Twilight Zone: Good Samaritan

Note: This story was a contest entry for the March, 2011 Twilight Zone Contest. To view the contest rules, click on Contest Rules:

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The Twilight Zone
Episode Two: “The Good Samaritan”

By Indelibleink

(Author's Note: Before we get started, check out http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NzlG28B-R8Y to get a feel for the tone of the Twilight Zone television series some half a century ago. This is one of several introductions for the show. Additionally, in the interest of keeping the tone of this story as close to that of the original show as possible, anything written herein that is colored blue is intended to be considered narration by the show's host, Rod Serling).

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No question - Sam was pretty much gassed. So was Lester, as a matter of fact. It was late - just after seven o'clock - and Martha had to be wondering, right about now, just what had become of the two of them. The chill that accompanied dusk was not unusual east coast weather for mid-April in Washington, and Lester struggled to throw on his topcoat as he directed the carriage towards the main road that would get Lester and Sam home the fastest. The rapidly setting sun shone directly into Lester's eyes, forcing the forty-seven year-old taxi driver to shield the ravaged retinas of his weathered face with his free hand.

"Atta boy, Sam...Yes, we're heading home. Any luck at all, we'll be there about supper time. Don't know about you, but I could use some of Martha's cooking right about now. Shoot, Sam, I could eat a handful of your oats right about now..."

Sam, who no doubt was only concerned with getting home to his oats and stall, snorted in seemingly mock acknowledgment of his master's comment. Lester chuckled at the timing of the "response."

"Nah, Sam, you know I wouldn't do that. I'd never eat your oats...you know that. Why, you and me...we're business partners, and..."

As the horse-drawn buggy moved past a boarding house just on the outskirts of town, the growing quiet was interrupted by a dark figure which bolted directly in front of a startled Sam and who then attempted to open the door of the enclosed - but currently locked "cab" section - of the carriage. Sam lurched back and attempted to go up on his hind quarters, restrained only by the mass of tack that limited his movement. Still, it was all Lester could do to keep his spooked pal under control.

"Whoa, Sammy boy, whoa..." After some more reassurance from Lester's calming voice, Sam regained his composure. Lester turned to see the well-dressed man - mustachioed and looking to be in his early thirties - still trying to open the carriage door. Giving Sam one final tug with the reigns which stopped movement of the carriage completely, Lester turned and leaned over to face the stranger.

"We're done for the day, mister. Closed. You're going to have to find yourself another ride somewhere else."

The stranger was not going to give up that easily. "It's very important, Sir. I absolutely must get downtown quickly. It is a matter of utmost importance. You would be doing your country a great service. History will remember you fondly." He then fished though the pockets of his dinner jacket, producing a number of bills which he then held inches in front of the surprised carriage driver's face. "I'll give you five dollars - five - if you take me downtown right now. That's only about a ten minute trip if you hurry."

Lester took the currency from the man, holding it up to the dim street lamps and squinting to ascertain that the stuff was real. Five dollars? And helping my country to boot? That was more than his income for an entire week some of the time. Wow! Would Martha ever be surprised by this. Lester hopped down from his seat and unlocked the carriage door.

"Mister, you have yourself a deal." He watched the man get up into the Carryall, closed the door, and resumed his place in the driver's seat. "Sam, looks like we'll be eating a little later than planned tonight. Have a good deed to attend to first. Giddy-up."

Meet Lester Miller: Independent businessman, husband, and patriot. Lester Miller: A died-in-the-wool, true blue American who always dreamed of the day he might do something that would have an impact on his beloved country's history. Lester Miller, who, tonight would take a ride to a destination that was not to be found on any map. No. Tonight Lester Miller was about to visit....The Twilight Zone! 

"Where to, young fella?" Lester peered back through the small communication port and at his passenger.

"The Ford." The man now seemed to want no part of a conversation now that he had secured his transportation.

Lester asked a few more questions as they traveled, but the passenger had little to say the rest of the journey.

*****    *****    *****    *****    *****    *****    *****

ONE HOUR LATER

The door to the modest little wood frame house opened, and a frantic Martha Miller ran to her husband.

"Well, Lester Miller, I do declare...I had given you up for dead! What in heaven's name happened to you?"

Lester, tired, cold, and hungry, flopped down at the kitchen table. Without saying a word, he reached into his pocket and produced his income for the day: Eighty-seven cents, which was a bit more than he normally took in. When Martha looked at him with a quizzical "So what?" look, he quickly laughed and said, "Oh yes, there's a little more in my other pocket..." After some dramatic pretend "rummaging," Lester produced five crisp singles.

Martha gasped. "Lester...you went and robbed a bank!"

Lester laughed and put up his hands in protest. "Not quite, my dear. Let's have some dinner and I'll tell you all about it."

At the end of the story, Martha shook her head in amazement. "Five dollars for a ten minute ride? And you don't recall that young man's name? He had to be famous to be throwing that kind of money around, and just to get to the Ford? And you say he was an actor? Wonder who it could have been..."

While cutting into good-sized chunk of beef, Lester's eyes widened. "Now, I remember. It was Boone...a Jonathon Boone, as I recall. Said he wasn't in the play tonight, but he knew all about the rear entrance to the Ford, and he knew some of the other actors I'd dropped off back there over the years. I never did think to ask him how him being an actor and me getting him to the Ford real fast had anything to do with me doing the country a 'great service'. Probably was just a line to get me to take him there. He's most likely a nobody, and nobody's going to remember me fondly years from now..."

Lester then eyed the dollars that still adorned the kitchen table. "Let's change the subject, Martha. Let's go celebrate tomorrow night. Go out to dinner, then maybe the theater."

"Oh, Lester, that would be wonderful! While you're working tomorrow, I'll go to the theater and buy tickets from the booth, and..."

"Hold on, Martha." Lester stopped mid-stream from attacking the potato that was attached to his fork. "Now I remember. The guy's name. It wasn't Boone...It was Booth...Jonathon Booth who I dropped at the Ford Theater. I just knew Boone wasn't right. It would have bothered me all night. John Booth it was. Seemed like a nice guy..."

Lester Miller: A patriot, a family man, a real American, the kind of man who would help out a fellow American whenever there was a need. A man who would soon learn that one man's definition of "a great service" may not necessarily coincide with his own. A man who learned the day after April 14, 1865 that the five dollars offered by John Wilkes Booth in exchange for a ride to Ford Theater cost his beloved country their president. It also earned Lester Miller a non-refundable ticket into...The Twilight Zone.

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Words: 1318