Blackfeather
4 Who are you?
I WAS STARING into a mirror. No, a darkened window that showed my startled reflection. Only it wasn’t me. The girl that looked back at me was… just not me. She was pretty. I couldn’t tell the color of her eyes but they looked startled like something had just slapped her. She was wearing a shawl and a dark dress that was buttoned up all the way under her chin.
Oh my god! It happened. I’m in a different person. I’m so sorry, Kyle. What do I do now?
“Who are you?” My host was panicking. How did she even know I was here? I didn’t try to do anything. I was panicking. She should just go to sleep or something.
I tried to pull back, but she hung onto me like I was a bad dog. I tried to take control, but she tightened my leash and held me down. It wasn’t supposed to be like this! Pa said.
“Who are you and why are you here? Go away!”
She was talking to me! She knew I was here! I could feel my heart in my throat. I could see the wrinkles in my forehead. There were tears leaking out of my… her… our eyes.
Don’t be scared. I don’t know if I was thinking it to myself or to her, but she heard me.
“Scared? You just jumped into my head. I can feel you. I can hear you. Who are you?”
Ramie. I felt compelled to answer.
“I have been possessed. I will not let you have my soul, demon!” She was beginning to hyperventilate. I couldn’t get enough air in my lungs. Her lungs. What was happening? “Demon Ramie, by the power of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, I command you out of this sacred temple of the divine and consign you eternally to the flames of hell from whence you came,” she screeched at me. The words screamed in my head. To my ears she barely whispered—could hardly speak.
I don’t actually think it works that way. Stony silence. I want to go home. I don’t believe any of this. Maybe she couldn’t hear me anymore. But I could feel tears still dripping from my… our eyes. I jerked her head back toward the dark window. Bitch. I gave her the finger. She jumped back and snatched her hand down in her lap. Hah! You can’t deny I’m here and still fight me for control. Where am I?
She refused to answer. I reached up and tweaked her left nipple. Oooh. Sensitive.
“Stop it! All right, you are still here. I will go to a priest. I will not be possessed by Satan’s damned minion.”
Stop cussing me. I’m not damned. I’m not a minion. I’m not evil. I’m just scared. Just like you are.
“Why? Why are you here in me?”
I don’t know. Honest, I don’t.
“Miranda, you’re talking in your sleep again,” the woman next to us spoke. “Wake up, dear. Now you can start over.”
“Yes, Mother,” the girl said.
So, you’re Miranda. Nice to meet you, too. You don’t have to speak out loud. I can hear your thoughts.
“You can’t!” she thought. At least it wasn’t out loud.
I can. Please talk to me. Please tell me who you are and where I am.
“I am a poor sinner and you have come to torment me for my sins.”
No. I don’t give a damn about your sins.
“You are a foul being.”
I’m not. Really I’m not. I’m sorry I’m here. I don’t want to torment you.
“Why are you here?”
My Pa told us he was a time traveler and we didn’t believe him. But it’s nothing like he said.
“That is impossible.”
That’s what I said. But here I am. When am I? What date is it?
“Good Friday, the fourteenth day of April in the year of our Lord 1865.”
Oh god! No!
“Do not take the name of our Lord in vain, Demon Ramie.”
No. It can’t be. I’m dreaming. You aren’t real.
“I’m real. It is you…”
Miranda, it’s the day they shot President Lincoln!
“What? No! They can’t. Who?”
An actor. John Wilkes Booth.
“But we’ve just won the war. Lee surrendered. That’s why we are traveling.”
I was afraid to say anything. I tried not to think. When I held my breath I realized Miranda was struggling.
“Let me breathe!”
I’m sorry. I forget that when I do something it affects you, too. I wish I was in my own body. I don’t mean to make your life miserable.
I tried to relax and just be a rider, watching the world through Miranda’s eyes. Pa said he could give control to his host and just watch. But Miranda’s thoughts were flashing all over.
“Are you still there?”
Yes.
“How do you know the president will be killed?”
It’s history for me. A long time ago. Pa’s a fanatic about Lincoln and Kennedy. He lectures me every birthday. I had to write a paper about it for school.
“What can we do?”
What? What do you mean?
“I cannot sit idly by while my president is assassinated. You said you did not know why you were here. I do not know why you are here. Has this murder been committed already?”
What time of day is it?
“Nearly dawn.”
It happens tonight. Ford’s Theater around ten o’clock.
“We must tell someone.”
And end up in a loony bin? How could you tell someone that a person from the future invaded your head and told you that the president would be shot while attending a play? They would lock you up.
“Loony bin? Ah. An asylum.” Miranda was silent but thoughts continued to rage about saving the president. I couldn’t tell which were hers and which were mine. They seemed to get jumbled up together. Could that be it? Was I sent back in time to save the president?
“Are you a Confederate rebel?”
No.
“Then you must help save the president.”
I tried again to be silent and calm. Pa had done this. I could do it. He traveled in time, inhabited the mind of a young man, had his adventures, and returned.
“Demon Ramie, I command you by all the powers of heaven to save the president,” Miranda intoned in her self-righteous voice. Where did she get this stuff?
Miranda, you can’t just order me to do stuff. First, I’m in you. For all I know I AM you. I can’t do anything unless you do. Second, I have no idea what to do. You don’t even have a phone so we could call someone. And finally, I AM NOT A DEMON!
She shut up. I tried to ignore what she was thinking, but surface thoughts are hard to ignore and I was finding that Miranda was a spitfire. She was also still convinced that I was a demon who had possessed her. She was the one controlling everything. I don’t know why she thought I was possessing her. I let it slip that maybe it was my mind that she had possessed. That gave her a start.
“How do you know these things about our president?” she asked.
It’s history to me. I live a century and a half from now.
“So you know where it will occur and when and by whom.”
In general terms. I know it will be tonight at Ford’s Theater. Whenever they take pictures of clocks, they are set at 10:10 to commemorate the time. Unfortunately, I don’t have any idea where in Washington Ford’s Theater is. I don’t know what John Wilkes Booth looks like. I’ve never been to Washington. I looked it all up on the Internet.
“What is that?” How was I going to explain the Internet without sounding like a demon?
It’s like a big book that pretty much everyone can use. You just have to be careful because not everything in it is true. Like all books.
“The Bible is true.”
Right. Not going there.
“If I were to… let you have control… would you then be able to stop the assassination?”
Why don’t you do it yourself?
“How? I’m just a girl.”
So am I. I don’t want to control you, Miranda. I’ll help you if I can, but you know much more about this time and place than I do. It’s not like I’ve lived here all my life. I don’t really even know who you are or why we are on this train.
“My mother is to be married. We are to meet my new stepfather and stepsister in Washington, District of Columbia, on Saturday. There will be a wedding with some of his friends present. He is known in Washington. Then we will board the train again for Baltimore.”
You’ll be staying at a hotel tonight? In Washington?
“Mother mentioned Willard’s Hotel.”
I began to get an idea.
It was after nine-thirty when we were able to slip out of the hotel. There was quite a festive party going on in the hotel and Miranda’s mother, Dorothy Lewis, left for the party at nine after bidding Miranda ‘goodnight.’ When we were sure she was gone, we slipped out.
Of course, we went the wrong direction and didn’t realize it until we’d practically walked into the White House. Security here was nothing like it was in my day. No iron fence. No armed guards. A couple soldiers on duty at each door. We actually had to stop and ask directions from one of them. It turned out that the theater was only a block from our hotel in the other direction. I was certain Booth wouldn’t just walk through the front doors of the theater. There were two Union soldiers lounging there.
There must be a stage door. That’s the way he’ll go.
We crept around the building staying to the shadows. If only we make it in time.
I saw the horse first. A man was holding the reins and another man in dark clothes came striding toward the door.
That’s him!
Miranda bolted toward the figure screaming. He paused and looked toward us as we barreled down on him. He didn’t have time to reach for a weapon. We hit him just as he reached for the door. The impact hurt. He was a solidly built man and taller than I expected. Nonetheless, Miranda was a dynamo and he tumbled backward off the steps.
“Not tonight you won’t, you rebel cur!” Miranda screamed. She began immediately to pummel him.
“Get off of me!” he cried. “I must get inside. You don’t understand.” She continued to rain blows on his head. He gave a mighty shove and we rolled to the ground. Miranda took a deep breath to scream, but it was cut off before it gained sound.
A shot echoed from inside the theater.
“You three-penny whore!” he screamed at us. “I could have stopped it. I could have…”
His voice cut off as we locked eyes.
Kyle!
I could not gain control of her voice. Miranda turned and fled. There was a flapping of wings swooping down toward us.
Awkawkawkawk!
I was gone again.
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