Ef that, Bionic thought. It was a hospital.
He had hated here. Sure, the weather was nicer here in Florida, but they rarely let him leave the building. The food was garbage, and the only nurses Bionic had were male. But the worst part of it all was that he was alone.
His only real friends were hundreds of miles away. The patients here were too looney to even have a conversation with. And that’s coming from John.
Perhaps the thing that made him feel most lonely, however, was that nobody believed him. Not the shrinks, not the detectives, not the government, not even Mark Johnson. The leader of the team had denied everything that happened, and it looked like he honestly believed nothing happened.
The psychiatrists diagnosed him with pain-induced hallucinations and short-term amnesia as soon as he arrived. Once they began testing him however, they couldn’t prove that either of those were true. All they found was that the event had made him slightly unstable (but perhaps John was always a little unstable . . .). They also discovered that he had an ear infection. Whoopee.
Ah, Bionic thought as he let his mind wander. The event. About four months ago, he and Johnson were trailing a van that attempted a hit-and-run. Bionic remembered the smell of the gas, the bitterness of the wind, the anger of Agent Johnson.
After all, the van had tried to run over Mark. And, thought Bionic, no one tries to run over anybody in my team.
They were following the van down the highway (he forgot which one exactly) when its driver rammed into the sidewall and disappeared. Bionic decided at that fateful moment to pursue it into the wall.
Then the world was turned inside out. They were in a different (yet somehow the same) world for about fifteen minutes. When they returned, noone would believe it.
But Bionic had proof. Hidden proof, safe proof. He couldn’t show anyone because they’d take it and tell him it never existed.
He mindlessly slipped his hand into the pocket of his leather Harley jacket (he never let anyone touch the coat) and pulled out the glowing, green stone. Light didn’t reflect off of it, and random sides were always lit up at different times, no matter where the light source was in the room.
The piece of rubble also seemed to have a bit of a draining effect on Bionic. Every time he felt it for more than five minutes, he became fairly tired.
The ex-agent carefully fingered the rock, feeling its every crevice and unnatural coldness. He then decided to attempt the passage.
He got up from his seat on the bed and walked to the mirror. He put his fingers gently on the glass, squeezed the rock in his other hand, and closed his eyes. He could only contact that world if he focused hard enough.
John cleared his mind of everything and pushed his hand through the mirror’s glass.
He felt the unnatural coldness engulf his hand on the other side of the glass. He observed the harsh wind whipping dust and dirt on the other side.
Only once was he brave enough to stick his face through the mirror, and he was terrified and intrigued by the greenish world he saw. He knew that he could escape through the other world if necessary.
Suddenly there was a loud double-knock on the door. He snapped back to attention.
John rapidly pulled his hand out and put the stone back in its hiding place (there was a small tear in the jacket’s lining, the rock fit nicely into it) and uttered, “Come in.”
The double-knock was repeated. John rolled his eyes and walked to the door. He couldn’t lock it, so he didn’t know why these people were knocking.
He opened the door and saw two men in black suits and ties. His face lit up. Johnson and Andy had some to visit. Then he saw their faces.
The first of the two unknown men spoke. “Mr. Pementel.”
“Yeah?” John uneasily said.
“We would like a moment of our time to discuss a certain ‘trip’ you have recently taken,” said the second in a monotonous tone.
“Who - who are you?” John asked almost fearfully.
The two dark-suited men looked at each other. “We’re with the Bureau.”
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