“Heh!” I called out.
Nothing.
“I’m not--”
“Remain still, Sir,” one of them commanded. “Help is coming.”
Did he mean help for me or help for them?
“I’m hurt,” I shouted back. “I think my head’s bashed in! I need an ambulance!”
“Help is coming, Sir.”
“Who are you guys? Forest rangers? Where am I? Oregon?”
No response. I dared a small step forward. They were, I saw, all wearing some kind of uniform-type jumpsuit that looked military to me, though I couldn’t place what. Through my bumbling and disorientation I did manage to figure out that I was in the hands of some special kind of group which sent my heart thumping even more wildly as I pictured what kind of kill-em-all good ol’ boy militia might be calling these woods home. The kind of folks who don’t take kindly to a spaceship dropping in on them.
“Look,” I said in forced rigid calm. “I’m Floridian! My name’s Mark Hemmings. I’m hurt, dammit! Don’t you have a medic or something?”
“Certainly, Mr. Hemmings,” a warm and reassuring voice called over the din of the still rotating helicopter blades. “As a matter of fact,” the man said slipping through the cordon of men around me, “I’m a doctor. And I’m here to help you.” His voice was compelling and earnest, just the sort you wanted to hear when you were in dire need.
“You won’t believe what happened to me,” I jabbered in a rush of relief, “but that spaceship over there proves it. I was kidnapped, I was taken by--”
“By aliens, Mr. Hemmings, we know. We are quite knowledgeable about this sort of thing. Who else is in the craft?”
“No one. I stole it. Look, I need help here. Take me to a hospital. I’ve got insurance. I don’t have the card with me, but I’ve got student insurance.”
“Don’t worry about that, Mr. Hemmings. We are going to take care of you.”
The way he said that made me wince. He was being too patient, too determined to control the excitement in his voice. His eyes shifted from me to the ship and back again, like a kid greedily sizing up presents under the Christmas tree. He appeared to be about forty-five years old, twenty years older than me. He wasn’t wearing a jumpsuit like the others but a white lab coat. Who wears a white lab coat into a forest at night? It was as if he was deliberately announcing he was a doctor, sort of a have-faith-in-me statement. His salt and pepper hair was a bit too long, curling round at the nape of his neck trying too hard to still look the rebel. His face was both handsome and fatherly though, and his build was solid. A cut glass brandy decanter kind of man. He was six feet tall and looked like he could take any of the younger men scurrying about him easily, or even me for that matter, and I’m no slouch. When he looked at me, however, his smile was genuine and friendly.
“If there’s no one else in that ship, who flew it here?” another voice demanded.
I turned and saw a bear of a man, about fifty years old. He was dressed in what was unmistakably an Air Force uniform. I didn’t know how to tell rank from such a uniform, but from the glittering metal on his, I knew he had to be pretty high up there. Unlike the doctor, his hair was a standard military cut. His face was puffy. It was his hands I noticed the most though, they looked like giant meat cleavers that could crush my skull like an eggshell. Something about him was reptilian --his eyes I think-- but his voice was the most pleasant silken voice I’ve ever heard. It forced me into answering.
“I did,” I said as agreeably as possible. Here was every I-am-God law professor I had ever miserably faced. “I stole it from the aliens.”
“We’re here to help you,” he smiled congenially while his eyes bored into me. “I’m General Peerless and this is Dr. Montgomery.”
I wasn’t so sure I wanted their help. Something felt wrong. The Doctor and the General must have sensed my apprehension because without warning I was seized, a needle plunged into my arm, and I was laid down on a large cradle-like device, strapped in and carried off toward a helicopter.
“This is it,” I heard the Doctor say quietly to the General. “This is the break we’ve been waiting for.”
“Incredible,” the General said. Before I drifted off, I saw his stare fixed on me in delighted fascination.
CHAPTER THREE
Whatever they gave me that night left me in kind of a twilight world where the pain was gone and I felt pretty darn good. Not too coherent mind you, but pretty good. I knew I was in the helicopter with the doctor examining me. He was barking orders, to who I don’t know, but always he was smiling that warm smile at me. Oddly, wherever we were going didn’t seem too important to me. It was a long ride which I didn’t really want to end, being happily ensconced in the little pink cloud my mind was floating in.
Finally I felt the helicopter land, saw many hands reach up for me, and felt myself being strapped onto a gurney. I didn’t mind. A hospital was what I’d wanted though I couldn’t remember why. I was wheeled flat on my back into an immense hall shaped like a Quonset hut, domelike, but large enough to cover a football field. I didn’t catch sight of the entrance I’d come through, but I could see the far end of the hall which was made entirely of plate glass windows, floor to roof. Through the windows I saw a huge stone terrace and beyond that a forest.
A scenic view, I fancied. The hall itself was lovely, like an exquisite great library, appointed to perfection, a magnificent understatement. Potted trees, lush sofas, shelves full of books, oriental rugs placed carefully about, and vibrant bright paintings were everywhere. I am in somebody’s palace I thought exultantly inhaling the pricey smell of maroon leather, just as it registered on me that there were also people around, all of whom were staring at me.
Many of the people appeared to be my escorts. I had an entourage! Others at a distance just continued to stare. Whaterya’ll lookin’ at, I wanted to shout, but it didn’t seem quite worth the effort. Several of them smiled a little hopefully and waved to labcoat-in-the-woods Dr. Whatsisname. Faces vanished past me, all kinds of faces. Men, women, all ages. No children. All staring. That’s when I saw her.
I stared at her because she was my age and she was, as my father would have happily commented, a real looker. A black woman, petite with short cropped hair, standing quite a distance from my little group. She was wearing faded blue jeans and a T-shirt that clung tightly to her perfect form. I flashed her my best hi-there smile but what I got back surprised me, even in the drugged stupid state I was in. Her look was of pity, sheer pity.
TRUST NOT, I heard, and went to sit bolt upright, but the straps on the gurney held me back. The message had come from her I was sure, but she hadn’t said anything. She had spoken the way the aliens had, but nobody else could do that, right? Only me. I’d been kidnapped and I’d been taught how to communicate with them, and I’d gotten back. I was, for the first time in my life, unique. So how come she could do it too? I wanted to call out to her, but the gurney was moving at a fast clip and she passed from view.
I was wheeled almost directly up to the wall of windows and I got a good look through them. There was indeed a large outdoor terrace complete with patio furniture placed neatly about, the terrace itself ending at a wall several people were sitting on, looking out at the view below. It was set on a cliff of sorts, with treetops visible below and a forest ending at the shore of a shimmering lake. On each side of the lake there was a small mountain just large enough to obscure the view beyond. I expected to be wheeled out onto the terrace, but I was wheeled to the left, through a hallway extending out from the great hall I was leaving. There were people in this small hallway too, but they didn’t seem to be like the people I’d just seen. They were staring at me as well, but in a different manner. Not so much curiosity, more like determination, and these people were all wearing uniforms. Some of the uniforms looked military, some looked maintenance, but most looked medical. Thank God I bought the student health insurance, I sighed mentally. I’m covered for all of this. But how do I fill out th
e claim form so anyone believes it? If the insurance company won’t pay, I’ll sue. Represent myself, soon as I get back to law school, graduate, get admitted to the Bar.
A faint prick in my arm and I fell asleep. I didn’t wake up until the following morning. It was just as well I suppose, probably better I don’t know what intrusive and humiliating tests they performed on me, presumably in front of an audience.
I opened my eyes to sunshine and felt moved to tears from such a sight. I was in a sparkling white bed someone had thoughtfully elevated the head of, so upon awakening my first sight was of a window across the room and a brilliant green forest descending below it. I surveyed the room quickly. It was a bedroom not a hospital room, and very comfortably decorated. Bureaus, night stands, even a desk, chair and sofa, all looked new. There were three closed doors: closet, bathroom and exit, I figured. The one disconcerting thing in the room was the man sleeping sprawled in a recliner chair next to my bed, the doctor I’d met in the forest the night before. On the floor beside him I spotted a plastic chart of the type hospitals use regarding patients. My chart? Quietly I reached to retrieve it but the rustling I made caused the doctor to snap instantly awake.
“Ah, Mr. Hemmings,” he smiled amiably, his face suddenly shining with anticipation. “Awake at last. You got a nasty bump on the head there but nothing to worry about. I’ll give you medication for any headaches you may have. How are you feeling?”
Lousy I wanted to say. “Okay,” I said.
“That’s surprising. Most people after your, uh, experience, feel quite unwell. Can you tell me what happened? What do you remember?”
“You’re not gonna believe it.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“Do you believe in aliens? Space aliens?”
“Most assuredly.”
“Don’t b.s. me.”
“I’m definitely not doing that, Mr. Hemmings. I do believe in aliens. Just tell me what you remember. Please.”
“I was kidnapped by them --aliens in a spaceship! That ship I flew back is one of theirs.”
“Extraordinary,” he whispered.
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“I know you are, Mr. Hemmings. We have the ship right here.”
“Here?”
“You’re at a very special facility, one that helps people like yourself. It’s just so unusual that you remember your encounter with the aliens. Most people don’t.”
“You know about those aliens? Who are you people?”
He smiled a warm smile, like he was about to bestow a first set of car keys on an overeager teenager.
“You remember about the aliens but you probably don’t remember much about last night. You were very... shaken up. My name is Dr. Montgomery. Nathan Montgomery. I’m the primary care physician of Little Island which is where you are. And everyone here is here to help with your care, your complete care.”
I wanted so much to trust this man. “Thank you,” I responded warily. “But I can’t stay long. I’m a law student. I’ve got to get back.”
“We’ve notified the Dean of your absence, Mr. Hemmings. Don’t worry about it. You need rest, rest and recuperation. And,” he added with an almost sly expectancy in his voice, “to be around others who’ve had the same experience as you. You’ll find it very supportive.”
Others, I thought. I remembered the girl who’d sent the message. What was it? TRUST NOT. Don’t trust Dr. Montgomery? The world in general? It was then that I noticed the IV tube attached to my arm.
“Here,” he said at once, “let me take care of that.” He extracted the needle painlessly from my arm. “Like most of the returnees, you were dehydrated. We like to give some vitamins too, and a few antibiotics in case your immune system’s down.”
While he was talking he picked up the telephone on a nightstand. “Yes,” he said into the receiver quite cheerily. “Thank you.” He hung up. His actions made me think I should call somebody (and I know it’s a painfully sad commentary on my life) but I couldn’t think of who.
“Are you government?” I blurted out.
“Very astute, Mr. Hemmings. Yes, we’re the government. I work for a scientific organization within the government. Sorry, but even the name of it is classified. General Peerless --you met him last night but might not remember-- is Air Force. We’re a mixture around here. But we’re all dedicated to one thing: helping returnees like yourself recover. And to help you to remember what happened to you, though that doesn’t seem to be a problem in your case.” He looked at me hopefully.
I am in a world of heavy duty shit I cringed, apprehension starting to percolate through my stomach like tiny crystal shards.
The door opened and in walked two men in gleaming white uniforms, nurses or orderlies, I couldn’t tell which. The Doctor flashed another smile at me. “These men will help you get dressed,” he pronounced. “I guarantee that will make you feel better. Then perhaps you’ll join me for breakfast on the terrace. It’s a glorious morning!”
He was grinning. I got the acutely uncomfortable feeling that it wasn’t the weather making him so exuberant, it was me. I could almost feel him itching to write it down: pt. alert, coherent, denies any c/os. Full debrief ASAP.
He sauntered out of the room and I swear I heard him whistling down a hallway outside.
Now I think I’m a person who has taken some rather hard knocks in life, the death of my father when I was still pretty much a kid, my mom’s death (which I won’t go into here) and last but most certainly not least, my “experience” as the good doctor called it. In short, life has made me --whether I would have wanted it or not-- not a crybaby. It had instead provided me with forced opportunities for vivid confrontations with my own frailties, so I knew what those frailties were, though the knowing didn’t count for much.
I wanted to belong. Like a little kid I suppose, but I felt so adrift then, wanting to be part of some group, a camaraderie kind of thing. That’s why, even though every instinct in me screamed I should leave Little Island at once, there was also a small voice whispering that these people were my friends, Little Island my snug, safe home, and maybe I belonged there, maybe I could be happy there. Thank goodness Caroline kicked my butt hard when I got to thinking that way.
I came to call her Caroline of the Beautiful Eyes. Chocolate skin and a dazzling smile, but it was her eyes that could capture me with the slightest glance.
The orderlies, or whatever they were, helped me wash and dress, then plunked me down in a wheelchair. I’d discovered (but they’d somehow known) that my wobbly legs were unreliable. Dr. Montgomery had been right about the dressing making me feel better, but my head still hurt in dull throbbing waves. I was afraid of more of their “medication” though, so I said nothing. Suffer in silence, that’s always been my motto. Yeah, right.
I was wheeled out of my room and through hallways, hallways and more hallways. All of them were beautiful, with large and frequent plate glass windows giving a breathtaking view of a forest beyond. The whole complex, I saw, was connected through these hallways. I saw many doors but none of them appeared to open to the outdoors. After a while, despite the airy beauty of the place, I couldn’t help but feel sealed-in, until I was finally brought back to the huge hall I’d entered the night before. I was deposited outdoors onto the terrace.
“Mr. Hemmings,” a familiar voice boomed.
“Dr. Montgomery,” I said, extending my hand.
He shook it vigorously, pushing my wheelchair up to a patio table and sitting down as well. A steward appeared at the table.
“Coffee,” the Doctor smiled up at the man, “and the works.”
I opened my mouth to place my own order, but the steward darted away.
“Isn’t this a view!” the Doctor said waving his arms (I noticed the biceps).
For a moment I thought of walking over to the wall and looking down the cliff --to see how sheer the drop was-- until I remembered with my rubbery legs I’d probably fall flat on my face.
“Very nice,” I said as coolly as possible. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like some information.”
“Of course. Ask anything.”
“Where is this place?”
“We’re in Washington state.”
“What do you do here?”
“Oh I thought I’d made that clear. We assist returnees. People who’ve had the same experience as you.”
“All these people were kidnapped by aliens? There’s gotta be--”
“Thirty-three,” he said, “with you.”
“That’s amazing! I thought I was the only one. The only credible one.”
“Absolutely not, Mr. Hemmings. May I call you Mark? Call me whatever you wish, Mark. Nathan, Nate, whatever makes you comfortable. Actually there are many more returnees than the thirty-three people here now. Many returnees have left, and the government didn’t even start collecting, er, I mean providing, a facility like this until several years ago.”
“You mean this alien kidnapping, it’s a huge problem?”
“It’s an important situation.”
“What’s the government doing about it?”
“Ah,” he said, not in reaction to me but to the platefuls of food being placed before him. Eggs, sausage, muffins, pastries, everything any red-blooded American at breakfast time would cast caution to the wind for. Before me, the steward placed a small bowl of oatmeal and watery looking milk. “Best to start slow,” the doctor said, eyeing my oatmeal and stuffing two thick sausages into his mouth. “Well,” he said conspiratorially, “maybe we can sneak just a little.” He pushed a small plate with half a muffin and a spoonful of scrambled eggs on it toward me. I wolfed it down, unbearably hungry for more. “The government,” he continued, “is doing all it can. Studying the situation. We know quite a bit now, these aliens don’t appear to be a threat.”
“Not a threat! Are you crazy? They pick people up against their will, transport them God knows where, do God knows what to them, and you say they’re not a threat?” I was incredulous.
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