The Night of the Return to Limbo

Washington, D.C., September 1870

Jim West was waiting in their private railroad car at a station that didn't officially exist as Artemus "Artie" Gordon entered, almost out of breath. "I came as soon as I got your message, Jim," Artie panted. "Of course, I had to break off a date with a very lovely lady who was singing at the opera tonight…"

Jim chuckled. "I'm sorry I had to interrupt your dinner plans, Artie, but we've got some unfinished business down in Vicksburg, Mississippi."

Artie paused. "Vicksburg? As in…oh, no!" He looked at Jim with pleading eyes. "Jim, I still haven't recovered from that duel, or whatever it was, we had when we went back in time! And do you remember what happened when I broke down and tried to tell President Grant himself what happened? He very politely suggested that I might be due for a long vacation in a sanitarium!"

"I'm sorry, Artie, but it looks like the late Colonel Vautrain's work has lived on without him. At least, that's what his daughter, who wrote to the Secretary of the Army, who happened to know Vautrain while they were at West Point together, says. She asked for us personally to investigate some strange goings-on at her father's house, which she's been in the process of rebuilding. I couldn't very well say no."

Artie sighed. "Well, I guess, given the nature of Vautrain's discovery and its implications, I guess not."

Jim smiled. "Good. Because I've already had Casey pack your things for the trip-we're leaving tonight…"

Outside of Vicksburg, Mississippi

"Miss Vautrain, you look as lovely as ever," Artie said as they met the dark-haired woman at her father's estate.

"Thank you, Mister Gordon," Amanda Vautrain replied cordially as she had a servant take their luggage into the house.

"You've done a remarkable job of restoration-the house looks almost completely finished," Jim said as they entered the former plantation. Indeed, in less than a year the house looked in even better condition than in the dilapidated state it had originally been in.

"I've worked hard to restore it so that my father's legacy could have some pride left." Amanda looked sadly at a portrait-which Jim surmised had been saved from the wreckage and also restored-of Colonel Noah Vautrain. Jim still felt the regret of not having been able to save him.

"What about these strange occurrences you told the Secretary of the Army about, Miss-excuse me, Amanda?" Jim asked.

"Well, at first I thought it was just my imagination; the memory of my father's death haunting me-but now I think that when he opened the door to the fourth dimension, it didn't close when he died." She pointed at a room at the top of a flight of stairs that Jim and Artie found all too familiar. "That's the only part of the house that's remained unfinished. The workmen I hired are afraid to go up there, and so am I. It gives off…a strange feeling to those who enter it."

"I know what they mean," Artie muttered.

"I'll go take a look. Artie, given what happened last time, perhaps you and Amanda should stay down here."

"Now wait a minute, Jim. If that fourth dimension or whatever it was that Vautrain unlocked is still active…"

"I'll be careful. Besides, I feel that I owe it to Colonel Vautrain to finish what he started."

Artie and Amanda watched with concern as Jim climbed the stairs. Inwardly, Jim had to admit that he didn't feel all that confident himself about what he would encounter in there. But he hesitated only slightly as he reached the top of the stairs, opened the door to his right, and stepped through.

Limbo…

Darkness and mist swirled around Jim as he struggled to find his way forward. He had a sense of infinity here, even though he knew that the room still had its four walls. Jim tried to fight the disorientation as time seemed to lose meaning for him, and he lost consciousness…

September, 1970

Jim found himself outdoors. Shaking his head to clear it, he looked back at where the house should have been-and saw only weeds, and the ruins of a chimney. He looked ahead of him and saw what looked like a paved highway of some sort with yellow stripes running down its center. Still somewhat dazed, Jim walked towards the highway. A metal sign on a pole indicated a number. He leaned against the pole to try and catch his bearings when something the size of the Wanderer roared past him like a beast out of the surrounding Mississippi woods. Jim wasn't armed, so he had no way to defend himself against the monstrosity. Instead, he instinctively threw himself to the ground as it passed.

Somewhat unnerved by the giant machine, Jim stared as it retreated down the highway. But the surprises were not over, as another, smaller carriage which ran low to the ground like a sleigh also raced past, wailing at him as he stumbled out if its path.

By now Jim had regained enough of his composure to gather that he had successfully crossed through the fourth dimension-but apparently not into the past, for only future advances could have produced horseless vehicles such as the ones he'd just seen. Hoping that Artie and Amanda were still waiting for him in the past, Jim gathered himself together and began the long walk back to Vicksburg proper.

The city had changed with the passage of time. Some of what he saw looked familiar, but much wasn't, and Jim had to navigate to find a hospital, where he feigned amnesia and was admitted for exhaustion and shock. As the days passed, Jim was gradually able to acclimate to his new surroundings. The medical devices that the hospital used-let alone the artificial lighting and the entertainment box that showed him news of the outside world like a crystal ball-would have fascinated Artie, he thought. Right now, however, Jim was increasingly concerned about returning to his own time, which he began to prefer the more he learned about the current age. Men were flying to the moon like the characters in a Jules Verne novel, but there was also an ongoing war in what he knew as French Indochina, a madman and his followers were on trial in California for killing an actress, and there were still racial problems more than a century after the end of slavery. Technology might be more advanced, he mused, but human nature wasn't.

It was on the fifth day since his arrival in the future that he received a visit from a silver-haired man wearing what to Jim was one of the oddly cut suits of the time. "Mr. James West?" the man asked as he entered Jim's hospital room.

Jim nodded. "I'm afraid we haven't been properly introduced," he replied. "Forgive me, but I've been suffering from amnesia, and…"

"It's all right, Mr. West." The other man held up his hand. "My name is Jim Phelps. I'm…well, what you might call the leader of a team of undercover government agents, much like the Pinkertons were during the Civil War. I was told of the, ah, circumstances of your arrival by the current Secretary of Defense-or, as you would have called him, the Secretary of War-after some unusual activity was recorded by one of our, what you might call an aerial camera. My agency was contacted by the Secret Service to get in touch with you as soon as possible as a result." The man produced a folder made of some sort of thick yellow paper from his thin valise. "James West, one of the first Secret Service agents recruited by President Abraham Lincoln and then employed by Ulysses S. Grant along with your partner, Artemus Gordon, a former actor. You've both had what might be called rather interesting experiences, according to your friend's own writings, which we found on file in the Library of Congress."

"I'm impressed," Jim admitted. "So, you've known about my coming?"

"Only within the last several weeks or so. Some of our own scientists have been studying Colonel Vautrain's writings. He was very ahead of his time in some ways. But the main thing is, I'm here to help fix things."

"Colonel Vautrain," Jim mused. "I assume that there are still records of his death in Washington?"

"At a place we call the Pentagon," Mr. Phelps confirmed. "The odd thing, though, is that there seem to be conflicting accounts of his death. You see, in one encyclopedia article we found, Vautrain was killed during the Battle of Vicksburg in 1864. But the records we have showed that he actually died in a fire at his estate five years later."

"I'm sure Artie's-Agent Gordon's-writings explained how that could be," Jim pointed out.

Phelps nodded. "It's what we today would call a paradox. Like your being here. Something has to correct the timeline so that there is a single, accurate record of what happened to Vautrain."

"Well, since I obviously don't belong here, then the only choice is for me to go back then, isn't it?"

Mr. Phelps frowned. "That's why I came to see you personally. The consensus is that too many paradoxes could affect the nature of space and time, causing permanent damage. Vautrain's fourth-dimensional wall might never be repaired. No, Agent West, I'm here to offer you a chance to join my team, to live a new life here in our time. I know it must seem strange to you, but the twentieth century does have its advantages for undercover agents."

"I see," Jim said carefully. "Well, Mr. Phelps, you've certainly given me a lot to think about. Would you mind letting me think about it at least until tomorrow?"

Mr. Phelps nodded. "Of course. You must still be very tired after your ideal. We'll talk about this tomorrow, then." He nodded and left Jim alone.

Jim didn't take much time to think. As much as he appreciated Mr. Phelps' offer, he had the feeling that he definitely belonged in his own time. He still felt that he owed Vautrain by trying to repair the wall that he'd torn down. Besides, he didn't like the thought of Artie and all the others he knew left to live their lives not knowing what had happened to him.

Jim was able to get dressed and leave the hospital that evening, citing a desire to get some fresh air. He slipped into the gathering twilight and made his way back down the highway. It was fully dark by the time he reached the site of the Vautrain estate, but the shadow of the ruined chimney and the highway sign told him he'd reached his destination.

He heard a vehicle behind him. Jim turned and saw the face of Mr. Phelps and what he assumed were two of the members of his team-a young woman and a slightly older Negro-behind the carriage's glass window. The vehicle stopped several yards away as they got out and started running towards him.

"Agent West! You can't go back! Come back with us! We won't harm you!" From the tone in his voice, Jim could tell that Mr. Phelps was sincerely worried about him, but Jim didn't have time to stay behind and argue. On a hunch, he ran towards where the stairway that led to the upper floor of the house had been…

Mist and darkness surrounded him once again as Jim stumbled through Limbo. Instinct guided him towards the door that had led him there, and he literally fell through it as it opened…

"Jim! Are you all right?" Jim opened his eyes to see Artie and Amanda looking down at him with concern.

Jim looked back up at the stairs and the door, now closed again. "I'm fine," he said as he stood up and dusted himself off. "Were you two really waiting here for me for the past five days?"

Amanda stared at him. "Five days? Mr. West, you've been gone for less than five minutes!"

Now it was Jim's turn to stare at both of them. "But I spent nearly a week in a hospital in Vicksburg, a hundred years from now…"

"Well," Artie replied. "It sounds like Vautrain's fourth dimension was still open, after all. So, what's it like a hundred years in the future?"

"It was…different. But it wasn't the here and now, where I know I belong." He hoped that Mr. Phelps would understand. "Amanda, I think your father can rest in peace now. His work is finished."

THE END