Chapter One
By Marian Robinson
A little history about its inception: This is Kathy Nance's 'brain
child', I picked up her challenge to try and do justice to the story
and Carolynn has graciously become the editor so it can even be a
better story. All 3 of us have put our ideas, words, descriptions
into this beautiful story and we hope you like it.
Johnston McCulley 1883-1958 (American)
Herbert George Wells 1866-1946 (English)
(who knows..maybe they did really meet and become very good friends?)
Main characters in the order of appearance:
Johnston McCulley
H.G. Wells
Sgt. Garcia
Don Armando Catalano
Bernado
Capitain Enrique Sanchez Monastario
Tio (the tavern owner)
El Zorro and
least we forget TORNADO
THE LEGEND BEHIND THE MYTH
Chapter 1 California in the 1910's
Johnston McCulley put down his book and rested his head back on the
easy chair. He'd been reading about a young Spanish Californian who
became a legend back in 1820. He was also known as "El Zorro", the
Fox. The recorded antics and escapades had thrilled johnston as he
read. The real name of this legend was don Armando Catalano, the son
of one of the wealthiest men in all of California at that time. But
was it a myth or was this young man real? It would be interesting to
know, he thought. The more he thought about it, the morn information
he looked for. It could make for some wonderful swash-buckling
stories to write.
A few days later, as he was gathering information, there was a knock
at his front door. A man, approximately in his 50's, stood before
him and introduced himself as H.G. Wells. Johnston was amazed! Any
writer worth his salt knew who H.G. Wells was. Welcoming his guest
in, Johnston offered him a cup of coffee and consequently asked, "Mr.
Wells, how may I help you?"
Wells laughed lightly, "Mr. McCulley, no doubt you are curious as to
why I am here?" With Johnston's confirmation of the fact, H.G.
continued. "I am an inventor and writer of science fiction. I am
also a believer in the concept of time travel, despite being scoffed
at and labelled a nut."
"How did you get here, Mr. Wells?" Johnston asked.
"Oh, it's a long story Mr. McCulley. And do call me H.G., please.
Mr. Wells sounds so formal, and what I would like to discuss with you
ought to make us fast friends," he answered.
"H.G. then I suggest you call me Johnston. Friends should call each
other by their first names, right?" Johnston replied with a smile.
"Of course, Johnston," H.G. smiles back.
It was well into the wee hours of the morning they had sat discussing
H.G.'s time travel machine. Johnston became fascinated with the idea
of visitng the past and future. By 4 a.m. they opted for a little
shut eye.
The next day, H.G. lead Johnston a mile and a half away from his
home, to a concealed area in Los Angeles. It was here, hidden behind
a clump of bushes, that Johnston got his first look at the time
machine. Some of the mechanical parts needed to be replaced before
it could be used again. Upon closer inspection, Johnston knew
precisely where to find the pieces needed. At worst they could
reconstruct them. It didn't take long for him to run the errand.
Johnston was soon back to his companion. When H.G. offered to repay
Johnston for the purchases, Johnston refused. He opted for a trade.
"Instead of reimbursing me monetarily, will you take me back to 1820
Spanish California? I'm intrigued by a man who lived during this
time period. Weellll, he may be only a myth, but having done some
research on him, I would like to write stories about this so-called
legend, the Fox. First-hand experience would expedite my mission."
H.G. rubbed his chin, pensively, and nodded. "It would be my
pleasure. However, we'll have to leave by night. Someone could very
easily see us disappear during the daylight."
By the time the machine was back in running order, it was nightfall.
The two men strapped themselves into their seats and H.G. started the
generator, which set the machine in motion. The noise of the engine
was deafening. Johnston was sure the racket would attract attention
and they'd be found out. Thirty seconds passed as it gradually
quieted down to a hum.
In no time at all the scenery was changing. The bushes disappeared,
the sun set and rose within seconds. The meter on the dashboard read
1900..1889..1888..and then the years began to go faster. The scenery
sped by so fast and yet H.G. and Johnston were stationary. Johnston
was absolutely astounded. He looked at the meter again and it read
1850..1840..1830..1824, 1823, 1822, 1821..Finally it stopped between
1821 and 1820, and the two found themselves in a wild area outside of
old Los Angeles, near a cropping of large boulders and a lot of brush.
"Amazing!" Johnston whispered, as they caught their
breath. "Absolutely amazing!"
After disembarking the machine, they pushed it behind the brush.
Before leaving 1910, they had the foresight to borrow some time
appropriate clothes from one of Johnston's neighbors. The styles
hadn't changed too dramatically, so they felt they were appropriately
adorned in 1820's Spanish dress. They hadn't forgotten swords
either, but that had merely been Johnston's decor over his
fireplace. And being the educated scholars they were, their skills
in Spanish was sufficient to converse with the people of the now
present day.
Looking around, the took notice of landmarks in order to recognize
the hidden contraption. Using their feet, the two of them estimated
the machine to be roughly 100 yards from the road beyond. Johnston
looked around and spied the pueblo in the near distance.
"I'd guess we're about 2 miles from our destination, Mr. Wells.
Shall we begin?" Johnston asked with a flourish of the hand.
H.G. looked back at Johnston. Soon they both have enormous grins on
their faces. "Yes, let's, Mr. McCulley!"
And their journey began.......
