AN: I hereby give credit to Jean-Moddalle for suggesting the "63 of the week" for this "episode." I have changed a couple of details, but it's still otherwise the same prisoner he came up with.
R&R and enjoy!
Episode 3 - Andrew Gant
Alcatraz Island, April 13, 2012
11:49am, Pacific DST. Enrico sat back in his seat and dialed in a song on the iPod he'd bought for himself before leaving Snoqualmie. It was an old vintage third-generation Nano - not a lot of room, but more than enough for Enrico to sample the diverse musical stylings of the new age. The song he chose for this moment was "Creep" by Radiohead. Doc had lent him the Pablo Honey CD from his collection, and it amused him to no end to see Enrico practically jump out of his skin the first time he'd heard the loud guitar part kick in on the chorus.
"You have no idea how tame that stuff is, man," Doc had said after Enrico had tossed back the CD in sheer irritation. Nevertheless, Enrico decided he would have to get used to the stuff since he was in the 21st century for the long haul, so he listened to "Creep" about two to four times each day since Doc had first let him upload the CD into his iPod.
As the song came to its end again, Enrico switched the iPod off and put it aside, then turned to Rebecca. "So when do we get to go after another one of my old buddies? Lemme tell ya, getting Bohm arrested, that was really fun."
Hauser laughed harshly. "And here I thought you were on a mission of peace. Or was that all just bullshit?"
"I may end up going to Hell one day," said Enrico, "but I'll never be as damned-forever as Bohm. He's gonna be at Satan's right hand for sure."
Lucy barged into the room, practically dropping her tablet as she made to shut the door. "I got a big energy signature on the map," she said. "You're not going to believe this, though. It's in San Francisco."
"Again?" asked Hauser, not really believing her. "I thought we were supposed to be getting the 63s pretty much everywhere else but the city."
"That's what my reading is saying," said Lucy. "It's getting bigger, too. Enrico, you got anything?"
Enrico checked his hands, but to everyone's surprise there was no telltale colloidal-platinum glow. "Got nothing, Doctor. What gives?"
Rebecca took the tablet and stared hard at the screen, which was displaying a live feed of the map room. "If you look real closely, it kinda looks like the place is gonna be here. On the island?"
"Are you sure?" asked Doc, but his question was soon answered for him. Without warning, a bright light pierced the room, forcing everyone to shut their eyes. When the light cleared and everyone could see again, there was a person standing where the light had been.
But something was wrong. This person was doubled over in pain, clutching a bleeding stomach.
"Help," he wheezed, before collapsing to the ground and falling unconscious.
Lucy and Doc rushed forward to help the man, but Rebecca and Enrico kept looking at the tablet, because something else on the live feed had caught their eyes. "Look," said Rebecca. "There's another signal coming in."
Hauser took the tablet and examined it for himself. "That looks like Utah," he said. "Somewhere near Salt Lake City, I believe." He sighed and put the tablet down on the desk. "Well, this officially sucks. Now we got two 63s to take care of. Luckily, I know exactly the person who can help us. Rebecca, you take Pellesanti to Utah, and I'll call in my fellow agent to meet you both there."
"Won't this other agent wonder how I'm alive?" asked Rebecca.
"Trust me," she won't really care either way," said Hauser. "She's seen much weirder cases than ours, trust me on this."
Rebecca frowned. "I guess I'll have to take your word for it. Come on, Enrico. Let's go. You ever been to Utah?"
"Um, no," said Enrico. "I'm Italian. Any place where wine and coffee are illegal, my kind don't belong there."
"Wine and coffee aren't illegal in Utah," Rebecca pointed out. "Not everyone in Utah is Mormon. Sorry, LDS Church."
"Is that what we're supposed to call 'em now?" Enrico wondered out loud. "Jesus. This political correctness is really an incurable disease, isn't it?"
Rebecca smirked. "Well, we'll just say you're from fifty years ago. That'll get you a pass from most everyone."
Hauser stared at the door as Rebecca and Enrico left, then pulled out his cell phone to place a call. "Agent Dunham?" he asked as soon as the call went through. "It's Hauser. I'm gonna need you to assist a couple of my civilian consultants. In Utah. Um...it looks like Park City, but I can't really tell. This map has no detail of any kind. No, you don't have to bring the mad scient- what? Oh. Okay, bring Dr. Bishop if you must. Just know that I'm sending a cop your way who's legally dead. No, you can not just sign her up for Dr. Bishop's sensory testing thing. She has rights, you know...All right. And now you don't owe me a steak dinner at Spago's anymore, if this mission succeeds. I'd think you'd consider that a bonus."
Park City, Utah
1:56pm, Mountain DST. A tall man stepped out from behind a tall tree and gazed down at the city below. He knew the mission had worked, because he was seeing a much more modern city than any in 1963. There was even a big ramp on the side of the mountain, for Pete's sake.
Well, well, he thought. Bust my balls and feed 'em to my dog. I gotta hand it to that idiot Warden. He knew what he was talking about after all.
He opened his coat and took out the small, thin gun he'd been given before the departure. Small, but powerful, at least, that was what the Warden had said. He'd not even believed the Warden at first, but now that he'd appeared in the future, he had to rethink all his preconceptions.
So he tested the gun by aiming it at a tree that just so happened to resemble a human figure. Despite being a good half-kilometer away, as soon as the man took aim and fired, the tree exploded, showering wood shavings, traces of late-season snow, and green needles everywhere.
I'll be damned, the man thought. Andrew Gant is back, baby! He set off down the steep path toward the city, whistling to himself cheerfully.