Abductees

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Abductees Page 2

by Alan Brickett


  It was barely perceptible for a reason, and due to a lot of practice.

  Lekiso Ambalu had awoken slowly, and she had already cataloged the metal room and its occupants: the Caucasian man with the massive build and red hair who was awake and the other three who were still asleep, unconscious, or worse.

  Two were men, one with colored skin and the other Caucasian but with a much paler complexion than the red-haired man. The last was a woman with flowing honey-colored hair and an olive tone to her that marked her as European or Latin American by descent.

  None of which really helped her right now. Her training had her looking for exits, and she found the two almost immediately: one on each side of the room, across the way from where the five of them were lying down. Both were closed, and they looked like serious pressure doors, the kind on naval boats.

  “Are you alright there?”

  The big man was now sitting back with his legs crossed. He had been waiting for her to orient herself and was giving her a steady look, arms down and non-threatening—which, for him, was hard, considering he would tower over almost everyone she had ever known. Even seated on the cot, he was her height.

  Basics, establish the situation and prepare for possible scenarios, so first find out what everyone knows.

  “Who are you?” she asked the big man.

  He gave a small smile in return. “I am Connor. Pleased to meet you.”

  No point in pushing anyone away, so she took his big hand and, with some relief, shook it without him breaking hers.

  “I am Lekiso.”

  Connor’s brow wrinkled as he took in her tone and way of speaking. Now that she had assessed the situation, she was more in control, and her accent had slipped back into something closely resembling American English.

  “Well, it seems easy enough to pronounce, thankfully.”

  Lekiso was surprised, then surprised, even more, when he used her name correctly.

  “So, Lekiso, do you have any idea what is going on?”

  Lekiso’s shoulders slumped a little. “No. I was hoping to ask you the same thing.”

  “Ah, well, that is a pity. The last thing I remember was falling asleep, again, in the hospital.”

  “The hospital?” Lekiso tilted her head as she asked the question. That wasn’t what she had expected. “Were you injured badly?”

  Connor looked down at himself strangely, with an expression that Lekiso couldn’t read.

  “Yeah, a bit of a story there. What is the last thing you remember?”

  Before Lekiso could answer, the smaller Eastern-looking man sat up suddenly, giving them both a start.

  “What in the world is going on here!?” he almost shouted. “What? What? What?”

  The man’s eyes were wide, and he was trying to look everywhere at once. His dark eyes, set in a face of mixed-Asian background and under his short black hair, were open wide in a comical expression.

  It would have been funny.

  If it weren’t for the situation they were in.

  “Whoa, calm down there, buddy.” Connor put both his big paws up in a warding gesture.

  The smaller man’s eyes locked on him as he started to babble. “Who are you? Where am I? This isn’t my house. It’s not my room, and how did I get here? Why am I here, why are you here, where is this—”

  “Calm down, sir.”

  Lekiso’s firm tone cut straight through Marc’s breathless outburst, immediately bringing his attention to her with bug-eyed alarm.

  “We don’t know anything either, so please just take a deep breath and try to keep it together.” Lekiso kept her hands down and her body still, urging him with her eyes to just pause a moment and take things in.

  Marc was known to his friends only by the nickname he used online, and that was using the term “friends” loosely. He’d spent most of his adult life indoors playing online poker and blackjack or engaged in other computer activities he wouldn’t admit to.

  The small man was way, way out of his depth.

  Visibly shaking, he just sat there looking back and forth between Lekiso and Connor. He didn’t recognize either of them, although he could appreciate the way that the singlesuit fabric clung to her athletic figure—the suit padding, in her case, ran up under her chest in support like a bra.

  He could also see from the suit fabric covering Connor that the man could easily handle him if he would try anything.

  For their part, they just waited to see if he would calm down. He could see them observing him. Time spent on webcams against a wide variety of opponents had developed his skills at reading people. Subtle changes in expression or body language told him that they were both competent at physical violence.

  The big man was mentally prepared to move into an action of some kind if Marc were to suddenly go off. Laughable really, since Marc would have been overpowered instantly, but the redhead didn’t know that yet.

  The African woman, now, she didn’t hide that she was observing him, but he could see in her a much higher level of violence than in the big man.

  She had training of some kind, and she had used it.

  Marc could cope with the big man, restraining him, but this woman might do something a lot worse if motivated.

  “Uh, ok, ok.” Visibly relaxing and folding his legs together, Marc did his best to show he wasn’t a threat. “I’m just surprised is all. This really wasn’t what I thought I’d wake up to.”

  That got a slight smile from the big man, who immediately let his guard down and offered his hand for a shake. Leaning forward a bit, he easily had the reach to bridge the gap between them.

  “That’s ok, bud. It’s been quite a shock for us too. The name’s Connor.”

  Marc took the hand and gripped it as hard as he could, willing the impression of solid integrity into the action, hoping Connor would accept it enough to at least store it in his memory.

  The art of a good play was to set up the pieces and their perceptions. Sun Tzu: be weak when you are strong, be strong when you are weak, and play the opponent’s perceptions, not the opponent.

  “Marc, Marc Umber.” After the shake, he turned and held his hand out immediately to the woman with dark-brown skin. “Um, pleased to meet you seems a little too polite in these circumstances?”

  Lekiso had her eyes narrowed as she considered her distrust for what the smaller man was doing. He appeared quite genuine, but something was off. Mentally shaking herself, she felt that the bigger picture was more important right now; she could watch this guy later if there were a later.

  “Lekiso.” She took his hand, noting how soft it was, and shook it firmly before he took it back.

  “We were just checking what it was that we could last remember before you broke in, bud.” Connor bobbed his head at Lekiso to continue.

  “I was in the barracks.” She didn’t see any need to hide her posting at the time, at least, those parts that would be public knowledge. “After my duty shift, I packed everything away as usual and lay down to get some shut eye. The next thing I know, I’m waking up here. What about you?” She waved a hand at Marc.

  “Uh. Ummm, I think I fell asleep in my study. Which is not uncommon, really,” Marc hastened to add.

  “I do it all the time, a normal day, a normal night. I didn’t see or hear anything strange before waking up with you two, and… Hang on.” Marc looked to either side and spotted the other two sleeping bodies. “Who are they?”

  “No idea, bud. They haven’t made a sound yet.”

  Connor squinted at the other female of the pair and then looked over at the last man of the three.

  Lekiso ran a wary eye over the man as well, noticing a few things, but before she could speak up, the woman gave a small moan and rose up on her elbows, completely relaxed, as if she seductively rose every morning.

  It hypnotized the three of them because she lifted her head to look away from them towards the one bare purple silver metal wall of their room.

  She gave a deep humming sound
as she ran a hand through her waist-length hair, looking from side to side. Even the surroundings didn’t trouble her, almost as if she expected every time she woke up to be in a new place.

  Sitting up straighter, the woman attracted the appreciative looks of both Marc and Connor, the singlesuit hiding not one bit of her superb figure. Lekiso just rolled her eyes before giving a small cough. “Ahem.”

  “Oh?” The woman turned around suddenly, long golden hair swept over her shoulder like a movie impression of grace.

  Sparkling green eyes set into an angel’s face flicked all over the room as she turned to face the three of them. “I’m sorry, I don’t know any of you, and I don’t recognize the room. Would you mind telling me who brought me here?”

  Marc raised both eyebrows and looked at Connor, who just shrugged. Lekiso kept her face deadpan at their exchange and answered the woman. “Ma’am, I’m afraid none of us know who you are, and we are quite sure that you have been brought here by whoever brought us as well. And before you ask, no, we don’t know who that is.”

  “That Bounero and his weird parties. What balls!”

  Each of the three others heard Meriam speak in their ears in curious English, the tones completely the same to the lazily accented words she had spoken before. The English, however, was just that little bit off.

  The three of them worked out why: it was because her lips hadn’t spoken the words in English. She also looked quite annoyed when she said it.

  “Uh. Um, excuse me, but what did Bounero do at the party that you think he would have something to do with this?” Marc asked.

  Meriam blinked at him a few times. “You speak Italian?”

  “Uh. No…” Marc looked at the other two, who just shook their heads.

  “But I just said that in Italian. What do you understand when I speak now?” Meriam’s English changed in the middle. First, they heard her speaking typically, and then it changed to that English that wasn’t the same as her lips again.

  “We understand you,” Connor replied, “but I have no idea how.”

  “Let me try something,” Lekiso said. “Listen carefully. The king of the kraal has many cattle. He is a wealthy man and can afford many wives.”

  “What is a kraal? And why would it make him wealthy with his cows?” Marc looked at Lekiso, puzzled.

  “Oh my. I heard your voice change in my ear, right there in my ear.” Meriam was pointing a long, manicured nail at her right ear, looking at Lekiso with wide eyes.

  Marc could see she was pretending to be an airhead, and she was good at it.

  “I heard it too. Your voice changes, but it comes out in English,” Connor said.

  “It would appear so, and a kraal is an actual name for something that wouldn’t necessarily be translated. But I said the rest in Zulu, which none of you should understand that well.”

  “Must be some kind of translator, but how does it work?” Marc looked around the room, its slightly curved walls and ceiling giving it an organic feel.

  It certainly had no corners, and there were no alcoves or obvious cupboards or anything to hide equipment in. “It didn’t sound like I heard it through anything else. It was right in my ear, just as I hear you speak now.”

  Meriam was tentatively exploring her ear with a nail tip. “I cannot feel any earpiece, at least none that I have used before.”

  At that, Connor and Lekiso both looked over at the beautiful woman.

  “Used before, babe?” Connor asked before Lekiso could open her mouth.

  Meriam smiled back at Connor, the kind of smile that could make a lover’s heart skip a beat. To her, though, it seemed her usual casual smile.

  “On the shows, in the dances, we all have hidden earpieces. All the girls liked them like we were secret agents or security guards. Always the high-tech gear for us so that it wouldn’t be visible to the crowds.”

  Marc read that as a lie, one used very often.

  “I…see. I think.” Connor raised a questioning eyebrow at Lekiso, who just shrugged in response before she turned to the last of the five, who was still lying down on his cot.

  “Are you going to stop pretending anytime soon and join us?”

  The fifth figure chuckled, and Marc, Meriam, and Connor all turned to look.

  “Ah, well, I guess I was going to get caught out eventually, hey?”

  The man sat up with an embarrassed smile on his face.

  “Bin listening to you lot carry on for a bit. It’s only safe, after all. When you get used to sleeping on the streets like me, you tend to build up the ability to wake up but stay still, just to check what your environment tis like before doing anything, yeah.”

  “Uh. That’s a British accent you have,” Marc exclaimed.

  “And she said she spoke Italian, and you’re African.” The man pointed at Lekiso.

  “I’m from New Zealand, well, living there, well, was living there, well, ah heck,” Marc stuttered.

  Lekiso decided not to clarify the impression of her origin to a country within Africa.

  “Connor is American.” Lekiso gave a nod to the big man, who didn’t interrupt.

  “So, if we are from all over the world, I assume that both of you also just went to sleep and then woke up here?” She waved the question at Meriam and the last man.

  “Well, it was exhaustion after some more…interesting activity, but yes, I passed into oblivion, and the next thing I know, I am with you four.” Meriam didn’t even blush as she said it.

  “Hehehe, this one’s foxy. Yeah, pretty dark lady, I went to sleep inside a big garbage box. Next fing I know, I’m here with you lot yabbering away,” Ormond answered. “So, perhaps we should do another round of introductions just so everyone knows everyone’s names, yeah?”

  They all did another quick round of greetings and various shaking of hands.

  Meriam gave her fingers over as if to have her hand kissed even by Lekiso. Marc was hesitant with Ormond, and Ormond and Connor gave each other a wary glance when they shook hands, but overall, they got it out of the way quickly.

  “Something else you lot may not have realized while you were concerned about our relative companionship like. Have you checked out this gear we are all get up in?” Ormond held both his arms out for everyone to see.

  “What about it?” Connor lifted his own arms up to take a look, and the sleeves’ material flexed over the muscles of his big forearms, seamless and looking as fine as silk. He hadn’t had a lot of flab before the hospital, but in hospital, he had lost all his firmness due to being in bed all the time. Now, though, he could see he was fit and trim.

  They all were, in fact.

  Giving careful glances at the other four, Connor could see that for a bum from the street, Ormond wasn’t in any state of ill health; he was also fit and trim. Marc, for a guy who seemed to spend a lot of time indoors, also didn’t have any significant tummy fat or rolls.

  The ladies, well, they also looked really good, and he didn’t want to give the impression of being impolite by looking too closely at how the singlesuits sat snugly against their figures.

  “Take a look, mate. These here on the wrists and on our hips, some kind of rubber plates and tiny plastic braces, I’m sure?” Ormond was pointing them out to the others while they held their limbs out.

  “He’s right. These are harder pieces.” Lekiso had her fingers under the wrist of one sleeve. The rubber composite made several interlinked plates that extended about halfway up her forearm.

  “And these as well. They support me lower back and hold my hips up straight.” Ormond grinned, looking at Meriam’s profile as she bent at the hip. Marc swallowed, and Connor averted his eyes.

  “Hmmm, yes. Well, it looks like we have some kind of impressive gear on.” Lekiso caught the guilt in Marc’s eyes when he turned from Meriam. Ormond just smiled at her, equally as delighted, while Meriam just looked pretty.

  “Do yours do anything, though? Can you find any buttons or any lights to indicate anything?” Lekis
o looked down at her wrists again, prodding the plastic and rubber in various places.

  After a few seconds, they all confirmed that not only were all of them exactly the same depending on the fit of the wearer but that none of them could get any reaction from the singlesuit inlays.

  “Ah, but here is something interesting for you lot.” Ormond chuckled a bit before pointing at his feet.

  “I’m a man of shoes, see. Know a good shoe that will last, I do. And these are the comfiest shoes I’ve ever worn. And look at the bottoms. Rubber? Plastic? Some kind of metal in ’em too. But I just feel good shoes under me when I wiggle me toes. Lookit this, then.”

  Ormond hopped to his feet and stood up, weaving back and forth a bit, using his hips to press down on his feet.

  “Comfy, comfy. I don’t think whoever designed these things ever wanted someone to return ’em for a refund.”

  “Uh. Hey, hey, look there.” Marc was pointing down at Ormond’s heel, getting everyone’s attention and causing Ormond to almost fall over as he quickly tried to turn and look.

  “Whatissit? What’s on me damn foot?”

  “What the hell?” Connor shifted around so he could pull one of his own feet up and look for himself.

  Marc and Meriam did the same while Lekiso looked at Connor to see if he had it too.

  “What the bugger is it?” Ormond stood on one leg and grabbed his foot by the ankle to look at the heel. There, right at the back of the foot, was an upswept insignia. “No, it couldn’t be? Could it?” he looked incredulously at Lekiso, who waited for Connor.

  “Same on mine.”

  “Uh. Same here too,” said Marc.

  “And mine.” Meriam turned back with wonder in her eyes.

  “Bloody Nike? Nike made these things?” Ormond dropped his foot to look around the room. “Where the bloody hell are we, then, if whoever kidnapped us away uses Nike as their captive-wear tailors?”

  Automated log update.

  Relativistic actual date: day 23 of November 2018 as per human calendar circa 21st century.

  Elapsed subjective mission time 157 days.

  Elapsed actual mission time 358 years and 65 days.

  Discrepancy in mission time due to anomaly in time travel as is recorded in file 119-X45 for review, consideration given to mission parameters and adjustments noted in the file.

 

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