Where am I? Brad asked himself. He became aware that he was not in the parking garage. He could hear a medley of voices that made no sense to him. He closed his eyes, said nothing, and lay dormant. The intermingling of voices seemed to last forever until he sensed he was lifted and placed on a sagging mattress. He could barely make out the words that seemed to be directed toward him. "We're all glad to see you alive, Mr. Cole. It was a close call. It may well be several weeks before you fully recover. We think you'll make it." Brad realized he was hospitalized. He croaked, "Am I still in Columbus?" "You're at Columbus Metro Hospital." ... "You are severely hurt. Most of us will tend to you. There is a couple here who may know you. They wanted to check on you to see how you are. They can't stay here ..." "Who?" Brad could see faces somewhat more clearly. Suddenly, he grabbed the doctor's shoulder and yelled, "It's her! My God! How did you get here?" He was unable to sit up. His unrestrained emotional response was pronounced as he began to roll his head insistently. Slowly, Brad was able to comprehend questions concerning what he had endured and why. Who was he? Why did this happen to him? Who was responsible?
Zone 2
By S. Alan SchweitzeriUniverse, Inc.
Copyright © 2011 S. Alan Schweitzer
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4502-9741-7Chapter One
Summer 2059 Brad Cole didn't see it coming and thus did nothing to stop the cops who pounded him with what felt like truncheons. He saw two images that obliterated his psyche. He registered no emotion as he fell to the floor of the city hall. His head felt ready to split open and mercifully drain away his misery. Not a word was spoken, and the world became ever more silent and distant. He then attempted to mutter something to his assailants, but they had fled. Brad then faintly visualized a continuing series of lights. He tried to sit up but felt hopeless as he was unable to move his arms or legs.
Where am I? Brad asked himself. He became aware that he was not in the parking garage. He could hear a medley of voices that made no sense to him. He closed his eyes, said nothing, and lay dormant. The intermingling of voices seemed to last forever until he sensed he was lifted and placed on a sagging mattress. He could barely make out the words that seemed to be directed toward him.
"We're all glad to see you alive, Mr. Cole. It was a close call. It may well be several weeks before you fully recover. We think you'll make it."
Brad realized he was hospitalized. He croaked, "Am I still in Columbus?"
"You're at Columbus Metro Hospital."
He felt smothered visually by a host of blurred, unrecognizable faces. He could not move and felt as if he was tied down "Where the hell am I?" Brad screamed.
"You're in the hospital." Brad recognized a lab coat and stethoscope around the neck of the person who responded. He begged the physician for details about his encounter.
"We're not sure, but all of us here want to help you," a barely audible voice responded.
"You are severely hurt. Most of us will tend to you. There is a couple here who may know you. They wanted to check on you to see how you are. They can't stay here ..."
"Who?" Brad could see faces somewhat more clearly. Suddenly, he grabbed the doctor's shoulder and yelled, "It's her! My God! How did you get here?"
He was unable to sit up. His unrestrained emotional response was pronounced as he began to roll his head insistently. Slowly, Brad was able to comprehend questions concerning what he had endured and why. Who was he? Why did this happen to him? Who was responsible? Among the several faces, he suddenly reached out toward the woman he barely recognized, but he was unable to move his arms. He gasped and was suddenly seized by a coughing fit. Hospital personnel then ordered all those present who were not affiliated with the hospital to leave.
Once Shelly Vaughn was in the hospital lobby, she became intensely concerned regarding Brad's situation.
"First of all, Mr. Cole's research did not involve time travel. He felt the need to participate in what he felt was right amid the growing world problems," Shelley told the three officers. They seemed convinced she was lying to protect either the victim or those who were responsible for his near death. Shelley told the officers her name and that she knew Sergeant Grey, who also knew Brad Cole and Rydal Industries, which was largely responsible for Brad Cole's traumatic situation.
"I personally do not work for Rydal Industries. I have assisted somewhat in the company research, which happens to be, as most people well know by now, the quest or insight into the possibility of parallel worlds similar to our own," Shelley told the officers.
Sergeant Grey appeared and was greeted heartily by Shelley Vaughn. He studied the scene but said very little. He asked Shelley if she would accompany him to the hospital cafeteria. Some food and coffee would be nice, as he anticipated a lengthy discussion concerning Brad Cole and his activities, which obviously were of considerable significance.
"I remember you. It's Ms. ..."
"My name is Shelley, Shelley Vaughn." She noticed one of the officers taking out a recorder. "I've been living with my uncle, Ted Simmons, since I was three. He sort of adopted me after my parents were killed in an automobile accident. I preferred to use my parents' surname, although I always call Uncle Ted 'Dad'."
Sergeant Grey continued, "Were you one of those who helped Cole escape from jail?"
"I myself was never directly involved. Although Mr. Cole was hired as one of the company's technical analysts, there were restrictions. During the time he worked at Rydal as IT specialist, he worked very closely with me and my uncle, who is a senior employee there."
"Indeed." Grey took the recorder and placed it directly in front of Shelley.
"Take your time, Ms. Vaughn. Now, how does this ... Skylark project connect with the violence that Cole and others seemed to have suffered recently? This research thing has dominated the media for the past several weeks," Grey said.
"It's all very complicated and technically involved, not to mention emotionally exhausting. Although I've known Brad Cole less than a year, I feel like I've known him for years. Can you spare the time to hear me out, Sergeant?"
"During the time Mr. Cole had his legal problems, although he did avoid jail time, I recall certain moments of enlightened views on his behalf, Ms. Vaughn. Take your time. We don't need to be anywhere else for now. Please!" Grey pushed the recording button and nodded for Shelley to begin.
Brad's World, 2028–2058
Over the years, Brad Cole would tell his friends and colleagues how he hated his adoptive parents. Brad had suffered from his early childhood during the late 2020s and early '30s when he endured beatings and horrible assaults from his father, Jim. Jim had worked several different jobs in various states before settling in Ohio. He was a certified public accountant and had worked with several companies. His alcoholism had gotten the better of him. He was a handsome man in his early twenties. His blonde hair was cut very short, and he usually dressed in tan trousers and a wool jacket. At the young age of twenty-seven, he had already been fired from three jobs, and his drinking had only gotten worse. He married Fluorine Nettle when he was just twenty-one, but soon they both learned she could have no children. Two years later, they adopted a child who was one year old. The strange coincidence was that Brad's biological father carried the same surname as Jim. Fluorine was nineteen when they adopted Brad. Occasionally Brad's biological father, also named Cole, would visit once a year to see Brad. Brad's biological father never really got to know his adoptive parents well and was quite unaware that Jim had a brutal temper. Yet Fluorine would swear on the Bible how loving and gentle Jim could be. Fluorine was always forgiving of Jim's ongoing abuse.
Brad somehow survived all of his seven elementary schools as he, along with his family, moved from state to state. Finally, a colleague at a firm in one of several companies where Jim worked suggested he go to rehab. For one year exactly, Jim Cole did not touch a drop of vodka until he was informed by his latest employer that the firm had to lay off employees due to a financial crisis. His addiction returned with a vengeance. Fluorine finally got the message and managed to escape with her son, to whom she apologized profusely for her neglect of him.
Brad was fourteen when his mother found a job working at K-Mart in a Cleveland suburb. She eventually died of a brain tumor. Despite Jim's and Fluorine's indifference toward...
