He could see it in his mind’s eye as if it had been yesterday. Screams of pain, the shouts of the victorious and the dying, the white-hot agony of a fresh bullet wound in the leg, all of these sensations had melded themselves into a single memory in the old man’s mind. It had all been on the battlefield of Salzburg, where all his friends had been taken in the terrible bloodshed of that clash. All of that could be pinned on The Dictator, a man so reviled now in the continent that no one dared even speak his name. For years, the man’s armies had tramped the plains of Europe, and millions had died as a result.
Now, only with his Wellsian invention could the old man take his revenge. Now, the old man might have a chance to spare the world from The Dictator’s wrath. The aged soldier and scientist walked down a darkened street, careful to keep his weapon concealed. He had carefully selected a time-appropriate pistol, one that would not arouse suspicion.
The assassin, for that was his real identity now, he realized, came to the door of an unassuming small house. He knocked four times, methodically, and realized shortly after that he had been holding his breath until the door opened. A demure, but obviously pregnant woman answered. The lonely soldier pulled out his pistol, feeling as if time had slowed around him, and fired four shots into her belly as he watched the woman’s eyes widen. She fell back, staring at him in a shocked but fading gaze. The old man saw her die, and for the first time felt a sense of relief for the other self that he had then created. With this done, he now knew that he had accomplished his goal, here on a cold night in 1908. With this done, he turned the barrel upwards and promptly finished his mission.
10-Aug-2011 07:58:57
