The Unknown: Part Three

                 In a large building that Trevor and Marin are unaware of, there sits a man. A man with a grudge. A man with a plan, a man who's been in charge of all these people who've been trying to track Trevor down.

A man who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. Trevor.

What do I hold against Trevor Trekker?

                Seriously? What do I hold against him? Are you really asking me this question? Isn’t it blatantly obvious?

                Apparently not.

                You’ve asked the wrong question, my friends. You’ve asked the wrong man. But since you want to know, then I’ll tell you.

                He’s a menace.

                Oh no, don’t be fooled into thinking he’s such a nice guy. He’s not. He’s selfish, one-track minded, single minded, and likes to wreck history in every way he can. Isn’t that apparent by the way he handled that Grand Coulee Dam incident?

                You may think that I have no reason to hate him. I do. He’s ruined my life.

                How? I am not at liberty to discuss that. Period. No more discussion in that area.

                I will tell you this— it involves that orphan little pipsqueak assistant of his, Marin. Oh, if he hasn’t told you that tale then I rest my case. He’s dishonest, he doesn’t want you to know about what he’s done.

                So I’ll enlighten you. In the case of Marin, that is. Not my own. No entrance there.

                You know his little blond Czech assistant? She’s quite knowledgeable in languages. Why? Her mother was Scottish and her father was Russian. She was born in Czechoslovakia in the 1930s, while the Third Reich was building its empire just next door. She wasn’t born with the name Marin, her real name is Elizaveta Rifka Maklakov. A mouthful I know, but her father wanted to make sure she had a good proper Russian name, even though she wasn’t born in Russia.

                “Eli” grew up speaking multiple languages. Her father spoke Russian and Czech, her mother spoke English and Gaelic. When the Nazis came in 1938 and took over part of Czechoslovakia, Eli was eight years old. She lived in the region they took over, the Sudety. Her parents were watchmakers (remember that, it comes into play later on) and when the Nazis told them to refuse service to Jewish customers they balked and said they wouldn’t do that under any circumstances. Bad idea.

                What happens next even makes me feel a tinge of pity for the young girl.

                You may not know this, but the Germans had created a special adoption program where German families adopted blond haired, blue eyed children from other countries that were not from Jewish origins.

                Where did the children come from?

                Wherever the Germans found them.

                Some were taken from families who’d resisted the Germans, others were dragged right out of their homes and told their parents couldn’t afford to take care of them anymore. Still others, as was the case of Eli, were seen by German soldiers while they walked by and were dragged off the streets and to the nearest reform school.

                In all practical terms, not two days after her parents refused to follow the Nazis orders, Eli was kidnapped right off the street and put into a reform school where she was forced to learn German and become a good German citizen so she could be adopted. She had beautiful blond hair, sky blue eyes and a light complexion. She looked German. The school leaders praised her Aryan looks and proclaimed she’d be one of the most wanted children on the adoption list.

                Eli would have nothing to do with it.

                She grudgingly learned German, (all children were severely punished if they didn’t speak anything else but German) she did what she was told only if she knew she’d be smacked if she didn’t. She hated every minute of it.

                The schools these children were taken to were a lot like a prison. A barbed wire fence surrounded the area, and gunmen patrolled the grounds. Any child who tried to escape would be shot. It was a horrible situation.

                But Eli wouldn’t stand to let herself get adopted. She had to find her parents.

                After she’d been imprisoned there for almost a year, Eli did the thing that could have very well gotten her killed. Late in the night she slipped out of the sleeping quarters and ran to the fence. At nine years old she was a small girl and she was hard to spot. She dug a hole, waited until she was sure the coast was clear and pulled herself under the fence. All that night she trudged back towards her home town, Bystrzyca Klodzka, determined to get back to her parents.

                When she arrived, she found the shop boarded up and a strange man pacing back and forth, angry that the watchmakers were gone and they couldn't fix his watch.

                You guessed it, that man was Trevor. He’d come to have his stupid watch fixed, as this was the shop that had made it in the twenties. How he got hold of such an old watch I don’t know, but he got the dumb idea of turning his watch into a time traveling watch.

                Do you realize what that Scotsman did? Not only did he put Eli’s life in danger by insisting she help him fix his watch, he nearly got her caught by the Nazi police, the Gestapo, then took off for who knows where in her greatest time of need! This isn’t the first time he’d done that, either. I don’t know what finally possessed him to come back for her, but that was a mere lapse in his otherwise selfish conduct. I can’t imagine why the child sticks to him so, probably because she found out her parents were dead and she had no one else. Then he had to go and give her a stupid name like Marin. I don’t see why the girl walks away from him. She seems to think he’s her foster father or something.

                Doesn’t sound that bad to you? Oh, there’s so much more to hate about the man. He’s lucky. He gets what he wants, he does what he wants, he goes where he wants…I could go on and on.

                Marin’s case is only one such instance where Trevor nearly killed someone with his time meddling. There are hundreds more such cases.

                Why do I hate him personally? How many times do I have to tell you, stay out of that. I’m not telling you.

                All I’m going to tell you is this: I have connections, high connections, and they’re looking for that time traveling Scotsman. When they find him, (and they will or heads will roll) I have a very special surprise planned for that man.

                What’s the surprise? Oh, let’s just say it includes a little invention of my own. Don’t be so shocked, I may be the man who sits in the shadows but I too, have delved in mechanical engineering and inventing more than once. I know how to make a few things go off with a nice bang.

                Trevor Trekker is a meddling pest and I intend to fix him—for good. His assistant, too. She’s in for a trip, when I  show her what I know about her past she’s going to quake with fear.

                They’ve ruined my life, those two have. I don’t blame the child as much as her adopted father, but she’s in it with him. They’ll pay. I’ll make them pay.

                And they’re going to help me do it.

                One step at a time, one time dimension and then another, they’re coming closer and closer to my trap. And they’re doing it all on their own. All I have to do is sit back and wait, they’ll waltz into their own demise soon enough. You'll see, especially with this trip to the Civil War they've got planned. It's not going to go the way they think it will, oh no. I know a bit about meddling too.

                When they finally make one mistake too many, I’ll have what I’ve wanted all along. The ability to time travel myself and fix a couple of important instances in history that Trevor has ruined.

                The outcome of history will be very different. I will change the world.

To be continued next month...

The Month Ahead

Well I hope you enjoyed our time down at Grand Coulee Dam! How many of you have been able to see the marvel of the twentieth century? It is quite a fascinating trip, I can tell you that. I hope someday if you haven’t already you’ll get a chance to see what a great job the men from the thirties did on building it.

            Again, if you have any questions be sure to leave a comment or send us an email. We’d love to answer your queries on the Great Depression or whatever other time period you want to know more about. If we don’t know the answer, we will find out for you!

            Are you ready for this next month’s adventures? Good, because we’re in for some crazy times! Join us for another exciting trek through time as we dig into…

July

2014

Week	Topic	What to expect
1	The Civil War	A history on the Civil War, a little known fact and a date from history.
2	Book Recommendations	Three fantastic books/series we think you’ll enjoy about the Civil War.
3	Ooops! Part One	Trevor and I accidently slip up real bad when we let a confederate spy get away with top secret information from the Union
4	Ooops! Part Two	The continuation of our adventure as we try to track down the spy before we change out the outcome of the war.
5	Ooops! Part Three	The conclusion of our wild goose chase--along with a few surprises.

A little picture to illustrate next week's history lesson.

Coulee Down: Part Two

We're back! Here's part two of Coulee Down!
 

I swallowed and stammered, “You-you are Woody Guthrie?”

            He nodded and broke out into a grin. “The one and only.”

            “Woody who?” Marin looked from me to the famous folk singer, her brow furrowed as she tried to figure it out.

            “Marin, this man wrote your favorite song!” I exclaimed. “Remember, This Land is your Land?”

            My young friend’s eyes widened and she stared at the man in the sailor hat. “Oh, that Woody Guthrie! I love your music, sir!”

            Now it was Mr. Guthrie’s turn to be confused. “I’m sorry, what song?”

            I could have done a face-palm as I realized my slip-up. This Land is Your Land hadn't been written yet. “Uhh, well, you know your one song, Ramblin’ Round, we kinda renamed it This Land is Your Land because we feel the same way, even though we’re foreigners.”

            The singer nodded and adjusted his cap. “Hmm, I kinda like that title. I’ll have to keep that in the back of my mind.”

            “What brings you here, Mr. Guthrie?” Marin asked.

            “Well, I’m here to write a song about the Grand Coulee Dam.” He gestured at the large cement structure being built on the Columbia river. “The government commissioned me for the project to boost up morale for the workers.” He glanced at me. “What about you? You don’t look like a worker to me.”

            I glanced down at my lab coat, hiking boots, denim jeans and green shirt. Then let out a sheepish chuckle. “Well, yeah…”

            “He was commissioned by the government to check on the project.” Marin butted in. I sure did love that kid sometimes, she could make up the best excuses. “He’s a capital guy, y’know.”

            Guthrie cocked his head a little and studied me. “Strangest government man I’ve ever seen.”

            “It’s all the rave in D.C.”

            He shrugged. “Who am I to know a thing about style.”

            “So how’s the song going, Mr. Guthrie? Is it finished?” I switched the subject.

            My question was innocent enough, but it brought a grimace to Mr. Guthrie’s face. “Not goin’ so well.” He muttered. “I can’t seem to get the right lyrics down.”

            Marin shook her head. “Aww, I’m sorry sir.”

            “Well maybe we can help!” I suggested.

            “Not sure if you can, I just lack inspiration.”

            I wasn’t about to let a chance to help the famous folk singer of the thirties and forties slip through my fingers. “Give us a chance, we might have a way to help you out. We’re brimmin’ with good ideas!”

            At this Mr. Guthrie broke out in a grin. “Yeah, like climbing on the cement foundation when it hadn’t settled in. That was a great idea.”

            “Oh, so that’s what you did!” Marin shot a glare my way and I returned it with a so I made a mistake look.

            “Tell you what,” Mr. Guthrie continued, “Why don’t you fix up the men their grub and then meet me on the hill at, oh, let’s say three. Then I’ll let you see a sample of my song.”

            “Oh, yes!” Marin and I said in unison. “We’re looking forward to it!”

~oOo~

            I lay flat on my back and stared at the sky. My arms ached and my head hurt even more, and I let out a groan.

            “Have fun?” Marin giggled as she plopped next to me.

            “You are a monster.”

            A grin crossed her face and she flicked a blond braid over her shoulder. "A teď jdu k přepnutí do češtiny, takže nevím, co říkám vám, že velký sýr míč."

            I rolled onto my side and gave her a look. “You know I don’t like it when you switch to Czech on me. I can’t tell what you’re saying.”

            She giggled again, her blue eyes twinkling as she repeated the sentence. “And I’m not going to tell you what I said.”

            “Whatever.” I waved it off.

            Cooking for three hundred hungry workers had not been easy. I was exhausted. Twenty gallons of chili was the only reason I was still alive and not in pieces from the workers mob. I wasn’t sure if it was worth it.

            “Oh, here comes Mr. Guthrie!” Marin pointed out.

            She was right, the man trudged up the hill with his guitar in hand and a notebook in the other. We met with him in the middle and helped him carry his supplies to the top, anxious to hear his work.

            “Much obliged,” he said once we sat down. He strummed his guitar a little and then tuned it. “Now, are you sure you’re ready to hear the song?” He asked. “It’s not very good yet.”

            “Oh, yes, do play it!” Marin exclaimed as she clasped her hands together.

            For a couple of seconds Mr. Guthrie strummed his fingers against the guitar cords, humming. Then he began to sing.

“Now in Washington and Oregon, you can hear the factories hum,

making chrome and making manganese and light aluminum,

and there roars the flying fortress now to fight for Uncle Sam,

 Spawned upon the King Columbia by the big Grand Coulee Dam.”

He paused and frowned, then shook his head. “That’s all I got right now. I just can’t seem to follow up on the rest of the song.”

“That sounds great, though!” I told him. “It’s perfect.”

“See, I’m supposed to write this song to talk about the work the men are doing here to support their families and what a great job they’re doing on the dam.” He stared off at the massive structure in production. In one more year, 1941, the dam would be finished and become the biggest dam in all of the USA. But right now it was still in production.

“Well, what do you want to write?” Marin asked.

At this Mr. Guthrie’s face broke out into a grin. “I want to write about the land.” He stated. “I love this countryside, I want to describe the water and the land and the massive lake and river. That’s what I want to write.”

It was my turn to ask a question. “Then why don’t you?”

“I’m supposed to write about the workers.”

“I find that if I write what inspires me I can usually work it into whatever I was supposed to write.” Marin offered.

Guthrie bit his lower lip thoughtfully. “I dunno.”

He needed help and I knew it. I remembered how the song ended up, and it was not how he’d started it. “Just try it.” I encouraged.

His face lit up and he pulled out a pencil. “Well, now that you mention it, I do have an idea.”

It was all we could do to keep back our massive grins as we stood over his shoulder while he scribbled down some notes. Now that’s more like it. I thought. He was well on his way to creating another big hit.

~oOo~

            Thanks to 4T, I was able to go back in time and tell myself not to mess with the support post I’d toppled over. Because of that no one remembered I’d messed with the dam and everything went back to normal. Except I was still sore from cooking all of that chili, even if I didn’t technically cook it now that I'd changed the event.

            We’d already stayed an extra day in the sagebrush land of Roosevelt Lake, Washington. Though we both regretted having to leave, we knew it was time. Before we transported ourselves back to Hawaii and our animals, we sought out Mr. Guthrie to say goodbye.
            “Finished your survey already?” He asked as he raised an eyebrow.

            “What survey-” I began before Marin cut in.

            “Yeah, we’ve been here a while.” She shot me a look that said it all; you’re going to blow our cover.

            “Uhuh, yeah, what she said.” I plastered a sheepish grin on my face.

            “Well, it was a pleasure meeting you both, Mr. Trekker and Marin.” He shook our hands and tipped his hat to Marin. “Thank you so much for helping me out with my song.” He then proceeded to pull some papers out of his pocket and hand them to me. “To show my gratitude I wanted to give you the original copy of my song, Grand Coulee Dam.”

            “Oh, Mr. Guthrie!” Marin gasped.

            “But, but how will you remember all the words?” I stammered.

            “I copied it already, but I wanted to make sure you got the original since you helped me make it up.”

            “We will treasure it always.” I told him.

            We said one final goodbye and trudged out of sight of the dam and the construction workers as well as our new friend. Once we were sure no one could see us, I turned the dial of the watch and grabbed Marin’s hand as we teleported back in time to 12 A.D.

            I never forgot our trip to the dam, or our meeting with Mr. Guthrie. And whenever I hear one of his songs, I always remember I have the original copy of the song Grand Coulee Dam. Now there’s a treasure from time travel!

The End

Grand Coulee Dam

Well, the world has seven wonders that the trav'lers always tell,
Some gardens and some towers, I guess you know them well,
But now the greatest wonder is in Uncle Sam's fair lang,
It's the big Columbia River and the big Grand Coulee Dam.

She heads up the Canadian Rockies where the rippling waters glide,
Comes a-roaring down the canyon to meet the salty tide,
Of the wide Pacific Ocean where the sun sets in the West
And the big Grand Coulee country in the land I love the best.

In the misty crystal glitter of that wild and wind ward spray,
Men have fought the pounding waters and met a watery grave,
Well, she tore their boats to splinters but she gave men dreams to dream
Of the day the Coulee Dam would cross that wild and wasted stream.

Uncle Sam took up the challenge in the year of 'thrity-three,
For the farmer and the factory and all of you and me,
He said, "Roll along, Columbia, you can ramble to the sea,
But river, while you're rambling, you can do some work for me."

Now in Washington and Oregon you can hear the factories hum,
Making chrome and making manganese and light aluminum,
And there roars the flying fortress now to fight for Uncle Sam,
Spawned upon the King Columbia by the big Grand Coulee Dam.

Coulee Down: Part One

 Ready for our latest adventure? Hang on tight, because we're about to do something crazy...

Honestly, I couldn’t figure out why they were so riled up.

            Sure, I’d knocked over the mess tent. Sure, I’d toppled a day…or two…or perhaps it was a week’s worth of work. But that didn’t give them the right to come at me with clubs, wrenches and hammers!

            “Hey mates,” I chuckled as I backed up from the mob of angry workers. It was hard to hear my own voice over the din of shouts and roars. “Look, I’m sure we can work somethin’ out, I’ll fix whatever I broke.”

            “Are you kiddin’?” One man muscled his way forward, his cap shoved far back on his head. “We told you to stay off the support, we’ve been working on that for a week and half! But no, you climbed up there anyways and destroyed a good portion of the dam. You bet you’re going to pay for it!”

            “Yeah, with your life!” Another voice bawled.

            A chorus of deafening agreements confirmed what I already knew. I was in for it.

            But being a man, and a Scottish one at that, I knew that there was only one way to work this out. It was the smart and right thing to do, the solver of every problem I had. I ran.

            It took them off guard at first, but not for long. “Hey, he’s escaping!”

            “Catch the Scot!”

            “I’m gonna tear him limb for limb!”

            “Be nice, be nice!” I yelped as I raced up an incline and away from the massive project of the Grand Coulee Dam. I could hear the harsh footsteps of my pursuers and knew they meant business. This was not looking good. Okay, so maybe I shouldn’t have climbed that platform after all. How was I to know the cement hadn’t set? It wasn’t my fault!

            “Get him!”

            The clatter grew louder and I pushed forward as fast as I could. They seriously mean to rip me to pieces. Great. Just ducky. If I didn’t get back to the camp soon…it wasn’t going to be pretty.

            “Guys,” I panted as I stayed ten feet ahead of the mob. Their wrenches clanged against hammers and I winced at the sound, but I couldn’t stop to talk. It was too late for that. “I’ll fix it! I’ll fix it! I can do it!”

            The only response I got was another roar from the men. They weren’t in the mood to negotiate.

            I had begun to wear out, it was too hard a climb up this hill. Our camp was on the other side but I could hardly breathe. When I reached the top of the hill that was it, I tripped and fell flat on my face. Owww. It was too late. They were on me now.

            This is not how I envisioned Trevor Trekker dying. I rolled onto my back and braced myself for the blows I was sure I’d receive.

            That’s when Marin showed up.

            Leave it to her to pick the worst moments to make her entrance, she raced in front of me and put her hands up. “Stop, stop!” she cried out. “Stop, please!”

            There must have been three hundred men in my group of pursuers. And that makes it really hard to stop fast. They tumbled one on top of the other, some dug their heels in to stop them from running into the eleven-year-old girl. Marin remained firm, held her stance and only relaxed a little as the huge crowd came to a halt. I let out a sigh of relief, not even realizing I’d been holding my breath.

            “Get out of the way, kid.” the man who seemed to be the leader stepped forward, the same one who’d challenged my claim that I’d rebuild what I’d broken.

            Marin shook her head. “No, please don’t hurt him,” she begged. “I’m sorry for whatever he’s done, I’m sure we can fix it somehow.”

            “Kid, do you know what yer pal there’s done?” A big, burly man stepped forward, a club in his hand as he smacked it against his left palm. Marin glanced down in embarrassment, for he was shirtless. “He’s gone and ruined a whole week’s worth of hard sweat and labor. He’s gonna pay!”

            “Yeah!”

            “Please, you don’t understand. He’s the only family I have. You kill him and I have no one, please don’t hurt him.” Marin was making her puppy face I knew, and I decided this was the time to join in.

            “She’s right, it wouldn’t be nice to hurt me,” I chimed in.

            “Shut up, we don’t want to talk to you,” the leader snarled.

            I shut up.

            “If you let him go I promise he’ll fix whatever he’s done.” Marin looked the man straight in the eye, her blue eyes meeting his gaze as she tossed a blond braid over her shoulder. What a brave kid, I thought. Marin could be a lifesaver.

            The leader opened his mouth to reply when a new voice rose up. “I say give ‘em a beating, we can’t just let him go because a brat says so!”

            A large chorus of agreements sounded and I gulped.

            “Hold on a minute.” the leader hesitated.

            But the trouble makers were not about to let him chose a different fate other than the one they’d pledged themselves to. The burly man with the club stepped forward and shoved the man in charge out of the way. “Enough of this, I’m gonna get me some revenge!”

            “No!” Marin yelled. She stepped in his way but he only pushed her back as he came at me with that big club of his. Oh, great.

            I rolled out of the way just as the club came down on the ground with a mighty thud! I leapt up and bawled, “Hey, can’t you just accept my apology and leave me alone?” I ducked as the club was swung in the direction of my head. “Okay, so you mean business.”

            “Leave him alone!” Once more Marin tried to interfere, and this time the man shoved her into the ground hard. That did it for me, no one treated Marin that way.

            “Who do ye think ye are?” I grabbed his arm and twisted it the side, and the man howled in pain. Too late, I hadn’t seen his other hand ball up in a fist. Smack! I could have sworn I’d seen the entire galaxy swirl around me as I fell to the ground. Oh, that hurt.

            “Charlie, ease up. Leave the guy alone,” someone called out. “That’s enough.”

            Charlie didn’t listen though as he raised his club again. “Not yet!”

            This was it. The guy was going to kill me. Darn it. This was gonna hurt.

            A blur of movement caused me to blink, and the next instant I sat up as I stared at Charlie. He’d been knocked to the ground and his club thrown far from him, a man in a sailor’s cap standing over him. Charlie scrambled up, his face red and ready to give this new guy a beating. It was then his face showed recognition, and his cheeks grew even more red.

            “Oh, it's you sir,” he stammered.

            Dead silence from the mob. Marin ran over to me and sat down, her eyes full of concern. “Are you okay?” She asked.

            I didn’t answer as I watched the strange confrontation in front of me. This guy obviously had the respect of the worker’s union. They didn’t make a move in my direction as long as he stood there.

            “Why don’t you guys get back to work?” Sailor hat suggested. “I’m sure you’ve got a lot of it.”

            “Yeah, and that Scot has to pay for it somehow,” a short, blond man muttered.

            Sailor hat nodded. “And he will.” He glanced in my direction and hissed, “What can you do? Any talents? Anything?”

            I opened my mouth to reply when Marin cut in.

            “He loves to cook.”

            I shot her a horrid glare to which she respond with a sly grin.

            “He’ll make lunch for you all!” Sailor hat announced.

            Cheers erupted and the previous murderers became my new best friends. “If he can make lunch for all of us then I guess he can accomplish anything,” the leader chuckled. He turned towards his crew. “Alright boys, let’s get back to work.”

            The crowd started to hustle back in a slow herd movement. I waited until they were out of hearing range, then let out a moan.

            “Gosh, thanks Marin,” I said sarcastically. “Just what I wanted. To cook a meal for an entire workers crew! Where am I going to get the ingredients? The food? The money?”

            Marin giggled and pushed back one of her braids. “Dobrota, goodness, I’m sure you’ll think of something. You always do.” She frowned and shot me a dirty look. “Don’t scare me like that, if that man over there,” she waved in the direction of the Sailor hat man who was approaching us as we spoke, “hadn’t shown up I wouldn’t have been able to stop them. You could have been killed!”

            “Yeah, I know. And now I will die, slaving over a huge pot of chili.”

            I turned towards Sailor hat as he reached us and offered me his hand. “Need some help getting up?” He asked.

            I accepted his offer and got up, then shook my head. “That was close, thanks for stepping in there mate.”

“What’s your name, Scot?”

“Trevor Trekker,” I replied. “And this is--my adopted daughter, Marin.” I glanced him over. “And you are?”

            He put his hand out for a handshake. “Woody Guthrie,” he stated. “Nice to meet you Mr. Trekker.”

            I could have sworn I stopped breathing as I realized who I stood in the presence of. That's why the men had stopped.

Come back next week for the final part of the story!