by Thomas Hay
We were happy, really enjoying our life together, even though we spent a lot of time looking over our shoulders. More than once we suspected someone of following or spying on us. This was especially true if they looked Arabic. Yet as far as we knew, no one in her family knew where she had disappeared to. She didn’t even tell her mother.
During spring break we took a trip to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, for our belated honeymoon. Rio was absolutely beautiful, with gorgeous scenery and beaches. Fiza especially enjoyed going topless on the beaches, following the example of almost all the females there. It was something she had dreamed to do, so she was taking full advantage of her newfound liberties. In Saudi Arabia, she would have been flogged for showing any slights of skin. Of course, I didn’t mind, this type of scenery didn’t strain my eyes.
After we got back from Brazil, Claudia let the kids visit for a week. We spent most of the time in Kansas City, as I introduced my wife to my family. They had no idea of our situation and I wasn't about to tell them. We went to Worlds of Fun, where I discovered my love of roller coasters.
All things considered, Fiza and I were happy campers. Of course, inevitably, there’s a bear who comes along and spoils the campsite. Our honeymoon and paradise were about to meet a very unexpected and devastating end.
THE END OF THE WORLD
Why does the sun go on shining? Why does the sea rush to shore? Why do the birds go on singing? Why do the stars glow above? Don’t they know it’s the end of the world?—Skeeter Davis
A month after returning from Kansas City, Fiza and I ventured to a restaurant in Fisherman’s Wharf, to celebrate the first year anniversary of our marriage. It had been a wonderful year, despite the worries. We were happy, in love, and having a grand time together.
What could possibly go wrong?
During the drive there and during the meal, Fiza seemed upset and disturbed. She was definitely not herself. When I asked her if anything was wrong, she said she was just tired. We had been up most of the previous night making love. That hadn’t tapered off much since our first week-end in England.
Halfway through the meal, I could tell she was struggling with her emotions. I knew it wasn’t that time of the month.
I finally confronted her, “What’s wrong Bubbles?” (Bubbles was my nickname for her). “I know something is troubling you.”
She reached across the table to squeeze my hands. Tears started running down her cheeks. She choked up as she replied, “Tom-Tom, (her nickname for me), you have made me so happy. I love you so much.”
“Honey, you know I love you too,” I said.
I had no idea what she would say next. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be pleasant.
She started weeping, unable to control her emotions. Little did I know that my world would be turned upside down, inside out again.
She then excused herself to go to the ladies’ room to powder her nose. I couldn’t imagine why she was being so emotional. I’d never seen her this way before.
I never saw her again. She never returned from the bathroom. She disappeared from my life forever.
“What’s taking her so long?” I wondered.
I had finished eating and had been waiting for her to come back. Just as I got up to go check on her, the waiter brought me our bill.
Inside was a note:
Tom, they found me. I have to go with them. They said not to pursue or they will not only kill you but your children also. I will always love you. Fiza
“NO! Oh God, please no,” I cried, as I rushed out of the restaurant looking for her.
She was nowhere in sight. This seemed impossible, but my gut told me that it was likely probable. I knew in my heart that I’d never find or see her again. My princess, soul mate, lover, and wife was gone. It dawned on me, she had been saying her good-bye. It was our last supper.
At the time, when Fiza had wrote “they have found me,” I assumed she had been abducted by her step-brothers. I couldn’t go to the police. I couldn’t report her as a missing person. I couldn’t pursue or rescue her. I couldn’t do a darn thing. I was between a rock and a hard place.
Driving home that night across the Bay Bridge, I cried my eyes, heart, and soul out. The emotional pain was far greater than any physical pain I had ever endured. I hadn’t known that love could hurt so bad.
Why does my heart go on beating? Why do these eyes of mine cry? Don’t they know it’s the end of the world. It ended when I lost your love...
The Bay Bridge is several miles long, connecting San Francisco and Oakland, with Treasure Island in the middle. I found no treasure that night. To this day, I will never know how I made it across that bridge. Not many did in my state of mind. It had to be by the grace of God.
To make matters worse, my car radio was playing the song that perfectly described my feelings:
Are you lonesome tonight? Do you miss me tonight? Are you sorry we drifted apart? Does your memory stray to a bright sunny day, when I kissed you and called you sweetheart? Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare? Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there? Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again? Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?
To this day I still think of Fiza every time I hear that song. I will always carry her smile in my heart and cherish the love we shared. I think of her every time I think of love. I think of her every time I think how it could have been. She was one courageous woman, born before her time.
How was the Kid ever going to come back from the end of the world?
The abductors knew, because it was time for them to initiate their plan.
CHAPTER SIX
The Awakening
TIME
Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day. Fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way. Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town. Waiting for someone or something to show you the way.—Pink Floyd
Sadness, depression, and loneliness came calling, all wrapped up in one big miserable package. I started drinking and smoking pot every day after work. I would sit and watch TV all evening, drag myself to bed, arise, and haul my sorry ass back to work. The days dragged by, slowly but surely. There had to be a purpose in life, but I hadn’t a clue as to what it could be.
I hadn’t long to drown in my misery. It was time for the abductors to implement their plan. I was about to discover a whole new world, a world no one had ever suspected existed, except maybe in the science fiction theater.
A month into my desolation, there came a knocking on my door. It wasn’t the Raven, nevermore.
I was sitting in my recliner on a Friday evening, doing my usual monotonous routine. I reluctantly answered the door to encounter two NASA officials. I recognized the patches on their shirt sleeves. But that didn’t make me any less skeptical to invite them in.
“Thomas Hay?” One asked, as both flashed their ID badges so fast I hadn’t time to catch their names.
What they wanted and revealed would change my life forever, and probably will change yours too. Nothing would ever be the same, not for me, and not for you either.
What in the world does NASA want with me?
Hold your horses, Pilgrim! All the suspense built up to now is about to be revealed.
Every human being on earth was aware of NASA’s Apollo Program, and specifically the lunar landings, which had been called the greatest technological achievement in history. So why, didn’t anyone question how, out of the clear blue, mankind started developing these types of technologies?
The Apollo Program had been established to beat the Russians in the race to land the first man on Earth's moon. The program had ended in 1975, three years before I received my visitors tonight.
Apollo 17 marked the last manned mission to the moon, according to official government records. Most people are not aware, however, that official government records reveal only what the federal government wants the public to know or believe. The government has a way of sometimes distorting facts from the truth
.
Okay, so what has this got to do with these two NASA officials knocking on your door?
The two NASA officials explained that the government required my services for a classified top secret mission. Remember, while in the navy, I had been cleared for such information.
Suddenly, the Mission Impossible theme song started playing in my head.
I could envision a thrilling and dangerous assignment that would take me to the far corners of the world. Maybe even allow me to rescue Fiza or some other ladies in distress. Step aside Tom Cruise, Tom Hay was about to take over the mission.
Ok, Tom. Put your feet back on the ground and snap back to reality.
The NASA officials explained that my mission (should I accepted it) would take only a few weeks and then I would be able to return to my current job and boring life. My cover story would be that the airline had sent me to Florida for autopilot instrument landing training.
No one would suspect otherwise.
For this mission, I would receive $25,000 a year, tax free, for the rest of my life.
Did I just hit the Power Ball jackpot?
Now that raised my eyebrows and sparked my curiosity even more.
But, there was a condition, they said.
Wouldn’t you know it? There’s always a catch when something appears too good to be true.
The ‘condition’ was that I could not reveal the mission to anyone, so help me God.
Now, why didn’t that surprise me?
If I did, then all payments would cease. I would likely die from a rare disease or an unfortunate accident. If the disease or accident didn’t do the job, I would be put on the IRS black list, convicted of tax evasion, and spend the rest of my life behind bars or locked up in a nuthouse.
Shit! What could I possibly be getting myself into?
Perhaps I needed to give this some more thought.
Supposedly, twenty-five grand a year would not raise any suspicions. It wouldn’t change my lifestyle or get me laid. Still, a calculator confirmed that it would amount to over a million dollars in a normal lifespan, a nice little nest egg for the future. Plus, I would be a patriot and doing my country a great service. I could even envision a movie deal over the horizon.
You should know me by now. This was an offer even the Godfather couldn’t refuse. I must make him proud! I just hope I wasn’t biting off more than I could chew. Needless to say, I was curious as a tomcat. What could the U.S. government want with a little peon like me?
“So what’s the mission?” I asked.
“Before we can reveal that, you must sign this contract,” one of the NASA officials said.
The contract basically stated that I couldn’t, now nor ever, under any circumstances, disclose what I would be doing. I was slightly disappointed that I wouldn’t be changing my outfit in a phone booth or flying out of a bat cave. Looks like there would be no movie deal after all.
But that didn’t keep me from signing on the dotted line. I figured, what the heck. I needed something to get me going again. I needed to get some spunk back into my life.
Count me in NASA, the whole nine yards. I hoped I hadn’t just fallen for some elaborate hoax.
“By the way,” I said. “I didn’t catch either of your names.”
“You don’t need to know,” they said in stereo.
“Oh! Okay, sorry I asked.”
That should have raised a red flag, but I didn’t play attention.
I was immediately flown to the NASA headquarters in Cape Canaveral, Florida, on a government aircraft, no less. I still did not know just exactly what my mission was. I hope this is not going to be another ‘stupid is as stupid does’ moment. Only time will tell.
When the first artificial satellite of earth slipped across a backdrop of stars on October 4, 1957, it was heralded in the United States not as a triumph of science and technology, but a bold, startling challenge to America’s ideological standing in the world community of nations.
The former Soviet Union’s Sputnik 1 satellite sparked a U.S. response, motivating the U.S. Congress to hammer out in early 1958 the National Aeronautics and Space Act. Signed into law on July 29, the act transformed the existing National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics (NACA) into a U.S. civilian space enterprise. That enterprise was named the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA).
On October 1, 1958, just short of a year after Sputnik 1 was cast into space, NASA officially began to blueprint the nation’s space program. NASA was an investment in the country’s future, an agency empowered with a vision to boldly expand frontiers in air and space, inspiring and serving America to benefit the quality of life here on Earth, as well as someday in space. NASA centers would eventually spread throughout the United States.
I arrived at the Cape Canaveral center. It was crawling with security personnel. The place was buzzing with activity and you could feel an aroma of excitement. There was no chance that even a cockroach could enter the facility without being detected and setting off an alarm. Adrenaline began to flow through my veins as soon as I stepped off the plane. It was probably the same feeling Neil Armstrong had when he first stepped onto the moon.
The services NASA required turned out to be the Morse code skills I had acquired in the navy. If you recall, I had achieved a code speed far superior to that of anyone else on record. Apparently, that record still stood. It still hadn’t dawned on me at this point to wonder how or why I had developed that skill.
After dusting off the rust, I was back up to speed in no time. I hadn’t lost my touch. D-day had arrived. It was time to discover the mission, and along the way I would also discover why and how I had learned my Morse code skills.
Brace yourself, a revelation is about to be exposed.
Roger, copy that?
DO YOU WANT TO KNOW A SECRET
Listen, do you want to know a secret? Do you promise not to tell, whoa, oh. Closer, let me whisper in your ear, say the words you long to hear. . . Listen, do you want to know a secret? —The Beatles
Bravo you say. It’s about time! We are finally getting down to the nitty gritty!
I had convinced NASA that I had the right stuff to join the rest of the mission team. They explained my mission by first admitting that the government had been covering up some UFO sightings and abductions.
Well, how about that. Why am I not surprised?
“You and your first wife were among the abducted,” they confessed. (Keep in mind, that at this point I hadn’t yet melted my memory blocks).
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said. “This is what my mission is about—UFO’s and abductions? Science fiction stuff?”
To be honest, I was not really shocked or surprised to hear this. I bet you have had some suspicions too, huh?
It turns out, Claudia had been right all along. I should have suspected it, but I suppose I just wasn’t able to believe or face it before this point in time. I suppose I had too many other obstacles clogging my mind. I reckon that puts me in the same category as most skeptical people, which probably includes you too.
Surely most of you can understand my reservations. I know you had them too. Maybe you still do. Or maybe you knew it all along. If so, you are a step ahead of me.
Anyway, in the back of my mind, I still thought that perhaps this was all a hoax or maybe there was that movie deal in the works. Somehow I had been picked to be the star. Certainly there had to be a logical explanation for all this. Maybe they thought that if I believed their story then that would make the movie more believable? As you can see, my mind is contemplating every conceivable configuration.
The NASA officials continued their rationalization by telling me that I didn’t remember the abductions, because the abductors had installed memory blocks. During my first abduction, my Morse code skills were instilled, along with a few other generic modifications. I suppose that could explain my increased IQ, improved hand-eye coordination and eyesight, and some other enjoyable enhancements that I will explain
later.
My new friends did not reveal why my ex-wife was abducted, or at least not until later. That information was available only on a need-to-know basis, and I didn’t need to know just yet. I would be hearing those words quite often in the coming weeks.
The NASA officials never implied that extraterrestrials or aliens were the abductors. They did say that the abductors had been spying on us since ‘who knows when.’ Another need to know.
It was just after the Apollo Program when the abductors decided to make first contact, the NASA officials informed me. Evidently, the abductors had learned enough about us and desired a talk. We had done something that frightened them.
I wondered what it was that brought this on. Maybe their comfort zone had been invaded? Maybe our technology was getting close to exposing them? I suppose there could be a hundred different reasons. I would eventually find out, and it wouldn’t even be close to what anyone could have imagined.
The abductors agreed to share some of their technology with us, as long as the government continued to deny their existence. This could partially explained why our technology had developed so rapidly in the past few decades. If you stop and think about it, technology had advanced more during that time frame than it had in the last 2000 years.
The NASA officials also said that the abductors had prepared some of those abducted (which included me) for when the first contact with us would become necessary. I would learn later, however, that there were other reasons for the abductions as well. Many abductees were identified as NASA personnel, along with some other VIP’s.
After first contact, NASA established a top secret UFO department, known only to the American president and a few top U.S. military personnel. Of course, to this day, Uncle Sam still denies their existence. Knowledge about it was on a need-to-know basis, AND YOU DON’T NEED TO KNOW.
I was still having a hard time believing all this shit, but the dollar signs and possible movie deals kept tickling my curiosity.
