An Abduction Revelation: The Comeback Kid Returns

by Thomas Hay

  AN ABDUCTION REVELATION:

  The Comeback Kid Returns

  A restless spirit on an endless flight.

  Smashwords edition

  Copyright © 2012 Thomas L. Hay

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1-4525-5956-8

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations to critical and review.

  Balboa Press, Div. of Hay House

  1663 Liberty Drive

  Bloomington, In 47403

  www.balboapress.com

  1-877-407-4847

  An Abduction Revelation is a sci-fi/memoir that explores a compelling blend of mysterious unknown entities with seemingly true events.

  Who are the abductors? Where do they come from? Where are they hiding? Do they even exist?

  The answers are revealed in an intriguing adventure spiked with mystery, a dash of romance, a teaspoon of secrets, and a cup of revelations that will shock and torment your reality. A perfect recipe for an entertaining tale.

  Join the ‘Comeback Kid’ on his incredible journey as he uncovers secrets behind UFOs and comes face to face with his abductors.

  REVIEWS:

  An amusing sci-fi/memoir curiosity - Kirkus Reviews

  The true appeal and genius of this story is figuring out what is real and what is fiction. Michala

  I am not a sci-fi fan, but this book fascinated me and held my interest from start to finish - Caitlin

  Whether you believe in UFOs and aliens or not, this is a truly interesting story - Pinky Pollock

  Hay is a fabulous storyteller. Rivals with the best sci-fi novels - Zillie Carlson

  Mind-blowing. Very intriguing and fascinating read. One of the best I have read this year - Stephanie Verhaegen

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  introduction

  chapter one the bequest

  chapter two the inauguration

  chapter three the transformation

  chapter four the conundrum

  chapter five the bewilderment

  chapter six the awaking

  chapter seven the phenomenon

  chapter eight the inscrutable

  chapter nine the revelation

  chapter ten the journey

  chapter eleven the dreams

  chapter twelve the supplementary

  chapter thirteen the besieged

  chapter fourteen the reconciliation

  chapter fifteen the surrogate

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you computer, for not crashing during this project. I know we had some issues, but you hung in there for me.

  Thank you Internet, for your vast supply of information. You are mankind’s best friend.

  Thank you Mary C. Simmons for the wonderful cover design that inspired this second edition.

  Thank you Kerry Geneva of Writers Resource for editing. Your insights were invaluable.

  Most of all, thanks to my lovely wife, Karen, for enduring another book. Sometimes the writer's bug can last for days, leaving me in a trance that causes me to delay or skip chores, honey-do’s, bill payments, hygiene, meals, and even some favorite TV shows. Hopefully I will be able to reward her with a nice vacation cruise in the Caribbean. Only we’d best stay clear of the Bermuda Triangle.

  PREVIEW

  Howdy! Come on in and make yourself comfortable. Can I get you something to drink? I have a compelling story to tell you that will keep you on the edge of your seat. You might want to use the restroom now, because once I start, you won’t want me to stop.

  You might keep in mind that I was raised in the middle of America, in the 50’s. For some, we may have talked a bit ‘funny’.

  Here is an excerpt to wet your appetite:

  “Radioman Hay, report to the radio room on the double,” I heard over the ship’s intercom.

  I had the Con (duty) that night and had just taken a break. I could feel the anticipation in the radio room as soon as I stepped through the door.

  “We just received an S.O.S.,” shouted the excited radioman who had been monitoring the emergency bands. Someone always monitored the emergency bands 24/7.

  A ship was in danger. It turned out to be a Russian trawler. American fleets were always shadowed by these suspicious fishing boats. They were constantly snooping and spying on U.S. fleets. We knew who they were and what they were doing, and they knew we knew. It was a Tom and Jerry (cat & mouse) game, but we couldn’t do anything about it in international waters.

  International law required all naval vessels to respond to an S.O.S., so we took advantage of the opportunity to board their vessel. No U.S. personnel had had that opportunity in the past, so our boarding party was very excited to be able to board a Russian spy boat. Everyone’s adrenaline was flowing faster than a class five whitewater rapid.

  It definitely wasn’t a fishing vessel, as we had suspected all along, even though everything about it looked fishy. We couldn’t find one fish onboard, let alone a fishing pole. There was however, a lot of fishy electronic equipment, enough that we wondered how the boat could stay afloat.

  The Russian crew was completely disoriented. They appeared to be in shock and were scared shitless. Only one of them spoke. He babbled in broken English, about some strange-looking flying machine, with small hairless creatures hitting them with a beaming light and a crewman gone missing. Nothing he said was making any sense to anyone in our boarding party, except maybe me. I don’t know why, but I suspected I might know what they had experienced. Something in the back of my mind told me that I had been there and done that. However, I felt it best to keep my mouth shut.

  We could smell Vodka on their breath, so it was assumed that they had to be drunk. What happened to the ship and its crew was later classified top secret, so if I were to tell you the rest of this story, I’d have to kill you. That might not be good for future book sales. I can say it was another one of those government cover-ups that you don’t read or hear about in the news.

  This incident enforced my thoughts that human beings weren’t the only living creatures in the universe after all. But my thoughts didn’t last long as we were thrown into a war.

  INTRODUCTION

  WELCOME TO MY WORLD

  Won’t you come on in? Miracles, I guess, still happen now and then. Step into my heart. —Eddie Arnold

  Hey, the Kid is back... But then you really didn’t know that I was gone, did you? Not yet anyway. Wait till you hear what I have to say upon discovering the revelation that sparked this revised edition to my memoirs.

  To refresh your memory, following my retirement, I wrote and published my memoirs, The Comeback Kid: The Memoirs of Thomas L. Hay. The project was an invigorating whirlwind of self-enlightenment and an intense emotional trip. It left me wondering who that old fart is that stares back from the mirror.

  After publishing my memoirs, it occurred to me that I might have some intriguing and mysterious phenomena buried within my subconscious. I began once again to contemplate what had actually happened that night in my youth when I lost control of the car on the deserted country road outside Clinton, Missouri. Was it a freak accident, or according to the evidence, was I abducted by aliens?

  Did aliens actually abduct my first wife Claudia and me? She has claimed that this happened not once, but twice: once as we were on our way to the courthouse to get married, and the second time while we were on our belated honeymoon. At the time, however, neither of us were aware that i
t had happened.

  The abductions were revealed to her after we separated and divorced. She had to divorce me because her spirit persuaded her to become a vegetarian, fast and abstain from sexual activity. This eventually melted the memory blocks implanted by the aliens, unveiled her subconscious, and exposed traumatic and terrifying past experiences.

  However, at the time she first told me about this, I didn’t believe her. Would you? I just assumed she had a fertile imagination. I was more interested to recover from the heartbreaking divorce she enforced upon me.

  But, after publishing my memoirs, I got to thinking, “What if Claudia was right? What if what she was saying was true?” Curiosity got the best of this old tomcat. The thought tormented me to no end. I felt that I needed to investigate the possibility that I might have hidden memories buried in my subconscious.

  Since age has diminished my sex drive and I could stand to lose a few pounds, I decided to give it a shot. If Claudia was right and I had implanted memory blocks, the way that I could melt them, she said, would be to follow in her footsteps and adopt her ascetic lifestyle.

  OH-MY-GOD! You’re not going to believe this. She was right! Never in a million years could I have imagined what lay hidden in my subconscious. The memory block melt was agonizing, but fruitful. However, she was only partially right. Naively, she had seen only the tip of an iceberg. I discovered a revelation that exposed the Antarctic.

  The revelation was glaringly productive, uncovering peculiar, bizarre dreams that occurred in my sleep. Dreams that turned out to be memories of two people who were alike, but existed in separate entities, yet had similar life events.

  When looking into a mirror, I could recognize the person who stared back, but I didn’t know him. Now you are probably wondering how this could be? At the time, I had no idea.

  This dilemma created an identity crisis, disorientation, and some peculiar interpretations. Parallel worlds were tangled in the same dimension. Reality and imagination intermingled, mystifying and tormenting my existence. Which was real? Maybe both, but then again, maybe neither. To say the least, it was a confusing and complicated relationship.

  It became obvious that I had to rewrite my memoirs. These whole new realm of events unearthed hidden revelations and created a completely new life history. Life events that the Kid never knew existed.

  If you have read my original memoir, then bear with me. In this revised story, I have repeated some events, to refresh your memory. These new events, plus the new developments, stand alone in its own story. I have added some colorful insights you might find intriguing.

  So, how in the world do I share these hidden memories without coming across as an alien abductee prankster? I have concluded that there really is no other way than to just go ahead and spill the beans. You may wonder, is my story reality or fiction? Or maybe a dream? A hallucination, or the product of a fertile imagination gone wild? If it was imagination, where did it come from. Could they have been memories implanted in my subconscious?

  It is not my intention to convince you one way or the other. However, you might want to keep in mind the words of Albert Einstein:

  The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand in awe, is as good as dead; his eyes are closed and he is a stranger unto himself.

  Life is but a series of events, much like an assorted box of chocolates, and we never know what might come next. I have used songs to introduce and portray my life events. Often when we hear a song, it reminds us of a person, a place, or a time in our lives. The songs and event descriptions are listed in an Appendix.

  Anyway, here’s my story and, yes, I’m sticking to it. But be warned. What I am about to reveal may cause a disturbance in your comfort zone. You are about to board a roller coaster ride that will change your life forever. You might want to check that your seat belt is fasten. Your world as you know it is about to get turned upside down and inside out.

  Que sera sera, whatever will be, will be. The future might not be what it’s cracked up to be and not ours to see—or is it?

  Who are the Abductors? Where do they come from? Where are they hiding? Do they even exist?

  The Comeback Kid returns with a stunning revelation that will shock and torment your reality.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Bequest

  COUNTRY ROAD

  And drivin’ down the road I get the feelin. . .that I should have been home yesterday. . .Country roads, take me home to the place I belong.—John Denver

  The coolness of the air made me shiver, yet sweat from my furrowed brow burned my eyes and blurred my vision as I struggled to open my eyes. When I finally got them open, bright lights of many colors blinded me and forced my eyes shut once again.

  I could sense movement around me, which compelled me to force my eyes to open once more. The bright lights and my blurred vision made it difficult to make out my surroundings. I watched, as ghostly shadows reflected off the walls, and danced about with spastic, yet graceful movements.

  I lay on a surface that was translucent and unsupported. It seemed to be floating on air without legs or anything supporting it. It was narrow enough that my arms hung over the sides.

  In my blurred vision, I could make out a large circular device with multicolored lights positioned above my torso. Sharp pointed utensils protruded from the middle of the sphere.

  I felt naked under the snowy white cloth that covered most of my body. Strange high pitched eerie sounds reverberated in my mind.

  Something lifted the cloth and started probing and prodding various parts of my anatomy. My inspector played with me as if I were its favorite doll.

  An altered state of consciousness cloaked my mind. I began to laugh, then cry, as I floated off to Disneyland, while the melody “It’s a Small World” played in my head. I had no idea what was so funny or sad. Nonetheless, tears poured from my eyes, further blurring and confusing my surroundings.

  After doing whatever they had intended, my abductors implanted a memory block and a tracking device and sent me on my way. Their plan was now initiated. This would be my first abduction. It wouldn’t be my last. I would have no memory of them until many years later.

  This event happened on a cool, crisp, clear autumn evening in 1960. I was heading back home after dumping the trash at the city dump a few miles north of town. There was no roadside trash pickup in those days. Taking the trash to the city dump had become my weekly chore since I’d turned seventeen and gotten a car.

  Dad had found a mint-condition 1947 four-door Dodge sedan for a mere fifty bucks. It looked to be brand spanking new, with not a scratch on it. A widow had been storing it in her garage since her husband had passed away several years earlier.

  I had been working a couple paper routes for the past few years and had saved up the money to pay for the car and the insurance. At my age, pedaling a bike was getting embarrassing. Dad finally decided I had matured enough to drive a car.

  I named her Betsy. She was a beauty, my pride and joy. But only for a day, as she would quickly turn into an embarrassment.

  My very first stop was to pull into a gas station.

  “Whut’ll it be?” Asked the attendant.

  “Fill her up,” I said, with a big smile on my face. I was in seventh heaven and on cloud nine.

  Not only did he fill her up, but the attendant checked my oil, the water in my radiator, and the air in my tires. He even cleaned the windows. You don’t get that type of service in the near future!

  Later that evening, as I returned home from the city dump, I could see dust kicking up from the gravel road behind the car in the rearview mirror. The only sounds were those of the engine purring and the radio playing the “devil's music,” which was what our parents were calling the new rock and roll sound. They thought we would surely grow up dysfunctional. They were really going to have a fit when rap, hit hop, and heavy metal
would come out a few years down the road.

  It was a peaceful evening, and there was not another car in sight. The stars were slowly making their appearance. There was no moon. I’m dreaming about joining the navy in a few months, after I graduated from high school. My mind is a thousand miles away as I sailed the seven seas.

  All of a sudden, my little dream evaporated as I noticed three blinking blue lights in my rearview mirror, rapidly approaching, in a tight formation. I couldn’t tell if they were on the road or in the air. They approached with blazing speed, and in the blink of an eye I had something tail gating me.

  Whut the heck? Not even Superman cun travel that fast, I thought.

  Dad burn it, some crazy nut driving up my ass. Hey asshole ,back off. For crying out loud, read the darn driver’s manual. Ten miles per hour, for one car length.

  You can probably tell that I’m a little pissed. Might be some road rage brewing here.

  But who pays attention to the manual after they get their driver’s license? Certainly not the dude riding my tail. But that would just be the start of my problems with this tail gater, cause suddenly, my whole car started to vibrate. I felt a tingling sensation and every hair on my body stood straight up. Before I recognized what was happening , a humongous brilliant flash of colored light exploded within my head.

  Confused and dazed, I realized the car was not moving.

  How could that be?

  Everything was still and quiet, except for the purring car engine, and the radio still played that devil’s music. I sat with my hands glued to the steering wheel. My grip was so tight that I could feel the muscles in my forearms tighten. In the darkness I saw that the headlights illuminated an embankment that ran alongside the road.

  Holy cow! Whut in the world jest happened? I wondered.

  I was shaking like a leaf on a cold breezy day. The mind can play tricks in times of crisis, so I told myself to calm down and think. Being a teenager, thinking could sometimes be a new experience for me and could sometimes cause dangerous results, my folks had once told me.