The Visitor




The horse was the first to sense it, slightly rearing back and giving a snort informing it's passenger that something close wasn't right. The sun was setting and a thin layer of fog slowly started to cover the ground. The light breeze that had been blowing seemed to suddenly stop and the hair on the back of the rider's neck started to stand on end. The rider was now aware of what his horse already seemed to know. He had made this ride a hundred times; out of the barn to the edge of his property line and around the small lake, taking in the scenery and giving his hooved friend much needed exercise.  He had come across wild animals before, the area is overrun by bobcats, wild dogs, deer and even wild hogs but nothing that had ever spooked his steed like it was at this moment.

He kept a small caliber hunting rifle on the right hand side of his saddle in a scabbard in case any of the wildlife chose to pursue as more than just a curiosity, but just now he wasn't exactly sure that he needed it. They kept moving slowly, both scanning the area for signs of any threat, sometimes stopping to listen for sounds of footsteps or rustling leaves or branches. Nothing. Not a sound except for the noise they were making themselves. The wind picked back up, heavier this time, more forceful, which for this time of year in this part of the country was odd. He checked the forecast as he always did before a ride and unless the local weatherman had been full of crap like he usually was, there shouldn't be a storm coming for three more days.

With no sounds other than their own, they picked up the pace, traveling faster to the farthest side of the lake almost to the point of returning back home. He stopped his companion and climbed down to smell the sagebrush and listen to the crickets chirp and frogs bellow. He loved the smell of sagebrush and the horse loved the small block of sugar he was accustomed to getting during their evening rides. He had just tied his horse to a tree and picked up a few smooth rocks to skim across the lake when he saw it: a light so bright it lit up the sky like fireworks. The only difference with this light was that it wasn't a flash it was a large concentrated beam that engulfed him and his equestrian sidekick.

The shock of the very sudden and powerful light took his feet out from under him and landed him on his seat at the edge of the lake soaking his pants. He stumbled to his feet and raced over to his horse, but the horse was gone along with the rifle and all the other gear he carried in his saddlebag for emergencies. The rider stood there puzzled; his horse had just been there and now was nowhere to be seen. He listened for the sound of hooves pounding the ground making its way back to the barn, but he heard nothing. The hairs on the back of his neck shot straight out. The wind had stopped, the air grew colder and that's when he saw it, a figure of a person standing there half behind a tree shadowed in darkness.

The rider was surprised to see anyone out in this part of the woods as it was his property and very secluded. He took a step back, his mind whirled into action, muscle memory taking over as he pulled the knife from its sheath that he kept on his left hip. With the handle in his hand and the blade going up his left forearm, he slowly started to move forward towards the visitor. He wasn’t scared, he was cautious. His 12 years of military service and training had taught him well. He was a Marine, medically retired after being injured on his fourth tour of duty in the middle east. He bought his land after being discharged and draws full disability which allows him to afford the quiet life he has come to love. He still keeps up with his weapons training and works out as much as his body will let him. His training told him to advance on the enemy that stood before him but his instincts told him differently.

He moved toward the tree that he had seen the intruder use to seek cover. He moved, not rushing himself with the mantra “slow is smooth, smooth is fast” going through his head. His old platoon commander used that phrase back when he was still in, before the RPG that ended his military career. One foot in front of the other, being careful not to trip over the root of a tree, a fallen branch or a small hole in the ground, he had made it to within five feet of the tree. He started to side-step to peer around it, his heartbeat picking up the pace to match his breathing. His mouth was closed and teeth clenched, he took the final step moving into position and peaked around the tree only to see nothing. There was no person or thing standing in the spot where he could have sworn they would be.

Nothing? How could there be nothing there? His mind raced, wondering if they somehow could have moved from that spot and made their way to another but no, they couldn’t have; he had kept his eyes fixed there from the moment he stood up. He stood there silently, looking around slowly making sure that he scouted the area thoroughly still only to see nothing. He allowed his body to relax just a little when he was sure he was alone. After a few minutes of calming down, the rider decided it was time to head back to the house and check that his horse had returned to its stall.

The air had turned cold and the sun had completely set for the day. He used the light of the moon to guide himself as he walked through the trees, now feeling more at ease than he had a short while ago. He heard nothing but his own footsteps and could see nothing but the stars in the night sky, which lit his path home. The further he walked the more he thought about the past hour; he heard nothing, no frogs, no crickets, not even the wind rustling the leaves of the trees. That’s when he felt the faint touch on the back of his neck that caused him to spin around, hand balled up into a fist, his arm cocked to throw a punch but he couldn’t. He turned around only to feel a hand cover his face and see only darkness. The rider was unconscious.

Minutes feel like hours in his subconscious, his mind is loopy, he can feel something tugging at him, not to wake up but tugging at him physically. He feels varying temperatures on his skin, scorching heat to freezing cold, each change in temperature causes his body to convulse slightly. Sharp points prick his skin, he feels it all over, one here, three there, his anesthetic is starting to wear off and he feels more and more of the pain, more of the hot temperatures burning his flesh. With each prick he is jolted back into reality. The last of the pain comes from a large needle that pierces the back of his neck at the base of his skull, and from what he can tell the needle angled upward into his brain. The puncture of the needle into his cerebellum sends a hot, white flash of light through his body and brings him back to the real world immediately.

He can now see even though his eyes had been open the entire time, held that way by a circular clamp placed around the eye socket. The clamp had four small hooks protruding from it, two on top and two on bottom, these held his eyelids open. Above his eyes he can see small silver arms each holding what looks like drills at the ends. He looks down, his head not moving, only his eyes and sees a series of other arms, each with a different instrument at the end. He cannot see where he is or what he is strapped into. He knows it's a seat of some sort because he can feel his body in a sitting position. There are bright, blinding lights all around him, so bright that he cannot see beyond them into the area he is being held.

Past the lights he thinks he sees a figure moving swiftly from one side of the room to the other and soon realizes that it isn't one thing, it's multiple beings. They are encircling him, speaking to each other with low voices in a strange tongue. They all step backwards into the shadows except one. He leans over the rider and for the first time can be seen clearly. The visitor is of a medium build, large squinted eyes, small almost human like mouth and a skin tone of light gray and green mixed. The visitor raises a hand consisting of four fingers to its mouth and the other hand to the rider's, blinks and then steps back to join his compatriots.

The lights become brighter, the arms suspended above him descend closer, the drills fire up, preparing for what the rider imagines is the worst. As the rider braces himself, cold, red beams of light emit from the tips of the drills burning deep into his flesh. A large bolt of blue light flashes and the room fills with gas, rendering the rider unconscious. The arms containing the drill have retracted back up to where they belong, the gas that filled the chamber has cleared and the restraints holding the rider have unlocked. The rider is free.

When the rider awakens he finds himself home, in his barn, nestled in a pile of hay in the stall next to his whinnying horse. His memories are a jumbled blur. His skin feels cold but his body, his beaten body, destroyed by years of training and war, felt amazing. He doesn't feel any of the pain in his knees, back, neck, ankles or spine. He feeds his four-legged friend and heads to the house for a glass of water, headache medicine and a shower. On the way to the house he ponders his memories, which he knows can't be real, and attributes his pain-free body to a warm night on a hay bed in the barn.

He reaches the bathroom, starts the shower and undresses. He examines his body and reality comes crashing down upon him. His memories are not dreams, they are real. His body has scars in each of the places he remembers seeing the drills; and looking in the mirror he can now see tiny red marks around his eyes where the clamps had been. He can feel panic setting in, filling his mind like a disease as he enters the shower. Washing his face he begins to wonder if the visitor had taken him to experiment on or if he had been taken to be repaired.

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