Chapter 5
"Shit!" said the unfortunate soldier who had been hit by the Chief's hastily flung scratch and sniff card.
"Jesus Christ what the hell was that?" cried the Chief, holding his nose.
"Cheese.the foulest type of Canadian cheese in existence." Said Johnson, " Well sir, he passed the test,
what should we do?" Johnson was directing his question towards the Chief's captive. He frowned.
"Well.he's definitely not Canadian." Everyone in the rooms lowered their weapons, and the Chief
released his captive. Who turned and eyed the Chief warily. "So if you're not Canadian, what were you doing with
them?"
"I was hoping you could tell me." Said the Chief. "I can't remember a damn thing I've done in the last
twenty-four hours. I- wait. Where is Jenkins?"
Jenkins was one very scared police officer. After recovering from a mysterious blow to the head, he had
found himself still inside the "elevator". Apparently, the power had been reactivated, because he was now on the
50th floor. The elevator had just recently stopped, and the door was beginning to close. Jenkins didn't feel like
staying in the confined space any longer, so he slipped out. He was now in a narrow, dark hallway, with a single
door at the far end. He walked hastily down the hallway and opened the door, and emerged into a well-lit room -
only it wasn't lit artificially. Sunlight streamed into the room through two large double-paned windows, and small
shadows created by the snow falling outside fluctuated constantly on the floor. Jenkins eyes darted around the room
- completely empty, save a small sign on one of the windows that Jenkins was unable to read because it was facing
outwards. He strolled across the room and exited via a white door between the two windows. He shivered
involuntarily as he walked into the snow. Around him was the bustling metropolis that even five hundred years in
the future is still known as the big apple. Nearly every building was of the skyscraper class, and Jenkins - who had
no Idea, were he was, stood there for a full minute - stupefied. He immediately decided he like it better inside, and
turned to open the door behind him. It was locked. He shivered and sat down next to the door - hoping that someone
- preferably the Chief, would open it soon. People out for their daily walks or who were walking to work eyed him
curiously - and for good reason. He was a middle-aged man sitting outside an empty building with only a mildly
warm windbreaker on - in the middle of December. Jenkins sighed.
"Jenkins?" said the Chief's captive quizzically.
"Yes my partner - the man you captured along with me." Said the Chief. His captive frowned, and then
suddenly seemed to realize something.
"Oh of course. You're not Canadians, so we obviously had your names wrong. When you were with the
Canadians - they referred to you as Jean-Claude, and your friend as - hey, could you please release me?" The Chief
immediately released his captive from his grasp. "Thanks. Anyway, I believe your friend is - hey, I didn't catch
you're name." The Chief winced in impatience, but said,
"Call me Chief - I don't like giving my real name out to people."
"Alright, my name's Grif." The young man attempted to initiate a handshake, but seeing the Master Chief's
impatience, stopped. "Er, about your friend. I believe he is back at the elevator. You sort of knocked him out."
Jenkins mumbled a hasty "thanks" as the fourth person to do so gave him some spare change. He was
getting colder and more tired by the minute - of which ten or fifteen had passed since he had first sat down. He was
about to give up waiting and find an alternate shelter when he heard someone exclaim,
"Shit!"
"Shit!" said the unfortunate soldier who had been hit by the Chief's hastily flung scratch and sniff card.
"Jesus Christ what the hell was that?" cried the Chief, holding his nose.
"Cheese.the foulest type of Canadian cheese in existence." Said Johnson, " Well sir, he passed the test,
what should we do?" Johnson was directing his question towards the Chief's captive. He frowned.
"Well.he's definitely not Canadian." Everyone in the rooms lowered their weapons, and the Chief
released his captive. Who turned and eyed the Chief warily. "So if you're not Canadian, what were you doing with
them?"
"I was hoping you could tell me." Said the Chief. "I can't remember a damn thing I've done in the last
twenty-four hours. I- wait. Where is Jenkins?"
Jenkins was one very scared police officer. After recovering from a mysterious blow to the head, he had
found himself still inside the "elevator". Apparently, the power had been reactivated, because he was now on the
50th floor. The elevator had just recently stopped, and the door was beginning to close. Jenkins didn't feel like
staying in the confined space any longer, so he slipped out. He was now in a narrow, dark hallway, with a single
door at the far end. He walked hastily down the hallway and opened the door, and emerged into a well-lit room -
only it wasn't lit artificially. Sunlight streamed into the room through two large double-paned windows, and small
shadows created by the snow falling outside fluctuated constantly on the floor. Jenkins eyes darted around the room
- completely empty, save a small sign on one of the windows that Jenkins was unable to read because it was facing
outwards. He strolled across the room and exited via a white door between the two windows. He shivered
involuntarily as he walked into the snow. Around him was the bustling metropolis that even five hundred years in
the future is still known as the big apple. Nearly every building was of the skyscraper class, and Jenkins - who had
no Idea, were he was, stood there for a full minute - stupefied. He immediately decided he like it better inside, and
turned to open the door behind him. It was locked. He shivered and sat down next to the door - hoping that someone
- preferably the Chief, would open it soon. People out for their daily walks or who were walking to work eyed him
curiously - and for good reason. He was a middle-aged man sitting outside an empty building with only a mildly
warm windbreaker on - in the middle of December. Jenkins sighed.
"Jenkins?" said the Chief's captive quizzically.
"Yes my partner - the man you captured along with me." Said the Chief. His captive frowned, and then
suddenly seemed to realize something.
"Oh of course. You're not Canadians, so we obviously had your names wrong. When you were with the
Canadians - they referred to you as Jean-Claude, and your friend as - hey, could you please release me?" The Chief
immediately released his captive from his grasp. "Thanks. Anyway, I believe your friend is - hey, I didn't catch
you're name." The Chief winced in impatience, but said,
"Call me Chief - I don't like giving my real name out to people."
"Alright, my name's Grif." The young man attempted to initiate a handshake, but seeing the Master Chief's
impatience, stopped. "Er, about your friend. I believe he is back at the elevator. You sort of knocked him out."
Jenkins mumbled a hasty "thanks" as the fourth person to do so gave him some spare change. He was
getting colder and more tired by the minute - of which ten or fifteen had passed since he had first sat down. He was
about to give up waiting and find an alternate shelter when he heard someone exclaim,
"Shit!"