Echoes of the Past

Echoes of the Past: Ch.24

Jack looked calm but inside his heart was racing.

Bobby? A time traveler? What crazy theory was that? As Jack paced, he hit the wall, denting it slightly. Kenny was outside. Caroline was playing with Jackie in the backyard. All Jack focused on was his brother. If Bobby became a time traveler, Bobby would see the future. And Bobby had been alive after Jack's death. This could be used as a weapon.

Jack sighed and sat down. His back ached. He knew it would be a few hours before Bobby returned. Probably seething about Lyndon.

I was stupid to tell what the VP did, Jack thought to himself. Now imagine how violently Bobby will react when I mention Lyndon.

Jack needed a break. He went to his room and undressed into his PJ's. He crawled into the safety of the covers.

Jack was out cold in less then 2 minutes.

Jack woke up in a familiar place. Dallas, he thinks instantly.

He looks around. The sun is shining, the clouds are nowhere to be seen. A large crowd of people greet him, shouting and screaming his name. Jack's heart shatters when he sees a motorcade heading toward the underpass. Jack watches the scene, helplessly.

Jack glances around the setting to find his killer. He finds someone aiming a gun from a high brown building that looks menacing. The man fires three times. Jack looks back at his future self.

He slumps in the car, first grabbing his throat. Jack winces as Jackie turns to look at him. She is calm as he leans toward her. Jack wants to scream, "Pull me down!" But Jackie doesn't understand until she sees a bright red spot seeping through his chest. Her reaction is too slow as another bullet comes from the front and smashes into Jack's skull.

Jack watched, horrified, stunned, and enticed, as his own head explodes. It was a beautiful scene yet still ugly.

He watches the future after his death. Jackie waiting in the hospital, blood and brains covering her pretty suit. She's sobbing quietly, whispering his name. Her eyes are wet as so are her gloved hands which are stained with blood. She gets up and goes into a room. A burly nurse tries to stop her but she refuses. Jackie watches, her eyes fixed on something. Jack shifts his attention to what she is looking at it.

It's his body, lying there. Lifeless and dull. Jack approaches, going through Jackie, because he's just a ghost in this image, and stares. His eyes are wide open, staring at nothing.

Jack swallows as the doctors and nurses give in.

"Mrs. Kennedy," the man in the lead addresses her, "your husband has received a fatal wound."

Jackie is calm. She's not crying.

"I know," she says in a hoarse voice.

The doctor begins to tear up. Jackie reaches up and strokes his cheek with her bloodied gloved hand.

Other images flash in his head. Walter Cronkite announcing his death. The man who killed him, and the man who photographed his death.

Three names taunted him as he woke up, gasping and crying. His back was jarred.

Their names were Oswald, Zapruder, and Tippit, Jack thinks weakly. I need to find them. Now.