Red Rover

Houston, Texas

         
          “….let Johnny come over.”
          John Jacks gave a start at the sound of his own words spoken in the sudden darkness.  Something was terribly wrong he thought as he glanced around to get a better view of his surroundings.  His brain didn’t seem to want to function correctly.  It felt as if he were just waking up from a long, deep sleep.  The last thing that he remembered was lying in an observation room at Wexler Labs in downtown Houston, Texas.  There had been several other people in the room with him taking notes of the readings from the electronic gadgets that he was hooked up to.  The last thing that they had told him to do was to repeat the words of a childhood game that required him to say his name.  The only game he could recall that had him use his name had been "Red Rover".  Now, though, he was alone and in the dark, literally and figuratively.         
          "Hello?  Is anyone here?” he asked in a loud voice.
          There was no answer to his call.  As he sat up, he felt wires swinging from attachments on his body.  He reached up and pulled them off.  He was still dressed in his hospital gown, so he closed it up in the back and tied it shut with.  He swung his legs off of the bed and stood up.  As his feet struck icy cold water he felt a wave of intense dizziness wash over him, which forced him to sit back down.
            “Whoa!" he said to himself as he cradled his head in his hands. He wondered what the hell was going on.  Where had everyone gone and why was the power out?  Why was there water all over the floor?  The deafening silence didn't hold answers for him, so he figured that it was up to him to find out on his own.
            He got up slowly and walked toward where he thought he remembered there being a door.  The water on the floor seemed to be covering the entire area of the room.  Once he found the doorway he felt around for a light switch.  Finding one, he flicked it on, but no light bloomed overhead.  On the opposite side of the doorway he felt a rechargeable flashlight in its holder.  He hoped that it still held a charge.  Miraculously, it did.  Once the light was on, he panned it across the room.  From the looks of things, this room had been abandoned and unused for years.  There was a fine layer of dust covering everything.
            John was perplexed.  He wondered to himself how this could be possible.  He thought maybe he was dreaming, but dismissed the idea out of hand.  He had a good imagination, but this was something radically different.  He was having a hard time getting his brain around this situation.  Just what exactly is this situation, he wondered.
            He opened the door and stepped into the hallway.  Continuing on to the right, he walked to where he remembered there being a reception area.  It was pitch black outside the halogen beam of the flashlight and still there were no signs of life.  On the wall of the receptionist’s office hung a calendar which showed it to be the year 2019 in the month of August.
            “What the freaking Hell is going on here,” he yelled.  It couldn’t be the year 2019, he thought, because it was July 5, 2009 when he woke up this morning and came to Wexler Labs for his DNA and neurological tests with Dr. Fairfield.  "It was totally inconceivable that 11 years could pass in the blink of an eye.
            John walked through the door to the waiting room and noticed a little light coming from behind the blinds of the window.  Wexler Labs was situated on the 23rd floor of the Jefferson Office Building in downtown Houston.  He reached over and pulled the cords to raise the blinds.  Hopefully a little light on his situation would ease his mind somewhat.
          “Holy Mary, Mother of God....” he exclaimed, breathlessly.
            As he stood staring out of the window, his mouth dropped open in utter disbelief.  Out of the 23rd floor window, in a kind of semi-light, was an underwater wasteland that had at one time been the bustling metropolis of Houston, Texas.  As he gazed down upon the city streets he saw crumpled, burned out hulks of cars.  Some were just abandoned, but others looked like soda cans that had been crushed and thrown into the street.  A block away, he saw the remains of what used to be an elevated portion of Interstate Freeway 45.  Sections of the freeway had collapsed and others were just missing.  A whale shark swam lazily past the remains of an 18-wheeler still hanging from one of the sections that were still intact.  The water current was causing it to sway a little like the pendulum of an oracle saying, "Yes, all are dead here."  In the distance through the clear blue water, John saw the remains of the other skyscrapers.  Some still strove to reach upward as if trying to climb out of their watery grave, but others were broken and leaned precariously against their neighbors.  He flinched as a school of tuna fish swam past his window, shocking him out of his dazed gazing.
          He walked back to the receptionist’s area and rummaged through the desk, not really knowing what he was looking for and eventually giving up when nothing of use as found.  He decided to go back to the examination room and look for his clothes.  They were stacked neatly in a chair next to the examination bed covered in a fine layer of dust.  Fortunately, someone had put his boots in the chair next to them, so they were nice and dry.  Hopefully they were still water resistant, too, he thought to himself.
            Exploring the rest of the rooms in Wexler Labs seemed like a logical next logical step, so he went back into the corridor and started trying doors.  None of the other exam rooms had any furniture whatsoever in them.  At the end of the corridor was a door with a nameplate on it which read, “Dr. Josiah Fairfield, MD, Geneticist.  Maybe there would be something in that weasel of a doctor's office, he thought.
            He tried the door and found that it was not locked.  The office had very little in the way of furnishings.  There was a desk and chair in the center of the room and a filing cabinet against the left wall.  On a coat rack was a khaki-colored trench coat and a brown tweed fedora hat which he put on.  The left side of the coat felt heavier than the other and upon examination, John found what appeared to be a cell phone.  He put it back in the pocket and went to the desk.  The drawers were empty of anything, but there was a big manila envelope on the center of the desk.  His name was written across the front of it in permanent marker.
            He opened the envelope and emptied it out onto the desk.  There was a security card with Dr. Fairfield’s name and photo on it, a hand-written letter, a credit-type card, and a ring of keys.  He picked up the letter and began reading:

                        “Mr. Jacks:

I’m sure right now that you have about a million questions and are very angry and are very angry....maybe even a little scared, especially if you have looked out of a window since you have awakened.  I assure you that there is a way out of the building.  It may be hard for you to accept or believe, but I need you to trust me.  I swear upon the Hippocratic Oath that I swore as a doctor that I will do my very best to make sure that you come to no harm. 

On the top floor of this building are the Jefferson Fidelity Bank Corporate Offices.  In the office of Mr. William Glasgow, CEO, there is a fenced off pad on the floor in the right rear of the office next to a bank of computers.  I need you to stand on that pad.  I will be with you shortly afterward to explain everything in person.

There is a short round key on the key ring on the ring of keys that I have provided for you.  You need to go to the west stairwell and use that key in the door at the top of the stairs.  That door gives you access to the top floor and the Jefferson Fidelity Bank Corporate Offices.  Once in the offices, you need to find Mr. Glasgow’s office and stand on the pad.  The computer will give you instructions which you will need to follow precisely.  If anyone asks you any questions after that, just show them my security ID card. 

Please do not panic.  A great deal rests upon you reaching me safely.  I will see you soon.

 

                        Sincerely,

                        Dr. Josiah Fairfield"

          John scooped up the contents of the envelope and squirreled them away within the pockets of the trench coat along with the letter.  He wondered what the Hell the doctor's game was.  To say that the situation was odd would be like saying the moon was made of cottage cheese.
          He left the doctor's office and walked back down the corridor to the waiting area.  The main double doors to Wexler Labs were boarded up, locked, and chained from the inside.  John fished out the ring of keys from his coat pocket and started trying to fit keys in the Master lock binding the chains.  Once he had the chains off the door handles, he took an Allen wrench attached to the key ring and unlocked the double doors.
          The doors opened into an atrium area where the center was open from the roof to the ground floor.  There were glass elevators that would have crawled up and down the east and west sides.  As he peered down over the railing, he could see that water filled the building to about the 9th or 10th floor.  He walked over to the east-side elevator to browse the building map plated on the wall.  The Jefferson Fidelity Bank Corporate Offices were 4 floors up.  He glanced at the rest of the names of the companies in the rest of the building.  There was nothing of any real interest except for a listing on the 13th floor for Millennium Security Services and Sales.  A grin spread across John’s face.  He wondered what kind of new and fun things there were 11 years into the future.  If the rest of the world was as bad off as Houston had faired, then he might need a little protection.  It couldn't hurt to take a look, he figured.
          He made his way to the east stairwell and started his descent.  When he arrived at the 13th floor, he looked over the railing to try and see where the water level was.  It looked as if his first estimate was right.  The water was up to the 10th floor, just a mere 3 floors down.  Once in the common area of the 13th floor, he saw that Millennium Security took up the entire floor.  There were several robotic display models visible, but if they were functional their power supplies had long since dwindled down to nothing.  One service bot, however, seemed to have a solar back-up system and it greeted him as he approached.
            “Good evening, sir.  May I be of assistance?” the robot asked.
            John jumped, startled by the sudden break in silence.
            “Holy crap!  You scared the bejeezus out of me,” John said.
            “I do not know what a ‘bejeezus’ is, but if you described it, maybe I could help locate it for you, sir.” The bot replied.
            “That’s very fun, Tin Man,” laughed John.
            “My chassis is constructed of an aluminum/titanium alloy, sir, not tin.  It seems to be a common misconception amongst humans,” the bot replied.
            “And the funny keeps on coming,” John muttered under his breath.  “Have you been functional the entire time Houston has been underwater?”
            “Yes, sir, I have.  My solar back-up power supply has kept me functional since the earthquakes in August 2019,” informed the robot.
            “Do you have a way of knowing what the current date is?” John asked.
            “Certainly, sir, internal atomic clocks come standard in my model.  It is May 17, 2043 and the time is 11:11 AM,” the bot replied.
            “2043?  Wow!” John exclaimed.
            “You seem surprised, sir,” the bot remarked.
            “Hell, when I woke up this morning it was July 5, 2009.  I think ‘surprised’ doesn't begin to cover how I feel,” John said.
            “Jacks, Jonathan Lyle....born October 15, 1970….hair brown….eyes brown….height 5’ 11”….weight 180 lbs.….address 1521 West Hurst Street, Beaumont, Texas, 77705….home phone [phone]….Army veteran of the 1st Gulf War, recipient of the Silver Star for his escape from an Iraqi Republican Guard POW camp....last known physician was Dr. Josiah M. Fairfield.” The bot recited as if accessing a data file.
            “What the Hell!  How the Hell do you know all of that about me?” demanded John.
            “I have a message for you from Dr. Fairfield, should you ever come to Millennium Security Sales and Services.  Dr. Fairfield has instructed me to inform you about the events since the initiation of your stasis through the Great Cataclysm of 2019,” the bot said.
            “Really?  How human of the guy.  What is this ‘stasis’ that you mentioned?” Jacks asked.
            “’Stasis’ refers to the procedure by which an exactly calculated dose of a synthetic radio-isotope is injected into the body of a human to effect a desired length of molecular stasis.  The effect of this type of radiation causes the atoms in the subject to halt movement.  Developed initially for use on astronauts during long range exploratory missions by the International Space Agency (I.S.A.) Experimental Sciences team, headed by Dr. Josiah M. Fairfield, the effect of this type of radiation causes the cells of the subject to cease moving on the atomic level.  In this motionless state, there can be no cell growth or decay and no sense of time passing at all to the individual,” the bot explained.
            “What about this Cataclysm that you mentioned?  Is that the earthquakes that you spoke of?” John asked.
            “They are one and the same,” the bot said.  “The earthquakes began at 8:54 AM on August 19, 2019.  The first one struck with a magnitude previously unrecorded.  By the current recording standards of the time, the Richter Scale Method, the first quake measured at a 12.3.  There were aftershocks for weeks in its aftermath.  The end result of the Cataclysm was that the land mass between from the Rocky Mountains to the Appalachian Mountains and from the Hudson Bay to the Gulf of Mexico sank below sea level, thus creating the Strait of Mississippi.
            “The political climate in the United States of America had been very dangerous and very fragile in the years preceding the quakes.  After President George W. Bush finished his last term in office in 2008, his successor made bad decisions in the areas of economics and foreign policy.  A string of ill-planned and needless wars severely weakened the United States national defense and created much unrest amongst U. S. citizens.  After the Cataclysm, Homeland Security and the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) did a very poor job of helping the victims, which led to the Second American Civil War.  The war resulted in the western half of the United States seceding from the Union, thus creating two separate nations: The Western States of America (WSA) and the Eastern States of America (ESA).  The capitol of the ESA is still Washington, DC and the capitol of the WSA is Boulder, Colorado.  Dr. Fairfield is from the WSA and resides in Boulder.  This is all of the information that I am allowed to divulge to you.”
            John pondered what he had been told.  Through all of this new information, one glaring fact shown like a beacon.
            “Whoa!  Wait just a second.  How in the Hell can Dr. Fairfield be from the WSA if he was in Houston in 2009 to put me in stasis?  Did he survive the Cataclysm, then?” John asked.
            “Dr. Fairfield, as you knew him, did not survive the earthquakes, but I cannot divulge any more beyond that information.  Suffice it to say, you will be met by those with the means to do so once you use the pad upstairs in Mr. Glasgow’s office.  I will be escorting you there.” The bot informed.
            “So, if he died in the quakes, how can he meet me on the other side after I use this pad like his letter instructs?  For that matter, why would he put me in stasis for damn near 40 years anyway?” John asked.
            “I cannot answer those questions.  You will be met by those with….” The bot started.
            “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know….after I use the pad,” John interrupted.  “This sucks, you know that Chrome Dome?”
            “My head is also made of an aluminum/titanium….” The bot started again.
            “Yeah, yeah, whatever.  It was a rhetorical question,” he said as he walked onto the main sales floor area of the security store.  There were rows of hanger racks and display aisles.  In front of the racks were several mannequins wearing various security uniforms and protective garments.  In the back was a long sales counter, which was in front of the swinging double-doors leading to the warehouse area.
            John walked over to the nearest mannequin.  It was outfitted with black combat boots, black and grey battle-dress pants, and a dark grey Oxford style button-up long-sleeved shirt.  Having served in the US Army for 5 years, he was used to seeing the boots and fatigues but not the shirt, so he took a closer look at it.
            “Poly-weave Force Resistant Shirt - A highly developed polymer alloy cloth-like weave which can stand the force of a 50 caliber bullet fired at point blank range without so much as a bruise to the wearer,” John read on the tag.  “Holy crap, are they serious?”
            “The Poly-weave Force Resistant line was the latest in protective wear before the Cataclysm,” the bot explained.
            John took the shirt off of the mannequin.  It was kind of strange in that it buttoned from under the left sleeve down the side with two buttons at the neckline in the front like a polo shirt.
            “What do you know, just my size.” John said with a grin.  He took the pants and boots off the mannequin, too.  He got a white undershirt from a display aisle along with some white cotton socks and then put them and the grey poly-weave shirt on.
            “Hey, robot, this is a security store, right?  Where are the weapons, then,?" John asked.  "If the rest of the world looks like what I saw outside, I want to be ready for anything,"
            “My designation is ‘Gunny.’  I am a Tiberius Class Sales Robot manufactured by Telesynch Mechworks, Incorporated.  The weapons are located in the Armory, of course.  Do you have an appointment?” Gunny asked.
            “Given the situation and the fact that we are at the bottom of the ocean, I don’t really think that I need one.  If my memory of maritime law hasn’t been too far outdated, we are in international waters. If that is correct, then standard salvage rights should apply.  I claim this building and everything in it as my property.” John stated.
            “Accessing data….Maritime Law….Salvage Rights….” Gunny droned.  “You are correct in your conclusion.  You are from this time hence, you shall be known as the rightful owner of the Jefferson Office Building and everything it contains.”
            “Great!  Take me to the weapons, Gunny.” John instructed.