Unidentified

by Mikel J. Wisler

  “My damn phone just died,” she said.

  A bright light exploded out in front of them, blinding them. Mitchell shielded her eyes. It was definitely not a car. It was too bright, and seemed to be coming from a rather high source.

  “What the hell is that?” Evans said, his own arms raised to block the light.

  Instincts took over. Feeling cornered but also feeling sure this light was no accident, Mitchell pulled her gun from its holster in one quick move and opened her door. “Stay here,” she barked to Evans.

  She stepped out into the blinding light. The steady drizzle filled the air. She raised the gun towards the light with her right hand. With her left, she shielded her eyes. Squinting, she stepped forward.

  “I’m a Federal agent and I’m armed!” she shouted. “Turn out that light right now!”

  No response came. In fact, there was no sound at all other then the drizzle and a slight breeze that blew through the trees. Then, a slow hum, almost a vibration in the ground and air, began to grow. Mitchell took a few more steps out. Could this really be happening? Her mind raced ahead of her. Could this be whoever was behind Stephanie’s abductions?

  Another thought pried its way into her mind: could this UFO business be real after all? She pushed the thought from her mind, dismissing it as ludicrous. Still, here she stood on a road with a car that had completely died, no working electronics, and a bright light before her.

  The hum grew louder and now the light began to move. It elevated slowly until it was nearly directly above her. She stopped where she was and pointed the gun up. Suddenly, an unexplained panic struck her. What was she doing there? There was nowhere to hide!

  Her entire body felt a rush of coldness wash over it as complete silence enveloped her. She suddenly felt quite dizzy.

  ***

  Evans watched from inside the car as Mitchell stepped out towards the light. Just what the hell is happening? This can’t be real, he thought. But awareness of UFO cases worked against him. His mind instantly filled with facts: all electronics had stopped working; the light appeared suddenly, was incredibly bright and made no sound; they were driving through an area known for recent abductions and sightings.

  He heard the low humming begin. Then the light moved higher until it was above Mitchell. She had her gun pointed straight up. What is she doing? Evans moved to open his door as the hum grew so loud it became all he could hear. It vibrated through the car, through his very bones. He threw open the car door and got out.

  “Nicole!” he yelled.

  Blackness enveloped him. The hum ceased. He couldn’t see anything. All he heard was a slight breeze and the continuous whisper of the falling drizzle. It slowly soaked him as he stood there trying to gain his bearings.

  “Nicole?” he called out.

  Nothing.

  Suddenly, light. But this time, it was the headlights of Mitchell’s car that began to work again. The car made a dinging sound now as he’d left the keys in the ignition and the door open. He blinked in yet another change of brightness for his eyes to adjust to.

  Looking out in front of the car, all he found was empty road. Then his eyes landed on the gun laying on the road where Mitchell had stood.

  “Nicole!” he screamed into the night.

  He rushed forward, looking around, then up.

  She was gone.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Diego pulled open the door to the waiting area at St. Jerome. He walked in, looking around for any staff. But he found no one at the front desk. Knowing where Stephanie’s room was, he headed down the hall. He’d gotten a frantic call from Dorothy, and he’d been awake anyway. It was during his now normal waking hour—his prayer vigil. Something had happened with Stephanie.

  He headed down the long white hallway. His footsteps echoed off the walls. Somehow, the place felt even more empty at this hour of night. It reminded him of his visit to an old hospital in Brazil in the middle of the night. His sister had lain in one of the beds, her body hooked up to life support machines that were likely older than she was. It was the last time he’d seen her alive. She never woke up. Poorly kept highways in Brazil were their own form of random cruelty, claiming lives at will. The small car she and two friends had been traveling in had become a twisted metal trap. None of them walked away from the head-on collision with a large truck whose tire had blown, causing the driver to lose control on a particularly bumpy section of road. Just like that, his sister had been taken. So much had changed for him since then.

  From a door up ahead on the right side, Chief of Police Wilson stepped out into the hall. He was followed by a female nurse. Diego knew which room they had just come from. As he approached, he could just catch the words as Wilson and the nurse talked.

  “You’re sure you saw someone?” he asked the nurse.

  She looked at him for a moment, then looked away.

  “You’re not sure?” Wilson pressed.

  “It,” she fought to make the words come out, “wasn’t a person.”

  Wilson’s eyebrows shot up. Now Diego was close and he slowed down, not quite sure if he should interrupt or keep his distance.

  “You’re not going to tell me you saw …” Wilson growled in a low voice then trailed off.

  “It was in the room with her,” the nurse said softly. “It’s exactly what I told the other officers.”

  Diego took this in. Of course, St. Jerome was well outside of North Woodstock. Wilson and his officers would not have been the ones dispatched. But given his connection to this case and the manner in which local police departments collaborated, he was likely notified immediately.

  Wilson shook his head then looked up at Diego with a frown.

  “The FBI agent and the shrink,” Diego lost no time in asking, “are they here?”

  “I called Agent Mitchell,” Wilson said. “Should be here any minute. Why?”

  “No reason,” Diego lied. But he could think of no way around it.

  “Pastor, I don’t know what’s going on around here,” Wilson sighed, “but I sure as hell am tired of everyone losing their marbles.”

  Diego saw Wilson’s eyes dart over to the nurse. He doesn’t believe, Diego noted. He tried to think of what he could say, of what comforting words he might offer in this moment. But Wilson’s radio chirped suddenly.

  “Chief Wilson, come in.” said a woman over the radio.

  He grabbed his radio from his uniform belt. “Go for Wilson,” he said into it.

  “I’ve got an urgent call from a Dr. Alan Evans,” said the dispatcher.

  “Jesus!” Wilson rolled his eyes. He glanced at Diego. “Sorry, pastor.” He spoke into his radio again as he walked down the hall, “What is it now?”

  The radio was too tinny and the sound echoed off the bare walls and was garbled. Diego couldn’t make out what was going on. But judging from how Wilson picked up his pace, it wasn’t good.

  Diego turned to the door and looked in. He found Dorothy and Tim sitting with Stephanie. She was wrapped in a blanket, head hanging down. He stepped closer to the door, but the nurse stuck out her hand, stopping him.

  “I’m sorry, who are you?” she asked.

  “No, I’m sorry,” he said, realizing that of course she didn’t know him. “I am Pastor Diego, a friend of the family.”

  “He’s with us,” he heard Dorothy say from inside the room.

  The nurse glanced over at her and then back to Diego. She nodded and headed down the hallways herself. Diego turned and entered the room. For a moment, a strangely familiar feeling washed over him. It was as if the room had grown just a bit dimmer the moment he stepped in. He looked down at the shaken trio that sat on the bed and his heart broke for them.

  ***

  The man slouched by his car as he filled the tank. The gas station was quiet at this hour, the air hung thick with humidity. The mist of the drizzle that had now become an endlessly moving and swirling fog could be seen in the beams of the overhead lights. He finished filling the tank
to his aging Outback and hung the handle up. That’s when he noticed her.

  She stood just within reach of the lights of the gas station. Immediately, something felt quite off about the scene. He stepped forward, forgetting to retrieve his receipt.

  “Are you okay?” he said tentatively.

  The woman said nothing. But she looked at him with vacant eyes. She had blond hair that was soaked and stuck to her face and shoulders. Slowly, she stepped closer. As she approached, the man noticed that her dress pants and dress shirt were on inside out. She was barefoot and wore no coat.

  “Miss?” the man tried again as she approached him.

  She stopped. They were mere feet apart now. The man looked her up and down with concern, wondering what had happened to her. He reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone. But with that movement, the woman sprung at him!

  She grabbed his throat and threw him to the ground, knocking the air out of his lungs. The man struggled beneath her, coughing and trying to breathe. He fought hard, finally pulling her hands away from his throat.

  “You crazy!” he managed between gasps.

  Something changed in the woman’s eyes. They focused on him, but now they were no longer vacant. The woman’s expression changed to confusion, then fear. She scrambled off of him and collapsed on the wet ground, her back against one of the pumps.

  Rubbing his neck, the man pushed himself back against his car, not yet daring to get up. He watched as the woman brought her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them and shook with sobs.

  Quickly, he retrieved his phone from his pocket and dialed 911. As he did so, he heard the approaching frantic footsteps of the gas station attendant who was on duty. The woman remained where she was, weeping.

  ***

  The red and blue lights strobed relentlessly. They cast their intermittent light off into the surrounding woods. Evans stared out the windshield of Mitchell’s car, which he’d pulled off to the side of the road now. Chief Wilson stood outside his window; the rain had relented, but a mist hung in the air.

  “And she just,” Wilson lifted a hand, palm up, “vanished?”

  “I know how this sounds,” Evans said, unable to look at Wilson.

  “Has this whole town lost its mind?” Wilson muttered.

  Evans looked up at him now, “I’m telling you the truth.”

  “You said she left her gun behind.”

  Evans nodded and indicated the gun that now sat in the passenger seat.

  “She left it there?” Wilson inquired.

  “No,” Evans admitted. “She dropped it on the road.”

  Wilson bent down and looked at the gun then gave Evans a rather dubious look. He sighed, then said, “I’m going to take that gun in and have it checked. For your sake, I hope it hasn’t been fired recently.”

  Evans looked over at him in shock. “You think I did something to her?”

  “What I think doesn’t matter, Dr. Evans,” Wilson said. “But you gotta' understand where I’m coming from. I’ve got a missing FBI agent, her gun has been left behind, and I got your … story … that frankly sounds a little absurd. How much have you had to drink tonight?”

  Evans froze, still looking at Wilson. His story was about to completely unravel. There was no point in lying now, yet he desperately needed Wilson to believe him. Someone had taken Mitchell—she must have been right after all. There was someone behind this. Someone was doing all of this. Faced with the empty road after the light vanished, the only options left for Evans were to believe someone had taken Mitchell, or something had taken her. Neither now seemed remotely believable as he had tried to explain it to Wilson. He was stuck.

  “Dr. Evans?” Wilson prompted him sternly.

  “I’ve,” he said, “had … two beers.”

  Wilson nodded, his lips pressed firmly together. “I’m going to need you to come with me,” he said.

  Evans looked up at him. Shit!

  “Chief,” Officer O’Conner yelled from one of the two police cars parked there. “I just got a call on the radio. They found Agent Mitchell.”

  Wilson looked back at her. Evans’s heart leapt in his chest. They found her! Was she all right?

  “Where?” Wilson barked.

  “Is she okay?” Evans called out.

  “She turned up in Campton,” O’Conner said. “She seems fine, but shaken up.”

  “Campton?” Wilson called back in disbelief.

  “Where is that?” Evans asked, but was ignored.

  “Should I go get her?” O’Conner asked.

  “Yes!” Wilson waved her off. Then turning to Evans he said, “You’re coming with me to the station.”

  “What about Mitchell’s car?” Evans asked.

  “One of the officers can pick it up.”

  Evans knew he had no wiggle room at this point. As he got out of the car, Wilson circled around the car and opened the passenger door. He pulled out a plastic bag and with it picked up the gun. Sealing the bag shut he said, “Let’s get going, Dr. Evans.”

  ***

  Diego walked out of St. Jerome. He needed to get home and get some sleep. The Clarks would stay there until morning even though there was little they could do for Stephanie. Diego hoped he could stay awake for the drive home. He would plan on sleeping in late. He had some phone calls to make and he needed to pay a couple of bills, but all of that could wait for the afternoon. He still hadn’t gotten started on his sermon for this coming Sunday, but it was early enough in the week he felt it could make up for it at a later time.

  Fog hung thick in the air and as he walked away from the old building, it enveloped him in a cloud and the scenery around him became barely visible. Glancing back at the building, Diego noted how menacing and unwelcoming it felt just then. He turned and continued to the parking lot, pulling out his keys. Reaching his truck, he put the key in the door to unlock it, but he stopped suddenly. He was wide awake now. All it took to bring this sudden rush of awareness was the slightest whiff of something. It was a burnt and pungent smell: sulfur.

  The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood. He knew it stood there behind him before he even turned. But slowly he turned anyway to face it. This one was tall, lanky, dark grey, with large black eyes and slits for nostrils on a noseless face. It cocked its head slowly to one side, seeming to regard Diego with contempt.

  Fear washed over Diego. It was an involuntary reaction. The thing just stood there looking at him. Diego could feel the hatred and fear flowing out from this being, and that made him smile.

  ***

  Mitchell sat in the same room where she and Evans had searched through the old case files. She now wore spare clothes Officer O’Conner had lent her. She hadn’t had a chance to make it back to the motel yet to change. These clothes were just a bit loose. O’Conner was taller. Her own clothing she’d been found in had been soaked, and inside out.

  Her body ached, her muscles sore. She still felt cold in spite of the dry clothes and the warm room. Her hair was damp and matted, and she longed for a hot shower. But at the moment, there were questions to answer.

  “You said you saw a bright light. What happened then?” Chief Wilson asked. He sat across from her.

  Mitchell stared out at the steam emitting from the cup of coffee O’Conner had brought in for her. “I don’t know.”

  “You attacked a man at a gas station. You remember that?”

  Disjointed bits of a memory that felt more like a fading dream flashed in her mind. “Yes,” she said. Then, “No. Not exactly. I remember seeing his face. He was so scared.”

  “According to Dr. Evans,” Wilson said, “you vanished around 3:15 AM.”

  “3:16,” she said softly. “I looked at my phone just before it died.”

  “Okay,” Wilson nodded, “3:16. You turned up at a gas station in Campton at 3:33 AM. That’s … seventeen minutes. Yet somehow you travelled over 18 miles in that time on windy mountain roads. You’d have to be traveling mighty fast. And I happ
en to know there were two speed traps set up between where you were taken and Campton. They didn’t see any crazy drivers, not that anyone could make that trip that quickly anyway.”

  “I need to talk to Alan,” she said.

  “You can see Dr. Evans in a few. First, I need you to answer some questions.” Wilson said in a soft yet definitive tone.

  Mitchell looked into his eyes and summoned all her will power. “No. I need you to run a tox screen on my blood. Whoever took me must have drugged me.”

  “Agent Mitchell,” Wilson shook his head, “Dr. Evans already admitted that the two of you were drinking. Now, I’m happy to run a tox screen. But if anything does turn up, how do you think this is going to look for Dr. Evans?”

  She stared at him in shock now. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. And yet, she could understand how this looked. “You think he drugged me?” she said softly.

  “Frankly, I don’t know what to think,” he said with a sigh. “All I know is that I have a lone FBI agent interfering with an investigation while getting drunk with her psychiatric consultant.” He leaned in closer now. “I looked into you, Agent Mitchell. I don’t think the Bureau is going to be too pleased.”

  Mitchell looked at Wilson. She could see his condescension in his body language and eyes. In that moment, she hated him. He now stood squarely in her way. She needed to know what had happened to her, and it most definitely had not been Evens who had done any of this to her.

  “I need to talk to Alan,” she said slowly but firmly.

  Wilson sat back, letting out another sigh. He looked at her for a moment, then tapped his fingers on the table. “Okay,” he said at last.

  With that he got up and left the room. Mitchell stared at the coffee. Her hands still shook slightly and she figured coffee was actually a terrible idea right now. She would rather have water. She waited for several minutes before at last, the door opened again and Evans walked in.

  When he looked at her, she found that she involuntarily got to her feet. He crossed the room and took her into his arms, holding her tight.