Randy Bragg went to sleep on the knowledge that America had won the war. It had taken a huge toll, but they'd won. He'd gone to sleep next to Lib and known he was finally home.
When he woke the next morning, the bed was empty. He swung his legs over the bed, running his hand over his face, wiping away the sleep.
"Lib?" He called out, moving towards the kitchen. "Where are you?"
He checked all the rooms, calling for Lib, Bill, Helen, or anyone. Finally, he moved out to the porch. Whatever he'd been expecting, what he saw going outside was not it. The houses were the same, but nothing else was. The roads were bigger and the cars smaller. He made his way to Fort Repose, looking for someone to ask about what was going on. The first person he saw on his own was a boy, not much younger than Randy, with jet black hair infused with bright colours.
"Here goes nothing," Randy thought to himself, making his way over to the boy. "Excuse me, can you tell me what's going on?"
The boy looked at him, raising an eyebrow, "What are you on about?"
"Everything. It was just yesterday that they told us that Florida was a contaminated zone."
"Dude, I have no idea what the heck you're talkin' about. I know it's spring break, but try to take it easy on the partying."
"What? No! I'm serious. I went to bed last night next to my wife and woke up alone and everything is wrong!" It was all Randy could do to keep from yelling.
"Dude, chill. How 'bout we get a coffee and figure out what's going on."
"That sounds grand." Randy said sarcastically. He followed the boy to a place called Starbucks.
"What do you want, man?" The kid looked at him.
Randy looked at the menu, seeing a bunch of beverages he could only assume were coffees. "May I please get a black coffee? Thank you."
He watched the girl behind the counter tap the box and his jaw dropped when she told him the price. "Two dollars for a cup of coffee?!"
"Dude, where are you from?" The boy said, rolling his eyes, "Could you add a Verdi White Chocolate Crème Frappucino please?"
As they sat down with their coffees, the boy stuck out his hand. "Neil O'Ryan."
"Randy Bragg."
"Where ya from, Randy?"
"Born and raised here."
"OK. When were you born?"
"1930."
"Wait. How old are you?"
"I'll be thirty next year."
The boy laughed. "No. No, you won't. You'll be 84!"
"You must be joking!"
Neil pulled something out of his pocket which lit up to show a picture of a car and the time and day, "Nope."
"What is this?"
"Are you joking? No, wait, you're not. That's a phone, man." Neil said putting it back in his pocket. "So, you said something about Florida being a contaminated zone?"
Randy nodded, explaining everything that had happened in the last year, watching the boy react. When he finished, Neil whistled. "Dude, none of that happened. Well, since we don't know how to get you back, I'm going to help you experience the 21st century."
Neil looked at his watch and got up, motioning for Randy to follow him.
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see."
Randy followed Neil to a car, getting in when Neil opened the door. "This is a nice car, Neil."
"Nice car? Dude, this is a 1967 Fastback. This is a classic!"
Randy laughed at the boy's enthusiasm, briefly forgetting that he hadn't lived to see the 1967 that this car was from. They drove towards Daytona and Randy used the time to think. There was no way he could stay here. He promised Mark to take care of Helen and the children. He also had to get back to Lib and start their life together. He leaned his head against the window and drifted off. When he awoke, they were outside an arena, amidst a large crowd.
"What are we doing here?"
Neil laughed and winked, "You'll see, but first..."
Randy followed him, confused, "First what?"
Neil grabbed his arm, pulling him into a semi-dark shop full of neon signs. "First, tattoos!"
"What? No! Neil, I have a family to get back to!"
"Dude, live a little, besides, we don't know if we can get you back." He turned to the artist behind the counter, chatting for a couple seconds before smiling and pulling Randy toward a chair. "C'mon, don't be a chicken!"
Randy knew he had little to no choice, so he followed and gave his arm to the artist. The man set to quick work and was finished in 10 minutes. "So you're gonna wanna put scentless lotion on that as often as possible and keep the wrap on for two hours."
As the man started on Neil, Randy studied the tattoo. It was a small hazard warning in red, about the size of a quarter. Looking over, he saw Neil getting a similar one, however it was bigger and more detailed.
After they finished, Randy followed Neil back to the stadium where they managed to get pretty close to the state. Shortly after, a band came out and began to play.
"Neil! What is this?" Randy yelled over the noise.
"Insane Clown Posse! C'mon, man, enjoy it while you're here!"
Randy found himself almost hypnotised by the music and with a start, found himself back home, in bed, next to Lib.
"Maybe it was all a dream," he thought to himself, reaching over Lib to pull her close. His hopes were dashed, though, when he saw a flash of red ink on his wrist.