One For Many

My name is Malcolm Reynolds, and I am a bouncer. No, not that kind. I don’t stand outside popular Night Clubs admitting only the attractive ladies while denying entry to teenage boys who’s faked ID’s introduce them as Giuseppe Cordova: age 43. Especially when one can see the spirit gum holding on their fake mustachios.

I’m what they call a Body Bouncer. I can see that you’re confused, so please allow me to elaborate.

I have a special ability. I can’t tell you how I got it, that’s a secret, but it allows my consciousness access to my mitochondrial DNA at the molecular level. This particular portion of your genetic code gets transferred only from Mother to child; unlike Nuclear DNA which you get from both parents. It’s a complex process and I won’t bore you with the science of it. Essentially, it allows me to transfer my consciousness backwards in time to any ancestor on my Mother’s side. So far, the distance I can travel, and by distance I mean the number of years into the past, appears to unlimited. And it’s a damned good thing too, as you are about to find out.

“H.H. Holmes. Ever heard of him?” My handler, Lita tossed the red manila folder into my lap.

“Sounds like the name of a department store.” I grabbed the file and opened it, scanning over the details and the small photograph paper-clipped to the upper corner. I know what your thinking. They can travel back in time, but they still use paper office products. It’s a dichotomy. What can I tell you.

If you need something ‘undone’ my agency is the one you call. Well, not you so much, I doubt you’re all that important, or wealthy. And you’re also not likely a Government Office, or a Law Enforcement agency either. Those places, they call us pretty often. Think of us as a kind of ‘preventive medicine’. Our motto at the Bureau of Temporal Reclamation is: “We building a BetTeR world, one step through time.”

“Not even close.” Rosalita Vasquez rolled her eyes at me; She does that quite a bit. But don’t you call her Rosalita, She says it makes her sound too ‘ethnic’. Never mind her dark curls, even darker brown eyes and caramel-colored skin. That’s not a giveaway at all.

She continued on.

“Dr. Henry Howard Holmes, a.k.a. Herman Mudgett, Born in New Hampshire in 1861.”

“I can read you know.” I smiled at her, continuing to read the document. “This guy is a real piece of work, isn’t he? Suspected of over 200 murders...builds a house of horrors in which to murder and then dispose of his victims...Jesus Christ.”

“So, you know what you need to do on this one.” She pulled the aforementioned dark curls into a scrunchied, bushy ponytail and rolled up her shirt sleeves. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”

*****

I was barely able to control the horses despite having a firm grip on the reins; the moment of transfer is always pretty dicey. One minute you’re on a table wearing a wire harness around your head, and the next you’re in the middle of a bustling city street in control of 2600lbs of horse-and-carriage careening down a muddy street. It’s a bit jolting; every time. But, once I gain control of my faculties and get oriented to my surroundings, I’m usually alright. This time I was not so lucky.

I must have hit a bump or a rock or something, because next thing I knew I was head over heals over the front rail, face down in what had to be 3 inches of mud and horse shit. Luckily, I landed right behind the horse and between the wheels, because the carriage rolled on without crushing me.

“Dear God! Are you alright Madame?” The voice came from behind and to my left. A moment later and strong arm was pulling me up from the mire. “You went right up and over, saw the whole thing I did. Thought for sure you were a goner.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, thank you.” I was wiping the mud away from my face and neck when It dawned on me. He called me Madame. “Ugh...not again” I muttered under my breath, but he must have heard me.

“Do you often land face first in the mud in the middle of a street?” He looked at me quizzically.

“No, no, I’m sorry, I was referring to having to chase down that horse. Again. Third time this week.”

This was one of the unfortunate side effects of accessing the Mitochondrial DNA. As it predominantly traces the mother’s lineage, my consciousness often ends up in a female host. It’s not as bad as you might think. And, after all, I am a modern man; I’m secure in my masculinity. I’m sure that would sound more convincing if I weren’t wiping the muck off of my bosom and ankle-length skirt.

Where was a paper-boy when you needed him? I looked around trying to get a lay of the land, so to speak. There was a crossroad just up ahead of where I took my spill. I figured heading in that direction was my best bet. As I continued to shake the mud from my clothes I made my way towards the street ahead, the subject of more than one sideways glance. Making eye contact with a shopkeeper that was sweeping the dust from his porch, I approached.

“Sir, could you tell me the date?” I asked him, trying not to sound as crazy as I must have looked.

“Beg pardon? The date? It’s erm...uh...” he stammered for a moment before finally spitting it out. “Why, it’s Thursday, 16th of May.”

“The year sir, what year is is it?” That always made them look at me like I was a bit of a loon.

“Are you alright miss? Do you need a Doctor?” He asked me, genuinely concerned.

“I’m quite alright, sir. The year. What year is it?” This part was always a bit frustrating.

“1861, Miss... It’s 1861.” He looked a bit confused, and even more so when I simply nodded, thanked him, and walked away.

I walked another block or so before reaching an intersection, Providence Rd. and High St. according to the sign. Now I knew I was in the right town and in the right time. All I needed to do was find the Hospital. You see, the plan was simple. Find the pregnant mother if the birth hadn’t occurred yet, and the infant if it had. Either way, this was not something I looked forward to. In either case, the local Hospital was my best bet.

I asked a few more passers-by for directions, each time met with the same strange look I got from the shopkeeper. But also received fingers pointing in the general direction I needed to go, and at this point, that’s all that mattered.

Oh, one thing I forgot to mention about all this time-travel business, is that you only have about three hours to complete whatever it is you intend to do before irreparably altering the timeline. All the Sci-Fi stories about time-travel got one thing right at least. I had about ninety minutes remaining, so I had to move faster.

*****

By the time I arrived at the Hospital, I had dried out. I’m sure I still looked a bit like a crazy woman, disheveled and covered in dried filth. The look I received from the Nurse in the maternity ward confirmed my suspicions.

“Can I help you Miss?” She cleared her throat and looked me up and down, trying to make sense of what she was looking at. “Do you need to see a Doctor? If you do, you’ll have to go down that hall and make a right. This is maternity, not the the general...”

I cut her off with a wave of my hand. “No, no. I’m quite alright. Bit of a spill on the road is all. Nothing broken besides my ego, I can assure you. I’m actually here to see my Sister. She should be here. Her water broke early this morning and I was told she is here?”

“Name?” She still looked at me with suspicion, but I think she bought it.

“Mudgett, Paige Mudgett. Mr. Mudgett is out of town on business, so I’m the only family she has in town at the moment.” I embellished a bit, hoping to speed this process along.

The nurse shuffled through a few charts and then pointed down the hall. “Third room on the left. You’re in luck, she’s still in the early phases of labor. She’s resting while we wait for active labor to begin.”

“Thank you. Oh, I’m so glad I didn’t miss it. I never would have forgiven myself.” I tried to sound as convincing as possible. Judging from the softening look on her face, It seemed my ruse worked.

“I’m sure she will be happy to see you” She motioned in the direction of the room, no doubt glad to be rid of me.

I wasn’t so sure she would be happy to see me. In fact, I was quite certain that she would not be. But, one life to save hundreds as the cliché goes. Fortunately, this type of mission wasn’t the norm. I’m not sure I could do it if it were.

I approached the doorway, looking around to make sure that there wasn’t anyone within earshot, and stepped into the room. Mrs. Mudgett was on the bed, resting with her eyes closed, and clearly still very pregnant. I quietly shut the door behind me and made my way to her bedside. She must have been exhausted, because she never noticed me come in. She didn’t struggle when I held the pillow over her face either. With a sudden jerk of her body she went limp. It was finished. I stood for a moment in silence, reflecting on the gravity of it all. One life for many. It was never an easy thing to take a life, and that was a good thing. The scales are balanced once again.