An excerpt from the memoir of Colonel Jerimiah Cole (retired confederate Army) August 14, 1899 I was just a boy the night I met ‘em. Couldn’t have been no more’n thirteen, but my blood flowed with rebel pride. My maw and paw got themselves killed runnin’ supplies to J.E.B. Stuart, but I got away. Take more’n a few stinkin’ yankees to catch Jeremiah Cole, yes sir. Now I heard talk that General Lee was holed up in the red clay hills, just north of Chancellorsville, so I high-tailed it east. Took me four days through some real bad country, duckin’ Yanks and injuns alike, but I made it. At first, some of the fellas in Lee’s company thought I was a yankee spy, but after talkin’ to the General hisself, they was satisfied I was kin. After givin’ me some food, a dry change of clothes and a pair of shoes that was a size too big — they said the young feller what had ‘em before wouldn’t be needin’ ‘em no more — a bunch of us settled ‘round a good fire, passin’ a jug. Well, me being a kid, I got coffee, but it was good. ‘Bout an hour or so passed I s’pose, an’ the air got real cold and still like, an’ ever’body shushed. It were then that I saw ‘em. Single file they come, quiet, as if they was ghosts. The one in front, he stopped by where General Lee was set, leaned down real close like, and whispered somethin’ to him. Now you didn’t know Robert E. Lee, but I sure did, and I can swear to ya ... the man didn’t know fear, no sir. But whatever this man said to him, made his face grow white as my momma’s cookin’ flour. The he turned his head to me, and . . . well, I ain’t no scared rabbit myself, but that hot reb blood in my veins froze hard like iron. His eyes, and I’ll meet my maker sayin’ this, they was red as our campfire. Now I heard the stories ‘bout a rebel company led by a man that weren’t no longer a man. How he culled up some like him and fought with us Grey’s. This had to be him. When he rose up, led his men away, I slid over to where Lee was sittin’, saw the tin cup shakin’ in his hand. After he finished the whiskey and set the cup down, I worked up some nerve. “GOD!! That were Virgil Caine, weren’t it?” I asked, my eyes wide and heart racin’ in my chest. “An’ them what’s with him . . . that’s Bad Company. I wonder if I can ride with ’em?” I ended up on my backside, starin’ at the clear night sky, my face stingin’ from the force of the Generals backhand. He reached over, yanked me back up by the collar and got right in my face. “I don’t wanna hear you ever say anythin’ like that again, you hear me boy?” I knew when grownups wasn’t foolin’. Plenty of times I saw that look and heard that tone from my paw, when I done somethin’ wrong, so I just nodded. “Best you forget what you saw here, Jeremiah Cole.” Lee said, lettin’ go of me. “An’ don’t use God’s name, and Virgil Caine in the same sentence.” He looked up at the sky, stood and tossed his cup down. “Be dawn soon enough. You climb in that sack and get some sleep. We’re movin’ out soon.” So ya see, the legend of Virgil Caine and Bad Company ain’t no legend. If’n he hadn’t took off East before the war was over, I suspect y’all would be flyin’ a very different flag right now.

Corridors (working title) Synopsis. The year is 2014. James Gardner is a History professor in a small community college located in Logan, Ohio. From the time he was five, he would vanish mysteriously for a few hours, then suddenly reappear. His family, deeply religious and fearing he was an agent of Satan, abandoned him on the steps of an orphanage at the age of seven. Realizing he was different, James hid his odd gift, and eventually learned to control it. His vast knowledge of History earned him offers from most of the Ivy League schools, with salaries to match, but James shunned those, choosing instead to impart his uncanny insight to those who could not afford the tuition's there. Choosing to have no family save his Husky, Max, he lives a comfortable life of anonymity. He picks his “absences” carefully so as to not arouse suspicion, and has avoided the high profile stories of the past. However in November of 2013, during the 50th anniversary of JFK’s assassination, his curiosity gets the better of him. What he sees, sets in motion a chain of events which could shake the very fabric of reality. This story then shifts to the year 2414. What was once the USA, is now known as Area Zero having been decimated in 2059 during it’s second Civil War. Area Zero is now the headquarters for the “Preservers”, a group of men and women charged with making certain that the past unfolds as it had. With the discovery of the Corridors in 2112, the world plunged into chaos as faction after faction sought to travel back in time and change history in their favor, only to find that using the corridors was deadly to the fragile human body. In time, as man’s thirst for knowledge is want to, a solution was found. Of course, by then the world was folded into one singular ruling system, and only those deemed pure of heart and mind were chosen to act as Preservers. All was serene until the day one preserver, Bryan 12, tasked with making sure the events of November 22, 1963 materialized on schedule, saw James Gardner taking notes on what would become known as the grassy knoll. James noticed Bryan 12 as well, and for the first time in all his adventures, James had been seen. As Bryan 12 gave chase, James fell, opening a gash in his arm. James closes his eyes, and vanishes. Bryan is astounded. Something is very wrong. Bryan 12 collects the blood from the cement and returns to his own time, determined to find this man, and learn how he could do what he’d done.