By Alberto Pupo
He awakens somewhere… but it is not where he is supposed to be. Last night, he fell asleep in Paris today he is awake in Washington DC. He does not remember anything at all, except he has to do something important. He struggles to think it hurts to think. He feels like something is wrong with his brain, as if there are creatures inside of it feeding on his knowledge. The hotel he is in looks familiar, it like a mashup of the Watergate and a Howard Johnson it is both trashy and classy.
He takes a drink of water and looks in the mirror something about his face is different… everything about his face is different. He knows he is here in the Nation’s Capital for a reason, something big is happening today. The images in his head show a large UFO making a land right next to the Lincoln Memorial, but when the occupants of the ship got down, they look human, all too human., for some reason he expected there to be little green men, or greys, or reptilians. But no, these men were White , Blonde Ayran? The Master race no? Now he realizes that these men who were white blonde and Aryan work for the President! (if you can call him that).
The images now stop flowing… he feels like he need a drink, so e heads to the semi trash, classy lobby. There is an empty bar with a lonely looking barkeep absently wiping down a glass. The only other patron is a well dressed and groomed, young woman, she seems to be fixated on the television screen as if it is the only thing that matters. She now turns to him and smiles, her knowing blue eyes acknowledging his presence.
“ You are here. And you came fast… impossibly fast”
She draws a gun and holds it at my legs under the bar point it right his crotch.
“If you are not who you are supposed to be I will make sure you never procreate again.”
He gulps in terror, because he does not remember who he is supposed to be, and if he speaks the wrong answer he will never be able to “procreate” ever again as she so gingerly put it.
He searches through his memory, but all he can remember is the damn images of the landing.
“You don’t know who you are…”
After speaking these words, she removes the gun from his crotch apparently not knowing is the right choice.
“Ok, well since you are here the party can start to follow me.”
He follows her out the bar and through a back entrance of the hotel, he leads him to a parking lot, and she stands before the trunk of a small black SUV.
“Alright just as we planned here take this.”
She hands him the largest weapon he has seen in his life, it is a monstrosity of wires and metal, with a scope and an impossibly thick barrel.
“Ok, just as we practiced when you get an open shot, you shoot indiscriminately.”
He takes the weapon, not knowing who or what he is supposed to be shooting at, other than he needs to shoot.
“But who am I supposed to kill?”
He speaks these words highly confused and puzzled, the smile on the woman’s face like that of a serial killer about to make its first kill.
“Like we practiced you shoot them all, the aliens, the president, and his men.”
To be Continued