Free John Gone by Michael Kayatta

be just three feet
deep.
    The floor shifted again, and John put his
arms forward against the wall where the stripes of light broke
though. He ran his fingers and palms across it for a doorknob.
Soon, they touched a cold metal handle and pushed it down. The door
opened easily, and the small wooden bathroom flooded with afternoon
light.
    John carefully peered out from the door and
found that he was standing at the end of a small hallway connecting
to the deck of what seemed to be a large boat. Beyond the deck,
John saw only the water, and above it, dark clouds swelling in the
sky. There was a light drizzle coming from them, but not enough to
force one indoors.
    “Excuse me, sir?” a voice asked impatiently
from his side. The accent it carried held a slight twang. John
turned to find a young man of about his age dressed as a waiter,
holding a tray of champagne flutes sloppily splashing their
contents as the boat swayed lightly from side to side. Behind the
young man were double doors in the hallway, swinging lightly open
and closed, intermittently revealing a kitchen behind them.
    “Sir?” the teenaged waiter asked pointedly
once more, sounding his frustration at serving someone his own age.
Without much thought, John accepted one of the drinks from the
silver tray and nodded. The waiter shot one of his eyebrows up and
walked back toward the main deck.
    John smelled the drink, then tasted it. Cool , he thought. Drinking alcohol was a first for John,
champagne or otherwise. He enjoyed both the taste and the feeling
of the bubbly brew as he swished it around his mouth with his
tongue.
    John looked out toward the noisy deck by the
water and ambled casually after it, flute in hand. After all, the
waiter had thought he belonged here. Maybe he could get lucky with
any others he encountered.
    “John,” a familiar voice called from his bag.
“Can you hear me?”
    John stopped. Mouse , he thought. I
completely forgot . John swiveled his messenger bag to his front
and took Mouse out into his hands.
    “John!” it said. “You’re alright.”
    “For now.”
    “I just woke up. That was crazy-pants!” Mouse
exclaimed.
    “What happened?” John asked the question
quietly, knowing that any chance he had of blending in would soon
be dashed if caught speaking with a pint-sized robot.
    “Just like you said, things got really blue
really fast, and the next thing I remember, I woke up on the couch
without you next to me. Dude!”
    “You’re okay?”
    “Fine! Where are we?”
    “A boat.”
    “Let me see,” Mouse said, pointing its arm
upward. John lifted the small robot above his head and swiveled its
body like a periscope around their surroundings.
    “Yeah. It’s a boat, alright. Maybe a yacht,”
Mouse concluded.
    “Glad we agree.” John rolled his eyes.
    “If it’s still docked, I bet we can make a
break for it and get back onto shore.”
    “Okay, good idea,” John said. “I’m going to
put you back in the bag for a moment. Stay quiet while I sneak out
there and see where we are.”
    “10-4, commander.”
    John lowered the robot into the front pocket
of his bag. As he walked toward the deck, Mouse climbed to the edge
of the pocket and lifted the cover-flap behind its head so it could
see.
    John reached the yacht’s railing and followed
it toward the back of the craft. They weren’t docked. In fact, John
couldn’t so much as see shore in any direction around him. They
were at sea, surrounded by endless blue, and too far from land to
have an honest hope of docking anytime soon.
    “John,” Mouse called.
    “There are people ahead,” John said back,
hushing it. “Stay quiet and hide.”
    Mouse pulled the pocket’s flap over its head
like a hood.
    John traveled farther toward the back of the
yacht and saw nearly a hundred people milling about, drinking
drinks and picking from a well-decorated buffet table set up near
the aft cabin entrance. A low-volume jazz track floated between
their conversations.
    The women