by Ken Warner
“And what, now, is your involvement with these, ah, abductions?”
“That work is only in its beginning stages,” she said. She told him about Martha showing up in the middle of the night, about the man in black, and Martha’s dying request.
The man considered everything she’d told him for a minute.
“I have not encountered this man in black,” he told her finally.
“What about Martha? Her full name was Martha McClure. Did you ever meet her or talk to her?”
“No. I have never heard of this woman before.”
“Has anyone ever interviewed you about your experiences before?”
“Never. I have discussed it with Carlos, but only because he came to me and told me about something similar happening to him. But never have I spoken to anyone else about it.”
“But you have been abducted?”
Again, a pause.
“Yes. Three times.”
“Three separate times?”
He nodded.
“Where? How did it happen?”
“The first and third times took place on the way here, late at night.”
Sydney thought about this for a moment.
“Did your driver see anything?”
“I do not always travel by limousine. Both times, I was driving myself. The third time was on the other side of the world. I was on holiday in Tahiti, walking along a beach, alone, in the middle of the night.
“In all three instances, it happened the same way. First, I saw a light in the sky that resembled a shooting star, except that it lasted much longer. And then the light stopped moving. It grew brighter and came in much closer to my location.
“The first time, I had no idea what was happening. I drove faster, trying to outpace the—whatever it was. I failed. Suddenly, my car simply died. It stopped; I could not start it again. The lights went out. And that is when they took me.
“When I encountered this phenomenon the second time, I knew precisely what was about to happen. And I understood that trying to run would be futile. So instead, I hid. There were rock formations along the beach on the island where I was staying. I crawled inside a hollow section of one of these formations—a cave, you might say. Yet that proved to be futile as well.
“And then the third time, knowing any attempt at escape to be entirely useless, I surrendered. I stopped my car, walked out on the road, and allowed the inevitable to transpire.
“On all three occasions, as the craft drew closer, dark clouds engulfed it. The light I had seen from far away turned out to be a ring of lights, seen up close only through those clouds.
“Once the vessel had positioned itself directly above me, a beam of light shot out from its center and lifted me into the air, and inside the ship.”
“And do you remember anything that happened after that?” asked Sydney.
“Oh, yes. Not everything; when I first entered the vessel, I did lose consciousness for a time—I cannot say how long. This happened all three times. And when I woke, I found myself in some sort of lab. I was lying naked on a metal table. It was cold. I was not restrained by any bonds, yet I could not move.”
“Did you see anyone—or anything?”
“No. I am aware that some people who have experienced this phenomenon have reported seeing beings like the ones responsible for the attacks. However, I saw no such thing. I saw no one at all.
“They performed a physical examination each time, but there was no living being administering the exam—or, none that I could see. I believe they were examinations, anyway. There were metal probes that hovered into view—some remained above me—what it was they did, I could not tell. But others physically touched me. One here,” he said, tapping his forehead. “Another here,” he added, tapping his chest. “Others, well, I would prefer not to describe it in too much detail. Suffice it to say, others were rather more, ah, invasive.”
“Oh, dear,” said Sydney.
“Yes.”
“And these exams, do you know how long they lasted?”
“Hours, I believe. It is hard to say for sure. Each time, I did eventually lose consciousness again, only to find myself back where I had started, fully clothed. The first time, I woke up sitting in the driver’s seat of my car. Someone or something had pulled the car off to the side of the road.
“The second time, I woke up on the beach, roughly a kilometer from where I had started, lying on my back on the sand.
“And the third time, I awoke in my bed. The car I had been driving was parked safely in my garage, though I cannot say how it might have arrived there.”
“And when did these abductions take place?”
“The first was soon after I purchased this home, so let me see, perhaps twenty years ago. The second time was last winter. And the third only two nights ago.”
“Two nights ago?! After the invasion.”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“And you saw nobody, no kind of life form during any of the abductions?”
“Certainly not.”
“Do you know where you were during the abductions? Did they take you somewhere, or were you in the ship the entire time?”
He thought about this for a moment.
“I have assumed I was in the ship the whole time, but now that you ask this, I realize I do not know for sure. Each time, as I first entered the ship, I could see only metal walls around me, and I was in some sort of cavity or room. But I blacked out all three times at that moment.
“Each time I woke up in a chamber with metal walls, but this time there were other tables around me and instruments of some kind on the walls. I could not see the ceiling—it was only black. And there were no windows or doors that I could see.
“The metal walls looked identical to the ones surrounding me when I first entered the ship, so I guess that is why I have always assumed I was inside the vessel during the examinations as well. But I realize now that I cannot say so for sure.”
Sydney found this fascinating—it was the first time she’d spoken with anyone who could recall any details of their ordeal beyond the initial contact.
“Can you remember anything else about your experiences?”
“No. Nothing. Only the exams. And then waking up again where I belonged.”
“And you weren’t missing any time on any of these occasions?”
“What do you mean by missing time?” he asked.
“For some of the abductees I’ve read about, when they wake up back home, they realize that days have passed for which they cannot account. Time has gone by, but they have no memory of what might have happened.”
“I had no such experience. Each time, I woke up where and when I would have expected.
“I think, though, that we are done here. Unless you have any other questions?”
“Not that I can think of,” said Sydney. “Could we exchange phone numbers—if anything else comes to mind, I could contact you…”
“No. That will not be possible. I wish never to see you or hear from you again. Have a pleasant day.”
And with that, he got to his feet and strode from the room. Sydney understood her meeting to be over.
Chapter Seven: Ransacked
Sydney rode back to her condo in the limousine with Carlos and the two henchmen. This time, she wore the hood, but they did not attempt to bind her.
Carlos removed her hood when they arrived. Sydney opened the door and got out without saying a word. Carlos came after her.
“Will I see you again?” he asked.
She rounded on him, finally unleashing her pent-up fury.
“How can you even ask me that?! Like your boss said to me, I never want to see you again! You kidnapped me! My first impression of you was the right one—you are some sort of ax murderer—or rapist!”
“No, I’m not—I swear! This was not my decision—it wasn’t up to me! I had no idea they would treat you like that! My boss agreed to meet you, and I thought—”
“Oh, give me a
break! When the two goons got in the limo with you to come here, what did you think they were coming for? A little joyride?”
“Well, no, I mean by then I figured—”
“Yeah, by then, it was obvious what was about to happen, and you did nothing to warn me, nothing to try and stop them!”
“Sydney, I’m sorry—”
“Yeah, you are sorry. Because now you’re never going to see me again, and that’s your loss. Tell me, though, what exactly is it that your boss does? What is it that you do for that matter?”
“Oh, uh… you mean he didn’t tell you?”
“Let’s see—nope! He didn’t even tell me his name, much less what he does. That place where he lives, that’s gotta be worth what, three million, at least? Four million? What kind of business is he involved in that makes that kind of money? And sending his henchmen here—what kind of businessman has hitmen on the payroll, huh?”
“I could tell you, but you’re not gonna like it…”
“Yeah, it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? What is he, a drug dealer? Organized crime boss?”
Carlos’s discomfort was growing by the moment—it seemed like he might squirm right out of his clothes.
“You might be on the right track…”
“Uh-huh. Okay, I figured. And what do you do for him, precisely?”
Carlos said nothing and would no longer look her in the eye.
“You know what, never mind. Forget it. I don’t want to know. Go crawl back under whatever rock you came from. And don’t ever try to contact me again.”
She turned her back to him and headed toward her door.
“Aren’t you overreacting, maybe just a little?”
Sydney rushed back over to him, stood on her tiptoes, and got right in his face.
“Overreacting?” she screamed. “I worked as a hospital nurse for most of my life. Do you have any idea the nightmares I’ve seen? The destruction I’ve witnessed firsthand that comes from people like you and your boss? You peddle your drugs and get rich off other people’s misery and desperation. Kids—that shit you sell ends up in the hands of kids who get hooked young and then can’t ever quit.
“Forget it, I’m not wasting another minute on scum like you,” she said, backing away, looking at him in disgust. “I can’t believe I was attracted to you. I was ready to sleep with you! Thank God that didn’t happen.”
“Sydney…”
“No, that’s it. I’m done. Go away.”
And with that, she went inside the condo and slammed the door behind her.
She kicked off her shoes and collapsed in her bed. Moments later, she heard the limousine diving away.
It was only lunchtime, but she decided she needed a drink—or three. She walked up the beach to the waterfront bar she’d found earlier in the trip.
“Hey,” she said, recognizing the bartender from last time as she sat on one of the stools. “I’ll have one of those piña-colada-in-a-pineapple deals you made me last time, please.”
“You got it, senorita!” he said with a grin.
The guy at the other end of the bar tried to pick her up while she was waiting for her drink.
“Sorry, pal, but I’m in no mood.”
He left the bar.
“Here you go,” said the bartender, pushing the pineapple toward her.
“Awesome, thank you. I’ll be wanting another in a few minutes, just to forewarn you.”
“Coming right up,” he said with a chuckle.
Sydney turned to face the water and took a long drink. What a day she was having.
It was clear Carlos’s boss was not the person Martha wanted her to find. But he sure had given her some things to think about.
Every single report she’d found prior to this where the person had any recall of events beyond the initial abduction included a description of aliens who looked precisely like the Malor. But this man claimed there had been no one present.
His memory seemed clear enough—he recalled the probes they’d used in great detail. But no aliens. At least, none that he could see.
Sydney tried to figure out what to do next. This seemed like a dead-end, though. Martha had given her virtually nothing to go on—a man in San Juan. That’s all she knew for sure. She assumed it would be someone who had been abducted and someone whom Martha had interviewed. But she didn’t truly know any of that for sure.
What the hell was she supposed to do next?
She finished her second drink and then called Brian.
“Hey, kid, what’ve you got?”
“Kid?”
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it—I’m just, well, I’m old—”
Sydney laughed.
“You’re what, ten years my senior? Forget it. You can call me ‘kid.’”
“Okay, well… how are you?!”
Sydney told him everything that had happened with Carlos and his boss and about the boss’s abductions.
“Sydney, do you remember when we talked about not putting you in danger?”
“I know, I know—but we got some really good info from this guy. He’s not the one Martha wanted me to find, but I’d say we’re net positive from this trip so far, right?
“I just have no idea what to do next.”
“Hmm.”
“I was kind of hoping you’d have some incredible insight into my next avenue of investigation…”
There was only silence on the line for a moment, then Brian chuckled.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t. My team is plowing through all that data entry, and I’ve got them keeping their eyes peeled for anyone with some kind of connection to Puerto Rico, but so far, nothing.”
“Damn. Well, I’m gonna have another piña colada,” she said, looking pointedly at the bartender, “get good and hammered, and see if inspiration strikes.”
“Alright,” he said. “Have one for me. And let me know if you need anything.”
“Will do, boss.”
Sydney spent most of the day on the beach, swimming, sunbathing, and making frequent stops at the bar to keep her buzz going.
“I’m going to have a raging hangover after this,” she said to herself. “But it’s so worth it!”
Three different guys tried picking her up through the course of the day, but she turned them all away. It was too bad—one of them was very cute, but she had no interest in hooking up after the morning she’d had.
As evening approached, she found she was ravenously hungry. She’d seen signs for “food kiosks” a little farther up the beach—it didn’t look like much in the photos but had rave reviews.
Sydney went inside to change and then headed out to find the place. It was a beautiful day, so she decided to walk. Twenty minutes later, she arrived to see more than sixty “stalls,” each offering some type of local cuisine. Sydney sampled food from several of them and had a couple more piña coladas to wash it all down. She was sitting in a bar finishing her last drink when she noticed someone walk through the rear door and take a seat at one of the back tables.
It was a tall man, wearing a black suit—and dark sunglasses. He didn’t look at her or give any sign that he’d seen her. Sydney wasn’t sure this was the man in black, but she was taking no chances.
She paid her tab, and discreetly exited the bar, hailing an Uber on her way out the front door. There was one waiting nearby. She got in and looked back through the rear windshield as they drove away. She didn’t see any sign of the man in the suit.
“Good,” she thought. “Hopefully, that wasn’t him.”
It was still early when she returned to the condo, but she was wiped out and still buzzed. She went to bed and fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.
She woke in the morning with a splitting headache. Her stomach was rumbling, but she didn’t want to risk eating anything for fear that she wouldn’t be able to keep it down. She went out to grab a coffee and came back and showered.
She wanted to have a look around the city that day. There was a
company offering Segway tours of Old San Juan, so she decided to try that.
She found the business in an old building by a pier in the city. Once she’d paid for the excursion, she joined six other people in a quick orientation lesson on how to operate the Segway. She’d used one before, so she had no trouble getting used to it again.
They had a guided tour of the historic district, visiting several old buildings, including a cathedral, and a military fort, both of which had been here since colonial times.
They stopped at a little pub for lunch. The bartender had the news playing on the television above the bar. Sydney recalled the news trucks stationed out in front of her house back home and suddenly had an idea.
She pulled out her phone and looked up the number for the local TV station. Calling the number, she reached a receptionist and asked about setting up an interview. Once she told the man who she was, he put her through to a reporter.
“Hello, this is Clarita Diaz. Can I help you?”
“Yes, I do believe you can,” said Sydney.
She explained her idea. Clarita was very eager to help, and they arranged to meet back at the pier at the end of the Segway tour.
“Hah, perfect!” Sydney said out loud when she was done. The tour guide and the other tourists gave her a funny look, but she didn’t care. She was about to find her mystery man.
The tour finished up, and they arrived back at the pier an hour later. Clarita Diaz was waiting for her there with a cameraman.
Sydney introduced herself, and they set up their interview with the harbor in the background. Clarita asked her questions about her involvement in the invasion, and Sydney recounted how events had gone down from her perspective.
“Ms. Hastings, I understand you are now involved with a new investigation. Can you tell us about that?”
Sydney told her about how she’d met Martha and all the alien abductions that were going on.
“And you believe our viewing audience may be able to help you with this endeavor?”
“I do,” said Sydney. “Martha had a dying request for me. She asked me to find a man in San Juan. Now, I have no idea who this man might be, but I strongly suspect he is someone who has had an abduction experience—and perhaps one that was out of the ordinary in some way. And most likely, he met with Martha McClure at some point before her death. I believe this man may have information that will help with this investigation.”