Billy's Reckoning
Billy's Reckoning
by Halivar
Billy sat in his rockin' chair on the porch, idling by another lazy summer Sunday. Vern had cooked him up yet another fine meal of biscuits and gravy, and he was in the mood for thinkin' on things. Good food turned a man into a philosopher, he reckoned. Vern sat in the rocking chair next to him as she worked on her knitting.
Billy usually sat silent as he rocked, but today he had had an inspiration. An veritable epiphany, even. “Vern,” he said, turning to his wife, “you know Star Trek?”
Vern stopped rocking and looked up. She replied, “you mean that science-fictional show come on after Nascar?”
Billy nodded. “Yeah, that's the one.”
Vern said, “Well, then yes; I know Star Trek.”
Billy stroked his stubbly chin. “Whatcha' think the future's gon' be like?”
Vern sat perplexed for a while, before replying, “Well, I image that'll be science-fictiony, too.”
Billy glowered. “Dammit, woman. That's evadin' the question.”
Vern sighed and looked down at her knitting. “Well, Pa, I imagine in the future they might have little robot things that do crochet.”
Billy sat back and continued rocking. “Know what I think? I reckon the future will be a place of marvelous wonders. Cars that drive themselves; washin' machines that talk to ya; no cancer...”
“Will they clone Elvis?” Vern asked.
Billy was incredulous. “Dammit, woman. This is my grand vision of the future you're interrupting. And yes, they'll clone Elvis. Hell, I reckon that'd be one the first folks they would. Him n' General Robert E. Lee. Make one helluva president, I reckon.” Vern nodded as she went back to her crochet.
“The future...” Billy trailed off, deep in thought. Cicadas filled the silence between them as they continued rocking. It was a short time later that Billy stopped rocking. He stared out across the yard (PICTURE 2), as if an angel of the lord had descended and smacked him upside the head. “Vern,” he said, “I just had a reckoning.”
Billy often “reckoned” things. When Billy reckoned something, it was gospel truth, and that was that. There was no questioning a reckoning. The preacher-man, the apostle Paul, and all the angels of heaven couldn't deny one of Billy's reckonings. They were divine inspiration; or so Vern thought. “What is it?” Vern asked.
Billy looked at her proudly, with a fire behind his eyes. “Woman,” he replied, “I'm gon' build me a time machine.”
Vern blinked. “Billy, how you gon' make a time machine?”
Billy guffawed, pointing at the junk in the yard. “You blind? I got all I need right here. I got two engines, a drill press, three of your old sewing machines...”
“They're all rusted up,” replied Vern.
“I got me a shed out back with plenty more,” said Billy. He would not be deterred.
Vern went back to crocheting. “Ok,” she said, “but I don't think you'll finish before bedtime.”
“Well,” said Billy, “this is a big job. Ain't nobody ever built a time machine before, and it's gon' take time. I reckon it'll prol'ly take me all night.”
Vern stood up. “Well, I'm gon' clean up the kitchen. You need any help with your little science experiment?”
Billy glowered. “Woman, you know science is men's work. You can help by bringin' me a beer.”
***
It took Billy longer than he thought. Late into the night, we welded, hammered, sawed, drilled, spliced, cut, and, in short, worked his mechanical magic on a brand new time machine. Billy reckoned there was not a mechanical device in the world he could not pull apart and put back together, including cars, refrigerators, sinks, and toilets. A time machine, however, was new territory for him. He'd never pulled one apart, and had never seen a real, operational one before. He was forced, therefore, to work from his working memory of what time machines were like in “Back to the Future”, “Time After Time,” and “Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure.”
The work continued well into the dawn, and did not cease until noon Monday (thank heaven for retirement). He entered the kitchen, where Vern was cooking lunch. He was exhausted. “It's finished,” he said as he slumped into one of the dining chairs. Vern turned around and placed a steak and cold beer in front of him.
“I knew you'd finish,” she said as she kissed him on the forehead. “So, you try it yet?”
Billy looked at her as if she were crazy. “Dammit, woman. You really think I'm gon' leave my lovely ol' ball-and-chain behind and run off to the future? Ain't no way.”
Vern was confused. “So,” she said, “you're not gon' use it?”
“Of course, woman. You're comin' with me.”
***
Vern squealed with delight as Billy led her into the shed. They were wearing futuristic clothes Vern had picked up at Goodwill. Vern, in a sudden fit of genius, suggested to Billy that in the future people would only wear polyester jumpsuits. Since no one made those yet, she picked up matching purple jogging outfits instead. As Billy would say, “close enough for gov'ment work.” Billy had trouble fitting into his, so his belly button poked out from under his top.
In the shed was a collection of ramshackle devices, with cables connecting them at various places. It took Billy a half-hour to power everything up and “configurate” it. When everything was finally ready, he called her over to the switch, a reconfigured stamping machine with a candy-red handle (PICTURE 3).
“Okay, Vern, you ready to make history?” he asked as he placed his hand on the handle.
Vern tittered. “Don't you mean, 'Ready to make future?'”
Billy guffawed with laughter. “Damn, woman, that was good. I didn't know you were funny. Well, here goes!” Billy pulled the lever.
The devices started humming loudly. The room crackled with energy. Light began cascading from the top of the switch. “Pa,” shouted Vern over the humming, “where do you tell it how far to go?”
Billy sat frozen for a moment. “Aw, Gaw'dammit. I knew I forgot something.”
Everything went white.
***
Billy and Vern finally emerged from the forest into a small clearing. Billy was just getting over the diarrhea he contracted from eating that fruit back in the forest. He was in a sour mood. So far, they had found no civilization, nor any trace that one had previously existed. Just having built a time machine wasn't enough. Without a cloned Elvis, it was a hollow accomplishment.
The clearing was next to a river on their left, with a wide, sloping hill on their right. To their surprise, blankets covered the clearing, both laying on the ground and propped up as a shield against the sun. More amazingly, hundreds of young, beautiful people wearing white, silky robes were lying on the blankets. Billy shrunk back. “Dammit,” he said, “I shoulda' brought my shotgun.”
Vern, however, was excited. “Ooh, ooh! Let's meet them!”
Billy looked at her incredulously. “Woman, don't be foolish. This is prol'ly so far into the future, they don't even speak our language.”
Just then, a group of the young people waved, and shouted, “Hello, strangers! Welcome to our land!”
Billy and Vern looked at each other. Vern said, “Billy, you didn't reckon it, so I forgive you for being wrong.” Billy sighed and hung his head. Vern led Billy by the hand out into the clearing.
Some of the young people began to congregate around Billy and Vern. Most, however, didn't even bother to glance. It was then that Billy noticed that everyone had blond hair and blue eyes.
“Greetings, stranger,” said one of the young girls, “Please make yourself at home.” The youths escorted them to blankets to lie on. Billy was very uncomfortable, but Vern was smiling broadly. Some of the youths brought porcelain bowls with a variety of fruit.
“Excuse me,” said Billy, “but can I have a beer?”
The girl looked confused. “Beer?”
“Yeah,” said Billy, “Coors, Bud Light, Michelob. C'mon, I gotta know who won the beer wars. Was it the King? Was it the King of Beers?” He was almost pleading.
The girl cringed a bit from Billy. “We do not know of this 'beer' you speak of. We have olives, though!” She grinned broadly.
Billy sighed. “Okay, no beer. What about some steak. You got steak?” She sat perplexed, and did not answer. Billy said, “You know, meat?”
The girl's eyes grew as large as saucers, and a terrified look came over her face. “Meat!” she cried and she stood up and ran away. The others surrounding them were backing away with terror-stricken looks on their faces.
Billy began to understand. “Oh, no,” he said. “Oh, no.”
“What?” asked Vern, clinging fearfully to his arm.
Billy sat up on his knees, raising his fists to the sky and shouting, “The democrats won! They took over! They took my steak and beer! Damn you! Damn you all to hell!” He lowered his face into his hands, and began sobbing profusely. Vern tried to console him, to no avail. The youths, now more terrified than ever, gave them a wide berth. Many went back to their blankets, trying to forget about the newcomers. Billy and Vern sat there for some hours as he cried.
Suddenly, a loud horn pierced the air. Vern thought it sounded like an old air raid siren. The youths began looking around, some clinging to one another. Billy looked up. “Dammit, I'm having a moment. Who the hell is interrupting my moment?”
Suddenly, dozens of yellow balls, about the size of a man each, began bouncing into the clearing from over the hill. Billy stared in horrific recognition. They were the giant, man-capturing bouncy-balls from “The Prisoner” TV show. “Oh,” he said, “I should have known.” The balls attacked people, rolling over them, but leaving nothing behind. From inside the balls, people's faces and hands pressed out in futile attempts to escape. As they grabbed people, they began bouncing back up the hill from whence they came. “Don't move,” Billy told Vern, “they only go after people who run.”
Vern stared bug-eyed at the balls. “How do you know?”
“Well, I reckon it because I saw--” Billy's statement was cut short as a yellow ball bounced over the blanket wall propped up to keep the sun out. It jumped high over head and landed directly on Billy, with Vern just nearly jumping out of the way. Vern shrieked in horror as Billy, inside the ball, pressed desperately against its skin (PICTURE 1). Vern ran away, but in her confusion and lack of familiarity with the area, could not find escape. Several balls began following her. She evaded them with some trouble. Soon, however, she found herself cornered at the river. Five of the balls were advancing towards her, and the river was her only way out. Unfortunately, she couldn't swim. Whimpering, she sat on the ground and covered her face, waiting for the bitter end.
***
“Vern, wake your lazy rear up. This is no time for sleepin'.”
Vern came to in a dark, dank room, lit only with a torch on the wall. There was an iron door beside the torch. Dozens of blonde-haired youths sat in the room with Billy and Vern, docilely sitting and staring at their own feet. Billy was sitting over her with a concerned look on his face. “Where are we?” she asked.
Billy shrugged. “I got no clue, but these kids're acting like it's the end of the world or something.”
Just then, the iron door rattled with the sound of keys. The door squealed open, and a large, brutish, blue-furred creature, somewhat like a man, but mostly like an ape entered the room. Its eyes glowed an evil red. “Hey! Dinner!” it said as it entered the room, “Get your asses up! It's your turn to feed us for a change.” He was banging a spoon on a large pot. The youths stood in accordance. The ape-man grinned, until it noticed Billy and Vern. It's eyes glowed brighter and angrier. His grin twisted into a foul grimace. “Dammit, Silas! What is this?”
Another blue-furred ape-man entered the room. “What is it, Clem?” He looked Billy and Vern.
Clem slapped him on the back of the head. “Can't you see, plain as day, these fine folks are Morloks? What in the hell you go catchin' Morloks with the huntin' balls for?”
Silas hung his head and replied, “Well, shoot, Clem. I figured if they was out there, they had to be food-people.”
Clem shook his head, and spoke to Billy and Vern. “Forgive my boy, folks, he ain't too swift.” He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “He gets it from his ma's side of the family.” He stood up and asked aloud, “Now, you folks from the Grishnak clan, or somethin'? Ain't seen ya 'round here before.”
Billy, dumbstruck up until this point, says, “Well... I reckon we are from Grishnak. Yes, sir.”
Clem laughed. “Haw! Knew it! Tell ya what, what's say I get you a cold one and we forget this whole thing ever happened.”
Billy asked, “Beer? You'll get me a beer?”
Clem nodded. “Sure will. Any kind you want. Long as the only kind you want is the King of Beers.”
Billy wept openly.
***
Billy and Vern made their way back to the time machine. It had, all in all, turned out to be a glorious day. Billy had a good buzz, and his belly was full of the best steak he had ever had in his life (Billy reckoned that, in the future, they probably found some advanced new method of breeding cattle). Vern asked for the recipe, but she doubted she could find anything as exotic as “Weena meat” back home, whatever that was.
Billy's shed still stood where they had left it. This time, Billy had to power up the gas generators for good hour before he could power up the equipment.
“Well, ready to 'make history?'” Billy said to Vern, with a proud smile on his face.
“Sure am,” Vern replied, hugging Billy tightly. Billy flipped the switch, and the shack filled with humming once more. Vern looked up at Billy and asked, “Where do you tell it to go back instead of forward?”
Billy froze. “Gaw'dammit,” he cried, “I knew I forgot something else!”
Everything went white.
