Calvin and Hobbes: Gettysburg – A Crossover.

Chapter 2:

"Okay, first things first," Calvin stated, looking around. "Find some shelter and food."

"I told you we should have packed tuna," Hobbes glared at him.

"How was I supposed to know this would happen? Do I look like a crystal ball to you?" Calvin growled.

"No, you look more like a spikeyhaired kid who's just got us in a huge mess in the wrong century!"

"By golly, I'll show you who's in a big mess!" Calvin roared, flying at Hobbes.

Blows were exchanged for a short time, the fight eventually ending in a draw as they had forgotten about their bruises from earlier.

Finally, they got up, stowed the time machine under a bush and started walking. Where, they didn't know. They both just knew they had to see where they were and what was going on.

Hobbes paused suddenly, lifted an ear. "Calvin!" he yelped, diving into a nearby bush. Calvin looked around. "What is it now, Ho-ooobbeesss!" The last word became a yelp of fear as he quickly dove off the road to avoid being trampled by a quite literal herd of horses and their riders.

There were hundreds of them galloping by, not even seeing the boy and tiger. A swallow-tailed US flag fluttered in one man's hands riding near the front of the column.

Calvin watched wide-eyed, gulping. "What is this, the Middle Ages?"

"Not quite, son." A voice came from close by his ear and Calvin jumped again, staring up at a man with a pronounced mustache and broad-brimmed hat. "That there's cavalry, alright," he stated, sounding pleased and scribbling something in a notebook.

"Who are you?" Calvin stared, this guy looked like something out of a history textbook. But, he reminded himself, he was a few centuries away from his normal time anyway.

"Name's Harrison, if you please. Actor by trade, hailing from the state of Mississippi." He kept scribbling as he spoke in a low tone. "What about you, son?" He was only half listening, focused on the passing horsemen.

"The name's Calvin the Bold! And this is Hobbes–" Calvin turned, only to find that Hobbes wasn't there. "Hobbes? Hobbes!"

"Ssh!" Harrison hissed at him. "D'you want them down there to hear us?"

"Hey, my best friend is missing, and you're still looking at those dumb riders?" Calvin demanded. "Help me look for him!"

"Not now," the man shook his head. "I have somewhere I need to be."

"Then take me with you!"

Harrison shook his head for a moment. "Look, son, where are you from?"

"Umm," Calvin paused. "Around. Why?"

"You ain't a Yankee, are you, boy?" Harrison raised a brow.

"No!" Calvin said quickly. "I hate Yankees! Hate 'em with all my heart! See?" He crossed his heart as he spoke.

Harrison glanced back in the direction of the riders, then back to Calvin. "Alright, come on, son. But don't try anything funny, or I may be obliged to throw you into the nearest streambed I see." He walked over to his own horse, helped Calvin up in front.

"No problem, Mr. Harrison the Actor, sir!" Calvin replied cheerfully, giving a mock salute.


Hobbes, meanwhile, had dove into a bush on the other side of the road. When he looked up, there was no sign of Calvin and all he could do was keep his head down as the horses and riders kept thundering past, dust rising in a cloud around them. Hobbes desperately repressed the urge to cough, couldn't smell anything for all the dust everywhere.

At last the riders passed and the road was quiet again. Hobbes sniffed around for Calvin's scent, didn't find it on the road. He gulped. "Calvin!" he called. "Calvin!"

No answer. Hobbes couldn't see anyone else around, only the hoofprints of the horses on the road. He knew they must have been heading somewhere important, judging from their speed. So he started to follow them, to find out where he was, and hopefully, get a clue to Calvin's whereabouts as well.


They rode on through the hills, and through streams, the jolting motion of the horse occasionally almost throwing Calvin off, as he wasn't accustomed to riding. He yelped, clinging to the saddle straps, eliciting a sigh and eye roll from Harrison, who otherwise, chose to ignore it.

Calvin, grumbling under his breath, eventually found a relatively stable position in the saddle. As they passed under low hanging tree limbs, Harrison had to duck to keep his hat from being knocked off. Calvin, for obvious reasons, had no such trouble.


Calvin's eyes flew wide as a group of men with rifles approached them from behind the trees.

Spaceman Spiff has crashed on a remote planet. His craft damaged beyond repair, he has sought the aid of a local resident, but now it appears they have both been captured by the enemy! Spiff readies his blaster

Calvin reached for a rubber band in his pocket, but before he could complete the motion, Harrison quickly spoke up. "General Longstreet, I gotta see the General!"

The armed men were clearly reluctant to let the odd pair pass, but after a few more moments of smooth-talking, Harrison got them through the picket line. They had to give up the horse, though. Getting down from the beast, they allowed the gray-clad soldiers to lead them towards… wherever it was they were going.

Calvin kept one hand in his pocket as they walked, clutching the rubber band with sweaty palms, despite its obvious uselessness against rifled muskets, and casting suspicious glances at the gray guards, whose faces were all but impassive. As for Harrison, he was seemingly completely calm, as if he were merely out on an afternoon stroll. Except that it was early morning, not afternoon.

It is unknown where the alien guards are leading them, but Spiff knows that if it be an unfriendly stronghold of the enemy, he will never be taken alive. This intergalactic hero has more than one trick up his spacesuit's sleeve!