Fall 1943 Philadelphia Naval Shipyard

World War II was ravaging Europe. The Germans seemingly had the upperhand in both air and sea power, especially with the introduction of U-boat submarines, which were wreaking havoc throughout the Atlantic Ocean.

Allied ships were at the mercy of the German torpedoes and mines which were designed to be triggered by large metal bodies - primarily the steel hulls of the allied fleets. Looking for a way to counter this advantage, allied forces implemented a degaussing technique aboard allied ships. Degaussing used electromagnetic coils aboard warships to lessen the ship's magnetic signature to that of its background, thus countering the guass setting of the mines and torpedoes. 

Degaussing proved highly successful in protecting allied warships. But many high-level naval scientists thought to expand on the method to offer even greater protection. Not only could this technology reduce the magnetic signature of such large metal vessels, but it could also reduce the radar signature, potentially rendering them "invisible" to enemy detection. But little did they know how "successful" this program would be in making vessels invisible to detection.

At the time, Albert Einstein was working with the United States Navy as an adviser for the research and development of highly explosive materials.

Some of his fellow Navy colleagues thought it might be possible to incorporate Einstein's Unified Field Theory with an expanded version of the degaussing program to create a type of stealth technology for the allied warships. Truth be told, Einstein himself was not part of the project. 

Einstein's Unified Field Theory suggests the interrelated nature of electromagnetic fields and gravity. The theory suggested using large electromagnetic generators to combine them into a single field capable of bending light via refraction around a large object, potentially rendering it invisible. Einstein never completed his theory and it has been expanded up numerous times since his initial work.

Months earlier, the first experiment of this technology was relatively successful. Once the large electromagnetic generators were activated, witnesses claimed to see a green haze engulf the vessel, the U.S.S. Eldridge. The haze developed into a thicker fog as the generators increased power.  Slowly the vessel began to disappear completely from sight. Many originally thought it was just an illusion created by the thick, green fog. 

Naval observers in the command post ashore noted the ship had completely disappeared from view on radar. Simultaneously, the fog lifted, and to the amazement of all who witnessed it, the large vessel was completely invisible. Slightly panicked, the command post ordered the deactivation of the electromagnetic generators. Within minutes, the ship was fully visible again.

One witness in the command post, Chief Petty Officer Harold Walmeyer, felt conflicting emotions. The test was a success, but the reality of discovering the ability of making a large naval vessel completely disappear frightened him. He did not feel like he was alone in his internal conflict. As many of his fellow shipmates looked around the room somewhat bewildered, Harold noticed a remarkable man in the back of the room talking with the senior officers and scientists. He couldn't make out his face, as he was standing partially in the shadows,  as well as surrounded by the scientists and naval officers. But he he was dressed in all black; long coat, hat, pants, dress shoes, tie and gloves. Except, his shirt was a unique emerald green color. Harold thought that was rather odd, for someone who looked to dress so inconspicuously to wear a such a unique shirt. It was the shirt, alone, that initially attracted Harold's eye.

He had never seen the man previously, nor did he see him again after that. All members of the crew, both aboard the U.S.S. Eldridge and ashore in the command post, were debriefed and modifications to the system were made.

The U.S.S. Eldridge (DE-173) was one of the first of a new class of naval vessel, a Cannon-class destroyer escort, created to provided added security to the much-larger Navy destroyers. It was so new, it launched from the New Jersey federal shipbuilding yard in July and was commissioned in August. It had barely tasted the sea salt on its nearly 250-mile journey south around New Jersey then up the Delaware River to the Philadelphia Naval Yard.

On the morning of the final experiment, the same staff occupied the ashore command post, while a skeleton crew of only a few dozen sailors manned the U.S.S. Eldridge, which floated anchored just a few hundred yards away out in the harbor. The early morning sun had just burned off the remaining mist that lingered above the water. 

In the cargo hold, two petty officers and a handful of engineers finished up the final checks on all of the large electromagnetic generators and cable connections. Throughout the ship, numerous sailors and engineers checked the thousands of feet of large industrial cable weaving through the ship. Topside, more men checked to ensure the cables were intact and not touching each other, something that could cause a short in the system leading to catastrophic results. 

From the command post, Harold could see through his binoculars the sailors and engineers finishing their checks on the deck and begin to head inside. For the first time in weeks, Harold saw the mysterious man again standing on the deck speaking with a few engineers. He was wearing the same outfit, all black except for the emerald green shirt. The man was too far away and obstructed by the other men for Harold to get any sort of good look at the man. He lost track of the man when the last of the men made their way into the ship.

Petty Officer Danny O'Brien was seated at his communications station aboard the U.S.S. Eldridge when he received the status reports from all of the ship's sections. "Sir, all sections have reported in. All ready and standing by." After a deliberate pause, the captain turned to Danny and nodded, telling him to notify the command post.

"Command post. This is DE-173. Ready and standing by for your orders."

The radio crackled back to life. "DE-173. Command Post. Proceed with Operation Rainbow initial start-up." Danny relayed the command post's instructions to the captain, who again, nodded deliberately and informed him to alter the sections.

A loud whistle echoed through the passageways of the ship. "Attention all hands. Proceed with initial start-up." All sections immediately responded, acknowledging the message and then shortly reported in that they had completed the initial start-up phase. "Sir. Initial start-up phase complete. All generators running optimally."

The captain acknowledged the report. Danny proceeded. "Command Post. This is DE-173. Operation Rainbow initial start-up complete. All generators running optimally."

"DE-173. Command Post. Proceed to Operation Rainbow Phase 1. All generators to 50 percent capacity."

The noise was deafening inside the cargo hold as the generators reached 50 percent of operating capacity. The sailors and engineers were wearing large hearing protection over ear plugs and were still cringing at the loud sounds reverberating off the steel walls, floor, ceiling and girders.

From the command post, Harold could see a green haze forming around the ship, just as it had before. "Sir. Green fog is confirmed. DE-173 still appears on radar."

"DE-173. Command Post. Proceed to Operation Rainbow Phase 2. All generators to 75 percent capacity."

In the cargo hold, not only was the sound becoming unbearable and painful, but the men began to feel disoriented and nauseated. 

"Sir. Some of the lower stations are reporting disorientation and nausea among the crew," Danny reported. The captain informed him to notify the command post.

"Command Post. This is DE-173. Operation Rainbow Phase 2 complete. Confirm green fog. Visibility is down to 100 meters. Lower stations reporting nausea and disorientation. Advise on how to proceed."

The green haze was much thicker and almost completely camouflaging the ship. Harold announced, "Sir. Green fog is nearing zero visibility of DE-173. DE-173 still appears on radar." Looking for a response or confirmation, Harold noticed the senior officers and scientists were huddling in the back of the room.

After an extended wait, Danny received word from the command post to proceed to Phase 3 - 100 percent capacity. The captain was conflicted. He wanted to halt the experiment for the safety of his crew. But he had just received command of the U.S.S. Eldridge, his first command, and did not want to jeopardize his naval career. Reluctantly he gave the command to proceed.

"Attention all hands. Proceed to Phase 3. 100 percent of generator capacity."

The entire bridge could hear the generator report over the speaker. The engineer was clearly yelling into the microphone to be heard over the deafening sounds within the cargo hold. "Generators at 75 percent. 80 percent. 85 percent."

It was about the time he started saying "85 percent" things starting happening. Every crew member started seeing flashes of light, and their surroundings started to flicker like a bad light bulb ready to die. Nausea and disorientation became increasingly more severe.

Panicked reports started flooding in to the bridge. Danny had no idea how to relay what was happening to the command post. "Command Post. This is DE-173," he said with panic clearly present in his voice. "We, uhh, we, uhh ... things are happening here!"

"90 percent!"

Crew throughout the ship noticed the bulkheads became increasingly transparent. The could easily see into every surrounding room. Amazed, some reached out attempting to touch the bulkhead only to have their hands pass through as if it was never there. Some even took it further and tried walking through the seemingly invisible walls.

On the bridge, Danny could begin to see through console as well as the bulkheads. At first, they began to flicker and phase in and out, but eventually steadily grew more and more transparent. A fellow petty officer working at the navigation station was so amazed he extended his arm out and reached through his navigation console. 

However, the most confusing thing Danny noticed was when the bulkheads were flickering, not only could he start to see through them, but the scenery outside also began to change. The shoreline remained relatively the same - although not completely, but the buildings flickered with the bulkheads and disappeared along with the bulkheads. He focused specifically on the command post. He was able to see the command post structure clearly through the bridge windows, but now he could not see it up on the hill of the shoreline.

"100 percent!!"

Crewmembers became violently ill, some even passed out. Panic gripped some as they watched their unconscious fellow sailors disappear through the nearly-transparent floor. Several of the men in the cargo hold began bleeding from their ears and suffered ruptured eardrums from the incredible noise generated, and reverberating in the hold.

"Sir! The Eldridge is off the radar. She's not there anymore," Harold shouted excitedly. "I repeat," he said in a much more composed voice, "DE-173 is no longer on our scopes. DE-173 is also no longer physically visible."

"DE-173. Command Post. Can you read us? What is your status?"

"Command Post. DE-173. We read you just fine. However, we can no longer see you. We see the shoreline, but no structures. Hull integrity is also compromised. It has become almost completely transparent. Do you copy?"

Nearly 20 minutes later, the command post received Danny's response. "DE-173. Command Post. We copy you just fine, but there seems to be a delay in communications."

After nearly an hour of exchanging delayed communications, the command post gave the order to cease operations and power down. The final three phases of Operation Rainbow we the reverse of the original phases, backing down the electromagnetic generators progressively to ensure a dramatic shutdown did not create additional, unexpected  or catastrophic problems.

The green fog returned. Increasing in intensity and then fading away, revealing the U.S.S. Eldridge. "Sir. We have acquired the signal of DE-173 on the radar and visibility is 100 percent," Harold barked. He got no response. He turned to find his commanding officer. In the back of the room, he saw the senior officers and scientists once again conferring. But the mystery man was there with them. 

Harold was bewildered. He saw the man aboard the Eldridge, which was anchored hundreds of yards offshore. No ships of any size had rendezvoused with or left Eldridge. There were no other ships active in the area. How did the man get to shore? Stunned, Harold did not hear his commanding officer's response and commands until they were repeated for a third time. "Aye aye, sir," he responded out of reflex.

"Sir," Harold announced, alarmed. "We have just received a report from Willoughby Bay. Norfolk is reporting that DE-173 had appeared on their radar for nearly 20 minutes. They could not hail her and then it disappeared. No visual reports confirmed yet."

"Command Post. DE-173. Do you copy?" Danny called frantically. "We have problems here. Assistance requested ASAP!"

Harold joined the boarding party that went out to meet the Eldridge. Once aboard the team, comprised largely of medical personnel, could not believe what they were witnessing. The crew, those who were most capable, had already begun to triage the personnel aboard the deck of the ship. Many were vomiting and disoriented. 

Danny rushed out to meet them, "I need some of you to come with me, NOW!" Once on the bridge, the medical team found the petty officer with his arm fused into the navigation console. He was again reaching his arm through the console in disbelief when the ship began to rematerialize, fusing him with the machine. It was not simply fused around him, it was fused into him. They had cut part of the console away, but could not find any way to separate the man from the machine. The only way to remove the sailor was to amputate his arm there on the spot.

Similar scenes played out throughout the interior of the ship. Screams of trapped men could be heard on every deck. Some men only had hands, arms or legs trapped in parts of the rematerialized ship which had to eventually be amputated. Some were able to be transported to hospitals after being cut away from the ship, while others had to endure a field-expedient amputation in order to be set free. Tragically, others were nearly completely encased in walls or floors and had to be euthanized in order to ease their pain and passing. Others were unretrievable, trapped completely within the floors or walls.

Some men were completely unaccounted for. Reports from witnesses claim some crewmembers vanished when the ship's structure did and never returned or were found.  The missing and dead were reported to their families as killed or missing in action as part of war operations, a very plausible alibi. 

It was more than six months before a full crew occupied the U.S.S. Eldridge again, as it began it's short tour of duty in the North Atlantic and Mediterranean providing escort duties during World War II. It was decommissioned only three years after its original commissioning. It was removed from the Navy's inventory in 1951 when it was sold to Greece where it was scrapped. Many former crew and historians believe the reason the U.S.S. Eldridge suffered such a short lifespan was because it was believed to be haunted. 

Rumors persisted that as it was scrapped in Greece, bones were claimed to have been found within the structure of the ship, perpetuating the myths about what happened during Operation Rainbow. Twenty years later, two brothers who were reported as missing on the Eldridge, Barry and Charles Dillon, returned home unexpectedly - and unbeknownst to the Navy - telling tales of how they were transported nearly 500 years into the future.

Despite numerous witness accounts and independent verifications, the U.S. Navy, Department of Defense, and United States government all deny Operation Rainbow ever existed, and refute all claims about what happened in the Philadelphia Naval Yard in 1943.

Dallas

I ain't got time for this shit!

Traffic heading out of downtown Dallas was ridiculous. The normal, slow-but-steady pace was halted to just short of a four-lane parking lot. An accident a few miles further down the road inevitably spawned several other accidents in a chain reaction, exacerbating the already overcrowded commute. Another accident just happened a few yards ahead in one of the middle lanes. Cars were trying to go around the accident, which was nothing but a minor fender bender, while both drivers exited their vehicles to assess the damage.

Jesus! It's not serious at all. You idiots can't wait until to pull over to the shoulder before getting out of your car to check out the damage. 

Ben Kennedy repeatedly checked his watch, as well as the clock on the car stereo, like somehow that would make time move faster. He had to pick his son up at daycare by 6 p.m., or have to pay the late fees. Normally, he arrives there between 5 - 5:30 p.m. It was already a few minutes passed 5 p.m. and he had a long way yet to go. He contemplated taking the next exit and taking the side streets all the way home, but that would even be cutting it close because he had to cross three lanes of traffic that was moving slower than a snail's pace. 

His road rage was in full swing, yelling at the traffic and gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned pale. He was feeling warm all over and sweating from the stress caused by the traffic jam and the thought of being late to pick up his son, incurring the late fees he really couldn't afford at this time. And that was all compounding a much deeper issue, and another reason he could not afford any unnecessary expenditures.

Ben had just filed for divorce after nearly 10 years of marriage. He had reached his limit dealing with his wife's infidelity, lies and financial problems. She didn't feel like she needed to work, but constantly spent large amounts of money on extravagant items. Credit cards were always maxed out. When one reached its limit, she would simply open up another one. To combat this - once he had made up his mind to file for divorce - Ben secretly opened a new bank account and had his direct deposits switched to that account. This didn't set well with his wife, Megan.

For the past few years, Ben and Megan had lived very separate lives. Living in separate bedrooms, it was difficult to hide the problems from Benji, their son. The only time Ben and Megan were in the same room together was when it concerned Benji. Not that deceived themselves into believing Benji wasn't aware that things were seriously awry, they just chose to believe it was the best thing for their son - to stay together. 

Eventually, time ran out. 

Megan had left for a business trip to New York when Ben noticed some mysterious phone numbers on the cell phone bill and then noticed something suspicious about the email Megan had sent him regarding her travel reservations. When he clicked on the link in the email to confirm the information, he noticed that not only were the dates of her stay incorrect, he noticed the room was charged to a man's name - her ex-boyfriend's name.  He called immediately to confront her about what he had found and he expected a long drawn out battle filled with deception and deflection. Instead, he got something totally different. 

"I'm planning on moving out. I'm here to go back to my parent's in upstate (New York) to start looking for a house and he's helping me," she confessed. Following the conversation, Ben immediately phoned the attorney he had consulted with months earlier when he first thought about getting divorcing Megan. The papers were all drawn up and ready for signature by the time Megan had returned from New York.

She threatened to take Benji with her to New York, something Ben feared and vowed to fight aggressively. He already knew she could not just move him without permission and that it would require the court to grant her permission to take Benji along with her. However, he also knew that the courts only granted such a request despite the father's wishes in very rare circumstances - and this was not considered a very rare circumstance. 

A week ago, they had a preliminary court hearing where the situation and all of the demands were laid out in front of the presiding judge.  The judge initially ruled that Benji was not allowed to move without Ben's permission. And since he did not grant it, she had two choices, relocating without her son or remaining in the area in order to retain custody.

Megan was furious. From that point, she was more distant and stayed away from the house frequently. Often calling to say she had to work late or another excuse to avoid going home. Though she believed this was punishing Ben for what happened in court, it actually was something that would eventually backfire on her by proving she was vindictive, willing to abandon her son for petty reasons, not taking responsibility for her own child, as well as proving that Ben was the better choice to raise Ben.

Tonight would be no different.

Ben dreaded what he was about to do. He had no other choice. He had to call Megan to see if she was home or if she could pick up Ben from daycare.

Let me guess, you're not home and not going to be home for quite a while.

"Traffic is a bitch and I'm not going to be able to get Benji on time. Will you be able to pick him up tonight?" he asked after she answered.

"Uhh, no. I'm still at work and going to be here for a while," she responded, obviously annoyed. "We've got clients in town tonight and we're all going out tonight to entertain them."

No freaking surprise. 

"What do you mean you have to entertain them? You're the freaking receptionist. What do they need you there for?" Ben retorted.

Ya. She'll entertain them alright. Cleavage on display, capped off with a trip back to their hotel. Nothing like pimping out your employees.

"Hey, Gary said that's what he needs me to do tonight," she quipped back.

"And let me guess, I shouldn't wait up for you either. Right?" he asked sarcastically.

"Shut up!" she responded. "You're such an asshole. You make me wish I had never met you!"

"Trust me, darlin', if it wasn't for our son, I'd spend every waking moment trying to find a way to make that possible. Believe me!" Ben exclaimed.

You see, Megan wasn't the love of Ben's life, either. They met at a time when both were vulnerable, coming off of bad breakups from who, each thought, were the loves of their life. Tristan Haugland was her name. Ben met her about 5 years before Megan when he was living in Omaha. Their romance was something out of Nicholas Sparks novels. They dated for years and had lived together for more than two of them. Ben had just proposed and they were planning a wedding when he got the news his company was transferring him to Dallas.

Initially, Tristan had planned to move with him. Ben moved to Dallas alone to find a place to live and scout out possible employment opportunities for Tristan. But once he got there, things began to fall apart. Tristan seemed to grow distant, and their wedding date had been postponed several times. Eventually, about six months later, Tristan called off both the wedding and their relationship. Omaha was her home, where she was born, raised and spent her entire life. She wasn't comfortable giving up everything she had known.

Ben also suspected she had started cheating on him, which was confirmed when friends told him that she was pregnant with another man's child less than three months after they officially broke up. 

But he never really received closure. He pined for her heavily for almost a year, then Megan provided a welcome distraction. However, he never fully got over Tristan. Every time he was in Omaha visiting friends, or for work, he would drive by her house or office, or stop by some of their popular hangouts, hoping to catch a glimpse of Tristan. He never did run into her. He even checked in on her social media profiles. Over time, his obsession waned and his active pursuit of her faded.

But he never fully got over Tristan. And when things started to seriously fall apart with Megan, he once again started to wonder about "the one who got away" and "what might've been" with Tristan.

"God, I hate you! Sometimes I wish you'd just die," she said, pulling Ben out of his daydream and adding the final punctuation to that statement by abruptly hanging up the phone.

Incensed, Ben spiked the phone down toward the floorboard. It ricocheted off the center console and bounced onto the passenger's side floor mat. He regretted the action immediately. He still wanted to call the daycare to alert them he'd be running behind. He extended himself about as far as he could reach over onto the passenger side, struggling to also maintain visibility on the traffic ahead of him. Feeling around blindly, he managed to find the phone and get just enough grip on it to bring back up into his lap.

He quickly examined the phone for any signs of damage due to his hasty, emotion-based actions. To his great relief, he didn't see any damage. He pressed the hands free device button and uttered the command to "Call Daycare" and he applied the brakes to stop as traffic in front of him slowed abruptly. 

The car behind Ben, however, was not as observant.

What the h....

Chicago

It was late morning when Ben final awoke. The room was bright, but it wasn't sunny outside. It was completely overcast, but very thin. 

After a few moments laying in the bed trying to fully wake up, Ben realized it wasn't his bed. The sheets and comforter weren't his and he popped up, backing up against the headboard to get a look around the room. He rubbed his eyes, as if he was seeing something imaginary and rubbing his eyes would return everything back to normal. It didn't.

Where the hell am I?

This wasn't his room. The walls were a creamy off-white color that enhanced the bright morning sunlight. The furniture wasn't the same. He was alone in the room, but it was obvious someone else had been there. Women's clothes were scattered on the floor, on the dresser and hanging over the chair in the corner. There were no other sounds in the room, so he figured he was completely alone.

What happened? How the hell did I get here?

He got out of bed and looked around for his clothes, but couldn't find what he had put on the day before. After closer examination, he found men's clothing on the floor that were his size, but nothing he had recalled purchasing. Not wanting to walk around a strange place in his underwear, he slipped on a pair of jeans and walked to the bathroom. Definitely a woman's bathroom! Makeup and other cosmetic products lined the sink. Bras hung from the towel rack and towels littered the floor. Humidity still hung in the air, so someone had taken a shower somewhat recently.

Cautiously and unsure of what he might find, he opened the bedroom door. It opened to a large living room area with high, vaulted ceilings. It was attached to a kitchen area and across the room he could see a small hallway which looked to lead to another bathroom and bedroom. Clearly he was in someone's apartment. But who's and how did he get there?

"Hello?" he cautiously announced. "Anyone here?"

No response.

He surveyed the room for a moment. He walked toward the large room-sized window which was draped with a thin, cream, sheer valance.  He pushed it aside to find a sliding glass door leading to a small balcony with chairs and small grill. He opened the door and walked out on the balcony to survey his surroundings. 

Where am I? I don't know where this is. I've never been here before.

The apartment was on the top floor of a five-story apartment building. The street below was narrow, which also explained the apparent age of the entire neighborhood. It was lined with what looked like old apartment buildings or possible large houses. The buildings looked like something out of the 1930s but had all clearly been refurbished and modernized. There was no one on the street and he could see very little traffic on the streets visible from his vantage point.

Ben's bare feet began to get cold in the morning breeze, so he opted to head back inside. He surveyed the living room area again, looking for any sort of sign or clue. He noticed a cluster of picture frames on the shelf that was part of the partition between the living room and kitchen. Several of the pictures clearly had the same girl in them, a beautiful, dark-haired woman with a big bright smile. But Ben did not immediately recognize her. As he got closer to the pictures, and could more clearly see the woman, he was certain he did not know her. But one picture in particular caught his eye.

What the ... !!!

Ben stepped back with a jerk, and then slowly began to lean back in toward the picture. It was a picture of Ben and this strange woman, close together and smiling, as if it were a picture of them together as a couple.

What the hell is going on here? 

After further examination, there were two more pictures of them together. One had them sitting close together on the beach, and partially in the waves, of what looked like a tropical island somewhere. And the other had them apparently kissing during the freefall of a skydiving trip.

Ben just stared, for what seemed like an hour, at the pictures. Trying to process what they meant, how he got there, who this woman was and what the hell is going on here?

Once he snapped back from his trance, he rushed back into the bedroom and rifled through all of the close he could find. He was looking for his cell phone. He wanted to see if there was anything on it that could help answer any questions. Unsuccessful, he searched the top of every dresser, nightstand and table in the room with no luck. He even tried the bathroom to see if he left it in there. Nothing.

He sat on the bed, staring off into space dejected and confused.

What is going on here? Where am I? What happened to me? The last thing I remember was being in traffic heading home yesterday. How did I wind up here? And who is that woman and why are there pictures of me with her? Is this some elaborate prank? Nothing is making sense. I've gotta get out of here.

Ben walked back into the living room and paused in the center of the room for a moment. He walked across the room to the small hallway that lead to the other bathroom and bedroom. First, he walked into the bathroom. It was much smaller than the other one and very plain. Clearly it is not frequently used. Nothing was kept on the counter and no towels were hung from the towel bar.

Next, he entered the other bedroom only to find it wasn't really a bedroom, but an office. A computer sat on the desk in the corner of the room. There was a TV with a gaming system, and movie posters and sports memorabilia hung on the walls. He examined the desk for any clues, but it was very tidy and neat with nothing notable left out or in the drawers.

A sharp sound startled Ben. It sounded like it came from the living room. He paused for a moment to listen for it again. It chimmed again. It was a cell phone notification coming from the other room. He rushed out to find the phone. Again, it chimmed. Ben spun in its direction. It was coming from the counter that also separated the kitchen from the living room. He raced to pick it up. 

It was a text message from someone named Vicky. Is this MY phone? I don't know anyone named Vicky. The message read: "Hey babe. Got a call from your office. Wondering why you didn't come in today. Everything OK?"

Seriously! What the fuck is going on here?

Ben just stared at the phone for a few moments. He looked around on the counter again and noticed a wallet was also on the counter, next to a set of car keys. In the wallet he found an Illinois driver's license with his picture on it and a Chicago address. There were also  several credit cards with is name that he didn't recognize. Next to the keys was a security badge with his picture on it, as well. 

Chicago Cubs Staff? Benjamin W. Kennedy, Assistant Director of Scouting? What? No way! How? ... What? What the fuck happened?

Ben started to feel a little light-headed and queasy. He sat on one of the bar stools next to the counter, staring at the identification badge. He picked up the cell phone again. He scrolled through countless screens of texts with Vicky about everyday stuff. Messages went back months. He remembered none of it. He looked at his recent message contacts. No sign of Megan anywhere, but he did see his mom had texted him. None of the conversations meant anything to him, they were all things he didn't remember. But he looked at the contact information and address and phone number were familiar. 

Finally! Something that makes sense.

He quickly dialed the number. 

"Mom?" he blurted in slightly panicked tone.

"Yes?" she responded. Just the sound of her voice was comforting, for some reason. He had never thought he would be so relieved to hear her voice. But now that he had her on the phone, he had no idea of what to say. How was he going to explain this to her? How was he going to bring it up? What if she didn't believe him?

"Are you there, dear?" she continued after the long pause. "Is everything OK?"

After another long pause, his voice cracked in response. "No. I don't know. I don't know what's going on."

"What do you mean?" she asked concerned. 

He paused again. "I'm not really sure where I am. I'm not really sure how I got here. I woke up here, nothing is right, and I don't know what's going on."

"Where are you?" she asked.

"Chicago ... I think."

"OK. And?" she said, excessively dragging out both words like "So, what's the big deal?"

"What do you mean, 'And?'" he responded confused. "Do you know why I'm here?"

"You live there," she said pointedly. "What's going on, Ben?"

"I don't know, mom," Ben answered exasperated. "Yesterday, I was in Dallas, driving home from work, going to pick up Benji, and that's the last thing I remember. Next thing I know, I'm waking up here. I don't understand it!"

"Benji?" she asked confused. "Who's Benji? And you were in Dallas, yesterday? Why?"

"Benji, mom! Benji!" he exclaimed. "Your grandson, remember? And I live in Dallas, remember?"

"Grandson? When did this happen? Did you not tell me about it? And you've never lived in Dallas. What are you talking about? What's going on here? Are you taking drugs or something?"

"Oh my god, mom! No! I'm not doing drugs! Benji is six, mom. He's in Kindergarten. You've seen him a hundred times. Don't you remember?" he asked exhausted. 

"I don't know what's going on here, Benjamin, I don't think this is very funny," she said starting to sound annoyed. "I'm calling Vicky to see what she knows about this."

"Vicky? Why Vicky? Who's Vicky? I'm married to Megan, remember, mom? Megan? I know you don't like her, so I know you couldn't forget Megan." Ben began to sound desperate.

"You're scaring me, Benjamin!" she exclaimed concerned. "You've been with Vicky for more than five years now. You moved in with her about six months after moving to Chicago. I don't like this, Ben! I'm calling Vicky, then your father. You should lay down and rest, maybe take a nap. That might help."

An awkward silence hung in the air. "We'll call you tonight after your father gets home. OK, my little Obi Wan?"

Ben's dad was a bit of a Star Wars buff. He wanted to name his son "Obi Wan Kennedy," but his mother wouldn't allow it. She compromised with Benjamin, so he could call him Ben. Then he wanted the middle name to be "Wan" but his mother shot that down, as well. They compromised, and they went with just the middle initial "W." and his father would call him his "little Obi Wan." It was kind of embarrassing.

It still is! God, I wish I could hate those movies.

Ben was even more confused and agitated after his call with his mom. He went into the bedroom and found a shirt and shoes, figuring they must be his if what his mother said was true. He walked through the kitchen, grabbing the phone, wallet and set of car keys that were sitting on the counter, and headed out the door. He wanted to take a drive to clear his head and see if he couldn't figure out any more about what was going on.

As he shut the door behind him, he turned to see the number on the door so he knew which one to come back to later. 

12. Huh. And to think I thought for sure it was going to be 13.

Several flights of stairs later, he found himself standing on the sidewalk looking up and down the street. He glanced up at the building to make a mental note of the street number. 1775. Clueless as what to do next, he just turned to face East and began walking down the sidewalk. 

He glanced at the key fob in his hand, a BMW. Nice. Guess I make pretty good money. However, there are no cars parked on the street. No Parking signs are posted on both sides of the street because it's so narrow. He didn't see any garages or driveways either. Overwhelmed by the situation, Ben just started walking aimlessly down the street.

He walked the streets for hours looking for any sign or clue. He was hoping something would happen, something would come to him, or somehow he'd find something to help him make any sense  of what was going on.

He found this little deli on a street corner. It was quite remarkable to him because it just didn't fit in with all of the houses and other things in the neighborhood. But he was getting hungry and thirsty and went in.  The old man behind the counter greeted him like he knew him all his life. "Hallow, Benjameen," the old man said in a rough, heavy accent. "Za usual?"

"The usual?" Ben replied confused. I've never been here before. "I've never ..." The old man cut him off before he could finish.

"Ham. Turkey. Swiss. Sourdough. Mustard. Mayo. Lettuce. Chips. Extra pickle on za side," the old man recited like it was on a mental cue card. That sounds exactly like something I'd order.

"Sounds good," Ben replied. He didn't want to get into the same type of conversation he had with his mother with this stranger, or someone he thought was a stranger. He sat down with his food at one of the window seats. He just stared out the window as he ate. Nothing made sense.

As he was finishing his sandwich, a man approached the shop and stood at the window directly in front of Ben. The man was wearing all black; jacket, suit, hat, tie, shoes, gloves.  All black except for his shirt, which was a very distinct emerald green, almost like something out of the Wizard of Oz. Nervous, Ben looked back down at this plate, hoping the man would just walk away. But he remained. Ben looked up at the man, again. The man was standing only about three feet away from Ben, but he could not make out the man's face. The shadows from the hat were so intense that it almost made it look like the man had no face. Just a faint glimmer of a pair of eyes.

"Who is that?" Ben called out to the old deli owner.

"Who?" the old man responded.

"Him! The man standing right out there," Ben replied somewhat annoyed because there was really only one person he could clearly be talking about. 

"Who? Who you talking 'bout?" the old man asked.

"Him! That man right there!" Ben exclaimed as he point out the window. "The man in the black suit."

"I see no man in black suit," the old man said. "What you talking about?"

Ben stands up and point with both arms extended at the window. "Right here! He's right freaking here!" he said raising his voice.

"Der no one der, Banjameen. No one. You OK, Benjameen?" the old man asked with concern.

Annoyed, Ben grabbed his water and went to leave. "Ya, I'm fine. I think. Thanks." The old man nodded and voiced his goodbyes. By the time Ben had opened the door, the man in black was at least four blocks away down the street. 

For an hour, Ben chased the man in black. He would lose him and start to give up and then the man would appear again. There was no rhyme or reason, it seemed, to where he was going and the man could cover distance at incredible speed. Almost like he could teleport or something. It was like he would disappear and reappear somewhere new. 

Ready to give up, Ben was exhausted. His emotions and thoughts were racing so fast that he felt like crying. That is when the man appeared down the street again. Ben gave chase. The man turned left down a street. When Ben reached that corner, he turned and couldn't believe what he saw.

It was Wrigley Field. Right in front of him. The man in black was standing on the corner right in front of the Harry Carey statue. As he approached the statue, a group of people gathered in front of the statue to take pictures. Ben lost sight of the man in black, and never saw him again. It's like he vanished.

Dumbfounded. Ben just stood there for a moment. Then his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket. There was a picture of the brunette girl from the apartment with the name "Vicky" on the caller ID.

"Where are you?" she snipped when he answered. "I've been home for an hour now and couldn't find you anywhere. What's going on? Where are you?"

"Would you believe me if I said Wrigley?" he responded.

"Uhh, ya. You work there. Are you in the office?" she asked.

"No. I'm just standing outside on the corner."

"When are you coming home?"

Ben paused for moment. "About that ... I don't ..." Wait. Don't tell her you don't know how to get home. It'll just make things worse. "Can you just come and get me?"

"You want me to come and get you?" she quipped. "Can't you drive yourself?"

"I didn't drive here."

"Why didn't you drive? Then how did you get there?"

He wanted to tell her that he had no idea where his car was, but chose not to. "I walked here. Can you please just come get me?"

"Well, why don't you just walk home then? It'll only take you about 30 minutes."

Thirty minutes?? I've been walking around for hours and I'm still only thirty minutes from home? What the??

"Can you please just come and get me? Please?" he pleaded.

"Gah! Fine! I'm in the middle of making dinner, you know," she responded.

Vicky picked Ben up outside of Wrigley Field. Most of the short, five-minute drive home, Ben didn't say much of anything except for thanking Vicky for picking him up. Once inside the apartment, Vicky resumed making dinner in the kitchen. 

"That smells great," Ben said breaking the silence. "What is it?"

"Shepherd's pie," she said, looking slightly annoyed. "I've made it enough, I'd think you'd recognize the smell by now."

"Sorry," Ben apologized primarily out of reflex. "It's been a weird day."

"Ya, about that," Vicky said. "What's your deal today? You don't go to work, you wander around all afternoon and then can't get yourself home, for some strange reason. You've walked to and from work a hundred times.What's going on?"

"I don't know. It's hard to explain," Ben said. "I don't even know where to begin. Can we just eat and talk about it later?"

After dinner, Ben began to do the dishes. Vicky sat at the table sipping a glass of red wine, watching Ben with a confused expression on her face. "This is a first."

"What?" Ben responded without looking up from the sink. 

"You doing the dishes ... without me making a big deal or a bet out of it, or threatening withholding sex to get you to do it," she explained.

"What? I do the dishes ..." Stop! Don't say that! "Hey, I just thought I'd do something different tonight."

"Clearly," she said with a hint of sarcasm. "Especially, when there's a perfectly good dishwasher right over there," pointing to the corner of the kitchen counter. "So, what exactly is going on with you today?"

"I wish I knew. I wish I could explain it. But you wouldn't even believe me if I told you."

Ben spent the next two hours trying to explain things to Vicky. She clearly didn't understand. Ben could hardly blame her, he didn't understand it, himself.  He tried to explain the life he knew as of yesterday, and Vicky wanted to hear none of it. She was convinced that he was having commitment issues and was coming up with some elaborate story to work his way out of the relationship. He tried to assure her that he wasn't trying to break up with her or move out, even though he wasn't fully sure why. He didn't really know this woman. 

He became very irritated trying to explain and defend something he didn't understand. And arguing about it only left him more confused and angry. The evening ended with Vicky slamming the bedroom door, leaving Ben to sleep on the couch in the living room.

Laying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, Ben's mind raced trying to make sense of what had transpired that day. He was worried he wouldn't be able to get any sleep. But his body had other plans. After a stress-filled day, filled with hours of walking around town, it took less than ten minutes after committing to trying to sleep for Ben to be dead to the world around him.