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Tomorrow was Yesterday
Copyright © 1998
By Tim Roach


Chapter 1

"Look I'm crazy ... You know it ... I know it ... That's why I in this place. Oh yea ... I'm dangerous too ... why else would you have this 'jacket' on me and the two gorillas over at the door if I wasn't?!?", Jerry said to the counselor in an annoyed but nonaggressive voice.

Leaning forward with a very cold and emotionless glare the counselor responded with a German sounding accent, "But what reason have you given me not to have you restrained? When you woke up from the drugs you had taken, it took most of our staff to subdue you and almost half of them had to be sent to a hospital with better facilities than this one because of you."

"First ...", Jerry snapped back, starting to lean forward as one of the guards abruptly pulled him against the back of the chair. "I didn't VOLUNTARILY take any drugs! Second ... ", Pulling his shoulder away from the guard, "what would you do if you woke up with someone tying something around your neck?"

Changing to a proper English Gentleman accent, calmly ask, "Excuse me ole chap, what might you be planing to do with that item you are presently securing around my neck?"

As though almost expecting the question the counselor responded with a distinct Mexican style accent, "Alex, you are not a large person, please do not temp the guards to do something that you will later regret. However, to answer your question, You are here because of just that type of impulsive reaction. We want to help you ... but we can't, if you keep attacking us and refuse to trust us."

"Ok, your right, I AM confused. So Doc, how did I wind up in a twww ..."

Jerry wanted to say 'Two bit, brain washing, psycho-ward like this?' But it ending up coming out ... with great effort, "in a fine mental health facility like this?"

"Good Alex, your starting to show some self-control. First I'm not the doctor, I am your counselor. You were brought here by the authorities. You had passed out from an overdose of the drugs you had taken.", the counselor responded with a Dutch accent.

"What Drugs!?! And why did you call me Alex? ... and what's with the accent changes"

Writing something in his notebook, "Your name Alex Morton, I see that the drugs you ingested and the hallucinogens have not completely worn off. But don't worry Alex, that's to be expected with these new synthetic drugs."

Jerry wasn't at all sure what was happening or what 'game' these people were playing. The only thing he was sure of is he better find out quickly.

Thinking to himself and trying not to show any emotion or movement and staring the Counselor in the eyes looking for any expression, "What the crap do these people want? How did we end up here? I don't know, pretend we have it all figured out. That might confuse them. … Or get us killed faster."

When Jerry talks or thinks to himself he always refers to himself with the plural we or us referring to an imaginary alter-ego that he always uses to play devils avocet with himself to try to find the best solutions to all problems he is faced with.

The Professional Counselors call it a denial/self-defense mechanism which Jerry used to try to subconsciously hide from the terrible things that he had done in his life. When in reality all he was doing is talking to himself.

Still thinking to himself, "So let us pretend that we understand this and are willing to play the games."

"Well Doc., since I don't even remember my own name would you mind to tell me where I am?", Jerry said still looking directly at the counselor.

"Your in the Haven House Mental Health facility for the emotionally disturbed. You were brought hear by the authorities because you were displaying very erratic and hazardous behavior patterns. Do you remember any of this Alex?", this time speaking with an Arabian accent.

Thinking, "That did a whole lot of good. Changed the bloody accent again? And the SOB didn't even blink. I figured he would never expect me to admit I didn't remember my name. What does THAT mean? … It means he was expecting it, dummy. He has done his homework on you! … But Why? And what do those accents have to do with anything? … They HAVE to mean something, but WHAT?"

Jerry wasn't sure what to think about any of this, but he knew he had to get some time to think and try to figure this out, "Doc, I'm sorry but I don't remember any of this", trying to look even more fatigued than he already was, "however, I am really tired, would you mind if we did this later?"

Thinking, "He'll never buy it. They're going to sleep deprive you for a day or two then start asking the real questions.".

"Well Alex, I think that would be okay.", in a very distinct but rarely known Dutch Guinea local accent from a base language that roughly translated was called "Talkie-Talkie".

Jerry tried not show any expression, sudden movement, raised eyebrows or anything. But this accent shocked Jerry, as a very scary piece of the puzzle fell into place. Every accent that the counselor used was from locations of Jerry's last few professional assignments. He wasn't quite sure what it all meant but he was very sure that it was not good.

Then looking at the guards the counselor without emotion or any distinctive accent, continued, "Would you take Mr. Morton back to his room?"

The guards lifted Jerry by the shoulders carried/drug him to the door even though Jerry was not trying to struggle.

As one of the guards started to open the door the counselor forcefully reminded the guards, again without an accent of any kind, "Gentlemen, remember to double check his restraints and remember to double check that all the doors are secure."

The guards nodded and pushed Jerry through the door. Jerry was trying to get any information that he could. But the walls, doors and ceiling were a dull white. The only two things that were a different color were the black numbers beside each of the doors and the light gray stripe drawn around each of the ceiling lights. There were not even the normal lines on the floor that most hospitals have.

As the guards continued to forcefully push Jerry down the hall, even though he was not resisting, he started trying to remember just how he ended up in this place. The first thing Jerry could remember is waking up with two people holding him down and a third leaning over him tying a neck restraint to him. Not knowing what was happening and but having trouble breathing because of the band around his neck, Jerry instinctively tried to move is arms to push the people away. However, the restraints held his left arm very securely in place. But the right one gave just enough.

Jerry remembered the people standing over him having a surprised look on their faces as though there was no way he should have been conscious yet. One of the people ran for the alarm beside the door, while the one that was holding Jerry tried to grab Jerry's now free arm. But Jerry was just a little faster, hitting the guard directly in the Adam's Apple. At that very same instance the alarm went off. Jerry freed his other hand, grabbed one of the I.V. stands and tried to hold everyone back. He remembered doing fairly well, considering that his legs were still strapped down. Fairly well that is, until A Doctor fired the tranquilizer gun. Then the next thing he remember was being dragged down a hall to The "Doc's" office, immediately after he started to regained consciousness.

The only thing that Jerry could think of that was mildly comforting was that these people wanted him alive. Otherwise they would have given him a server case of 'lead poisoning' instead of tranquilizers back in the examination room. But how long would this reprieve hold out. What are they looking for ... it's been years since he worked with any government or even free lance. Most of the information Jerry knew about the governments and their agencies was either so outdated that it was common knowledge or in several cases the countries no longer existed. And besides he could think of several people that would be far more useful, and helpful, with the information than he could ever be.

Thinking to himself, "So, back to the original question ... Why am I here? What's the meaning of life? I wonder when feeding time is?"

Picturing in his mind the doc bring him a tray of crackers, Saying "Have all the salty crackers you want. Something to drink will cost you."

They approached a large door, no distinctive markings, just a number 4715B. As the guards opened the door an air-lock type whoosh could be heard and Jerry's mind started racing. The sound was much like the one in the Middle Grounds Labs from years ago. All the doors were air tight to prevent any accidental leaks of 'uniquely interesting' chemicals and bacteria. Jerry's assignment was to shut down the operation. However, that had been ten plus years ago. The guards pushed Jerry through the door and the door closed with the air tight seal behind him.

Jerry now stood in a very small square room. About 3 meters x 3 meters x 3 meters. The white walls had a very hard, very smooth service. It almost felt like plastic, but there was something unusual about it that Jerry had never felt before. The only opening, if one could call it that, in the room was a very small panel which had a light shining through it. But even that looked solid with only a dim glow, but more than bright enough to clearly light up the small room. For all practical purposes Jerry felt like a mouse trapped in an experimentation chamber.

Thinking to himself, "we can't let them know that this is getting to us. We've got to stay calm am assume that they are watching every move you make."

Jerry turned slowly around the in the center of the room. All the walls looked identical. Even the floor looked like the walls. Everything white. No patterns. No shadows. Only a glowing panel from the sealing. Even the door he entered through could not be seen.

"Well", Jerry thought to himself, "while their trying to figure out what to do with us, we might as well get some rest and figure out how we got in this mess."

He then laid down on the bare floor with his feet towards the door. Starred at the soft glowing panel for a few seconds.

"Can't stare at the light, to easy to hypnotize a person in this environment."

He then placed his hands behind his head, crossed his legs, closed his eyes and listened for any sounds, while his mind raced through all the possibilities of how he ended up here.

When Jerry closed his eyes the first person that jumped into his mind was Thomas Vennofski. Just like Jerry, Vennofski rarely followed instructions. Yet, he always completed the mission. Just usually not the way his superiors wanted it to be done.

Correction, just like Jerry, he completed all the missions, but one.


Chapter 2

It was about twelve years ago that Jerry and Vennofski were assigned to what was for all practical purposes the same mission. Unfortunately, they were on opposite sides of the political maps. Which meant that over the years each had carried out several missions against the others 'homeland'. And both had orders to kill the other OS-RCM (On Sight, Regardless of Current Mission). Which meant that no mission that Jerry or Vennofski were assigned was as important to either government as having the others agent killed. PeNned (Permanently Neutralized) as Jerry's supervisors liked to call it.

The assignment was to 'sterilize' a weapons grade chemical production plant, just outside the small town of Jawaha. To be walking through the town one would never realize that the entire area was under the control of a government that was planning what could very easily be the last great world war, or war of any kind for that matter. There were Children playing, people laughing, shops busy with customers. Jerry noticed a little out door tavern. Smelling fresh baked draktols and having several hours before he needed to be at his destination. The 'sound' of the draktols 'calling his name' was just to strong to resist.

As he walked into the tavern, he saw Vennofski. Jerry knew that Vennofski had the same OS orders that he had. And about a year ago Jerry passed up an opportunity to PeN him. Jerry just hoped his kindness would not now prove to be a mistake.

Knowing that it was safer to keep Vennofski in his sight than wonder off now that they had both seen the other. Jerry decided to walk over to Vennofski's table and say hello, also figuring that Vennofski would not kill him publicly in the restaurant.

Vennofski was in his late 30's. The time in the business showed, from the several scars on his face and arms to the slightly graying hair. Jerry in his early 30's was so far had been lucky enough not to have many visible 'battle' scars.

As Jerry stopped at the side of the table. Vennofski, looked over at him and said with a very cold voice, "Sanders, You realize I am suppose to kill you on sight?"

"As I am you.", Jerry replied looking directly in Vennofski's eyes with a matter of fact tone in his voice.

Thinking back to his mission cover letter Jerry continued, "However, as we speak, officially, I'm having the time of my life hiking through the jungles of Paraguay. And if my reports are accurate you are in Nepal rekindling your soul. That being the case and officially neither one of us are here. It would be rather difficult for either of us to carry out any official orders."

Vennofski leaned back in his chair, and cracked a slight smile. Then after a second, Looked directly at Jerry with a very serious I am going to kill you and you are going to die very slowly kind of look saying, "Actually I'm climbing K2. I should be there for about five more weeks."

Then with a smile and an almost festive voice, "Come! Sit! Join me, they are making up some fresh draktols!"

Leaning over to Jerry, and whispering, "They make the best draktols in the world right here at this restaurant. Since, I do not get into this part of the world very often, I always get a few. The ones you get in the stores just taste like rocks."

Jerry amazed, that someone else had the same passion for draktols, "Oh I know, and that is assuming you can find them."

As the waitress came to refill Vennofski's Coffee and took Jerry's order. Both were very quiet except to answer questions from the waitress.




More to Come.
In the mean time let me know what you think.


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Copyright © 1998 by Timothy Allen Roach All Rights Reserved.
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Page last modified: 7/20/01 7:38:41 PM