"After Roswell", A.H. Roberts [the best motivational books txt] 📗

I'm buckled down on an examination table. I can't see it. Yet I think a small incension has been made on the right side of my chest. Now lights turn on from above. I look down at my chest. Right about the incension. In my restrain position. Curtains surround me. Its also cold and smells like decay. Hard to describe. It can be a number of things? Either being an old building or actually something must have died here. A small odor of bleach or disinfectant is fuming from the floor. Dried blood still accumulates on portions of the ground. Staining a memory. Evidence from a prior event. Pieces of bloody tissue scatter around my gurney. A feeling that something or someone was operated on. Maybe the navigator? I'm aware of how the dream feels like reality. My hands still look human. Matter of fact. I still feel human. Then I sense it. I hear someone coming up to the closed- curtain. I see a slight shadow forming behind them. A hand pushes through the curtain. This figure. I presume is a man. Enters standing at the edge of the table. He is dressed is surgical attire. A ugly green color drapes to his ankles. A mask covers only his mouth, revealing nothing but eyes. Gloves cover his hands. Maybe to protect him from me? He moves around the table. Then he inches closer and closer. Off to the side is a another table but smaller. A cloth is dressed over a tray. Probably hiding primitive medical instrutments. Like predicted. This man pulls the cloth revealing medical tools. I hate when my alien instincts come into effect. He grabs a blunt object. Which resembles a small hammer. He taps the hard bone joints of my legs and arms. He then pulls out a tape measure. With this he gets a accurate measure on my height. During this examination. He carefully writes all his findings into a book. He takes out a sharp curved hook. Which is attached to a thin metal handle. He begins to poke around my teeth. Causing slight discomfort. I tighten up in the table a few times when he hit a sensitive part of my teeth. He turns around to the small table. After some delay. He finally holds up a small surgical knife. A alacritous of fear fills my body. He approaches me. All I see is eyes. As he moves around the table. At no point does he look away. I even plead with him. "Please let me go". But I'm unable to talk any logical responses. A movie with no audio. As I'm part of silent film. Were the audience has no verbal output to describe them my fear. This masked doctor. Even though he is human. Has a terrifying feeling about him. That he isn't here to cure one's illness. Now he rest the sharp edge of the knife along my finger. He is careful with the knife. He only scapes off a little skin tissue from my finger. From there the skin is place into a glass tube. He plucks a sample of my hair off my head. "Ouch" Wow I actually felt that. With the hair. He alsos places in a tube. The good doctor leaves, pushing through the curtain. Once he is gone. I begin to loosen the restraints. There I break free with no problem. A little trick I learn from the magician. As I'm about to find an exit from this place. Out of nowhere these men in suits burst through the curtains. They quickly pull a hood over my head. They take me from the table. I scream for anyone. But nothing comes out.
"Wake up, wake up". A soft spoken voice talks to me. Followed by a lite shoving of my shoulders. Its the trucker. Alerting me that the police have set-up a roadblock."Seems der checking the vehicles up the road. If you got something to hide fella. I suggest you leave or sit tight". He takes out his identification card from his wallet. Everything I practically owned was in the house that exploded. So if I stay. Especially without identification. I'm going to jail for sure. We get closer to the police. As decisions in my mind urge me to make a choice. With no way out of this situation. I grab onto the door handle. Ready to leave the truck and continue the rest of the journey on foot. I sit and wait for the right moment to vacate. Only when the officers are searching the cars infront us. Is when I burst from the passenger side door. I count in my head. "1,2,3..." I run into the open desert. No idea where I'm going. Besides the police. There is the morning Sun. Its still tuck away below the horizon. It acts as a lighthouse. With me as the ship. This light will guide me to safety. I can't believe the driver allowed me to sleep all day. How long have we've been driving? Is this Jemez Springs? As I'm running. I don't see any indication that they heard me exit the vehicle. No sirens or officers in pursuit of me. I'm safe from any danger. Once again my identity stays a secret. Deeply locked within this human shell that has became my shelter for past ten years. My emotions are sinking low. It has burden me with heavy mental weakness.That when I think the story is about to conclude. Something steps infront of me to hault my progress. But I won't let this halt all the progress I've made. It will only make my efforts more bold in finding the truth about my friend. I slow down a little. Knowing that I'm out of distance from the police. I trot about thirty yards. My hands placed to my sides. Soon I just start walking. I take complete circle around my environment. Its too dark. So I continue to follow the sunrise. But as I'm walking in the desert. There is a feeling something is following me. Sirens begin to wail. The trucker never closed the door. Which could of alert the police. I look behind me with nothing in sight. Exhausted from the separation. I put myself between the officers. Again I get the feeling. I turn around. Nothing at first. Until its too late. Its right ontop of me. Clawing my arms, biting my hands. I'm protecting my face from this mysterious creature. All I know about this animal. Is that its fleecy and black. With little light outside. Its hard to make out what is trying to kill me...or eat me. We begin to roll around the dry desert ground. It feels like sandpaper rubbing against my clothes. Once again this dark creature regains the advantage. Snarling and opening its mouth in attempts to bite my face off. Only thing revealing about the creature. Is the color and contrast of its teeth. This "it" is really a jaguar. Just like the same creature Hank shot. I'm sure of it. Teeth stained from the remaining prey left behind. A mouth with a fetid smell. After some struggle. I start to get the upper hand. With its front legs in my grasp. I take my feet and press them against its chest. Now I have some leverage. With my legs cocked back. I fling the creature off me. Quickly rising to my feet in the process. In the mild darkness. There is no sign of the jag. So I head to anywhere but here. While running I keep looking for the jaguar. That same beast which almost killed me. An impossible irony of revenge for Hank killing his fallen relation? In the action of running and peering behind me. I trip over my own feet. I hit my head hard on a rock. Which was buried deep. But exposed in the desert floor. Complete blackness develops. Followed by a cannonade of past and current events. This will be the deepest sleep I've experienced. Until I wake up from this current episode. I'll realize that this very incident will lead me to the truth.


Chapter 11
"The Truth Discovered"


They say when you wake up. You remember only about five minutes of an actual dream. Usually its the end of the dream that you can recall the most. In my case. I've been asleep for awhile. But now I can finally open my eyes. Its blur and cloudy. The bright white light above. Makes it difficult to recognize my surroundings. Looking around. I know that I'm in a room. How did I get here? I have no recollection of being in a building? Negative memory of what happen in the first place. A little headache has developed in my mind. Intense damage to my cortex has made things fuzzy. Soon other senses arise. My sense of smell is picking up traces of rubbing alcohol and other cleaning chemicals. Very familar odors? Noises are heard from outside the room. But my hearing is out of tune. A mixed of footsteps and commotion getting lounder and fainter. I try to rub my eyes to regain focus. My arm feels heavy and weak. Matter of fact my whole body has lost most of its motor function. I think about moving my arms, legs, and even trying to speak. No reaction to my mental commands. After a few minutes there. Is when I feel the slight movements in my fingers and toes. Panic and fear fog over me. How much time has passed? The police might have been tipped off? Still I can't move from the bed. I calm down and relax to regain complete mental focus. Since that is all I can do. Closing my eyes. I consentrate to remember what was lost. But everything is scramble. I hear sirens and people talking. But nothing else. I'm unable to piece together this broken memory. As I investigate my surroundings. A man enters, wearing a long white coat. I close my eyes and cracked them. Just to keep a watch on this man. In the top right pocket he has a pen and some other unknown instruments. At the end of my feet the man grabs a clipboard attach to the bedframe. With the whole image of the man out of focus. I never saw the other figures enter behind him. Because my eyes are closed. I only see there black clothing.They seem to be discussing my injuries. It comes to attention. I could be in a hospital. Soon my senses begin returning to normal. I keep my half-shut eyes locked onto the people infront of me. After twenty minutes or so. The doctor and unknown figures leave the room. With doors shut. I open my eyes fully.
With the sense that the men are gone. I again continue to examine the room. Machines with flickering lights stand to my right. They are making beeping sounds. On my left is a liquid-filled bag with two tubes hanging below. Tubes run from the bag down to my right wrist. Needle- like projections have been injected into my veins. With no idea about the consequences of taking them out. I leave the foreign tubes into my wrist. With deep, relax thought process. I command my arms to move across my chest. Soon my arms strecth. Using the muscles that have been dormant. Crack of the joints that have been locked up from no movement. Slowly but surely. I get up in a sitted position. Using my arms. I move my limp legs over the side of the bed. Mustering up the strength to force myself upright. I almost fall over. But my muscles in my legs tighten up. Equilibrium regains stability. I balance the weight in my legs. With my legs over the side of the bed. I roll my neck to release any kinks that have built-up. Hardly no strength left