopsies and couldn’t find that the trips caused any damage. In addition, we couldn’t find any changes to other parts of the DNA. Nothing changed but the subject’s place in time and location. The science continued to progress.”

  Carleton said, “You’re not going to tell me you experimented on a human being, are you?”

  “We had no choice. There was no other way to test our theory. We were very reluctant, but it was either test it on a human or scrap the project. It was one thing to send animals into the unknown, but asking a person was presumptuous and probably not ethical or legal.

  “One morning, Ralph Bailey, the lead scientist on our research team, came into my office and volunteered. He didn’t just volunteer; he begged for the opportunity. We checked and rechecked our data and finally, when we were ready, injected the modified DNA into him. Twenty seconds later, he disappeared, leaving his clothes, ring and two gold crowns behind.”

  “Why?” Carlton asked.

  “We had completely overlooked
the fact that DNA is only located in cells, and in this case, human cells. Anything foreign does not contain DNA and would be left behind.

  “Fortunately, I didn’t go! I have a pacemaker, and the procedure would have killed me by ripping the leads out of my heart.

  “We set the return for about thirty minutes and soon Ralph reappeared naked, lying on top of his clothes, ring, and crowns. Fortunately, he had root canals on both teeth so he didn’t suffer, and we were able to repair his crowns in our dental department. You will eventually learn more about some of the miracles nano dentistry can perform, but for now just believe me, we fixed his teeth better than before.”

  Rummy opened the folder, thumbed through a few pages, and said, “Let me read you some of Ralph’s report.

  I lay on the table and was injected with the RTSL cocktail. With no conscious feeling, other than a warm sensation, I was suddenly standing next to my locker, wearing the clothes I had on just before I was injected, including my ring and crowns. It felt strange, like déjà vu. No one paid attention to me, and all I can remember was that I had been there before. A few minutes passed, and then I felt the warm feeling again. The next thing I knew, I was laying on the table on top of my clothes, ring, and crowns.

  “Summing it up, we sent a man back in time and successfully returned him to the present.”

  “I’m still not quite sure I understand,” Carleton said. “You can’t be in two places at once. It makes for an interesting story, and I really like a good sci-fi time travel story, but I still don’t know what all this has to do with me.”

  “Just give me a few more minutes. I’ll skip the details and get to the point. Okay?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “After some thought, we realized, like you did, that there couldn’t be two copies of a person in the same time, so the back-traveler took his own place. When he came forward, he came back to his original self. This solved the obvious paradox of accidentally killing yourself in time. It also explained why we never saw two mice.