by Unknown
I have discovered the flight controls on one of the smaller craft to be undamaged. However, the time mechanism is damaged beyond repair. We can employ the craft to explore the planet and perhaps find resources for our requirements, without having to navigate the jungle.
If you remember, the Mothership carried several smaller craft. They each were equipped with time travel capabilities. Each sat only three people but had a cargo space just large enough to carry some container’s to fill with water and enough space for a few bananas and coconuts.
These crafts were mainly used to fly around the globe after the Mothership had entered a certain time-frame. They usually flew in a formation of three. They were not detectable by radar and were mainly the unidentified flying objects that most people thought to be alien flying saucers.
Monroe selected me and Karen to accompany him in our desperate search. We are family, was his reasoning for selecting us.
He warned that since the Mothership’s communications had been damaged, we would not be able to communicate with those left behind. We would be flying without ears into the unknown, having no idea what was out there, and no means to call for help if something should go wrong. In other words, we could end up being stranded far away from everyone.
“Are you up for this?” I asked Karen.
“It is what it is,” was her answer.
During our flight, we did not encounter one single living soul, nor one bird, nor one animal, nor one bug splatter on the windshield. Not one living creature or manmade structure to speak of. There was nothing but vegetation and water, as we circled the globe searching for our requirements. We were definitely on Earth as I recognized many land marks.
I thought this might be a good time to bring up a subject that has probably been on everyone’s mind.
“Monroe…I have wondered, probably from the first day we met, how do you keep some thoughts private?”
That may be difficult for you to comprehend. The best way to explain might be to think of an off/on switch. When we want to keep our thoughts private, we turn the switch off.
“That’s a logical explanation,” I replied.
We were about to land on a beach in South America when all of a sudden Monroe announced: The rescue team has arrived. We must return to the crash site.
Not a day late and certainly not a dollar short, as Karen and I let out a big “Hooray,” as we fist bumped, an action Tom-Tom had taught us.
“Let’s turn this buggy around and head back to civilization,” I shouted with glee.
“Hey, Monroe, you know how to drive an aircraft and an automobile, but do you know how to drive a baby buggy?” I asked.
Monroe gave me his consistent confused look. Probably wondering why I would be asking another silly question.
He just shrugged his shoulders, having no idea what I was referring too.
The aircraft and automobile drive themselves, he reiterated. I have not an idea what a baby buggy might be, let alone how to drive one.
“You drive a baby buggy by tickling its feet,” I laughed at one of my favorite jokes.
Sometimes the person telling the joke is the only one laughing. That was the case here because Karen had already heard it 100 times and it was apparent Monroe had no clue.
“Tom?” Karen nudged me while giving me that look she gives me when I’ve done or said something I shouldn’t have.
“What?”
“He might find that offensive since he can’t have children,” she whispered to me.
“Oh! Sorry Monroe, I wasn’t thinking.”
It was probably another one of those times when I put my foot in my mouth, speaking before thinking. By now, you must know that is one of my bad habits.
But I think my joke did register, ’cause I swore I heard a slight chuckle as he waved his hand over the instrument panel and said, That was a good one grandpa.
The aircraft did a 180 and before I could crack another joke we had the Mothership in sight.
To make a short story longer, we were rescued in the nick of time.
“What took you guys so long?” I asked our rescuers.
There was a vast number of years in Earth’s history they had to search, Monroe pointed out.
“How in the world did they find us?” was my next question.
Fortunately, time travel leaves a trail that can be tracked.
“What year did we end up in?” I wanted to know. Bet you want to know too, huh?
You ask too many questions. Need to know. And...
“Don’t say it Monroe.”
I suppose he was basically telling me, don’t go sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.
*****
The wrecked Mothership was cremated, leaving no trace that we had ever been there.
Karen, I, and the other originals were to be returned to our timelines. Along the way we heard a song playing in our heads.
We are family. Get up everybody and sing…We are family…
Monroe was somehow playing the song for us. I even noticed a slight sway in his posture to the tune of the music. To my surprise, he was getting it on.
It was now time to say farewell to our unique little bugged-eyed grandson. How often have you heard of a grandson being older than their grandparents? What can one say in this type situation? It’s certainly not an everyday occurrence, that’s for sure.
Together we had experienced situations that no one in the history of mankind had nor probably would ever experience again in the future. You might say, we had developed a unique bond.
I will miss you both, he sighed, as he surprisingly gave Karen and I a gentle one arm hug.
He then touched his finger on my shirt under my chin and said, You have a speck on your shirt Grandpa.
I naturally looked down, and he poked me under my chin and said, Got’cha!
He then gave me a great big smiley face and added,
I have enjoyed being your ‘chip off the old block’.
I was left speechless.
“Love to you and Karen,” he added, in a raspy voice.
For a few seconds Karen and I were totally mesmerized. Did you catch that Monroe had spoken out loud?
“You spoke,” Karen and I said at the same time.
Monroe looked embarrassed as he shrugged his shoulders.
My grandson had adopted a sense of humor, a smidgen of emotion, with some compassion to boot. He had come out of his emotionless shell! This display of emotions must have triggered something inside him to enable him to speak out loud.
It is much less painful to telepath, he reasoned.
“So long grandson. We are gonna’ miss you too,” was all I could think to say.
Karen added, “We love you too.”
I swear I saw a little bitty tear row down his cheek. Karen and I had to wipe a few away ourselves.
Take pride that you helped save the human race from extinction, Monroe commented.
Hey, that should enhance my resume to join the Marvel hero’s association!
Let us get this show on the road, he said, with a slight sigh.
He then snatched the helmets off our heads and engaged the time mechanism.
*****
The next thing I know I was in my pontoon boat franticly racing an angry storm back to my dock. If you remember, Tom-Tom was out on the lake fishing when Monroe had picked him up.
The fierce wind was coming from the direction I needed to go. The small 9.9 HP Yamaha engine just wasn’t up to the task. The boat would barely move as the waves pounded furiously and rocked the boat. I could see I wasn’t going to make it to my dock any time soon. I had no idea where Karen was.
Adding to my misery, a flash of lightening hit the boat and propelled me into the stormy waters. With no life jacket on, I started sinking like a rock.
I couldn’t imagine that Monroe would drop me off in such a desperate situation. Drowning in my lake was to be my destiny? Come on man!
*****
“Hey…sleepy h
ead, time to wake up. The Cardinal’s game starts in a few minutes,” Karen said as she shook me awake.
With a knee jerk reaction, I opened my eyes and started thrashing about. I quickly realized I was sitting in my theater chair in my ‘Man Cave’.
“Did you enjoy your nap, honey?” Karen asked.
“You’re not going to believe the dream I just had,” I told her, as I turned on the TV to watch the game. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
“How about popping some popcorn, my love?”
“Give me five,” she responded.
Halfway through the game and popcorn, the doorbell rang. I get highly irritated when someone interrupts my ballgame. It always seems to happen right at a most crucial part of the game. Bases loaded, two out, with the tying run at the plate.
“Honey, could you see who it is?” I hollered, as Karen was in another room.
“Okay,” she hollered back.
A few minutes later she came into the ‘Man Cave’. Her face was white as snow as if she had seen another ghost.
She softly said, “You’re not going to believe who it is.”
“Can’t you tell me?” I asked as the pitcher began his windup.
“You wouldn’t believe me. You need to see for yourself.”
Reluctantly, I hit PAUSE on the TV remote and followed her to the door.
There stood a strange looking young man that I recognized, but couldn’t remember from where.
“Dad, we have a serious problem. You must come back to the future!”
EPILOGUE
Surely by now you are convinced that my story came from some true events in my life blended with a vivid imagination. After all, time travel and being cloned? Come on man! Everyone knows that’s totally sci-fi stuff.
But then, there will always be that little doubt that if Monroe really does exist, maybe he came up with a more advanced technique to block memories or to confuse my mind.
Perhaps he will reveal himself when he feels mankind is ready. Until then, we can only assume he and his future exist only in my imagination.
However, have you noticed that there doesn’t seem to be very many UFO sightings lately? And that you hardly hear anymore new alien abduction stories. Makes me wonder about his promise to abolish the time travel program.
The truth is out there, somewhere. How, when, or if it will ever be exposed is, for now, good material for the X-files. The next UFO that is observed may, in fact, actually be extra-terrestrial.
*****
Thank you for taking the time to read my story. If you would like to share your thoughts with me, please visit my website (www.thomaslhay.com). You can leave a comment on any of the blogs posted and I promise to respond. You will notice that most of my blog posts are about subjects in my books.
Also, whether you enjoyed my story or not, I would appreciate if you would leave me an honest review on Amazon and/or my website. It’s every author’s desire to know what his readers think of his work, be it positive or negative.
You might be interested to read my original memoirs, The Comeback Kid, the Memoirs of Thomas L. Hay. It’s the story that inspired An Abduction Revelation and this sequel. It is a memoir written before my imagination went wild. It is available in all formats wherever books are sold.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Thomas L. Hay was raised in the Golden Valley of Clinton, Missouri. He is a graduate of the 1961 Clinton Senior High class. He spent four years in the U.S. Navy as a Radioman during the Vietnam war. He retired after a 39-year career with TWA/American Airlines. He currently resides in Lake Waukomis, Missouri, with his lovely wife, along with some hyperactive squirrels, too many irritating geese, and a few cranky old catfish.
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