And then, for a while, the doctor says nothing. I am vaguely aware of him pressing a button on his desk and the whirring noise stopping. He gets up and removes things and inserts things into some kind of machine. Then he just sits there. I don’t know why he’s keeping me here now, while he just seems to be thinking, but I don’t care, because I am in a very deep trance. I just wait.
Finally the doctor says, “You must listen to me very closely now. This is the most important part.” The doctor’s voice has changed. It is less soothing, and there is a commanding, forceful tone to it. “What you have just told me,” he says, very slowly and distinctly, “is a false memory.”
“False?” I say, feeling uncomfortable in a different way now. Because this memory that he has just dredged out of me, incredible as it is, seems absolutely real to me. I know it is exactly what happened.
“It is false,” Dr. Viridian says, with total conviction. “It was implanted in your brain to cover up what really happened.”
“But … but you just helped me remember it all,” I say, feeling more uncomfortable than ever. I’m in a deep trance; I’m under the control of this guy, but a corner of my mind is still able to doubt. “Are you telling me that none of this happened at all? How do you know? And how do we find out what really happened, so we can help Tim?”
“I am here to help you,” the doctor says, his voice soothing again. “The more you relax, the more I can help you find out what really happened and find Tim. You are so relaxed that you do not question me. That is the only way I can help you. Are you more relaxed now?”
“Yes,” I say, so relaxed I can barely get the word out.
“You are so relaxed now that you can’t move. Can you move your arms, your legs, any part of your body?”
I try to move, and I can’t. I can’t even move my mouth to answer his question.
He kneels down and very quickly injects something into my arm. Then he waits. And while he waits, I feel my consciousness shrinking, shrinking, until the only entrance into my mind is a tiny pinhole. And soon that pinhole is filled by the doctor’s voice.
“Concentrate,” Dr. Viridian says. “You will forget everything you have just told me about last night; you will forget everything about The Others. And this is what you will remember. This is what is real.”
Except it’s not just a voice; it’s more than that. It’s a story, a memory: I am being reminded of the true events of last night—as true as my third birthday and my first day of school.
Then we wait for a while.
Dr. Viridian presses a button on his desk, and a whirring noise begins. He asks me questions. I am in a deep trance.
Now I remember what really happened last night. I tell him.
CHAPTER FOUR
The light is on, and I am sitting up in a regular chair when Dr. Viridian buzzes his receptionist and tells her to send Mom and Dad back into the consultation room.
“Leo, are you all right?” Mom says as soon as she sees me, looking quickly over at the doctor, then back to me again.
“Yeah, I’m all right,” I say. “A little shaken up, but okay. I think you two, uh, better sit down.”
“Did you get your memory back?” Dad wants to know.
“Well, yeah,” I say evasively. I look over at the doctor. I feel weird about telling them what I remember about last night. And I’m sure the doctor is more experienced than I am about breaking this kind of news to people.
“When the officer told you I had helped those other people, did he happen to mention to you what kinds of things they remembered under hypnosis?” the doctor asks Mom and Dad.
“No, he didn’t,” Dad says.
“But there was something a little odd, now that I think of it,” Mom says. “He said he wasn’t sure he believed in that kind of stuff, something like that, even though it seemed to help the people.” She frowns. “Do you know what he meant? Does it have something to do with what Leo remembered?” She turns to me again, looking worried.
“What those other people remembered—and what Leo remembers—is being abducted by aliens. I’m sure you’ve heard about this phenomenon.”
Now they both look stricken. For a moment they don’t know what to say. I don’t blame them. It’s just about the same as if the doctor told them I’m certifiably insane.
“Leo!” Dad says, sounding a little angry. “Don’t tell me! Is that what you’re claiming happened last night?”
“I’m not claiming anything,” I say. “The doctor hypnotized me. And while I was hypnotized, what I remembered was, uh, pretty weird. And I still remember it now.”
“Tim’s father is gonna love this,” Dad says, rolling his eyes.
“I can understand your skepticism,” the doctor says. “But what you may not realize is that great numbers of people have experienced very similar memories. So many—and so similar—that their reports are now being studied by serious scientists, myself included. So I urge you, try to approach this with open minds. One of the main problems these people have is that they are treated with such contempt and scorn by the rest of the world—including their own families. Please, don’t make it harder on Leo than it already is.”
The doctor’s tone is so kind and gentle and reasonable that I can tell Mom and Dad feel a little bit chastened. I’m grateful to him for trying to make it easier for me. I’m also pretty skeptical about these “memories” myself—even though, as crazy as they are, they feel like real memories.
I tell Mom and Dad about the bright flashing lights in the sky and the car breaking down. I tell them about the little greenish men with big eyes, powerfully strong, who wrestled Tim and me from the car and into their vehicle. I tell them about the spaceship they took us to, gleaming and futuristic. I tell them about the leader of the little greenish men, the captain, who explained to us that—
“They spoke English?” Dad interrupts me. “They could breathe our atmosphere?”
“I’m just telling you what I remember!” I say, feeling like an idiot.
“Sorry,” Dad says, glancing over at the doctor, then back to me. “Go on.”
I tell them how the captain explained they were here to help us save our planet from being destroyed by political violence and corruption. How he explained that they have to be very careful and secretive about making contact with us, because if everybody knew about them, then they might have the wrong kind of effect on our civilization—like the way Europeans obliterated whole cultures when they invaded the new world. What they are doing is selecting certain individuals and training them to be able to help save the world in a way that will seem natural. And Tim was chosen to be one of those individuals. “He said they’d return him in a week,” I finish.
“They picked Tim to save the world?” Dad says, and I can tell he’d be laughing if he weren’t so upset by my craziness. “And they’re going to train him how to do it in one week?”
“I have a reading list here,” the doctor says, taking a printed sheet from his desk and handing it to Dad. “It might help you understand a little better.”
“Thanks.” Dad takes it and folds it up and shoves it in his pocket without looking at it. “And thanks for helping Leo get his memory back. How much is all this help going to cost me?”
“Seventy-five dollars,” the doctor says.
Dad silently writes out a check and hands it to him.
“If you have any more problems, Leo, I’m always here to help you,” the doctor says.
I thank him—even though I hope I’ll never be seeing him again.
Mom and Dad and I are very thoughtful. Nobody talks until we’re in the car and Mom says, “Oh, could we stop at the supermarket on the way home? I just need to pick up a couple of things. It’ll only take a minute.”
“I can’t wait until Tim’s father hears about this,” Dad mutters.
I sigh. “Look, I’m sorry; I can’t help it. Those are the memories that came back when I was hypnotized. I think it’s as crazy as you do.”
&nbs
p; And then, in the supermarket, I pick up a tabloid newspaper as I’m waiting with Mom in the checkout line. And I just happen to notice an advertisement near the back—it catches your attention because there’s a heavy black line around it:
AMNESIA? BLACKOUTS? UNEXPLAINED LOST TIME? UNUSUAL SIGHTINGS AT NIGHT? THESE MAY ALL BE INDICATIONS THAT YOU HAVE HAD A SPECIAL ENCOUNTER. FOR EXPERIENCED AND SPECIALIZED PROFESSIONAL HELP, CONTACT DR. VIRIDIAN.
Directly underneath it is another ad:
ANY PEOPLE WHO HAVE HAD THE ABOVE EXPERIENCES, PATIENTS OF DR. VIRIDIAN OR OTHERS, WHO WOULD LIKE TO GET TOGETHER AND SHARE OUR EXPERIENCES, PLEASE CALL ANNABELLE KINCAID …
I can hardly believe it, it’s such a strange coincidence. Mom is preoccupied with paying for the groceries, so I wait until we’re back in the car to read the two ads to them. “I thought I’d heard his name before, and this is probably where,” I tell them.
“So that’s the scientific level this guy’s at,” Dad says. “He advertises in the tabloids.”
“Yeah, and then I remember about little green men. It’s so boring—just what you’d expect to see in the tabloids. Why didn’t I remember something more … scientific?” I think for a moment. “But isn’t it interesting that Dr. Viridian’s patients want to get together and talk about what happened to them?” I say.
Dad and Mom look at each other. “I just wish we hadn’t listened to that cop,” Dad says. “Seventy-five bucks that guy Viridian charged me, and all we find out is that you remember being abducted by aliens like from a third-rate movie.”
“And it didn’t do anything to help find Tim,” I say. I’m worried about him. But I’m also kind of excited about the idea of contacting these other patients of Dr. Viridian’s and trying to find out more about him.
Except that it’s beginning to get dark now. I start to feel nervous. I don’t like being in the car at night—and I’ve never felt that way before. Does that mean what I remembered is real? I feel very relieved when we get home.
Until we listen to the message on the answering machine. It’s from Tim’s father. At first I’m hoping he’s going to tell us they found Tim. But he doesn’t say anything about the search, which obviously means they haven’t found him. He just says I have to be at police headquarters tomorrow at 10 A.M. for further questioning. A police car will pick me up at 9:30.
I groan. “What am I going to tell them?” I say.
Nobody knows. It’s clear to all of us that if I tell them what I remembered under hypnosis, they’ll think I’m lying or that I’m crazy.
“Well, the one thing in your favor is that the doctor was recommended by Captain Kroll,” Mom says. “That might give you a tiny bit of credibility.”
“It would be even better if the doctor was there,” I say. “Then they’d have more proof that there are other people who had experiences like I did and memories like mine. I wonder if he’d do it?”
“Sure he would—for a price,” Dad says.
“Oh, come on,” Mom says hotly. “Don’t be like Tim’s father. Who cares what it costs if it’s going to help Leo—and Tim?”
“Sorry. You’re right,” Dad says. He calls the doctor and leaves a message on his machine that I need his help at the police station tomorrow, that it’s urgent because of Tim being missing and that of course he will be compensated for it.
I’m more worried than ever about Tim, since they haven’t found him yet, and apprehensive about the next day. I’m tired and go to bed early. I have trouble sleeping at first, worrying about what’s going to happen tomorrow. The doctor probably won’t get the message in time or won’t be able to change his schedule. And then I’ll be on my own, with nothing to tell them except this dumb story about little green men and nobody to back me up about it.
But finally I fall asleep.… I am dreaming that Tim and I are strapped to something like an operating table. Creatures with long arms and tiny heads are doing things to us with weird instruments, poking and prodding us and sticking things into us. There are other creatures there too, really gross, like big, squashy heads, who keep eating living things like worms. They seem to be afraid of something they call The Others. They mention them several times. And then they keep Tim! They say they’ll bring him back in two days, but why should I believe them? They give me another shot. They warn me again about The Others. Then they take me back to the car.
What if they come back to get me again? I wake up in the middle of the night, terrified, moaning.
And with no memory of what I was dreaming.
CHAPTER FIVE
I don’t tell Mom and Dad that I woke up from a terrible nightmare—a nightmare that I can’t remember at all. I don’t want them to get the idea that I might really be crazy.
We call the doctor several times before 9:30 but only get his taped message, even after 9:00. It’s very odd. Even if the doctor is coming to the police station—or out doing something else—you’d think his receptionist would be at the office to make appointments. Why isn’t she there?
Dad can’t come to the police station; he can’t skip another day of work. At least Mom gets the day off again, so she can come with me. Before Dad goes to work, we talk about what I should say. Of course, if the doctor is there, I’ll have to tell them what happened at his office, even though it sounds so crazy. So we figure I have no choice but to tell them the same story, even if the doctor isn’t there, so that we can get him to back it up later.
Mom and Dad keep telling me everything will be fine, don’t worry, there is no evidence against me, nothing they can do to hurt me. But before Dad goes to work, he tells us to phone him if anything goes slightly wrong—which means they really are worried too.
I am watching from the window when the police car pulls up a little before 9:30. We don’t wait for them to come and ring the bell; we walk out as soon as I see the car.
One cop gets out of the car as we are coming down the walk. He asks me my name. He doesn’t touch me, but he is very close behind us as we walk to the car and get into the backseat.
I’m disappointed that Captain Kroll isn’t here, since he knows about Dr. Viridian and seemed a little sympathetic toward me yesterday. I can only hope he will be at the police station when they question me. These two guys are young and strongly built and have guns. Why did they send two armed cops to drive us to the station? Did they think I was going to try to run away?
They don’t say a word as we drive, and Mom and I don’t talk either. I keep telling myself not to hope that the doctor will be at the station—the message probably came too late for him to be able to change his schedule.
And what will happen if I can’t convince them that I’m innocent? Mom and Dad told me not to worry, but what do they know? They’re not lawyers like Tim’s father. Is it possible that they could really lock me up?
The two cops take us to a dingy, windowless room with a long, plastic-topped table and then leave. I see immediately that the doctor isn’t there. I tell myself not to hope that he might show up later.
Tim’s father is there, of course, but not his mother. I’m very relieved to see that Captain Kroll and the other cop who was with him at Tim’s house are sitting at the table too. There is also a senior cop with a very large badge, who exudes an air of self-importance. The other man at the table is wearing a business suit and is very well groomed. Is he a lawyer or what? Nobody tells us. Finally, there is a woman who takes notes. And the younger cop from the day before also tapes the proceedings.
The man in the business suit does the questioning. He is not impolite, but he is very businesslike and does not smile. I start out by telling the same story I told them yesterday, exactly what I remembered before going to the doctor. When I get to the part about the publishing company, I stop and ask Tim’s father, “Did you call them again?”
“We’re the ones who are asking the questions,” Tim’s father says.
“Okay, but maybe he showed up there later than he expected. Maybe he—”
“If he w
ere there, we wouldn’t need to be doing this, would we?” the man in the suit says. “Just go on with your story, please.”
I sigh and continue. I tell them about the little argument with Tim and how, after that, I blanked out and didn’t remember anything until the next morning and ran around looking for Tim and checked my wallet and then drove home. “At least, that’s all I remembered yesterday,” I add.
“I see. Your memory has improved since then,” Tim’s father says sarcastically.
The man in the suit gives him a look, and Tim’s father snaps his mouth shut. “Can you explain what you mean by that?” the man in the suit asks me.
“This officer here”—I nod at Captain Kroll—“told us the name of a doctor, a psychologist, who specializes in people who have memory lapses. You said there were several other cases around here similar to this one, right?”
“Yes, there were,” Captain Kroll agrees.
“But not with missing persons—and money,” Tim’s father puts in.
The man in the suit gives him another look and then says to me, “Please continue with what you were saying.”
I tell them we went to Dr. Viridian and what he said about fugal amnesia and hypnosis. I tell them that he hypnotized me and that under hypnosis I had a memory of what happened during the time I blanked out—a memory that was still very clear after he woke me up. Then I hesitate.
“Yes? Will you tell us what you remember?”
I glance over at Mom, then back to the man in the suit. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s what I remember. The doctor said he has many patients who have similar memories and that there are scientists who take these people’s memories very seriously. We left the doctor a message to come here today but … I guess he couldn’t make it.”
“We’d just like to know what you remember, please.”
I feel horribly embarrassed, but I know I have to tell them. Even if the doctor doesn’t show up today, I’m sure they’ll ask him about it later, to check my story out. Anyway, there is nothing else I can tell them. I tell them about the little greenish men and the spaceship and how they are trying to save the world, but they have to be secretive about it, so they train Earth people to do it. And that’s why they’re keeping Tim, and they’ll bring him back in a week.
The Night the Heads Came Page 3