Aftermath

Skorzenzy directed Muki back to the suit room and allowed her to change out of the bloodstained clothing and into her street clothes. He was (as were the others), very interested in viewing the film she’d returned with.

Muki emerged from the room looking a little more composed and gathered.

“Graduates, I believe it’s time to visit the viewing room and see what treasures our traveler returned with.” The group agreed.

Skorzenzy led them back through the control room and into the waiting area they first came to. He turned left and approached two metal doors. He fished out the key chain, identified the correct one, and opened the door.

Florescent lights immediately revealed a large theater capable of seating at least fifty people. “Graduates, please take a seat. I need to load the camera.”

The kids each found a seat. Judith chose to sit by herself in the middle of the second row. Abdul, Larry, and Muki took the last row and moved to the middle.

“Captain, I believe our young ensign is going to give us a show.”

“Abdul, shut up. This is serious,” replied Larry.

“Muki, what was it like? Did you really see who shot Kennedy?” Larry’s curiosity was getting the better of him. Muki didn’t respond. She stared straight at the blank screen. Larry and Abdul could tell she was still mentally back in Dallas.

The lights dimmed, and the first clips of the film appeared. The quality was spectacular, much better than the 8mm films of the day.

The camera panned back and forth showing all of Dealey Plaza. Skorzenzy decided to fast-forward to within two minutes of the shooting. He didn’t want the others to see if she had captured all the participants that day.

When he slowed back to real time, the camera was pointed directly at the roof of the Book Depository. “Dammit,” he swore under his breath. “She’s seen too much.”

“Abdul, Larry – look. Look at those men.” They couldn’t deny one of them was holding a gun and wasn’t scanning the crowd. Something was in the shooter’s cross-hairs.

“Muki, did he shoot Kennedy?” queried Larry.

Her eyes were glued to the screen. “They all shot him, all of them.” Skorzenzy heard her comments through the floor microphones. “They all shot him.” Her gaze never left the screen.

The next noise was crackly, but audible.

“Firefox. Eagle Four. Target is approaching kill zone. All units stand by.”

“Roger Eagle Four.”

“Eagle One. Any activity in your sector?”

“Negative. Eagle Four is clear. Knight is a go.”

“Stop it,” yelled Muki. “Stop it.”

As much as Skorzenzy wanted to oblige her, he too needed to see how much she actually witnessed. Muki lowered her head and started crying. “They killed him. They all killed him.”

All eyes were transfixed to the screen as the past from fifty-two years ago flashed before their eyes. Even Skorzenzy saw details his father failed to mention.

Kennedy’s car very slowly made the left turn onto Commerce Street. His face turned and smiled at the camera. The sound of the crowd and cheering was drowned out as Muki was hysterically yelling at the motorcade.

“Mr. President! Mr. President!”

The next sounds were unmistakably gunshots. The camera was zoomed in on Kennedy, and you could count over five shots entering his body, the last one being the head shot. It was like watching a Wes Craven horror movie as his head exploded, showering brain matter on Jackie and the car.

There were screams from the crowd, but again Muki’s words drowned out the background noise. “They’ve shot the president! They’ve shot the president!”

Abdul put his arm around Muki in an effort to calm and reassure her it was alright. He could feel her small body tremble as tears flooded her eyes. Larry stared on in amazement. Judith, sitting by herself, was thinking of only one thing. She would be next. She would have no trouble pulling the trigger and killing her great-grandfather. Maybe, with luck, she could also do what the Allies and saboteurs failed at miserably—killing Hitler.

Skorzenzy was shocked to see five bullets were fired at Kennedy. All of the stories he’d heard said there were only three shots fired by the Firefox conspirators. Obviously, someone didn’t know how to count. Five—interesting. I wonder who didn’t fill out a proper report. I’ll have to retrieve my notes when time allows and revisit the question.

“Graduates, I believe we’ve seen enough for one day,” came Skorzenzy’s voice over the intercom.

“No,” cried Muki. “There’s more.”

All eyes stayed on the screen as the dead president was being whisked away to Parkland Hospital. The same crackling voices came through the audio.

“Firefox. We have a problem. Eagle Four. Target directly above you. Take her out.”

“My God Muki. They saw you?” asked Abdul.

She raised her head and stared at the screen. In a small whisper choked with tears, “Yes.”

“Eagle One, Firefox. Do you have a shot? Over.”

“Negative. Eagle Four is moving in.”

“Roger.”

My God, thought Skorzenzy. I always wondered why so many people who witnessed the events that day wound up missing, dead or no longer accountable. They were searching for a person who wasn’t even from their time. Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating.

“Firefox, Eagle Two, We have a shot.”

“Negative Eagle Two. Pack up and observe. Eagle Four is dealing with the problem.

“Turn it off, please turn it off,” cried Muki. Her pleas went unheeded, and the film continued.

They could hear the banging on a door over Muki’s sobs. The sound of wood splintering was very clear. The camera moved up, and revealed an extremely large man wearing painter’s coveralls, a cap and sunglasses.

“Give me the camera and you won’t be harmed.”

They could see Muki raising the camera towards the man’s large hands. The next sound sent shivers up their spines. There was a bloodcurdling scream, and the camera went black.

The film ended. The only sound was Muki still sniffling.

The house lights came back on. The sound of footsteps echoed from the back wall as Skorzenzy returned to the theater. He took a seat between the group and waited.

Judith broke the silence. She turned around, looked, and glared at Skorzenzy. He could feel the hate radiating out of her eyes. “Professor, it is very apparent the machine is in excellent working condition. I insist I should be the next one. I have a score to settle—the sooner the better.”

“Patience, my dear, let’s digest the first trip before we decide on the next one.” He turned around, looking at the other three. “Muki, how did it feel to revisit real history in the making? Did it excite you? Were your nerves tingling as the motorcade pulled onto Houston Street? How did you react when you saw the gunmen on the rooftop? Did your gut tighten as the car turned onto Commerce? What was it—”

“Enough,” demanded Abdul. “Can you not see how distraught and traumatized she is over the events she witnessed? Have you no compassion, man?” Abdul’s tone wasn’t of resentment, but more of a knight coming to the rescue of a maiden in distress.

“I apologize for being so direct, Abdul, but it’s best we discuss it while the memory is fresh and vivid.”

His tone became more fatherly and soft. “Muki, tell us. What was it like?”

She wiped the tears from her eyes and regained herself. “I was excited and frightened all at the same time. It was the most exhilarating experience I’ve ever encountered.” She flashed a small smile at Abdul. “At first, I thought the gunmen I identified were Secret Service. Obviously, I was wrong. A terrible pang pulled at my stomach as I knew there was nothing I could do except to yell out a frantic warning. Seeing Kennedy turn and smile at me almost put my fears to rest, but I knew better. The men I saw were there for one reason—killing Kennedy. It was horrible watching his head explode, and seeing the look of disbelief and terror in Jackie’s eyes as her husband died in her arms.”

She took a breath. “The real horror was when I realized the voices on the walkie-talkies found me, and I was the new prey. I’m very thankful we agreed to my return at 12:32pm. I doubt the man who came to take the camera would have allowed me to live. I was terrified.”

Skorzenzy let her descriptions sink in for a few moments.

“Would you do it again?” he asked.

“Honestly Professor, at this time, I would have to decline. History is best left in the past and debated amongst scholars. The truth could be too much for the general public to digest. How would one go about retelling Kennedy’s assassination and making it believable?”

One question, the most obvious one, had not been addressed, at least not yet.

“Muki,” questioned Larry. “Did you see Oswald?”

She wasted no time with the response.

“No.” She took a breath. “I saw the window he supposedly fired from. No one was in that window, but two windows down, there was another team of men.”

“So Oswald didn’t shoot Kennedy?”

“If he did, I didn’t see him or catch it on film, so I would have to conclude he didn’t shoot Kennedy.” Muki was regaining her wits and confidence with each response. “Was he part of the conspiracy? The film is inconclusive based on what I witnessed. Would I do it again? Possibly, but I would choose a much less controversial date.”

Skorzenzy couldn’t pass up his earlier wisdom or warning.

“Muki, I believe I tried to dissuade you from this time in history. Maybe next time, you’ll heed the words of an old man, eh?”

“Maybe,” she replied back. “Maybe.”

“I believe it’s time for a break and some reflection. Is anyone hungry?”

“No,” yelled Judith. “This is not a time to eat. This is a time to return to the past and correct the mistakes. I’m sorry Muki couldn’t save Kennedy. I won’t make the same mistake. I will avenge my family name and rid it of its dark past. I’m ready. I’m ready to go now.” Judith’s hatred laced her words.

“NO!” declared Skorzenzy. “You have neither the correct temperament nor attitude to go back objectively and seek your revenge. Do you think I built this machine so we could send assassins back in time to kill only those we, (the US government) didn’t like? No! I built this machine in the hopes of furthering mankind’s knowledge of the past, and building on the mistakes to improve the future. That, my dear, was the thinking behind the project. What if Muki could have warned Kennedy and someone actually believed her? How would the future or our past look now? What ramifications would befall history if our actions changed the past?” The professor became so wrapped up in his oratory and lashing of Judith, he failed to properly choose his words. He was unknowingly justifying all of Larry’s prior comments about dabbling with the past.

Larry listened intently as each point he presented was shot down by the same man who was echoing his own words.

“Professor, then why proceed with any more experiments? You have validated every point I was arguing earlier. You implied I was being childish and unreasonable, yet now you have turned 180 degrees by supporting my very position. Why?”

He was in no mood to argue his points or theories. He was tired and hungry. He rose up from the chair and moved towards the entrance. “If anyone is hungry, join me. This has been a very trying morning.” They could hear his footsteps move down the corridor.

Muki looked back and forth at Larry and Abdul. “Judith, come here, there’s something you need to hear.”

Judith sprang from her seat and quickly moved towards the trio. “The only thing I want to know is when is that old man going to send me back. I need to do this. I need to avenge my past.”

Muki wasn’t listening.

“Judith, shut up. There’s something else I learned that the camera didn’t detect. Just before I was brought back, I know I heard one of the men mention Skorzenzy’s name. I can’t be absolutely sure, but if I am, it could explain why he didn’t want me going back to that date.”

“Agreed,” said Larry. “Despite my reservations with this whole project, I’ll acquiesce to his wants and demands. I promise not to antagonize him anymore. I’ll be vocal while not appearing argumentative, and Judith, you’d better reel in your attitude. Skorzenzy is correct in not letting you settle an old score. In your current state, that would be the same as adding gasoline to a fire in hopes of extinguishing it. It would be a disaster.”

Judith slumped her shoulders in resignation. Larry was right. She needed to put her hate on hold if she wanted to convince the professor she was worthy of visiting the past. “Okay,” was all she said.

“Hey, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I believe the professor is correct. Captain, I suggest we join the old man and see what type of food synthesizer he has hidden in the compound. Hell, he might have a normal transporter we could use.” Abdul’s comments broke the tension in the air. The four rose up and ventured out to find the professor and hopefully, a bite to eat.