The Fitton Chronicles
Time travel book taking place in 1927 USA.
Charlie Russo is a part of the remarkable events of 1927, including Babe Ruth's quest for 60 home runs and Lindbergh's flight across the Atlantic. Jamal, from the distant future, befriends and falls in love with Charlie. From Boston to Niagara Falls they are chased by government agents and bioenergy beings. Under attack, Jamal tries to save the human race from eventual destruction, by attempting to send an outer space signal high above midtown Manhattan.
May 1, 1927
A great ball club, like a remarkable woman, comes around once in a lifetime. Charlie listened to the rousing crowd. The spring air, fresh and cleansing, filtered through the ballpark, ruffling the tiny flags atop the stadium wall. The crack of the ball against the bat sent tingles up his arms. If someone handed him a glove he would probably run out on the field.
In the midst of the colorful multitude, his eyes were drawn to The Babe. It was only the beginning of May, and Ruth had six home runs, two in this very game. It might be possible, if he continued at this pace, to break his 1923 record of fifty-nine home runs. The Babe trotted like a bow legged ox across the outfield, loosening up between innings. Charlie's eyes darted across the field to Pennock, sizzling the ball into the catcher's mitt. This team had it all. The superb pitching, only one component, complimented the hitting attack. Charlie shook his head as he watched Gehrig throw practice balls across the infield grass. He had never seen a team like this. God, they were good. Not only could they head to The Series, but might just squash everyone along the way.
He looked at his friends back in the seats. They would razz him if they knew earlier he was watching the cavalcade of women under the grandstand. He could not keep his mind off one woman he had seen near the concession. Tall, with expressive blue eyes, she mysteriously walked under the stands with that odd beeping leather radio box strapped to her shoulder and had had disappeared just as he carried his food from the counter.
Joel cupped his hands. " Hey, Charlie! Either go get some more food or sit your arse down!"
" I need a smoke, Joel," said Charlie. He took a pack of Luckys from his shirt pocket.
Ray, rapped on his leg. " Francine know you're at the ballpark, Charlie?" Charlie, cigarette hanging from his mouth, squinted at Ray, and then lit up. He shook the match and tossed it to the cement as he exhaled. " I don't discuss baseball with Francine."
Ray leaned toward Joel. " Any dame that wouldn't let me go to the ballpark..."
" I know you guys don't like her."
" It's not that we don't like her, Chuck." said Joel. Charlie squeezed toward the aisle. " She's just not right for you."
" Rumfords have too much dough," added Ray.
" You can never have too much dough, Bud. I'm getting some more food."
What he really wanted was to find that dame again. Phily was batting and Pennock fired a strike, but Charlie had lost interest and plodded down the ramp. Ray was right. Francine would be upset if she knew he had traveled to the stadium. She was the boss's daughter, but the old man had pushed the relationship. Rumors abounded about her alleged affair with a guy named Rick Serone from Chicago, and she had seen her old beau, Wil Dillingham, on occasion, but the Rumfords were stinking with money and Charlie was set for life.
Once under the grandstand girders, he searched for her blue chiffon frock. The crowd cheered above and realized how much he loved the game. He could taste the feeling, a raw combination of hot dogs, onions, and cold beer, accented with passing stale cigars and pungent bags of second-rate peanuts.
Starting at the concession, he thought about his ambition and began a methodical march under the grandstand. After his arrival from his parent's Ohio farm, subsequent graduation from New York University and employment at the Woolworth Tower, he remained fueled by a lust for wealth and power.
He snuffed out his cigarette on the concrete. Then he saw her. She was tall and slender within the transient crowd, but overdressed in the blue frock, and her rusty hair was bobbed in the shingled look. Something about her, an aura of mystery, drew him closer. He drifted inauspiciously under the grandstand and stared at her large leather case, but this time it emitted no beeps. Sweet jasmine filled the air even before he was near her. She panned the rafters as if she were structural engineer. He could not keep his eyes off her tight, tanned face, scattered with freckles. As he inched closer, the stadium light cast an iridescent glow within her blue eyes.
" You come to the stadium often?" he asked.
She kept studying the girders. " You've been watching me."