Further Into The Future!

Chapter 24

The inside was pitch black. I could see a few desks illuminated by the light spilling through the doorway, and some coffee-stained carpet underneath. It smelled sickeningly sweet, a mixture of dried sweat and stale beer.

Alfred fumbled on the wall by the door for a light switch. He shuffled a few feet down the wall and found one, and suddenly the room was illuminated with humming, offensively bright fluorescent lights.

I was surprised when I saw that the room was two stories tall. In the center were about a dozen cheap metal desks arranged in rows. Each one had a mess of papers on top, and an overflowing wastebasket at is side, with crumpled-up papers and cardboard fast food containers littered about.

A short hallway led from the door to the main room. On the left wall of the hallway hung portraits of all the Corrupt Cops. The Chief's was at the top, almost touching the ceiling. He had a stern expression on his face and he was wearing a tie. An American flag was out of focus in the background. "CHIEF OF POLICE JIM P. JOHNSON," was written under his portrait in gold letters. Below it were the portraits of the other higher ups, and below them, almost touching the floor, were dozens of portraits so small I could hardly recognize them as faces, with "ROOKIES" written below them in gold.

A Corrupt Cop was dozing at a desk near the end of the room, his head resting on a stack of papers. The fat of his cheek was dislodged, gathered in a clump next to his face. In one of his arms he held a bottle of whiskey; on an empty area of his desk was a hypothermic needle. He did not awaken when we turned on the lights, but grunted and then resumed his slumber.

Bordering this open area was a series of plain-looking offices and meeting rooms. On the second floor there was a walkway, with more offices around that. Straight across from us on the second floor was an especially large office with the Corrupt Cops logo in its window as tall as a man.

Paintings were displayed on the wall every few feet. For some reason these computer-generated images were tilted as if they were hung sloppily. Accompanying the artwork were stains in at least two places along the wall. Under one of these stains were the crushed remains of a broken beer bottle, which someone apparently smashed against the wall there.

When I stepped past the first row of desks to get a better view, I stepped on something squishy and looked down to see that it was a half-eaten moldy cheeseburger.

"Oh God, this place stinks," Susan said, clipping her nose with two fingers.

"Where do you think everything is?" Alfred asked. Jack did not answer immediately. He was scanning the room with his eyes, tilting his head to pick up any noises.

The No-Good Greasers walked as a group to the sleeping Cop, knowing instinctively that he would be a good target for their pranks. One of them poked his chubby cheek and the others laughed at the dimple that remained for a brief moment afterward. Jack hushed at them to stop and waved them over.

We gathered in a huddle near the door. I was panting out of nervous excitement, and I noticed that Erik's arm was trembling as it rested on my shoulder.

"Let's get into groups and fan out," Jack said. "The Time Travelers will explore the left side of the first floor. Greasers, get the right side. Quitters, Proud Mothers and Vikings, get the second floor. Try to make as little noise as possible. If someone wakes up and starts to give you trouble, call out to the rest of us."

They nodded; the No-Good Greasers left the huddle when they heard their assignment and were already wading through the layer of trash on the right side. The sound of rustling papers seemed dangerously loud in the stuffy room.