The Rabbit Hole

Contents

Wake up.



What if you wake up in a tube... Cold, wet, confused... Wondering where and in fact, who you are? You can see outside the tube and there's a light.... Maybe a flourescent light or a halogen might be better... Your breath makes steam on the inside of the tube and fogs the view so you wipe it away with your hands and you see a room. In wiping the steam away you push against the tube and it clicks and swings open. An even colder blast of air makes you shiver and your teeth chatter. You blink in the sudden clear light and dry dustiness of the room. Your eyes water. You cough uncontrollably. Staggering around you find a large metal wheel. It's attached to a hatch. In desperation gasping for oxygen you turn the wheel. A sucking sound fills the room and then a buzzer goes off somewhere behind you. A green light comes on over the hatch and it rolls back. The brightness stabs at your eyes but you manage to stagger blindly through the open doorway. Your feet get sluggish and you stumble. You fall to your knees but catch yourself with your hands. You realize your hands are touching sand. You open your eyes but the light is too much and you close them again. You realize what you are seeing is daylight. The warmth you feel on the back of your head is sunlight. You stand and dust off your hands. You are still wearing the jumpsuit. How long has it been? A year? A week? Six months? You carefully turn around the way you came and take small steps back to the hatch. When your hands find the hatch you reach inside and grab the goggles and mask you know are there just to the left hanging on the hook over the first aid kit. You put them on and open your eyes. The inside of the Rabbit Hole is dark. Dust twists in cold light from the halogen lamps over the tube. You check the gauge. Just as you thought. Oxygen depleted. It must not have worked. You tap the gauge. You turn to another small screen to the right of the tube. It's dirty with some sort of dark brown muck. You wipe it off with your elbow. And then, everything changes.

You haven't been asleep a week, or a year, or ten years. You've been asleep forever. Or never. The numbers are all zeros. Just as you watch, the hour counter ticks over to one.

Time is relative.



WELCOME TO THE RABBIT HOLE.
Year: unknown
Time: midmorning
Location: Now there’s an interesting thing... 

You type in the journal as you eat a small portion of the military rations you had stored for yourself. They appear to be the only edible food stuff surviving the journey. Edible is the only term that comes to mind as the rations taste terrible. You glance toward the pantry. Your search through the supplies to take inventory turned into a desperate search for anything that’s not spoiled. Somehow nothing else survived. And everything is covered in brown muck.

The only thing you noticed once you removed your mask to eat was the lack of any smells. You cannot smell what you are eating. You cannot smell the brown muck. You cannot smell the fresh air coming in through the open hatch. Your vision is weak and can’t take the direct sunlight. You aren’t sure if that’s because the ozone layer is that much more decayed or if it’s simply because your eyes have been shut for so long. As for the amount of passed time, you still have no way of knowing that either. Not one clock says the same time and none of them match what you know to be true about the sky. Outside the time appears to be about 11am. The clocks say anything from 1am to 3:30pm to 10pm. No calendar tells properly either. One says December 14th, 2346, another says April 7th, 3099, another says February 29th 2604 and yet another says something ridiculous, November 10th 9787. You decide all the dates and times are corrupted. This leads you to a concern for the computer system and the peripherals. You run a quick diagnostic, but all seems to be functioning normally with the exception of anything time related. One program claimed to have been running for over 87,653,271 hours which, of course, would be over ten thousand years. 


Memory is a tricky thing.


The only thing for certain is that the solar cells held out and kept power to the computer system and all the life support. 

Having eaten and refreshed yourself you decide to try and locate fresh water. All the water you had stored for yourself appears to be contaminated by the same brown muck that’s gotten into everything else. You grab an empty plastic jug, lower your shades in your goggles and head out into the sunlight to the faucet you remember seeing from before the big sleep sticking out of the ground on the left side of the rabbit hole. 



To your dismay the pipe has been snapped cleanly in half, just below where the faucet should be. You notice the spicket sticking half out of the sand a few yards away. The pipe is dry and filled with sand. Angry and frustrated you kick the pipe with the side of your boot. The pipe makes a muffled thump sound and your toe throbs painfully for a few minutes. You take a deep breath and let out a long sigh. Your eyes catch sight of the spicket and you gaze at it longingly for a moment until you catch a glimmer of metal in the distance far behind it. Even with the shades your eyes still aren’t used to the brightness yet so you carefully walk toward the flash. Your boots get stuck in the sand with each step, making the journey very tiring and painful. You see something along the horizon. Something long and blue. You continue to walk toward it. Your eyes get more accustomed to the sunlight and you glance around a little examining your surroundings. All you see is sand and sea grass in either direction with a long blue object just on the horizon all the way across. Finally you come to a deep valley in the sand and climb up the other side. Just over the edge you see clearly what you’ve been noticing in the distance. It’s a wall, at least fifty stories tall, built up to about forty stories out of cinderblock or bricks and painted with a metallic reflective blue coating that nearly completely fills in all the crevases and cracks between bricks. Above that, the last ten stories or so is built of metal in large sheets with giant rivets and above that seems to be giant curls of barbed wire.



You stare at it in awe, but you don’t know what it is. 

There is a roar behind you! You spin around! You see nothing to cause such a noise, but what you do see makes you forget all about it. You see sand stretching out from you all the way to the dim hump of the rabbit hole and beyond that to a clump of oddly deformed and blackened trees and beyond that to the ocean. The ocean is a long blue line on the opposite horizon. Just at your feet you understand what the rushing sound is. High tide. Ocean water fills the deep valley you just climbed out of.


You jump across and walk toward the ocean. As you walk your mind goes back to the countdown just before sleeping. You remember the countdown. You remember the wait for the sleep to come. You remember being nervous and excited and worried. You remember the magic words, "This is just a test. We’ll be waking you right back up in a few hours." Suddenly you stop in your tracks. You remember something else. You were nowhere near the ocean. 


A perfect day.

But there it is, blue and raging and roaring.

You walk toward it again. The sun hasn’t moved much in the sky since you came out before. The sky still feels like 11am. There are small white and pinkish puffs of cloud in the sky, transparent like cotton candy pulled thin. You walk on and look at the clump of misfit trees to your distant left. They are black and twisted and give the feel of an enchanted forest in spite of sitting in the middle of a white sandy beach.

You notice a puddle of brown muck like in the rabbit hole under one of the closer trees. Ahead of you the ground begins a leaning dive toward the water and soon your boots are standing three inches in fast rising ocean tidewater. The water is clear and perfect. There is nothing in it. No fish, no coral, no bits of broken shells, no scraps of vegetation or even litter. It is clear as the tap water you remember. You touch it with your bare fingers. It’s cool to the touch, but not terribly cold. You venture out a few more steps. You feel the sand washing out from under your boots and piling up on top of them. You gaze in either direction down the beach. There is nothing for miles except the clump of trees, the rabbit hole, the long inexplicable wall and something red to your far left. You turn that way and walk slowly through the rising water, being careful not to let it get higher than a few inches over your toes. After a while you begin to truly thirst in earnest. You wonder if you should have tried to search harder at the wall. The ocean had surprised you so much you abandoned that course of action before you did anything about it. You curse yourself aloud. Staring at your feet is no help. All you can see is ocean water lapping at your toes. It makes you even thirstier. You plod along. The sun is getting on your nerves now. Why isn’t it doing anything? You peer up at it. Your foot gets caught on something and you fall in the water.

The Lost Atlantic.

You gulp some in before you realize what you’ve done. It’s sweet and clean, not salty at all. A fresh water ocean? You laugh and drink more. You stop yourself from going too crazy and grab your handheld to test it. It is what you think, a fresh water ocean, like a mountain spring, but all in one giant sea. You stand up and look to see what you tripped over. It’s a metal box about the size of a shoebox.

It’s black so you wonder why you didn’t see it long before you tripped over it. There is no hinge or lock or clasp of any type on the box. It is completely sealed. You examine it for a long time, but finally decide to take it with you and figure it out later. You reach in a large pocket in your jumpsuit and retrieve a lightweight cloth backpack. You put the black box in the bag and strap it to your back. The black box weighs very little. You hardly notice it on your back at all. Again you trek toward the red object in the distance. Finally the sun appears to be moving in the sky. The day begins to feel as if it’s about 1pm with the sun slowly sinking behind you, parallel to the wall.

The red object seems to be very large and must be sitting partly in the ocean. You keep walking. You spot a couple of details. The top of it appears to be white. There is a dark green or black line going horizontally across it’s upper middle section and you can see the beach through a large opening close to the bottom. You become more concerned the closer you get. Some of it seems familiar. You think about it. The shape is familiar. You get closer and closer.

It’s the stern of a gigantic ship, broken apart and eroding away with the movement of the sand. You can still see the name of it painted in clear white letters, LOST ATLANTIC. For a long moment you stare up at the mighty remains, fully aware that someone’s bones may be inside. The hole in the hull looks as if it was struck by something manmade. The ten foot hole is almost perfectly round and the metal is torn inwards.

The Lost Alantic Part 2

High Tide.

Sweet Dreams.

The tiny "beep beep" of the alarm wakes you. You were dreaming of eating a pie. You aren't sure why, but it bothered you very much. It was brown. And meaty. The thought grosses you out and you sit up coughing. All is just as you left it in the tiny room. You climb out of bed and stretch. Luckily you thought to fill your plastic jug with water the night before so you can freshen up properly before dressing. You find a clean jumpsuit and suit up again. After a quick and incredibly bad tasting meal of rations you open the hatch and peer out at the beach. It's dark outside. You assume that would be right. It would be dark outside, but the tide is gone and the ocean seems so far away. You can't even see it in the darkness, even though a sliver of moon is lighting up the sky.

You stare up at the sky and laugh out loud. You never saw so many stars before. They fill the darkness like glittering raindrops. Down at the beach you see the dark bulk of the ship rotting on the shore. You want to explore it, but not in the dark. The clump of trees look even darker and creepier in the darkness. Like a giant spider crawled up and died there. Instead, you turn around and look toward the wall. You can't see it in the dark, but this isn't a surprise. It's highly reflective and should disappear in the dark. You decide that's what you should examine first and you grab your equipment, taking special care to bring a timer for the tide. You also bring along your breathing mask, goggles and some cutting tools as well as some computer peripherals and testing equipment and one very good flashlight. Armed for anything you can think of, you grab another empty jug for water and a couple of rations. You seal up the rabbit hole and make your way toward the wall.

Exploration.

The other side.

You jerk to a sitting position when you wake. You check the timer. The buzzer had gone off at least two hours before. The sun is in a ten o'clock position in the sky. What the hell happened? You check all your equipment but everything seems to be just as you left it. Your eyes fall on the opening in the wall. For a moment you are afraid to look, but the curiosity gets the better of you. You climb to your feet and walk to the edge of the opening.

If it had been the ruined remains of a city, or an old abandoned house, or even a fast food restaurant or a mall in 1983 you would have been less surprised. Instead, it's another ocean.

A line in the sand.

You stare in disbelief. You cannot be on an island... Can you? You look toward the east and see nothing but the blue wall for seven miles stretching out away from you. You look the other way and except for the bend the same thing is true. The wall extends seemingly forever. You squint at the rising waters before you and try to see beyond them, but there appears to be nothing but ocean.

You sit down in the sand and try to think. Why would anyone build a wall down the center of an island lengthwise? And how did the rabbit hole get here? Where was it before? You wish you could remember more about the time before you went to sleep. It all seems so cloudy and far away. You shake your head. There is nothing to do but explore more, but now you have to make a decision as to which direction you are going in and which side of the wall. You draw a map in the sand.

A gurney through the sand.

After long hours of cleaning and testing and logging entries in the journal you notice the waters are subsiding again. Knowing you would be exposed to the sun for long periods you had thought to bring a sun screen but it doesn't appear to have been enough protection. You can feel your skin has burned on your cheeks and forehead and nose. Even in the reasonably cold and partly cloudy day you are getting quite the sunburn. You wonder about the ozone layer and what the atmosphere is like up there now. You don't have that sort of equipment with you or in the rabbit hole and you are disappointed. You pack up your gear and supplies and head toward the rabbit hole through the small puddles and gullies of retreating ocean water. The most difficult place to get across is the large valley you are familiar with and you cross that first before reaching any of the other ones. The sand is saturated and gives easily under your feet so you stumble a lot on your way to the hatch.

Finally you reach it in one piece and open it up. You gather up everything you can, from equipment to supplies to bits of machinery that could be useful down the road. You even consider bringing the tube but can't figure out how to remove the bolts on the legs to get it out of the rabbit hole. You assume it was welded in place since no amount of pressure will loosen them. You tear the small mattress and pillow out of it however and roll it up like a sleeping bag. You have a real sleeping bag in your survival kit, but no point in letting these go to waste, besides, it's much more comfortable than the ground. When you've piled everything you need all in one place you realize it's too much to carry on your back so you search for some way to transport it and find an old gurney that was going to be used to transport you once you were unconscious if there were any medical complications. It has tiny wheels and it's particularly big and won't be easy to move in sand, but you decide it's the best you can come up with and load it up.

Thinking about the gurney brings back another fuzzy memory. The rabbit hole was inside a building. You remember that distinctly. It was a research facility, but it was also more than that. You think hard, but everything before the sleep seems so cloudy and far away. You remember them explaining it would be just a test, but you remembered that part before. You remember someone telling you about the gurney and explaining that if anything should go wrong they had several doctors waiting in the wings to help you. You were nervous and afraid at the time. But thinking back on it and standing where you are right this minute you don't feel afraid. You wonder why. Another thought crosses your mind. You examine the gurney for any sort of name plate to let you know where it came from. You remember that most times things like that usually have a "property of" sticker or plate on them. You look all over it and finally notice a half ripped sticker. Luckily the microbes haven't found the gurney yet and you can read what's left of the sticker with no troubles. It's very yellowed and dusty, but it says something that ended with an "n" and then the word "institute" and half of a street address, unfortunately the "street" part, and the tail end of Carolina, so you don’t know for sure if it was North or South Carolina, but you do know it was in the south and somewhere along the east coast.

You know it wasn't close to the ocean though, and you vaguely remember a mountain or two in the distance through a window. A big, picture window and you were looking from a hospital bed..... Then you remember someone came in and asked how you were today and it all gets fuzzy again and you can't remember anything else. You sigh. At least you got a little more of it to come up. Now there's nothing left to do but get the gurney out and somehow force it to the wall. You take one last look around and then seal up the rabbit hole's hatch.

The clouds are getting thicker and darker and you begin to think you made this decision too early. You cover the supplies with a tarp and tie it down the best you can, then you begin the painful task of manhandling the loaded down and heavy thing all the way to the wall. It's a very slow and aggravating job, but you get it all the way to the valley before you realize you have no way of getting the heavy thing across the five foot deep gully in the sand. You collapse to the ground next to it and look in both directions. The valley extends as far as you can see the wall.

And then there's rain.

Twisted tangled spark of light

The hike to the Lost Atlantic is faster now that you know your way. You follow the same route you took the day before and soon find yourself staring up at the great hulk of decaying metal. You climb carefully inside the hole in the hull. It’s difficult to tell much from what’s left of the interior. The inside structure is like the bare bones of a rib cage. In some places the metal is so far gone it appears semi-transparent. You walk toward the back of the ship, looking for some way to climb higher. Already the water is rising outside and just beginning to creep in the sides. Whatever exploring you want to do you have to do quickly now. You’ve almost waited too long. You find the remains of a ladder, but it’s too decayed to try and use. You look up in the darkness of the ceiling. There are thin spots up there too. In the end it may be better not to try and climb up in the top. You are disappointed but safety has to come first. Reluctantly you turn away and make your way back to the open wound in the hull. A glint of shiny metal catches your eye. Something is sparkling at you from the floor of the hull, just by the hole you came in. You crouch down and futily push at the water to get a better view. It’s a flashlight. A metal one, very shiny and silver colored. It’s heavy duty, like the kind a security guard would carry.

You lift it up and examine it closely. It doesn’t work, of course, but with new batteries it could work just like brand new. It hasn’t been in the water long, at the most maybe a few days. You look at it for a long time. You get the feeling that the thought that there might be other people nearby should make you happy. Instead you have a deep sense of dread. You peer out at the beach. Your eyes fall on the dark and twisted clump of trees. A shock thrills your heart. You take a deep breath. There’s something about those trees... Something related to the flashlight. You look down at it again. Why does this bother you so much?

You shake the water out of the flashlight and shove it in a large pocket on your right hip. The water is much louder now and is slowly rising to your knees. You walk out into the now sunlit sky. The clouds have parted just long enough to let the sun show you where it is. You figure you have maybe two hours left before sunset. Your eyes go from the sun down to the clump of tangled trees. You take a deep breath and march forward through the tide toward them.

Treasure in the trees.

As you walk you realize the rain has stopped. The sun has already disappeared behind the clouds, and the threat of rain still hangs in the air, but at least for the moment it’s still and quiet.

You walk forward reluctantly. The trees seem to stretch out in front of you as if pushing you away. The rising tide laps at your ankles, but you can see that the trees are like the rabbit hole resting on the top of a small hill and you will be dry there. There are even clumps of sad brown grass drooping between the trunks at the edges. After climbing the miniature incline, you reach the black and shiny roots of the first inhabitants of the forest. The trees and their roots give the appearance of ugly black veins protruding through the sand. Eventually you stand directly in the middle of them in a reasonably sized clearing. The tide has rapidly risen and already surrounds the small hill. The forest is much smaller than you thought. From the outside it appears dark and spooky but on the inside looking out it is as if you are peering through black lace. You can see the rabbit hole hill and the wall beyond. You also just make out the metal piece of fence leaning against the wall hiding the gurney. Not only is this a good hiding place, it is also a good spying place. You wonder why you were so afraid of it. Your hand falls on the lump of flashlight in your pocket. You pull it out and examine it again. There are no marks. No manufacturer name. No serial number. You open it and look inside. The batteries fall out. They are grey with no labels of any kind on them as well. You know this is not right. There should be some sort of manufacturer name or something, but there’s nothing. You crouch down and pick up one of the batteries and give it a good shake. As you do, your eyes fall on something white littering a small clump of brownish green grass on the other side of the clearing. You walk over and crouch down next to it. There are several dozen tiny bits of white paper scattered over the small lump of vegetation. You kneel and pick up a couple of pieces. They are covered with type. You can make out only parts of words. You toss down the flashlight and gather as many of the pieces as you can find. These may be a clue to where you are and why you are here. You find a dry container in your small pack and stuff all the paper inside. Retrieving the flashlight you shove that back in your pocket. The rain has begun again, though softly, and you know your time has really run out for exploring the beach. You stand, take one last look around and run down the other side of the hill and into the rising water toward the rabbit hole and from there to the wall and the gurney. You look back at the clump of trees from the wall just as a lightening flash lights up the sky behind the wall. There is a tiny sparkle of metal from the left hand side of the hill by one of the trees. You gasp softly. What the hell could that be?

You take a long look at the gurney and it’s protective metal roof, the dark looming clouds above and the very quickly rising tide. You remove unnecessary equipment and jump back across the now hidden valley and run back to the trees. You search carefully but the much harder falling rain is hindering your efforts. Another sharp flash of lightening and loud crash of thunder and you catch a glimpse of the object again. It’s very small. You reach under a curled root and grab something only about an inch across. It’s a coin. You stare at the head pictured there but become more confused when you realize you don’t recognize it.

Another rumble of thunder and you know you have to get back so you run as fast as you can through the now stinging rain back to the wall and the metal makeshift shelter. You know a metal sheet isn’t the best object to be hiding under during a thunderstorm, so you climb under the gurney and sit between the wheels hoping the rubber tires can keep you grounded enough to stay safe. You needn’t have worried however. The storm becomes simply a lot of rain and it’s a matter of trying to stay dry and warm rather than trying to keep from getting electrocuted. The rain water runs inconviently down the wall and soaks your back and the ground under your feet. Finally the downpour become just a mist and you venture outside again. Now the exodus from the rabbit hole seems like a mistake and you think longingly of the nice warm dry tube inside. Darkness has fallen as well, and the clouds in the sky make the evening seem twice as dark and twice as cold. You shiver and decide to make camp right where you are for the night. After some lengthy set up you finally settle down by the heater wrapped up in warm blankets and feast on a nice dinner of rations and fresh water. You want to examine the coin, but it’s just too dark to see, even by the light of the heater. You decide to just get some sleep and rest. You set a couple of alarms for yourself and when you feel safe enough you drift off to sleep with your eyes toward the trees and beyond that the hulking mass of the Lost Atlantic. Perhaps tomorrow you will find a safer place to sleep....

Like a mule pulling a wagon.

Morning comes with cold ocean spray and wind. The tide is extremely high and lapping at your toes. The sun is up, but there is a strong wind and a long dark cloud on the horizon. You can see dark streaks of rain out over the ocean. You suddenly think about your alarms and check both of them only to discover neither of them went off or are keeping proper time. You groan and toss one of them into the sand. It could be the batteries, or maybe a strong magnetic field. You just aren’t sure. Frustrated you try to sort out what time of day it is. It appears to be 11:00 in the morning, and if that’s true then you’ve been sleeping a very long time, probably close to ten hours. You look around the camp and sigh. Rations for breakfast, a quick wash up and then you pack everything back on the gurney. You take one last look at the rabbit hole and the beach beyond it, then you tie a torn strip of fabric to the gurney handle and begin pulling the makeshift wagon behind you as you make your way along the wall.

Everything goes okay, though slow, until you reach the section of destroyed wall. There you have to clear a path through the debris in order to pull the gurney through. It takes a good two hours of hard work, so you stop for lunch and a long cold drink of water. The wind is still bad but the cloud seems to be staying just out over the ocean and the sun is still shining. You watch the lightening in the distance for a little while during your rest. Once you feel rested enough you pack up again and get ready to pull the gurney, but an idea comes to you. You fumble in your supplies until you find a yellowed pad of graph paper and a ballpoint pen. You draw a map of what you know so far about where you are, with a compass to show the direction. You leave plenty of room to add more as you go. You stash it in an easy place to reach in the supplies and take the strip of fabric again.

It’s a little easier to pull the gurney up here along the wall. The ground is harder.

Finally you are near the next slight turn in the wall to the left. You cannot see around the next corner yet. You stop and take one look back. Beyond here you won’t be able to see the clump of trees, or probably the Lost Atlantic anymore. After the last curve you couldn’t see the rabbit hole anymore. You take it all in for one long moment and turn around. You jerk the gurney forward and round the corner. It’s a fairly deep curve. Not too bad, but enough to not see the section of beach you left behind. In front of you the view is the same, long blue wall, long deep trench. To your right is open beach and ocean. The tide line is a little lower. The storm is moving further away, but the sky is cloudier and the sun is hiding again. You tug the gurney along for a long time while the scenery around you stays exactly the same.

A couple of hours or so along you come to another curve in the wall to the left. Since there’s nothing to look back at you push forward without stopping and round the corner. Then you stop.

Ahead of you is a building. It’s small, but seems to be in good repair. There are metal steps that lead up to a door between two man-sized machines protruding from either side of the door. The lower floor is built with cinder blocks painted grey, and the upper floor is probably also cinder blocks but it’s sealed in stucco. You can tell that at times the ocean tide has flooded the lower level, but it appears that this area is high enough that the tide doesn’t normally reach it. As you get closer to it you hear machinery working inside. You stop just under the small metal landing at the door up above and let go of the gurney. Behind you are two long lines stretching back as far as you can see in the sand, dotted with footsteps between them. If someone is trailing you they will have no trouble finding you. You think about this for a moment and then stretch out your fingers. Your hands and back hurt from dragging the gurney all that way. The cold wind isn’t helping either. It’s biting at your lungs and your lips are chapped. You walk once around the building. There are no entrances to the bottom floor, nor are there any windows, vents or shafts. You look at the blue wall stretching in either direction behind you, walk back around to the front and sit down on the steps. You breathe deep again and just sink as your body reminds you again of just how weary you are. You lean back and close your eyes. It’s not very comfortable, but you are so exhausted you fall asleep in just moments.

Two story with wonderful views.

You are dreaming. You know you are because you are back in the rabbit hole and that same doctor is talking to you. He’s saying something important, shouting at you, but you can’t hear him. Why can’t you hear him? Because it’s a dream? No.... Because you are inside the tube and he is outside. What is he saying? Wake up? Wake up?

You startle awake to a sitting position and gasp for air. You have to look around a moment to get your bearings. You are still half sitting, half lying on the metal steps to the small stucco and cinder block building. The sun is still high in the sky, so you know you couldn’t have slept long. You shake yourself fully awake and stand up. The only footsteps you see are your own, so without examining the outside of the building any longer, you decide to take a chance on getting in. You turn and grab the hand rail. That’s when you notice there’s no microbes here. The metal is solid. There are no rust spots, no peeling paint, no corrosion. You wipe your hands on your jumpsuit and quietly climb the stairs in case there’s someone inside. You don’t want to startle anyone. At the top you knock on the brown painted metal door. It’s tinny and hollow sounding. You wait for a few moments and knock again. Nothing happens. You turn the doorknob fully expecting it to be locked, but it opens with a loud creak. There’s a light on inside. It’s a single bulb hanging from a fixture with a chain.

There’s a table with a bench next to the left wall next to a pole that’s dead center of the room and a bare cot in the corner. There’s a metal locker by the cot, and directly opposite you is a trapdoor that you assume leads down to the first floor.

You take a peek in the locker and it’s empty. There’s a year’s worth of dust on the shelf. You close it and turn to the table and bench. On the table next to the back wall is a microwave oven and a hot plate, and under the table up against the wall is a small dorm-style refridgerator. On the wall over the bench is a cabinet with open shelves, and over the microwave and hot plate there’s a pot rack and shelf holding a few dishes. On the shelf over the bench is a collection of cans of food. There are simple handwritten or typed labels on them. Peas, chicken broth, corn, potatoes, corned beef, soup, etc. Several cans of each. There’s even bread in a can. You shiver at the thought, but you know it must still be better than the rations you’ve been eating. There’s dust covering all of the cans as well. You pick up a can of soup, dust it off and examine the label. On the top of the can is printed “use by 05/48".

You sit down on the bench hard.

05/48? The year is something-48? You stare at the can for a long moment. You remember the coin. You stand and search your pockets until you find it. Sure enough, after a bit of wiping and polishing you can just make out the numbers something-something-49. Your head is spinning.

When did they put you in the tube? You think for a long time. Your head hurts. It was 2098. Is this 2149? The second number on the coin doesn’t look like a 1. It looks more like a 2. 2249? 3249? Or worse yet, 8249?

The doctor said it was just a test.

What was he saying to you in the dream? He was beating on the glass. You shake your head. Trying to force yourself to remember is giving you a migraine.

So, what are you facing? It’s been at least 50 years since you went to sleep in the rabbit hole, and possibly many more. Nothing seems all that different as you look around your surroundings and think about everything you’ve seen. The only truly odd things are the freshwater ocean and the lack of other people. And of course, the fact that the building you were in when you went to sleep isn’t here. Or, maybe you aren’t where you were then.

Leaving the coin lying on the table by the can of soup you decide to ignore what you just learned for the present and try to find out more about the building. You open the trapdoor and peer down the narrow and very steep steps. There’s a light on down here too, so, no need for a flashlight. You climb down the stairs and examine this room. There’s a machine taking up a whole half of the small space. Though quiet at the moment, it looks as if it can be ridiculously loud once it’s going. There are huge fans and a large device on top with pipes and wiring leading up to the strange boxes protruding by each side of the door upstairs. A computer is part of the device and a stool sits beside the keyboard. The screen is black, but you can hear the hum so you know it must be on. The other side of the room has a stall with a toilet inside and another stall with a small shower and sink. This is the area that has been flooded at some point. Though there’s no smell and the room has been cleaned, there’s a ring about two feet from the floor all the way around the room that’s a different color than the rest of the building. The floor is cement and there’s a drain in the center next to the post.

Just like home, you think to yourself.

DO NOT THROW THIS AWAY!!!

For a few days you’ve rested and tried to get your bearings. You’ve slept well, ate well, washed yourself and your clothes and generally did some personal downtime. The only other objects you found in the few days you’ve been sleeping in the building are a written list of telephone numbers and a strange map.

The telephone numbers are of no use at the moment because there seems to be no telephone in the building. There’s a number for "office", "Sam", "Hickory", "dept six", "dept nine", "dept two", "order", and "emergency", all written in blue in on faded notebook paper. At the bottom of the page the apparent author of the sheet wrote "If you need any additional help call me" and listed his own number. There is faded and yellowed clear tape on the corner, folded back over the edge as if the sheet hung on the wall at one time but was taken down. You found it on the bottom of the cabinet under the cans of food being used as a liner.

The map was jammed behind the old dresser mirror that hangs on the wall over the cot in the sleeping area. It was folded and stuck just behind the edge and had apparently been forgotten for some time as it slid deeper behind the mirror. You noticed it while lying in the cot one morning. The corner was just visible from behind the bottom edge of the mirror. It really isn’t of much use either. It’s a hand drawn coastline with a square drawn to represent the building and a long line to represent the wall. There are other small boxes drawn along the wall on either side with no explanation of what they are. There’s a mess of squiggles that represent the small wooded area, but no indication of either the rabbit hole or the ship wreck.

On the back in very large pleading letters is written "DO NOT THROW THIS AWAY!!!"

The other things you have accomplished while resting the last few days are your examination of the black box and updating your own map of the areas you have seen so far.

The black box is still a mystery. It is made of some sort of metal but weighs very little. It’s about the size of a small shoe box. There seems to be no way to get inside at all without a blow torch. It’s very light. This bothers you. Rather than carry it with you on your next excursion, you decide to leave it in the building. It just feels too much like a bug of some sort. There is a slight hum and vibration from it when you take it down in the basement close to the computer and the machine, so you leave it in the room upstairs by the door.

As for the building itself, nothing has changed. No people have shown up to kick you out. No alarms have gone off or anything. But, as comfortable as you are, you know you have to keep exploring if you want to figure out something about where you are. Since the building seems to be a safe place to store everything you decide to take only what you need to survive a couple of days journey and make an easy expedition further down the beach to see if anything else is out there. Then you will return and pack up everything if you need to and move on.

A turtle on the horizon.

Two days have passed. You feel you have to turn back. Your supplies will only keep you going forward for one more day and the journey back will take two. You regret not having planned for a longer trip. You are eating lunch on the top of a sandy dune staring at the ocean with the long blank wall at your back. The sun is high in the sky overhead with no clouds anywhere to give you potential shade. You’ve grown much more accustomed to the sun now. Your skin feels different. Your sunglasses and hat help keep the glare from damaging your eyes, but nothing can keep you cool. As you heft up the backpack onto your back, you look back again at the long wall behind you. Though there do seem to be cracks in the surface, there are no more breaks in the line. It’s just a seam splitting the North and South sides of the island apart. There does seem to be a curve just ahead. You decide to go just to the curve and then turn back.

A short, hot twenty minutes later, you round the curve in the wall. There, just to your immediate left about six feet away is a door. The wall continues beyond.

You stare at the door in amazement and take two steps toward it. Your toe stubs on something hard under the sand. Brush the sand away with your other foot. It’s a sidewalk. You stare at it in disbelief for a moment as well. The sidewalk seems to be coming directly from the door and heading straight out toward the ocean. You want to check out the door, but for the moment the sidewalk has your attention. You step up on the sidewalk and kick sand off as you walk along it toward the ocean. It stops just at the latest tide line. Testing a theory, you brush the sand off all sides at the end and discover the sidewalk turned and went in both directions parallel to the ocean. Your eyes follow the path of the sidewalk back in the direction you came from. Sure enough, you see a slight impression in the sand that stretches back the way you came, but then, not far ahead there is a breach where the ocean cut away the beach and the sidewalk is gone. Visions of destructive storms and ocean surges flash in your thoughts. And the lack of repairs seem odd. You know the sidewalk must have led straight to the building. You turn and glance again at the door. There won’t be time today to explore the other stretch of sidewalk and examine the door and whatever is behind it. You walk back to the door.

It’s metal painted white. There is a frosted glass panel in the top half. The glass is reinforced with hexagonal wire mesh. You can see it. You touch the knob and burn your hand.

The doorknob is typical brass, like most doors. There is a keyhole in the center of the knob. You grab a handkerchief out of your backpack and use it to turn the knob. You bite your lip fearing the door is locked, but it opens with a stiff click and you slowly push it open.

For a moment there is shade. You step forward under the frame of the door to enjoy the slight temperature change in the shade, but you see only more sand and the other beach ahead of you. The door did at one time lead to an interior. You feel industrial floor tile under your feet, now mostly covered with sand. Your shoes grind and crunch the sand on the hard surface. It was red. The room must have been a warehouse or large facility of some sort. You see bits of floor peering out of the sand at odd angles. Along the wall itself you see the remains of industrial green paint and brickwork. There was even a staircase there at one time. The echo of it is there on the wall. You take a few steps forward and notice a large section of tar black roofing leaning against the wall much farther away. It’s the right size to have been the roof of the building you are standing in, but it’s busted apart and leaning there as if tossed aside a long time ago. Under a section of the bent roofing still attached to the wall is a tiny piece of the second floor. It was metal grating and has nearly rusted away. Randomly, you see electrical outlets and phone jacks on the wall at various heights. One phone is smashed and lying in the sand. You turn to the ocean and the beach. It’s much closer on this side. To your right as you look at the ocean there appears to be something sitting in the sand, like a giant green turtle. You lift the binoculars and see a military-looking vehicle parked on a small island of pavement. You walk toward it.

You drop down a few inches as you finally pass all the floor tiles and walk on bare sand again. A few more feet and you step up onto the pavement. It’s asphalt. There was still a few painted parking space lines that haven’t been worn away. There, pushed by water perhaps, at an odd angle are two vehicles. One is rusted and beat up, the other is rusted but appears to be in pretty good shape. The rusted beat up one is some sort of recreation vehicle, like an ATV. It’s covered in racing graffiti and pictures. The other one is a pickup-truck sized former military vehicle. It has paintings and markings like the little one. Both appear to have been used in some sort of recreational way. The larger one looks amphibious. They are smashed together, and parts of each of them have fused somewhat together. You get in close and examine them. The little one is too far gone to be of much use. The plastic and fiberglass parts are fine, but the engine was exposed and completely ruined. The frame collapses where you touch it and you would be afraid to see how bad the frame is underneath. You give it a good shove and the body breaks away from the tires completely.

The military vehicle on the other hand, though very rusty, seems to be in much better shape. You reach up and flip the door lever. It opens about an inch. You jerk on it hard and it opens with a loud creak. You push on the body with your foot and after a couple of minutes it starts to jiggle a little. You climb up and sit in the seat.

The interior is in really bad shape. All of the seating is rotted and disintegrating, basically crumbling away to dust. You look down at the ignition. The key is broken and stuck there. You smile to yourself for a second, but you know the odds aren’t good at all that the thing will even crank. The gas gauge shows a quarter of a tank, but the gauge is probably broken. You take a deep breath and turn the key. Nothing happens. You give it more gas. Nothing. It’s dead. It was too much to hope for. You sigh deeply and slump down in the seat. The heat is unbearable. The sound of the ocean is beginning to grate on your nerves. You want something cold to drink and a nice shower. You decide to head back to the camp waiting for you back in the building on the other beach. But first, you decide to take a look at the engine. You get out of the cab and go around to the hood and unlatch it. Surprisingly, this actually isn’t difficult at all. There’s very little rust on the hood. You open it up and peer inside. You have a little knowledge of engines, but this one looks homemade. You tinker with it for a few minutes. You notice also that this vehicle doesn’t seem to have been sitting here as long as the other one.

You fiddle with a few problems you noticed. The engine seems in such good shape you decide to try one more time to see if it will crank. After a few more trials and tests, it does.

Now you feel you have confirmation. Someone must have been here in at least the last eight months. That’s the longest you’ve ever heard of a car sitting for that long and cranking right up, and very probably they’ve been here as recently as the last three months.

That’s more confirmation of people somewhere close by.

Now you need to find more gas.

And you need to find a way to get the vehicle back to your camp for the rest of your equipment and supplies without having to leave this new artifact behind.