Willie's Redneck Time Machine (3 page)
Read Willie's Redneck Time Machine Online
Authors: John Luke Robertson
YOU STEP OUTSIDE INTO THE SUNLIGHT
and for a moment are blinded. As your eyes adjust, you hear the sound of horses rushing toward you.
“There he is!”
“Over here!”
“He’s alone!”
When you can see what’s happening, you find yourself in a field with rolling hills around it. The men coming toward you are wearing gray outfits. Exactly like the kind the Confederates wore in the Civil War.
“Where is he?” the first man who comes up to you asks.
“Where is who?” you ask.
“You know who.”
“He’s the one who took the general!” a second man cries.
There’s shouting all around you, and you realize that something very strange is happening.
Could I really be here? Or are these just actors?
But they sure don’t look and sound like actors.
“He’s the man who took General Jackson. Same look. Same beard.”
You realize they must think you’re someone else.
Stonewall Jackson? Is that who they’re talking about?
You walk up to one of them, offering a hand, when suddenly a gun goes off nearby.
It’s the last thing you’ll ever hear . . .
Until you hear a female voice singing, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” and you’re standing back in the warehouse, phone ringing loudly. You don’t remember anything that happened, but you find yourself thinking about the Civil War for some reason.
THE END
THERE’S BARELY ENOUGH ROOM
for you in this confined space. You tap on the walls of the outhouse, but everything feels sturdy and unmovable. The panel of wood that you sit on doesn’t move either. John Luke hasn’t slipped inside it and isn’t hiding.
For a second you look up at the ceiling. There’s a strange little blinking light going off. Then the door shuts.
You blink, and everything changes. You’re no longer in the narrow box of the outhouse. You’re now standing in a room that’s not square but circular. The blank, boring walls have transformed into elaborate panels full of blinking buttons. At the middle of this room
—and it’s a very large room
—is a round control center that looks like something you’d find at Chuck E. Cheese’s. It has monitors and panels and several chairs in front of it.
This totally looks like the inside of some kind of spaceship. Like something from
Star Trek
or
Doctor Who
.
“Hello?” you call out.
You’re not sure if you’re dreaming. Nothing around you makes sense. If this is a joke
—and it no longer feels like one
—then it is a very, very elaborate joke.
“John Luke?”
You hear a ticking and a whirring from the knobs and buttons on the control center. On one screen is a set of about a hundred different images. You see a bunch of photos but don’t recognize any of them. Some are places and some are people. There are numbers and colors. You press one of them and feel a slight jolt.
You look around again but don’t see anybody.
A siren starts to sound, and you circle around the set of monitors until you’re in front of a screen that blinks with the number
1990
.
You feel a rumbling that seems to be coming from all around you. Like a car engine revving.
The number
1990
keeps blinking and seems to be getting bigger and brighter on the screen. Then another message shows up.
YES, TOUCH THE SCREEN.
So you do exactly what it says. The shaking continues, and you feel yourself floating and spinning around like you’re on some amusement park ride. The lights all seem to blend together and blind you for a second. You can’t help but pass out.
When you wake up, the outhouse is dark again. The screen you just touched isn’t blinking anymore, but it still says
1990
.
Maybe this is a time machine and I went back in time.
You know that’s not what happened, and you also know that you’re surely going to wake up and find yourself asleep in a duck blind somewhere. Or maybe stretched out in your favorite reclining chair.
You hear music playing outside. You remember that you’re still looking for John Luke.
The song playing outside . . . you haven’t heard it for some time.
Do you head outside to find John Luke?
Go here
.
Do you figure this must be some kind of jambalaya-inspired dream and hope you wake up soon?
Go here
.
Do you decide to stay put until you figure out what’s going on here?
Go here
.
AN ALARM IS SOUNDING
in the control room. As you look for the source of the noise, you spy a red warning screen flashing urgently, so you walk over to the armchair in front of the screen and read the message.
CRISIS SITUATION
It’s getting louder. Then it starts to sound like a dog barking.
The siren has turned into a barking dog.
What kind of crazy spaceship is this?
The screen’s content changes.
PRESS THE BUTTON, DUMMY.
Sure enough, a big, blinking button that glows and reads
Press Now
is flashing below the screen.
“Oh, okay, I’m going to press the button.”
Just in case your brothers are watching you right now
—and in case Raymond was some guy in on this whole joke
—you look around to make sure any cameras catch you grinning, then push the button.
Now everything is moving and shaking, jerking you off your feet and onto the floor. The thing feels like it’s taking off.
After a few moments, it stops and the doors open.
You stand and peer at the screen. It’s still flashing on and off, but now it says something different.
BE CAREFUL, AVOID DANGER, AND DON’T BE STUPID.
“Okay, I sure will.”
Do you step right outside of the machine you’re in?
Go here
.
Do you take the computer’s advice and wait before stepping outside?
Go here
.
YOU SEEM TO WAIT FOREVER,
feeling your heartbeat as you hover in the darkness and shiver in your wet clothes. You keep hearing more and more voices outside, screaming and yelling and cursing. Occasionally you hear knocks
—probably things being thrown at the giant boat.
You’ve never thought very hard about this part of the Bible, but now you know the mistake you made. It’s not really a sweet story about animals for little kids. It’s pretty scary. Who could live like this for long, in total darkness with the rain pounding against the boat? How many days? Forty, right?
Forty days and forty nights.
You’ve been waiting for forty minutes and you’re already ready to go home.
Steps signal someone’s approach. But you stay put. You see light and wonder how that can be. Then you see a shadow coming around the corner.
“Who’s that?” a thunderous voice calls out.
You know it’s not Phil. You think about running, but the figure is blocking your exit.
“What are you doing in here?” the man calls out when the light reveals you crouching in the corner.
“I’m not here to harm anyone.”
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
In one hand is a lantern-like thing that’s giving off the dim light. In the other is a long stick of some kind.
It sorta resembles a baseball bat.
“Look, my name is Willie Robertson, and I believe very much in the same things you folks do. I don’t mean to do anybody any harm. What’s your name?”
“My name is Ham, and you do not belong here.”
The baseball-bat thing strikes down at you, and you’re out.
Seconds or minutes or hours later
—you don’t know because you wake up in a puddle of rainwater with those dark skies above you
—you open your eyes and feel the rain splashing on your face.
You’re off the ark. The crowd surrounds you. Fights are breaking out. Some people are screaming and crying.
You still can’t believe a guy named Ham took you out.
You need to come up with a plan. You need to figure out a way back onto the boat.
But first things first. You need to get dry. Maybe start a fire.
All of this is wishful thinking. You know that because you’ve read what happens.
Those in the boat survive.
You, however, are not in the boat.
But as soon as the water closes over your head, you find yourself back in your warehouse, with Britney Spears singing that annoying song on your phone, over and over again.
THE END