Chapter 7

The sound of music slowly permeated into Buck's brain. Groggily he opened his eyes. It took several minutes until he realized where he was. His eyes focused on the music videos, then on Wilma who was sitting at the edge of her bed staring at the television.

"Did you watch that all night?" he asked.

She simply nodded. "They had something on last night called, 'Headbanger's Ball.' I found the music and the images… confusing, sick, and depraved."

Buck smiled and began to giggle. "You sound like my mother!"

He picked up the remote control and turned off the television. She whirled around to protest. "Hey, I was watching that!"

"I think you've had enough of that boob tube." Buck suddenly closed his eyes and shook his head. "Man, I just sounded like my father!"

Wilma giggled. Buck picked up one of the new outfits Wilma had bought the night before and threw it at her. "Go get dressed," he smiled.

Reluctantly she retrieved the outfit and went into the bathroom. When she came out, she turned around to model her clothes for Buck. "So how do I look?"

Buck smiled, nodded. "Like you're ready to go dancing on a Jag."

"Huh?"

"You look very nice."

She smiled broadly. "So have you decided on a plan of action yet?"
He sat down at the edge of his bed. "I was thinking about that last night, when I wasn't being drowned out by the music."

He glared at Wilma who simply shrugged and turned away. He smirked slightly. "I did come up with a possibility."

Wilma sat down at the edge of her bed facing Buck. "What?"

"Well since we don't know how the war started or who launched the first missiles, going to see my old military generals or the president won't help. Heck, for all we know a rogue nation like Iran could have launched the first attack and blamed either us or Russia. So I came up with the idea of driving to Florida and hijacking the shuttle launch."

Wilma's eyes widened. "Are you sure about this?"

He shrugged. "I don't see where we have much choice. If we can take over the controls of the shuttle once launched, we can fly it to where the stargate is. We take the stargate to the nearest system and then come back to Earth. If we can prove to the American and Russian governments that we're not alone in the galaxy, maybe that will bring about some semblance of unity."

"But the stargate is locked," Wilma protested.

"Yes, but we know the code!"

"We do?"

Buck stared at Wilma for a moment. He raised one eyebrow. Suddenly her face brightened. "Of course! We have Doctor Huer's information from his first flight!"

He grinned, nodded. "We know exactly what frequency and amplitude the gate is tuned to. All we have to do is input the correct code and bingo! The gate is unlocked!"

Wilma sighed. "I still don't know if this is the right thing."

"What do you mean?"

She shook her head. "I mean trying to change the course of history. Everything happened for a reason. Do we have the right to try to change all that?"

Buck moved to sit beside Wilma. "I agree that everything happens for a reason. There's a reason that we came back to this time. What if the fates want us to at least try to stop the holocaust? Don't we owe them that courtesy? If we can stop the holocaust, think of the possibilities! Just think how much more advanced we'd be in the twenty-fifth century! There'd be no wastelands, no fake sunsets, no more space ice-burgs. We'd be in a better position to challenge the Draconians!"

"But what if we make it worse?"

Buck looked at her blankly. "We're trying to stop the holocaust. What could be worse than the holocaust?"

"Total destruction?"

"I think we've been sent here for a reason. We owe it to Darryl, our waitress last night, all those shop owners we visited last night to at least try to save their lives."

They looked at each other for several moments before at last Wilma lowered her eyes and nodded. "You're right. So how do we get to Florida?"

Buck grabbed the newspaper. "I found a car in the ads. Give me a couple minutes to get dressed and make a couple phone calls and I'll be ready."

She nodded as he grabbed some clothes and went into the bathroom.

The taxi rolled to a stop in front of the address Buck had seen in the classifieds. He gave the driver the toll and then stepped out of the cab, followed by Wilma. They walked up the driveway as the cab drove away. Buck stepped up to the front door and rang the bell. The door opened to show an elderly woman.

Buck smiled gently. "Hello, Mrs. Anders. I'm Buck Rogers. I called you this morning about the car in the ad."

She smiled warmly. "Oh, yes. My, you didn't waste any time getting here. Oh, is this Mrs. Rogers? If you don't mind my saying, you two look like a fine young couple. Please excuse me for a minute. I forgot to get the keys. The car is in the garage. Go ahead to the door and I'll unlock it from inside. I'll meet you there in a minute."

Buck turned to face Wilma. The front door shut behind him. "Well, she likes to talk, doesn't she? I don't think she even stopped to breathe!"

Wilma merely grinned. They stepped off the porch and to the garage door. Within moments the sound of a small motor sounded and the garage door slowly opened. Inside the garage were two cars. The elderly woman walked down the garage between the two. She pointed to the car on her right, Buck's left.

"This is the one that's for sale. This was my husband's, God rest his soul."

"I'm very sorry for your loss, Ma'am," Buck apologized.

Mrs. Anders smiled. "Oh, no, Dear. Don't apologize. Martin was a good man. He lived a good and full life. He served in World War 2. He was one of the soldiers who stormed Normandy." A sudden gleam in her eye appeared. "I remember how he used to look in his uniform. He was a handsome man! And strapping, kind of like you!"

Wilma put her hand on Buck's arm and nudged him slightly. "Yes he is, isn't he?" she giggled.

Buck tried to look away, but Wilma wouldn't let him. "What's wrong, Buck? Are you getting embarrassed?"

"No. Just extremely flattered."

"Flattered? Or flustered?"

Buck turned to look at the car. He touched it gently. He looked down at the grill and suddenly froze. He jerked his head up to look at the elderly woman. Wilma noticed the change in Buck.

"What's wrong?"

He fumbled for the piece of newspaper he had cut out containing the ad for the car. He quickly read it, then looked at Mrs. Anders. "You said it was a Ford Pinto."

"Is something wrong, Dear?" she asked.

Buck shook his head. "No, not really. But this isn't a Pinto."

"Then what is it?"

He smirked slightly. "It's a Mustang."

The old woman shrugged one shoulder. "Pinto, Mustang, they're both horses."

Buck reached inside the car to unlatch the hood. He propped it open to look at the engine. His eyes widened beyond normal proportion. "Holy…! This is a 1986 Mustang GT! Five Liter; sequential multi-port fuel injection; 302 V-8! Manual transmission, convertible…"

The elderly woman glanced at Wilma who simply shrugged. "Is that good?" they both asked in unison.

Buck stood up tall, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, yes… that's good! Do you mind if I… took it for test drive?"

She handed him the keys. He eased into the seat, inserted the key, and revved the engine. Slowly he moved down the driveway, then out onto the street. Several minutes later he pulled back into the driveway. He walked back into the garage.

"Mrs. Anders; this car would be perfect."

"Great! I believe I asked for five hundred."

Buck pulled out the wad of cash from his pocket. He quickly counted out a sum of money and then handed it to the woman. "Thank you, Mrs. Anders. This really means a great deal to me. I promise to take care of it."

Buck and Wilma got into the car, but before they could leave, the old woman came rushing down the driveway with the money in her hand.
"You gave me too much money!" she exclaimed. "I said five hundred. You gave me five thousand!"

Buck reached out and gently closed the old woman's hand around the excess money. "Ma'am, this car is worth so much more than five hundred dollars. If I only paid you five hundred, I would be committing highway robbery and doing you a great disservice. And besides, if my mother ever found out what I'd done, she would never forgive me. Please take the money and treat yourself to something nice. You deserve it. Your husband Martin paid a lot of money for this car. The least I can do is repay you a fraction of what it's worth."

The old woman smiled and nodded. "People like you are rare," she said with a tear in her eye. "Anyone else would have paid the money and ran. You, Sir, are something special… just like my Martin was." She glanced at Wilma sitting in the passenger seat. "Don't let him get away from you," she warned.

Wilma smiled bashfully. "I'll do my best."

Buck started the car and put it into reverse. "Good-bye, Mrs. Anders."

She waved back. "Good-bye, Son."

Buck slowly backed into the street. They took one quick, last look at the old woman before they started down the street. Wilma gently placed her hand on Buck's arm.

"That was a good thing you did."

"What I said was true. This car is worth so much more than five hundred. If I had only given her five hundred dollars, I would never have forgiven myself."

"Is this car worth that much?"

Buck looked at her with a wild gleam in his eye and a smile on his face. "Oh! Trust me… you're going to love this!"