Holly woke up with what qualified as an epic headache. She was surprised not to find herself in her bedroom in Springfield. She cautiously got up, feeling her head and finding a large bump whose existence she could not explain.
She looked around and her heartbeat accelerated. She had absolutely no idea where she was, and she could not recall how she had gotten there. From what she could see, she was in some sort of hut, with only one room. The floor was made of wooden planks, and the furniture consisted of a bed, a table with some chairs, a beaten sofa, a cupboard and a small gas stove that people use when camping. She noticed flowers on the table, the only attempt at decoration the owner had made. A radio sat on the floor near the door, in a sorry state.
God it's hot in here, she thought, trying to fan herself with her hand. She tried to collect her thoughts but the throbbing in her head made it hard for her to concentrate. Where was she, and who had brought her there? Had she been kidnap, and if so, why wasn't she tied? She decided that she should try and leave while she had the chance. She had no desire to meet the occupant of the hut. She could figure out what had happened later, when she would be safely back at home.
Before she could reach the door, she heard someone approaching the house. There was nowhere she could go, nowhere she could hide. She braced herself for the worse.
The door opened and a man came in. Holly let out a cry, half-relieved, half-incredulous: "Johnny?"
Johnny Bauer rushed to her side, leading her back to the bed. "Holly! You shouldn't be up so soon. Please lie down."
She sat on the bed but refused to lie down. "I'm fine. Where the hell are we, Johnny?"
"In the Pinogana District, pretty much in the middle of nowhere."
Holly scratched her head, wincing as she felt her bump. "Never heard of it. I guess it's south of the border?"
Johnny looked at her with a concerned expression on his face. "What border are your referring to exactly?"
"The Mexican border, of course." Although, come to think of it, she realized that it was much too humid for them to be anywhere near that area.
"Holly, we're in Panama."
Holly leapt from the bed in panic. "What? How is that possible?"
Johnny tried to calm her down. "You tell me! I found you wandering in the jungle, a couple of miles from here, right before you collapsed into my arms."
Holly felt a lump in her throat. She could not remember anything. She walked to the door and opened it. Trees and creepers were spreading before her. Then it hit her. "But Johnny, what are YOU doing here? Shouldn't you be in Springfield?"
He got up and joined her by the door, scrutinizing her face. "Why would I be in Springfield?"
It was Holly's turn to stare at him. "Let's see: because you live there? Because we have a show to work on? One on one, remember?" she replied, becoming annoyed at his apparent obtuseness.
He looked at her as if she had gone mad. He led her back to the bed before he answered. He took her hands in his and took a deep breath. "You must have hit your head harder than I thought. Tell me, what year do you think this is?"
Holly felt her blood turn to ice in her veins. When people asked you that question, it usually meant that something had gone very, terribly wrong.
She replied hesitantly. "I don't know how long I have been here, but I'd say that we are in May?"
She could see by the look on his face that this was the wrong answer. "May of which year?"
She laughed nervously. "Come on, Johnny, I can't be that way off!" Seeing that he remained silent, she added: "1990, of course!"
She could practically see his heart sinking. "We're in March, Holly. March, 1996."