The Goldilocks Zone

by David D. Luxton

  “I will,” I said. I felt awkward about our cursory meeting, but I was there on a mission, not to regain his friendship or make amends. I was there to witness and prove, without any shadow of doubt, that the entire event was a government mind control operation. I was going to pull the poles on this circus tent and shed light on the truth as an investigative journalist.

  I ambled up to the tent and the new Learning Center where thirty or so people were gathered. Some were touring the freshly painted building; others were standing or sitting under gas heaters around the tent where coffee was brewing in BUNNs, and yogurt bars were neatly stacked on biodegradable plates. I estimated that half of the visitors were press, with the other half a mix of government types and local luminaries, including several City Council members and the mayors of Missoula and Clinton.

  I made my way through the few exhibits on display—artist renderings of large-headed Proximians, star maps, retro sci-fi film posters from the Fifties. To my surprise, Jack Clark was there, inspecting one of Daniel’s 3D-printed models of a Proximian spacecraft. With an arrival event program securely tucked under one arm, he lifted his free arm to tip his Stetson-style hat at me.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, shaking his hand.

  “I got an invitation at the last minute. I couldn’t say no to this.” He grinned. “This may be my chance to finally see a UFO.”

  “I thought it was only going to be press and government types.”

  “Well, I made the list.” Jack opened his program. “Says here that there’s a giant landing strip in the form of a hexagram. Have you seen it?”

  “No, but I heard they put it out on the south pasture.”

  “Let’s go take a peek before it gets dark. What do you say?”

  “Why not?” I wanted to see it and assess whether or not Jack was under the influence of mind control.

  We synced strides on our southerly trek beyond the main house. A giant hexagram made of river stones was spread out in the grass, surrounded by yellow barrier tape, apparently to keep onlookers out of the area. Extra reams of tape delineated a second area, set aside for the press corps. A mess of scaffolds, bleachers, and a portable PA system rose up on one side. On the other side, more bleachers, and stretching across the crux was what appeared to be a VIP box about twenty feet wide, screened in by Plexiglas. The entire scene reminded me of a smaller, more intimate version of the arrival platform on the backside of Devil’s Tower in Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

  “Interesting shape for a landing strip, don’t you think?” I asked, to assay Jack’s opinion on it.

  “It’s not a landing strip. It says on page 3 that it’s an interdimensional portal,” Jack explained.

  My hope that he was free from mind control was fading. “Do you believe all of this, Jack? That the Proximians are coming here to deliver a message through Daniel?”

  He grinned. “Don’t you?”

  His excitement wasn’t like him at all. A knot formed in the pit of my stomach. I was reluctant to utter any doubts for fear my words would get back to Daniel. “I guess we’ll find out.”

  He smiled. “My entire life, Ben, I’ve felt like a cat chasing the little red dot of a laser toy across the floor. Every time I thought I’d caught the answer, it moved. I got to the point where I wondered if the answer I was chasing was real at all. But now I’m convinced I’m going to have the answer.”

  “Are you worried at all about this? I mean, what if it doesn’t go well?”

  “Oh, I’m sure it will be fine. If the Proximians wanted to destroy us, they would have done it already.”

  Strange comfort.

  Jack continued. “Do you think that there will be convincing evidence collected tonight?”

  “I’ve got a couple other MUFON guys with me and volunteer observers and field investigator crews on alert in five states.” He smiled widely. “This is going to be incredible, and we’ve got the best seat in the house.”

  I knew then that he was gone—three sheets to radio-controlled nanotech. I felt sorry for him. He’d been a good friend during my abduction ordeal and investigations that followed.

  We returned to the Learning Center and the circus tent. I mingled but refused the refreshments. I didn’t want to risk ingesting anything that would set me back after the past month of careful purging, heavy metal detoxes, and intense mental focus exercises. My mind was clear and loyal to the truth, and I intended to keep it that way.

  By 4 p.m., the number of visitors had doubled. A special entourage arrived and headed to the VIP area of the landing zone. I didn’t see who it was, but assumed it was someone from the government or perhaps one of Daniel’s celebrity followers. It wouldn’t have surprised me if it was Brad or Tom.

  At five, Mike, wielding a megaphone, commanded the crowd to gather at the landing zone in the south pasture. I had a fairly good view of the VIP box from my position. Sitting in it were Nadine, Mr. Petulli, the mayors, and to my surprise, Congressman Young! I knew he was involved, and his presence there that night proved it! I was hoping that Brett and Brenda were zooming in with their cameras this very moment.

  Mike flipped the large lights on as soon as the sun set, illuminating the giant hexagram in a pale glow. A half-moon rose in the east, just as Brett had said it would. He needed it for the night vision cameras and goggles.

  Daniel took to the PA, speaking in a cool, confident tone. “Thank you, everyone, please take your seats. Soon, our Proximian comrades will arrive. Do not panic. They will speak through me, until they speak directly. Please refer to pages six through eight in the program.”

  People shuffled through their programs.

  Still positioned on the outside of the hexagram, Daniel announced that the arrival was imminent. He ordered everyone to stow their programs, face the center of the hexagram, and go down on their right knee as a show of humility. The crowd complied without hesitation. Jack looked up at me, and I went down, too.

  Daniel stripped naked and headed into the hexagram center. He settled into a full lotus and began to mumble words inaudible from my position. Everyone had their eyes on him and were eerily silent. I hadn’t really thought about it until then, but the whole scene resembled a ritual. Daniel was about to make a deal with preterhuman intelligences who were to appear through an interdimensional portal. Brenda was right in calling them Culties.

  Daniel’s meditation went on for several minutes. I kept glancing up into the moonlit sky. Nothing seemed to be happening. Suddenly, Daniel threw his head back and flung his arms wide. Seemingly to welcome something appearing in the sky. He then shifted into the kneeling position like everyone else.

  The crowd let out a gasp in strange unison, everyone’s gaze fixated on the space above Daniel. More gasps and awe. A few people laughed and giggled out of joy or nervousness. I scanned the skies. I saw nothing. Mind control! Everyone was under the influence except me! Were Brett and Brenda getting all of this on video?

  Daniel turned and looked at me, gesturing for me to join him in the circle.

  “He’s calling you,” Jack whispered.

  “I see that,” I whispered back. Had he noticed I wasn’t affected by the radio beams? I stayed down on my knee. There was no way that I was going to be part of this.

  “He wants you to go out there,” Jack said. “You’d better go.”

  Daniel gestured to me again. I could feel eyes on me. The silence of the crowd and their stares were overwhelming. Jack gave me a nudge. I gave in and walked out to Daniel. When I got within a few feet, he turned to face me. “Sit with me, son,” he said softly, his pupils dilating, the whites diminishing before my eyes. “Take off your clothes,” he said, pointing upward. “They want you to.”

  I unzipped my jacket slowly, thinking, what have I gotten myself into? A churn of emotions welled up: anger, sadness, even pity.

  “Your pants, everything,” Daniel said, “and kneel.”

  I stopped. “Daniel, I can’t do this.”

  “Ben,
you have to. The Proximians are here. Don’t you see their craft? It’s beautiful.” He pointed toward the sky. “Strip down and kneel with me. They’re about to exit their craft and appear before us to deliver the message they want us to share with the world.”

  My heart pounded. I glanced up and then back at Daniel. “There’s nothing there.”

  Daniel’s eyes were fully dilated now, all black. He gritted his teeth. “Do it now or there will be severe consequences for us all. They command you.”

  I stood, frozen. I saw Nadine erect against the Plexiglas of the VIP section of the bleachers. Around her, an army of eyes had me scoped in the crosshairs. My head said, Make a run for it, but my feet stayed nailed to the earth.

  “No Daniel,” I shot back, “I’m not doing this.” As I turned to walk away, a wave of fear surged over me, and I felt myself slipping, legs shaking, my body. I cursed the sensation off and reclaimed my physical self. Nerves could be dealt with later. I strove to focus.

  Mike and Chester bolted at me and grabbed me by both arms.

  “Bring him over here, strip him and make him kneel,” snarled Daniel.

  Mike put me into a walking head lock.

  “No!” I yelled, struggling. Chester began ripping at my clothes.

  “Strip him bare and make him kneel,” Daniel repeated.

  “I’ll snap your neck if you don’t do it,” Mike said into my ear.

  Suddenly, a black object darted out of the dark sky and slammed into Daniel’s back, thrusting him face forward onto the ground. He let out a yelp, and Mike and Chester pivoted their attention to him. Pieces of drone fuselage spewed in all directions. I broke free and made a dash for it, heading west in the direction of Brett and Brenda up on the ridge. Before I made it to the edge of the hexagram, the kneeling crowd of reporters leaped up in unison, as if commanded to stop me. I pushed through the zombie press corps and sprinted across the pasture to the tree line with Mike, Chester, and a cadre of security close behind.

  I charged into the dark woods and began the ascent up to the ridge. What had Brett’s map shown? Luckily, memory served and I made it to the small clearing and escape point. A few minutes later I found Brett and Brenda crouched behind the stump of a fallen ponderosa, Brett kitted out in winter tactical clothes with his tactical pack and crossbow strapped over his shoulder, his face camouflaged by black and white face paint. Brenda was in her white winter jacket, ski hat and boots, digital video camera in hand.

  “Did you get it on film?” I pressed, trying to suck in enough oxygen to keep from passing out.

  “Yeah, we got it,” Brenda said.

  “What in God’s name was going on down there?” Brett asked.

  “Crazy time,” I said, catching my breath. “People thought they were seeing a craft in the sky. Definitely mass hallucination. What did you see from up here?”

  “Just a bunch of people standing around a giant hexagram with a naked man in the middle of it. Told you it was a cult,” Brenda said.

  “Yeah, you were right, but it’s more than that. They were all under the effects of mind-altering radio beams, their eyes dilated. Congressman Young was there, too, but with Nadine in an EMF-shielded hut.” I smiled. “I fucking knew it! I told you it was a government plot! Are you absolutely sure you got it all on video? What about the drone video?”

  “We got it,” Brett said, “but you have to buy me another drone. If I hadn’t flown it down to save your ass, you’d be getting butt raped by now.”

  “How far is the Jeep?” I asked. My pursuers couldn’t be too far behind.

  “Right where I left it, on the other side of the ridge to the west. Maybe half a klick. Follow me,” Brett said, taking the lead.

  We went down a hill through a thicket of trees, following a trail into a valley. Snow had been blown into the shaded ravine, so we stepped carefully over river stones and tree roots at the edge of the stream. A ghostly howl ripped from above, scaring the shit out of me.

  “Did you hear that?”

  “It’s an owl,” Brenda said.

  Brett slipped on a rock and into the icy water. He reached out to me. “Help me up, bro, my leg is fucked.”

  I grabbed his hand and pulled him up. He grunted and threw his left arm over my shoulder. “Jesus, my leg is jacked. I can’t walk.” His two-hundred-pound body limped along beside me. We heard men yelling in the distance.

  Brenda trailed behind. “If they catch us, they’re going to fucking kill us, just like my aunt!”

  “Not if they don’t catch us. Keep going.” To Brett, I said, “We might just need your crossbow.”

  Brett had the jeep covered in camouflage netting, snow, and spruce boughs. He leaned on the hood. “I can’t feel my foot.” I could see blood on his pants leg. He threw the keys to me. “You’re going to have to drive.”

  Brenda and I cleared off the Jeep. I climbed into the driver’s seat and got it started. Brett hobbled into the passenger seat, and Brenda climbed in back.

  “Keep the lights off,” Brett said, reaching over and toggling his secret all lights off switch. He handed me his night vision goggles. “Wear these.”

  I slid on the goggles, slammed the Jeep in gear, backed around, and headed down the ridge, going as fast and cautiously as possible on the snow-covered one-lane fire road.

  Brett pulled up his blood-soaked pant leg. It looked like a compound fracture just above his ankle. “I’m going to need a hospital, soon.” His voice quivered from the cold.

  It had all been my idea, but we had the videos and three eye-witness testimonies. The mission had been worth it if we could get off the mountain and the video up on the Internet.

  “We can’t go back to the motel—or to Brenda’s place,” I said.

  “Drop me at the hospital and get out of town,” Brett said, tying a tourniquet with some rip cord he took from the glove box.

  “I’m not about to just leave you there,” I said. “What if they come for you at the hospital?”

  “What choice do you have?”

  “There’s a light above us, following us,” Brenda shouted.

  “What do you mean a light?” I asked, my eyes on the glowing, pale green road. Had a government helicopter been called in? If they had infrared, they already had us in their sights.

  Brett stuck his head out the window, looking behind us and upwards. “Looks like a helicopter or something.”

  “Or something?” I asked. I glanced in the rear view to see for myself but was blinded by the brightness caused by the light amplifier in the night vision goggles.

  “Watch out!” Brett shouted.

  Several Sheriff’s Department cruisers were ahead, blocking the way. I swerved out of instinct and drove us off-road and down a hill, the Jeep bouncing wildly as we barreled through the darkness.

  “Fuck, dude!” Brett bellowed. “You’re going to lose it!”

  Tree branches and snow slammed into the windshield. I pumped the brakes to slow us down, only to lose control and slam into a tree. The airbags exploded, throwing me back into the seat. Brett screamed in pain.

  I looked back at Brenda. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. No, I don’t know.”

  Lights from police vehicles were approaching. Above, the bright light shone on us. I could hear the chugging blades of a helicopter. Next thing I knew, the police were at the Jeep and the lanky deputy I’d met on my second day in Missoula was pulling me from the vehicle.

  “Get on the ground, punk!” he yelled.

  Boot on my back, he slapped zip tie cuffs over my wrists and yelled at Brenda to stay put until another deputy came around and pulled her out. They hauled Brett out too, with him yelling in agony. The deputy led me up the hill and put me into his car. Brenda and Brett were getting into other cars. We took off down the road and eventually arrived at the Sheriff’s Station where I was thrown into a solitary cell. The next morning, they led me out the back in handcuffs and loaded me into an ambulance.

  “Where are you taking me?”r />
  “To have your brain checked,” said the deputy, as he slammed the door shut.

  41: The Truth

  I was in a bed of molded plastic in a small, brightly lit room. Someone had dressed me in heather gray sweatpants and sweatshirt. I could see a drain in the middle of the vinyl floor. I smelled pungent Lysol. The door to the room, heavy with a small portal of a window, was open.

  I’d been in the psychiatric hospital for less than twenty-four hours, its location unknown to me. They’d given me something that made me sleep. Involuntary commitment for an evaluation. But why? And why here? And where were Brett and Brenda? Brett must be in the hospital somewhere. Was Brenda in jail?

  I threw my bare feet over the edge of the bed and slipped them into the pair of Salk SureGrip Terries. I padded out into the hall and advanced slowly to a nurse’s station where I found two large men in white coats, one on a computer, the other flirting with a nurse.

  “You are missing dinner,” the nurse said. Why don’t you go to the day room and eat something?”

  “Can I use a phone?” I thought perhaps I could try to call someone for help, although I wasn’t sure who.

  She smiled and turned away. “Not now. It’s dinnertime. Maybe later,” she muttered.

  “Can I leave?”

  She chuckled. “No. You have to stay here. Go and eat.”

  “For how long?”

  She sighed. “You’ll need to talk to the psychiatrist.”

  “When can I do that?”

  “On Monday, when she’s in the office.”

  “What about my friends Brett and Brenda? Where are they?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “What hospital is this?”

  “This is a military hospital,” she said, sounding annoyed this time.

  A Military psychiatric hospital? This couldn’t be good. “For an evaluation? Why?”

  “Talk to the psychiatrist. Now go eat.”