(door closes)
"Water bottle huh?"
"Yep."
"I wouldn't have let him back there. He was clearly tripping on something.
"Yeah well...whatever."
My partner let out a long sigh, clutching her head and looking down at her blank phone screen. I didn't...remember...anything that had happened in that field. All I remembered was seeing bright lights come down from the sky--spinning around the forest--flashlights coming across the hills. And then I was back. Trembling, I looked back at Grace, "How long was I out there?" Her eyes grew wide, and the hand in which she held her phone started shaking. "I--I don't know, Phil. 15 minutes, maybe. Why?"
"Because I don't remember."
Grace looked like she'd just seen a ghost. Holding back her fear as she said so, she half laughed, "Did you hit your head, or...?"
"I---don't think so.”
She took a peek over her shoulder. “Its not that big of a deal. Don't worry about it.”
I looked back behind us. I saw a pair of flashlights peering through the woods. Somebody in a tan jacket kicked up dust, walking on down the side of the road and staring up at the forest. Something was sure going on. I knew it. I could feel it. I knew that Grace could sense that something was afoot, but she wasn't saying crap about it. She must have been in on it. Better not to say anything.
I gave Grace the cold shoulder until we go off our shifts about about midnight. I felt plum miserable. The moment I left the car, I could see she brightened up. Started taking a call of some kind about a kidnapper turning himself in. I was done for the day. I'd been up since seven o'clock in the morning. My truck was running on fumes too, so I made sure to stop to fill up my tank. When I pulled in, a man standing across the station from me start scowling out of the blue. I looked him up and down. Was he in on it? The man shuffled back towards the drivers side of his car, glancing back at me suspiciously, and going in to hide. I looked into his car as I walked by, an old Bronco. Didn't look like he had anything suspicious, but who knows. When I went into the gas station, he came out of his car, whistling like he didn't have a care in the world.
Right as soon as I stepped into the gas station, the clerk's eyes got all wide. The customer he was helping began to breath all heavy, and the two of them glared at each other. Almost on cue. “You wanted some cigarettes, huh?”, demanded the clerk, “What kind? You think I don't know what you're trying to do?”
“You—you must know my cousin. He must have told you about me and Marsha. Well listen, it's none of your damn business.”
“Nice try buddy. Get the hell out of my store.”
Goddammit. What was it with people today? The customer charged out—he just flung open the doors and ran to his car. But the funny thing was, just as soon as he left the parking lot, he turned back, walked right back up to the door, and got all pissed off again the second he started to open it. “Did you see that asshole?”, asked the clerk.
“Hell, I didn't understand a word of what was going on.”, I laughed. We laughed, I mean. He thought it was pretty funny too. Both of us just...you know. Kept on laughing and laughing. “Shit. Anyway. I was hoping I could put this on three.”, I said putting down a twenty dollar bill. “Sure thing officer.” Something sure was fishy, though. Something was going on in this town. I'm used to folks getting a little on edge when they see a uniformed officer around here, but not this nervous. All of them seemed to go right back to normal when they thought I wasn't looking...I--
Even this fella. He might think he's a good actor, but just the moment I looked away from him, he started scowling. Getting really angry looking. Real suspicious. Sweating bullets. “Man...I think I'm...I think I'm full of shit. I'm just...everyone hates me. Everyone thinks I'm stupid. I'm never going to be a fucking photographer. I...You probably do too. Don't you? Don't you?”, he demanded. I couldn't take it any more. I pulled out my gun. “Who the hell are you working for?”, I shouted.
“You're going to SHOOT ME?”, he yelled, “You think I'm afraid of you? Huh, bitch?”
“Listen, you're going to tell me who you're working for, and you're going to tell me right now. Don't think I don't know what's going on, buddy.”
“Who do I work for? Seven. Fucking. Eleven. Bitch.”
Just all of the sudden it clicked. For a second, I caught on to what was going on. Grace, the fellow in the parking lot, this asshole right here, they all did whatever I was doing. It was like I was controlling them—I--the clerk looked out the window like he'd just had a great epiphony about the dusty old ladder stickin out of the pickup truck that just pulled in. Maybe he really did realize something, I didn't know. I withdrew my gun and looked back at him, trying my hardest to calm down. Not really even acting like I was there anymore, the guy just kinda grimaced, and rolled his shoulders back, then stopped. Cooled down. Breathed in—and out. And in—and out. Almost matching the pace of my breathing, maybe a bit slower or faster, but you get the point.
I squinted a little bit, trying to see if I could maybe reach into his mind and tell him to just forget about what had just happened. He pressed his nose against the window and focused intensely on the truck—I guess not quite what I had in mind. Unless I got him to slam it into the...no. What are you doing Phillip? You ain't like this. Maybe you can't just wipe his memory, maybe he just starts...I don't know. Matching what you're thinking or...feeling or whatever. If I relaxed, he got a little bit calmer, sort of backed his nose away from the glass. But if I let myself get angry all over, by God, that fellow got redder than a ripe tomato, looked like he wanted to break that ladder with his teeth. Shoot. That easy. And it looked like it all...made sense to him. He just got sort of...overwhelmed I guess, by whatever I made him feel, so it just seemed like the normal thing to do to get suddenly fascinated and then pissed off about and then weakly aroused by the same piece of shit pickup truck sitting at a fuel pump, his mind getting pulled this way and that way—if I let my thought drift, I don't know, towards a nice painting I'd seen in a gallery lately, or a good warm beer, the clerk would smile real nice at whatever it was in front of him, and sorta appreciate it. If I pushed it the other way, thinking about, I don't know, paying taxes or that goddamn sensitivity training, the guy got real scared. Hell if this was a TV show or something, I'd probably watch it. Don't know what the plot'd be like, but I'd probably do when you run out of Game of Thrones or Breaking Bad, America's Next Top Model...I mean that last one was just an example, I was just saying shows that I could watch, not really shows that I watch. But that's not the point.
The Point. Right here. What the hell did this to me? I wandered into that field, behind that guy, and...it all gets blank. I wander into the field and—purple lights start swallowing me up—I remember everything sort of changing. My field of vision, like I was almost tipped halfway over inside my head, just a teeny bit outside of my body, looking around as the forest started spinning, and everything started filling with bright, and incoherent light. And then we were walking back—water bottle in hand—and everything still looked the same. Hell, it looked like that right now. I glanced down at my hands. They didn't normally look like that, did they? They weren't that far away. Or...normally that close? They weren't that—I guess that's it. Not that, for sure.
Well shit, I guess if I'm on TV or something I should probably pick up on what kind of TV show I'm in. Clearly I was abducted by aliens. I mean, I hate to say it, but it's the logical choice, right? The stranger across the counter from me, who'd previous been overcome with paranoid fascination about my necktie, was now laughing hysterically. Goddamn, I didn't look like that, did I? The two of us absolutely guffawed at one another—I don't know. Something about this seems a little bit sacrireligious. Makes me feel sacreligious at least. Being inside of this clerk and messing with his head like that. I don't mean in the gay way, I'm totally fine with that, I mean, not fine fine, but not discriminating or nothing. Come to think of it, I'm not to sure if that even is part of the gay way, which, I mean, I am totally fine with, if it is. But I didn't mean it like that, you know, gay. Anyway. Being inside him. I felt like I was hurting him.
He winced, sort of coming to his senses. “Whoa...what the...Sorry I—that was—weird. I'm not sure what I was--”
“I didn't see you do nothing.”, I lied, “Maybe you uh...maybe you smoked a bit too much of that...uh. That there ganja plant you got on your keychain.”
“Oh that? No, no, I'm Canadian. Or well, my parents are Canadian, I just went there.”
“It's alright son we've all done things we're ashamed of, but like I was saying, just put this on three.”
“I—Oh. Yeah.”
[sounds of getting into car, starting car]
I don't want to laugh about it, you know. I just...know I'll look so damn crazy if I look half as crazy as that fella back in the gas station did when he laughed, all wild eyed, forehead up, sort of shaking his arms like a little wind up monkey toy. But shit. I mean to hell with it. I—I mean, I wasn't working with a whole lot of logical explanations? That guy I took up to get the water bottle, did I think maybe he did it to me? Well hell no. I didn't think he'd have drugged me. I mean he could have drugged me, but I didn't remember anything. All there was was lights. Bright, bright lights. And out in front of that water treatment facility everyone always knows is up to something, you know, that big old conspiracy theory magnet. I hated to think of myself as that kind of wacky conspiracy theorist, but this all seemed real. I mean, there...were aliens...and they'd taken me...into their space ship...and they'd...done something to me. Wiped my memory clean. Maybe that guy wasn't even really human—maybe he was an alien. Joe? Jake? Whatever his name was...he could have just been looking through Earth television, and picking the most ordinary name he could think of. He mentioned he was from California—maybe he didn't know any other places. It seemed like he was lying about it when he said it. When I tried to remember the face he made when I asked him where he was from, he looked real worried. Or maybe not worried—just. Weird. He had something around him that just made him...stick out...as not human, as almost sinister. I remember it...being taken...he seemed to be lying about something. He stepped into a tiny gully and his eyes just...loomed up at me through this shaggy hair all covered in mud and grime...He looked into the forest and...the lights came down. Every try I made at remembering what happened next just rolled off, like a dodgeball bouncing off of a brick building, not even making a dent.
I swerved into oncoming traffic, before pulling my car onto the side of the road, panting and starting to feel my chest tighten like it was about to burst open. Cars swerved frantically around me—I turned over on my side to avoid the headlights, and felt my teeth chatter. Oh God. I was going insane. They were driving me out of my mind. “Are you watching this, you sons of bitches?”, I shouted at the roof, “Can you see me? Huh? Are you taking notes? You better be taking some grand fucking notes out there you assholes.” I ground my teeth against each other and held my hands over my head feeling my ears ringing. It couldn't be real. I was finally losing it, finally ready to go overboard—they'd watch me go out of control and ruin everything I had until I became completely gone, just...as part of some weird experiment. And everyone was in on it. Even Grace...even...I winced. She just couldn't be. I impulsively reached for my cell phone before some rational part of my brain realized that I was still controlling, I guess, the minds of every passing driver to my left. Besides. The government can watch your phones. I bet they watch you double if you're part of an experiment. I pulled back onto the main road and sped out of town. Slamming my brakes in front of a little country store with its lights off, I hustled onto the porch and ripped the payphone from the wall. I shoved three quarters into the slot and quickly dialed her number.
“Hello, who is this?”
“I needed to talk to you Grace. Where are you now?”
“I'm at a crime scene, about to have a migraine, running on nothing but caffeine pills and the love of Jesus. Bless your heart, Phillip you sound like a crazy person. And are you calling me from a payphone?”
“Shh. I think...I think that something happened to me tonight...I...listen. I trust you Grace. We need to talk about this without the phone. This is serious.”
“Phillip, honey, I think that fella out there might have drugged you or something, you are sounding like you are...not well. Okay. I—excuse me. I'm getting a call from a payphone somewhere, I think it's Phillip. He is not sounding well—Yeah, I can go check on him. Yeah. Okay. Okay. Okay Phillip? Phillip, I'm out to get you, okay? Where are you.”
“Meet me in front of my house, okay?”
“No, Phillip. Do not drive—do not drive there. Phillip? Phillip?
______
“I can drive just fine, lady.”
“Phillip, you should not have done that, you know better...”, Grace immediately started to lighten up as soon as she came on to the porch. Focusing real hard on her, I tried to think of all the saddest things I could think of. One by one. My ex-wife leaving me for another man. My son smoking marijuana. The way this town is going. Digging deeper and deeper, eventually, I watched Grace start to break down into tears. Studying my reflection in the window as this happened, it looked like I just started to frown a little bit. I cracked my neck and loosening my hold over what she was feeling. Grace sniffled, suddenly uncomfortable and embarrassed. “Huh. That was strange, don't you think?”
“Well...yeah. I just. I forgot what I was so mad about when I got here and then...just started thinking of my poor aunt—her cat ran away three years ago and...well actually. That seems kind of funny that I'd cry about that. I guess grief really does come in waves.”
“I did that to you Grace. I did that to you with my mind. I—I don't think that guy back there was a human. I think he was an alien, and I think he did something to me, and I--” Grace started panicking along with me, “Calm down! You're going insane! You're—freaking out. Shit Phillip. That's a water treatment facility with a handful of geeks sitting on computers listening to peoples phone calls all day in a bunker. They didn't do anything to you. I think you need to go in...go to...” Grace started to lose interest in what she was saying mid sentence, “Fuck it.”, she said, throwing up her hands and stomping off to the car. She walked out to the lawn, staring down, until I started trying to remember something real interesting I'd read this morning about the life of Vincent Van Gogh. Kneeling down, she started gazing at something in the grass, filled with intense interest. I pulled back. “Well Grace. That must be some really interesting dog shit right there.”
“No. I was just thinking—well...Hey. What the hell Phillip? This...this is...this is...not real. No. No no. He drugged me to. I'm...this is LSD. We need to get checked out right now Phillip, oh my God.”
“LSD Grace? Well thats funny. I seem to remember hearing that that water treatment facility already has a checkered history with that particular substance.”
“Don't be ridiculous.”, she squinted, before remembering that I'd made her stare at a piece of dog shit and cry about a cat that ran away three years ago, “I mean...they wouldn't...do that to us.”
“Oh, no. No, they shut experiments down there years ago. Years, right? I mean, that's why we still aren't allowed back there without an escort, that's why the fence is still electrified, that's why weird shit always happens there.”
“Shut up Phillip this is...Okay. I give it to you. It sounds credible. But I was...I was...”
“You're afraid of me now.”
“[very hesitant, blunted] No...no. I'm...not afraid of you I just...I'm just trying to be...rational.”
“Rational. I see. Why don't you try finding one other rational explanation about what happened? Huh? Just one. Come on. I'm listening.”
“You...I...can't. But that doesn't mean there isn't one. It doesn't. So—I—I mean I don't think you're wrong to want to look for one.”
“But you don't believe me.”
“I can't. I want to. But I can't. Listen. Why don't you go to sleep? I'll look around and see if I can find anything really concrete about that base, okay?”
“Don't tell anyone about this. Okay? If anyone asks, say I was...say I...”
“I'll say you mixed up your painkillers or something, how's that?”
“That'll do. Wouldn't want anyone thinking I got drugged or nothing.”
“Get some sleep. We'll talk tomorrow.”
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