Page 80 of After 5

While Al pointed out the do’s and don’ts to Gertie, Jake gave me a few of his own. “Remember, steer clear of the Peach Orchard, the round tops, the wheat field, and most of all the area in front of Cemetery Ridge. If Mortas goes toward any of the battle areas, don’t follow. If the brigands kill someone, we’ll deal with the ramifications here in the present. Not there.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” I said.

“You studied all the research I gave you, right?” Jake asked me.

“I read most of it.”

“Jen.”

“I got caught up reading letters from the soldiers.”

“What letters?”

“Gertie brought home letters written by the soldiers to their loved ones.”

“They were heartbreaking,” Gertie said.

Jake frowned at me.

“But I know the generals, and the locations of the buildings.” I put an arm around Gertie’s shoulders. “And Gertie knows the rest.”

Jake pulled Gertie aside. “You don’t have to go.”

“Yes, I do,” she said. “Because the Mafusos could screw up my world, and I kind of like the one I’m living in.”

Jake grimaced, but agreed. “You’ll need a few vaccinations, typhoid, malaria, and yellow fever.”

I gave her an apologetic smile. All the WTF travelers had been vaccinated for more diseases that I cared to count.

Gertie agreed, and Ace escorted her to the infirmary.

Jake watched her go. He turned toward Marco and me. Worry lines creased his forehead.

“Jake don’t stress. I’ll have Marco for muscle.”

“I’ve been practicing with a rifled musket for weeks,” Marco said.

“You have?” I didn’t know Marco had taken any steps toward acknowledging our possible mission.

“Haven’t you?” He moved toward the travel screen, and Pickles showed him the last location Mortas landed and the dot indicating the location he now occupied. He was in a tavern on the outskirts of town, not too far from our designated landing spot.

The dot labeled as Toches blinked eerily close to the Trostle Farm, the headquarters of Union Major General Dan Sickles.

Jake handed each of us Confederate States and Union currency conveniently folded into tiny plastic packages. “Put each bill on the sides of your cheeks. In case you get captured and you need a bargaining tool, or you cross the line.”

The Confederate money was useless unless we mingled with the Rebels or traveled south.

“Under no circumstances are you to land anywhere near the Trostle Farm,” Jake said to me.

“Jen’s got this,” Gertie piped up, and I thanked her with a nod.

“Time to go.” Al placed his hand on my shoulder.

I gave Pickles and Al a finger wave as we headed out. The five of us walked silently down the hall. The shuffle of feet on tile changed to cement as we entered the empty hangar.

“Jennifer drives.” Jake broke the quiet.

“Awe, c’mon,” Marco objected.

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