Yesterday's Thunder Riders

"Yesterday's Thunder Knights"

Roy Rogers squinted as the wind whipped around him. He grabbed his hat and pulled it down to shield himself from the explosion that didn't seem normal. It smelled strange, tinged with the smell of burning electrical wires and wet concrete. He wasn't in the desert, that was for sure. There is no more open sky. There is no more dust beneath Trigger's hooves. When he finally opened his eyes, he wasn't looking out at the vast plains of Texas. He was looking down.
Until the end. Roy's heart skipped a beat. Below him was a dizzying expanse of steel and glass, filled with tiny cars and people scurrying around like ants. He blinked, his calloused hands gripping the cold metal railing. What the hell?
Beside him, Hopalong Cassidy, calm as ever, adjusted his hat and scratched his chin. "I've never seen New York from this high," he said in his usual calm tone, but his eyes betrayed the confusion of a man who had never been anywhere near the city like the cover of a dime novel.
The third man, Gene Autry, whistled low. "Boys, I'm either going to hit my head on something or end up on top of the Empire State Building."
Roy nodded slowly, trying to figure out what had happened. A minute later, the three of them were gathered in a small, old-fashioned parlor, recounting their recent adventures. And then the storm hit. He remembered a flash of lightning, the wild crackle of energy flowing across the sky and then… nothing.
Until now.
“Well, that’s something,” Hopalong said, looking down at his gun belt and worn boots. “But why are we here and how?”
The genie laughed, but there was no trace of humor in his laughter. "Do you think this is some kind of trick? One minute we're in 1885, the next we're in... where?"
Roy tapped the brim of his hat. "It's over a hundred years in the future, guys. Look around you. This storm didn't just leave us somewhere in the road - we're in the present."
The three cowboys were silent for a moment, the sound of the bustling city below fading to a dull roar that barely reached the roof. But despite their strangeness, Roy felt a strange determination grip his stomach, the same feeling one felt just before a confrontation. They weren't there by chance.
Suddenly, the air became heavy again. That strange electrical hum Roy had noticed earlier filled the air. A storm was brewing again. But the flash that had brought them here was not just time, there was something else. Roy felt it.
A clap of thunder cracked in the sky, louder than before, and with it, a whirlwind of images, memories he didn't recognize as his own. Glimpses of battles, decisions, roads that went where they shouldn't. Roy gripped the railing as the images flashed through his mind. Gen shook his head violently, clearly seeing the same thing. "Did you see... did you just see...?" »
"Yes," Roy interrupted. "I think we're starting to understand why we're here." »
They were brought to the present for a reason. Something connected the three of them. But what? What would three cowboys from the Wild West do with this glittering metropolis and a roaring storm that seemed to have a will of its own?
And then it hit him. The lightning wasn't random. It was memories. But not just his own. Lightning had bound them with a thread that stretched across time, connecting them to a choice, a split-second decision made in the heat of battle over a century ago.
Hopalong rubbed his temples. "Guys, I think I remember things that aren't me. Like I've lived two lives. Ever hear of those boys who fought for the Union and the Confederacy?" It seems we're a bit like that, but in a different kind of war."
"A war..." Roy broke off, narrowing his eyes. "You're talking about that fight in Texas, right? The one we always hear about in low tones - a battle that didn't make history?"
"That's it," Gene said, snapping his fingers. "That's why we're here! We weren't just brought in for a sideshow. We're here because the future depends on something that happened then. And something we must stop. »
Before they could take it all in, a door opened behind them. A man wearing a long black cloak emerged from the dark staircase. His eyes gleamed with a strange familiarity as he walked toward them, a smile tugging at his lips.
"Finally understand, don't you?" The man's voice rang with certainty. "It took you a long time. I was beginning to think the storm hadn't done its job. »
Gen held out his gun. "Who did?" »
The man laughed darkly. "Names don't matter anymore. But you can call me what you've always called men like me: Shadow. I've been watching you for a long time. You danced on the sides of history, tipping the scales one way or the other. And now you have one last chance. »
Roy's hand hovered over his gun, but something told him this wasn't a fight he could win with a bullet. "What do you want?" »
The shadow took another step forward, the lightning illuminating his face in a brief flash. "This world—your world—has been on the road to ruin since the day the three of you entered that rift all those years ago. A decision was made—by you, by others—that changed the course of history. . I have come to make sure this wrong is righted. »
"How righted?" Hopalong growled, fists clenched.
The man's eyes gleamed. "I will take you." You have unfinished business in this battle, and that begins with understanding why you joined in the first place. You were not just a cowboy. You were more than that. »
Roy frowned. "More than that?" »
The shadow smiled again, pointing to the swirling storm above. "Have you ever wondered why you survived the things that should have killed you? Why were you three always at the center of things, no matter where you went? The storm… wasn't the first time you've been through it." You have manipulated time your whole life, but now the future is upon you. And it demands an accounting.
The air around them crackled as the Shadow's words sank in. They were not just men, they were part of something greater. Their lives, their choices, had passed through time, shaping events far beyond their comprehension.
Roy's eyes hardened. "And what happens if we refuse?" »
The shadow's smile faded, replaced by a cold, stern look. "Then the future collapses. This city you see below? It's gone. The world? It is gone. But if you fix the past, if you correct the course of history, you will save everything. »
The genie stepped forward. “And what exactly do we need to fix?” »
The Shadow’s voice was now a low moan, barely audible over the rising wind. “A choice was made in this battle, a choice you did not make. This is what caused the fracture. You must return. And this time you must choose differently.”
Another bolt of lightning struck the Empire State Building, sending a wave of crackling energy into the air. Roy, Gene, and Hopalong felt the ground shift beneath their feet as the city below shook and shook, like a mirage.
The man in black approached, his eyes narrowed. “The future depends on you. So what's it gonna be, guys? »
Roy exchanged a look with Gene and Hopalong. They didn't need to speak. They knew what he had to do.
"Let's go," Roy said.
And in a flash, they were gone. The storm passed, leaving the roof empty and silent. Below, the city was bustling with life, unaware of how close it was to oblivion.
... The world changed again, and Roy Rogers opened his eyes against the harsh sunlight. Dust hung in the air around him, carrying the familiar scent of the Wild West: dust, sweat, and the sharp smell of horses. It seemed as if no time had passed. But something was different. He felt it in the pit of his stomach, the same tingling sensation that had accompanied him since his first time in New York.
Gene Autry and Hopalong Cassidy stood beside him, their hands instinctively on the muzzles of their revolvers. They were back where they belonged—or, at least, where they had been brought together in the first place. The battlefield stretched out before them, a fight that had broken out between two disparate groups of people, dusty and desperate. Roy's mind raced. Shadow had said they had made the wrong choice, but what was it? This moment, this battle, was not in the history books, but it was the turning point. It was the choice that set the world on the path to destruction.
His eyes scanned the ground, searching for anything that might give a clue. Then he saw, on the other side of the battle, a figure moving through the chaos, unsuspected by the others. Dressed like a soldier, but moving with too much purpose for a man caught in the heat of battle. Roy gasped.
"It's him," he whispered to the others. "The one we missed last time."
Gene followed his gaze and nodded quickly. "He's the one we let go."
Hopalong narrowed his eyes. "He didn't seem like a threat before. Just a messenger, or so we thought."
Roy clenched his jaw. "But he's not just a messenger, is he? That's what the Shadow was talking about. We chose to let it go and now we know why it was a mistake. »
The genie shifted in the saddle. "We must stop this time." Whatever it brings, whatever order or message it brings, this is the key. »
Without another word, the three riders urged their horses to move. Dust rose behind them as they headed toward the unsuspecting man. The battlefield erupted with fire around them, but they rode straight ahead, their eyes fixed on their target. The man saw them at the last second, his eyes wide with surprise. He turned to run, but Hopalong was faster. With a dash, he dismounted and tackled the man to the ground.
"Whoa, buddy," Hopalong growled, kicking the man. "You're not going anywhere this time."
The man struggled, but Roy and Gene were there in the blink of an eye, guns drawn. Roy leaned down and looked the man straight in the eye.
"What is your message?" Roy asked. "Who sent you?" »
The man's eyes darted nervously from one to the other. "I'm just a messenger!" he protested. "They told me to send a letter. That's all! »
Roy's hand tightened on his revolver. "A letter to whom?"
The man hesitated. "This is for the commander of the Union forces. They say the battle is over. A truce."
Gene snorted. "A truce, huh? And what happens if that truce comes?"
The man swallowed hard. "The battle ends and the Union wins. But if the letter doesn't arrive, it'll be weeks or even months."
Roy's eyes narrowed. "And who sent the letter?"
The man licked his lips, his fear evident. "I don't know. I swear! I just had to hand it over to the officer and that's it."
Roy exchanged glances with Gene and Hopalong. This was a choice they hadn't made before. Last time, they had let the man go, thinking that a quick end to the battle would save lives. But now it was clear that there was something more at stake—something darker. Gene shook his head. "This letter is not about peace. It's about power. Whoever is behind this wants to tip the scales in their favor."
Roy nodded. "And it's up to us to make sure that doesn't happen."
Without another word, Roy reached over and took the letter from the man's pocket. It was sealed with a strange mark that Roy didn't recognize. But he didn't need to. He felt he had made a mistake, that he was weighing too much on the scale.
"Get rid of him," Hopalong said quietly.
Roy shook his head and stood up, holding the letter in the wind. With a flick of his wrist, he tore it in two, the paper flying in the wind like ash. The man on the ground watched in horror as his mission collapsed before his eyes.
"You've just doomed us all," the man said.
Gene shook his head. "No, we've just saved the future."
As the pieces of paper flew, the battlefield around them began to glow. The sounds of gunshots and screams fade away, replaced by a hum of growing energy. The three cowboys felt the air moving again, the same electric charge that had transported them into the future.
"We did," Roy said softly, feeling the tension leave his shoulders. "We've changed."
Hopalong looked up at the sky, where the storm clouds were gathering once more. "Yeah, but what happens now?"
Before either of them could respond, the world shook and the battlefield dissolved into a blur of light and shadow. When the world returned to its original appearance, they found themselves in the middle of a busy city street.
New York.
But something was different. The city was brighter, more alive than before. The people passing by seemed neither rushed nor panicked. It was like a weight had been lifted from the world.
Roy looked at his friends, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "We did it, guys. We solved the problem."
Gen laughed, adjusting his hat. "And not a moment too soon."
But as they turned to leave, something caught Roy's attention. Across the street, a man in a black jacket was watching them. The shadow.
He nodded once, in silent thanks, then disappeared into the crowd.
Roy tipped his hat back. They had done what they had to do. The selection was corrected. The story was back on track.
For now.

By Omnipotent