Alien Deception (23 page)

He stood up and walked out of the barbershop in a daze to the strange stares of those who were waiting for their turn. He looked down the street, his eyes searching frantically. Finally, he saw what he was searching for—a pay phone across the street. He stumbled toward it, still feeling lightheaded and overwhelmed by the images that were now becoming clearer with his understanding of what it all meant. He was almost hit by one of the many horse-and-buggy tours of the French Quarter. A horse moaned in protest as the driver pulled up on the reins.

"Hey, man, what you trying to do?" the carriage driver yelled angrily in a thick Creole accent.

Greg ignored the man as he fumbled through his wallet and removed his telephone credit card. He dialed the number for information. As he waited for the operator, the images fell into perfect sync: Copolla, the huge evil alien and leader of the Council, Leumas the slippery alien initial contact agent that had arranged their deaths and sudden rebirths. Sarah. Beautiful Sarah. The puzzle was coming together perfectly, and he now had total recall of everything.

"Information, what city?" the emotionless female voice asked.

Without hesitation, he answered, "New York City, Sarah McClendon."

* * * *

Sarah's alarm beeped her into awareness as she rolled over to silence it. Its glowing red letters indicated the time, 5:00 AM, like a bright neon sign in the night. She slipped out of bed and headed to the bathroom.

While she fumbled through her early morning grogginess, she turned on the shower water as she brushed her teeth. Her workday did not begin until 8:30, but she liked to rise early so she could plan her day. "The most efficient use of time," one of the management courses had touted.

She stepped under the soothing hot water as it gently caressed her skin with warmth, one of the things she had learned to appreciate after her brush with death. The thought of not being around to appreciate the simple things in life had heightened her awareness of these simple pleasures, and was reinforced when the hospital had told her that there was no way she should have been able to live after receiving such a large jolt of current through her body.

"Yet I did," she said aloud, turning the hot water up a notch. The wrinkle remover that zapped her was not faulty, and no explanation could be given as to why they thought she was dead. The best they could do was say the electricity caused some kind of overload that had placed her in some kind of suspended animation. She had been declared legally dead by the on-site paramedics who swore that there had been no vital signs whatsoever. However, by a freak chance, while performing an inventory of the bodies the next day, the morgue orderly swore he saw what he first perceived as a reflexive flinch from the body. Thinking it was uncommon with corpses this many hours old to have any reflexes, he called a buddy over to examine her. They stood over the body, shrugged, and were about to call it just a case of morgue jitters when suddenly Sarah gasped for air. The attendants ran for the doctor immediately. The doctor confirmed that she was indeed alive and transferred her to intensive care. "A miracle," he had called it.

Sarah groped for the towel as she turned the water off. She dried herself off and began to put the clothes on that she had picked out last night. The whole series of events around her supposed death had left her with a feeling of renewed energy. She didn't quite know how to put it into words. She was glad to get back to her office and delve into her work, but couldn't help but feel that something was missing. Also her work didn't satisfy her as much as it used to.

Now dressed, all that remained was for Sarah to dry and style her hair, and apply a little makeup. Before she entered this phase of her morning ritual, she walked into the kitchen and turned the coffeepot on. While it brewed, she retrieved the morning paper that had been placed at her doorway of her apartment.

She would peruse through the main headlines and the business section while she finished her hair and makeup. She liked to be well informed on matters because her work relied on that. Marketing analysis in any form was based on current trends and the economy.

As the two-cup coffee pot hissed to its completed dripping cycle, Sarah poured the brew into her cup and added her two precise teaspoons of sugar substitute, along with a dash of low fat cream. Taking a fast sip, she headed back to the bathroom with the cup of coffee in one hand and the paper in the other, just as she would juggle the rest of the process of makeup, hair and reading the paper at the same time.

Another touted ethic she remembered:
use your time wisely; the person who does one thing at a time is single-minded.
She chuckled at the statement. Instead of single-minded, she always wanted to substitute "simple" minded. It had been her own private little joke, made up while she was attending one of the management seminars for the third time in a row.

She now faced herself in the mirror as she picked up the blow dryer. She looked at it twice, as she had also developed a bit of a phobia about electrical devices, and went to work drying her long hair. The newspaper still lay folded in thirds on the counter, teasing that little voice to come back with another reminder. Once her hair was dry, she took a large swig of her coffee and started to digest the information from the newspaper.

The newspapers had been full of political uproar since information about the two parties working together had created such a stir, a loud stir heard around the world. Today, the headline indicated that the new third party had enough backing now to be a serious contender in the upcoming election.

"THIRD PARTY IS IN! SAMUEL AT THE HELM!" the large black letters blazoned across the paper.

"Well, it's about time," she said out loud. "Maybe we'll get some long overdue changes around here." She casually flipped the paper over and looked at the bottom half. Nothing caught her eye of any significance but, before putting the paper down, she glanced at herself to decide on whether or not to curl her long hair or let it hang straight down today. Something caught her eye. The newspaper headline was reflected in the mirror, backward but readable. One word flashed out to her.

"SAMUEL." But, in the mirror, it appeared as "LEUMAS." The letters danced in her thoughts as they rearranged themselves and formed the word: LEUMAS. Suddenly, she felt weak, and her vision blurred as images began to flash in front of her eyes. Images of strange people passed with such speed she couldn't focus on any one of them. Her stomach became nauseous. She gripped the bathroom counter with both hands as the paper dropped to the floor. She closed her eyes and tried to will her stomach back into this world. She concentrated on the barrage of blurred images to stop. They finally slowed and came into focus.

The images brought instantaneous familiarity, and the pieces all came together. She saw Greg, feeling an intense emotional warmth at seeing him again. Then there was Leumas, the man, or alien, whose name had triggered all these visions. Copolla, the Leader of the Council of alien worlds in his ornate robes. A huge hall full of strange-looking creatures that comprised an organization that led planets and whole civilizations by the hand to a future that they deemed appropriate.
The United Council for Developing Worlds, the UCDW,
she said in her mind.

She looked into the mirror and stared at her flushed face. She remembered the last moments with Greg.
Build a wall,
he had said.
Leumas’s name will be the signal.

"That's right," she said out loud in a faint voice, touching her face with her hand for reassurance that she wasn't dreaming all of this. She turned and looked toward the telephone that sat on the table next to her bed. It was going to ring; Greg would be calling her from New Orleans. Strangely, she almost giggled at the thought of hearing his voice again.

Seconds later, the phone began to ring.

"Now how did I know that?" she asked aloud. "Greg is more than fifteen hundred miles from me." The phone continued to ring.

She picked up the telephone, and confidently said, "Hello, Greg." As she spoke, her eyes were closed and she imagined seeing him smiling at the other end of the line. She giggled like a little girl receiving her first phone call from a boy. She twirled the phone cord around her fingers and realized that the feeling she had, the one about something missing, had been resolved.

Chapter Fifteen

THE AWAKENING

Sarah got it exactly right. Greg was indeed smiling. The sound of her voice had an almost intoxicating effect on him.

"Hello, Sarah," he said. "It's good to hear your voice again." Greg suddenly realized how difficult it was to contain his enthusiasm at the sound of her voice. He imagined her pretty face as she smoothed her hair to one side as she spoke. "You saw it, too, didn't you?" he asked, already knowing the answer. "His name? Leumas?"

"Yes," she answered excitedly. "It was in the newspaper. I saw his name there, well, actually the reflection of it, in the mirror. It caused this guy's name 'Samuel' to appear like 'Leumas.' After that, it all came back so quickly, everything. Your idea worked, Greg. You did it!"

He smiled and blushed a little bit at the appreciation. "Thanks. I just had a 'feeling' that it might come in handy for some reason."

"Apparently your feeling was correct," she said, proud of him. "But what now?"

Greg's voice took on a serious tone. "We need to put an end to our planet being used by this puppeteer Leumas and the Council. We need to expose him for what he is and what the UCDW is doing! I saw him in a picture with Samuel. He's weaseled himself into a position where he can influence the outcome of this election."

"Do you think people will believe us?" Her voice sounded cautious. She continued before he could answer. "I don't think they will. The article in the paper says this guy Edward Samuel is gaining popularity at an uncanny rate. His appeal to the working masses is almost mesmerizing."

"More like his appeal is being influenced
by Leumas, both figuratively and literally, I'd bet," Greg said derisively. "I see your point, though. We can't just go to the press and say, 'Excuse me, but I need to tell everyone that this guy Leumas is an alien and is part of an organization that is controlling what is happening on our planet.'" He paused, and then said, "I might as well say that there are gigantic seed pods all over the world and they're taking control of us and growing new aliens."

Sarah cupped her hands around her mouth and giggled. "I'm sorry Greg, it's not funny, but your seed pods are profound. The direct approach is obviously out."

"Look," he began, liking the sound of her tinkling laughter. "Why don't we try to confront Leumas on the side somehow. He's too popular and probably too well protected by now to reach by just walking up to him, even though we could try. But I think we need to infiltrate his organization somehow and try to get close."

"Agreed. We need to find out what Leumas is planning. His use of Samuel is only the tip of his celestial iceberg," she said.

"Celestial iceberg? And you have room to talk about my choice of words? Where did you dig up that one, Sarah?" he said, laughing at her lightheartedness.

"Samuel is coming here!" Sarah exclaimed into the receiver, suddenly remembering what she had seen in the newspaper. "I read in the paper that he's coming here to open up a larger campaign headquarters. He should be here tomorrow. Greg, can you come here?"

His heart suddenly jumped at the thought of seeing her again. He could almost smell her perfume and see her soft blue eyes. "I'll be on the next flight out of New Orleans," he said firmly. "I'll try and think up a plan on the plane, while you scope out the area and see what you can come up with. Okay?"

"Okay," she responded. He could tell from the sound of her voice she was also excited at the thought of seeing him again.

There was a moment of silence between them. Neither had mentioned anything about the mental powers they had begun to develop before the memory wipe occurred.

Hesitantly, Greg asked, "Sarah, have you experienced any of the mental abilities that we had before the memory wipe process?"

"No, not really," she said, a little unsure. "I haven't felt a thing or at least I don't think so. There was a moment when the telephone rang and I kind of knew it was you. But that was right after seeing the name in the paper. It could have just been a coincidence." She paused, then said in a quiet voice, "I wonder if the memory wipe process did something to the powers, or if they will they come back again after a while? Have you felt anything?"

"Nothing with certainty. Just a feeling or instinct about certain things," Greg said. "But who knows for sure? Maybe with our memories back, the power will return. But for now, one step at a time and we'll see what happens. I'll call you with the flight information as soon as I have my tickets in hand."

"Great," she said, a small flush creeping over her face. "I'll get to work on my end and I'll see you when you get here."

"See you soon, Sarah, bye," he said softly.

"Bye," she said as she placed the receiver back into its cradle.

Sarah walked slowly into the kitchen and poured herself another cup of coffee. She sat down at her small table to organize her racing thoughts.

My life has certainly changed these past couple of months,
she thought a little bemusedly. From conservative and high strung, she had now started becoming more relaxed. Just little things here and there she had started to notice. She was finding amusement in things much more often now instead of trying to just analyze everything. And now…there was Greg. She smiled. She liked him immensely. Even though she had been memory wiped, her newly relocated memories pleasingly haunted her thoughts. She smiled and felt a warm sensation bathe her body as she imagined the first kiss she had shared with him. She embellished the feeling and let it take her where it…