Unidentified

by Mikel J. Wisler

  She placed a hand on the cold cinderblock wall next to her bed. The cold on her hand reminded her of the table. The cold metal table. The image of those eyes—those big solid black eyes like an abyss—flashed into her mind involuntarily. They were coming for her, she was sure of it. They would come for her even here. There was nowhere she could be safe. Slowly, she moved her body around so it pressed against the wall. She gathered her legs up in front of her, wrapping her arms around them. There was no point in laying back down; she might as well wait.

  What did they want with her? Why her? Why was she taken so many times? Why couldn’t they explain what they were doing? If they were here to help her, to help all of humanity, why couldn’t they simply tell her what they needed to do? Why did they have to treat her like some animal, some lab rat? If they could look into her mind and speak to her so directly, why not give her the knowledge she needed to understand what was happening to her?

  Unless … they didn’t want her to have that knowledge.

  She swallowed, wishing she could run, but she knew the door was locked. She was in a fucking mental hospital. It’s not like they were about to believe her if she banged on the door and told them, “aliens are coming to get me.” Hell, she wasn’t even totally sure she could believe it herself. But here she was. Part of her sincerely wanted to believe she was simply crazy. Wouldn’t it be so much easier if I was just batshit crazy? She wiped away a tear knowing all too well she wasn’t crazy, not at least in the sense in which the hospital staff thought she was crazy.

  Or her father. Fuck him! Why couldn’t he just believe her? But he was a conventional man trying to preserve a conventional life. She was sure he just desperately wanted everything to get back to normal. She pictured him at his desk at the bank, filling out paperwork with people applying for a small business loan or refinancing their mortgage, the whole time squirming under his skin as he worried about what they must be thinking of him due to his crazy daughter who believes she’s being abducted by aliens. She wanted to hate him. But no … really, she wanted him to hold her. She too wanted everything to go back to normal, but part of her did hate him for not believing her, for abandoning her here.

  She sat there for a while, staring at the opposite wall. She lost track of time as thoughts about her father, her mother, her friends who hadn’t bothered to come by and see her, tossed and turned in the choppy waters of her mind. She had no real way of knowing how much time was passing. When the slight tapping sounds began, she knew what was happening. Her heart raced, her palms were wet with anticipation. But she clenched her teeth and thought, I’m not going anywhere, assholes. Let’s get this over with.

  When the bright light burst through her window, she wasn’t surprised. But she noted it was red now. It had always been blue before. The red light swung up from the floor and filled the room. As it crept over her body, she could feel the tingling, the coldness, the numbness. She gripped her legs tighter to her chest and closed her eyes and waited.

  ***

  In the waiting area, Eliza, the 55-year-old nurse on duty that night, sat at the desk. The small TV on the corner of the large metal desk played commercials as she waited for a late night movie to resume. She didn’t even know what movie it was exactly, but it was something to keep her awake while she looked over some paperwork before she had to do her next round of checking in on patients.

  Other than the din from the TV and the drizzle of the rain outside, the place was quiet. She looked down at the charts for one of the patients. But as she did so, the lights flickered. The TV blipped and rolled and then returned to normal. She looked up, unconcerned. The building was quite old. Maybe the storm was getting worse? She looked back down at the chart, but again the lights flickered. This time the TV emitted a sudden burst of loud static. She looked over at it, startled. She’d never seen it do that before!

  She stared at the TV for a second, wondering if it might do it again. It didn’t. She looked back down at the papers in her hands. The lights flickered again and this time the TV went to static permanently, the speakers blaring as if it were at maximum volume. The noise hurt her ears. She reached out and hit the power button, but it wouldn’t turn off. She pressed it several times as the lights flickered off and on sporadically. Giving up on the power button for the TV, she got up and moved to the side of the desk. Finding the power cord for the old TV, she pulled it from the wall.

  Silence. The static rang in her ears still, but the place was quiet again. Only the rain outside and the usual slight hum of the fluorescent lights could be heard. But something about how the TV had just behaved filled her with unease. She wondered what she should do. As the lights flickered again, she made up her mind.

  She picked up the phone on the desk and dialed. She waited while it rang several times. The lights dimmed for a second, but didn’t go out all the way as before. Finally Will, the custodian of the place, picked up.

  “Yes?” he said with a croak that made it clear he wasn’t thrilled about being woken up.

  “Hey, Will,” she said, “It’s Eliza. Sorry to call so late, but the power’s doing weird things here.”

  “It’s just the storm,” he said.

  “That’s what I thought, then the TV did something strange,” she said.

  “Did what strange?”

  She felt foolish. She shouldn’t have called. It was fine. The TV was probably broken. It was old. She was about to open her mouth to apologize for bothering him at all in the middle of the night when the lights went out, and this time, they stayed out!

  The phone line was dead. She looked over to the emergency lights that should have kicked on the moment they lost power. But they too emitted no light. Setting the phone down, she began digging noisily in the desk drawers for the flashlight. She knew there was one in there, but it had been ages since she’d used it. Now she couldn’t recall which drawer it was in. And who knew if it actually had good batteries in it anymore?

  She found it at last in one of the drawers. Clicking it on, she was relieved to find that it worked. She looked down at the desk, thinking she should grab her cell phone out of her purse and call Will back. If the emergency lights were out, it had to mean …

  A scream bounced off the walls of the old building and echoed in the darkness. Eliza stood petrified by the sound of the scream, a chill running down her body. It came from some far recess of the place, and it was the sound of unrestrained terror that sent a sudden shaft of ice into Eliza’s heart as she heard it.

  She moved to the main hallway and began walking. She wasn’t far when the second scream reached her ears. This time, she knew who was screaming. With all the activity lately, with the local police and the FBI there, she knew just where the screams were coming from. She’d heard her scream before.

  Eliza ran as fast as her bad left knee would allow her to. As she approached Stephanie’s room, she slowed so she could fish the keys out of her pocket. As she did so, her flashlight dimmed and went out. Eliza cursed as she smacked it. A dim beam emitted from it again. She found the keys and unlocked Stephanie’s door.

  Swinging the door open, she pointed the dim flashlight in. First she trained it on Stephanie’s bed, but found it empty. Then she swept it around the back wall. The light fell suddenly on a figure in the back left corner opposite the bed. It was Stephanie. She crouched in the corner, her head down.

  “Stephanie?” Eliza said. “Are you okay?”

  Slowly, Stephanie looked up at her. She locked eyes with Eliza, but her eyes seemed completely vacant. It was only as Eliza moved the dim flashlight beam up to follow Stephanie’s head that she noticed something behind Stephanie. She moved the dim beam up the slender grey body to the large grey head. It looked down at Stephanie.

  When Eliza moved her lips to speak, the thing’s head jerked up suddenly and its large black eyes locked on her. She felt a sudden rush of uncontrollable panic. Stumbling backwards, she screamed as she fell into the hallway, the flashlight clattering to the floor. It went out a
nd she was plunged into blackness again. But all her focus was on getting away from whatever was inside that room with Stephanie. As Eliza struggled to her feet, her bad left knee biting sharply with pain, she heard the door to Stephanie’s room slam shut in the darkness.

  ***

  Evans felt lightheaded. Was this really happening? Mitchell pressed her lips against his. He responded instinctively, kissing back. A rush of heat came over him and he reached out his right hand, gently taking hold of her head. He had not kissed a woman in over two years. He had not touched a woman at all, in fact. They parted for a second, looking into each other’s eyes. The question between them in that moment was clear. Proceed or not? Throw caution to the wind or call it a night?

  They both stood quickly, eyes locked on each other. Mitchell didn’t move for the door the moment she stood, as part of Evans had expected. Some part of Evan’s mind that was not yet thrown off by his low tolerance for alcohol or the sudden rush of desire observed all of this as it happened from a relatively objective perspective. This was wrong. He knew it was wrong. Two weeks ago, Nicole had been his patient. But another thought occurred to him: there was no denying that she was attractive. And even in all of his professional distance, that simple recognition that an attractive and compellingly confident woman had walked into his office remained from his first impressions of her. Working together in this capacity, the relationship had deepened, evolved, undergone an unexpected metamorphosis within the constraints of the case and the pressure to resolve this quickly. And now, tonight, this new openness unlocked something even deeper.

  Mitchell kept her eyes locked on him. Again, he noted she had not moved to the door. She was breathing quickly with the sudden rush of excitement. It was the smallest thing that pushed Evans over the edge. She was breathing through her mouth ever so slightly. She licked her lips to remoisten them, and then for a split second lightly bit her lower lip. That subtle gesture was all he needed. He reached out and pulled her close to him and they kissed again. She reciprocated with surprising force, kissing him hard, her arms wrapped around him tightly, fingernails biting his back. For so long, Evans had forced his mind to remain always analytical, coolly detached from the moment, in hopes of always making an intellectual decision. Now, thoughts rushed through his brain like: she knows what she wants and will likely take the lead here; she hasn’t had a relationship in about as long as I have; we’re not thinking clearly; if anyone finds out, this could be serious trouble for us both.

  But there was no time for that. Nicole was pulling his shirt up. They parted long enough for Evans to pull his dress shirt off like a t-shirt. With the top button undone, it wasn’t too hard. Next, his white undershirt went off, tossed aside by Mitchell. She pulled him close and kissed him again. Her shirt was already partially untucked from when she’d shown him her scar. He pulled it out the rest of the way, but pulling it over her head like he had done with his wasn’t exactly an option with her fitted women’s dress shirt. Before he could make a move, she was already unbuttoning her shirt, still kissing him in the process.

  Mitchell’s cell phone rang.

  They froze, faces inches apart. The phone rang again. Both Evans and Mitchell glanced at the alarm clock sitting on the end table. It displayed 3:09 AM. Something had happened!

  “I should get that,” she said, softly.

  “Yeah,” Evans agreed.

  Mitchell backed away from him and grabbed her purse that sat on the floor next to the door. She reached down and grabbed her phone, answering. She stood, phone pressed to her ear.

  “This is Agent Mitchell,” she said into the phone, her voice all business now.

  As she listened, Evans waited. She stood there, shirt hanging open, eyes focused on some invisible point far off as she took in what was being said. Conflicting thoughts within Evans's mind battled for his attention. He knew this was probably the best thing that could have happened. He knew there must be something incredibly important going on for Mitchell to get a call at 3:00 AM—there was that time again; 3:00 AM. And yet, he couldn’t keep from looking at Mitchell and thinking of what could have happened—what would have happened. A very real part of him that he’d silenced for a long time now screamed with fury and desire. If only her phone had been silenced. If only the call had come just a little later. If only. But he knew, this was for the best. It just didn’t feel like it right then.

  Mitchell’s eyes grew wide as she listened. Suddenly, she snapped her fingers to get Evans’s attention, pointing to his shirt and then to the door. They had to go.

  “I’ll go get Dr. Evans and we’ll be right there,” she said into her phone. Then hanging up, she locked eyes with Evans, who was in the process of putting his undershirt back on. For a moment, her mouth opened as if she were about to say something, but she sighed instead. Looking down, she began to button her own shirt as she said, “Can you drive?”

  ***

  Mitchell blinked, trying to clear her head. Evans sat behind the wheel, driving her car to St. Jerome’s. Her hands shook slightly. She knew it wasn't the alcohol. Her entire body still buzzed from the rush of pent-up desires. She knew it wasn’t all about Evans. But she also knew she had denied herself sexual release for quite a long time. She realized now how stupid she had been. She should not have gone over there with the beers. They should have gotten some sleep. Now they hadn’t slept at all that night, and their professional relationship had taken a sudden turn.

  Anger at herself boiled inside her. Mitchell had always been cautious. She knew the kind of world she lived in. It was still a man’s world. But in the army and in the FBI, she felt the glares from other women. She knew how some woman talked to her about other women and could only imagine they talked about her the same way behind her back. An attractive woman rising through ranks, getting the fast track into the FBI … she must be doing someone some favors, right? She had never done any such thing. She had never gotten involved with anyone she worked with. But tonight, she nearly blew that record.

  Or had she blown that record already? They hadn’t slept together, but they were well on their way there when the phone rang. She couldn’t escape the notion that no matter how she looked at what had just happened, a line had been crossed. Now, it could be added to her long lists of reason why she hated herself.

  “What exactly happened?” Evans asked, suddenly bringing her back out of the tangled web of thoughts.

  "Stephanie had some kind of freak out,” she answered. “Not sure of the details, but the nurse on duty called the cops.”

  “Because a patient freaked out?” he glanced over at her in confusion.

  “They said she saw something,” Mitchell said.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know,” she shook her head.

  They grew silent as Evans drove. Outside, the rain had slowed to just a slight drizzle. Periodically, the wipers swung up across the windshield to clear it. For a few long minutes, the sound of the engine and tires on the wet road interrupted every now and again by the slight squeak of the wipers was all Mitchell heard. She could feel the tension that now loomed between them. The drive was too long. They would have to talk, wouldn’t they? But she didn’t even know where to start. But in the end, she didn’t have to start it.

  “Nicole,” Evans said, his voice low. “I’m really sorry.”

  “About what?” she said automatically, not sure how to go from here.

  Evans spoke with his eyes forward, concentrated on the driving, while he slowly worked the words out of his lips, “What happened back there. What was about to happen. It was unprofessional.”

  Mitchell glanced at him. She knew what he was saying was true, but she felt angry at him for saying it that way. Was he implying she was unprofessional? Or was he the unprofessional one?

  “You’re not my therapist anymore,” she said before she even realized it.

  “It’s still,” he sighed, “not right.”

  She knew this. Knew it full well. And yet, hearing him
say it like that infuriated her. She felt lectured, talked down to. She scoffed and looked out her window.

  “I’m sorry,” Evans continued. “Look, I’m honestly attracted to you and I think it’s starting to cloud my judgment. And I think you need more help, but now it would be highly inappropriate …“

  “I need help, huh?” she spat out as she spun to face him. “Do you ever turn your therapist voodoo on yourself? I’m pretty sure you need help too. So fuck you!”

  He looked over at her. She could see the hurt in his eyes. “Well,” he said slowly, “You were about to, but then your damn phone rang.”

  He returned his attention to the road. Mitchell stared at him in disbelief. A slight laugh escaped her lips. She smiled in spite of herself. She most definitely had not expected that response! As a grin cracked over Evan’s face, she was not able to contain herself and laughed outright. Evans laughed too, the tension defusing.

  Everything went dark!

  The car’s engine died. All the lights on the dash were out. The headlights were out. Their laughter stopped abruptly.

  “What did you do?” Mitchell asked.

  “I didn’t do anything,” he shot back.

  The car coasted to a stop on the dark country road. They were well outside of any town and out there on a rainy night, there was little light to offer them much help in seeing what was happening. Mitchell hoped that any car that might be coming down the road behind them might see them in time to stop or avoid them, but it was very late and they had not seen another car in quite a while, so they were likely fine.

  She pulled out her cell phone. Hitting the home button to bring it to life, she saw that it was now 3:16 AM. But before she could unlock the phone, the screen went blank. She tried the home key again, then the power button.