Transference Abduction

Author retains all rights to this original work of fiction.

Thank You for reading my story! I would enjoy hearing your thoughts,

criticism, and ideas on how to make this story better. Rachel M. Moore

Monday, June 20th, 8:15 AM - My apartment...

I woke with a sour taste in my mouth, much like a rotting egg sort of thing from what I could smell of my breath. I knew I wasn't going to make it to work today feeling the way I did so I called my boss to say I was taking a sick day. I barely made it to the bathroom to piss, downed some antacid, and returned to bed.

Now, nearly two hours later, the antacid I'd taken had done nothing to calm my stomach or change that foul taste in my mouth. If this was some lingering effect of drinking half a bottle of Jägermeister while camping this past weekend, I was probably going to swear off drinking for a while. A long while!

The camping trip was with a group of friends and was to be an overnighter somewhere near the Mount Washington trail head in the Olympic Mountain range. Those intensions went to hell though and our plans got railroaded due to a couple significant others that tagged along. These women decided to join us to keep tabs on their men, we all knew it and as they'd likely screw up our trip.

Their first complaints began at the trailhead when they refused to be out in nature without having a toilet they could use. Where did they think they we were going - camping, mountain, forest - ain't no toilets in the wild! Since these two couldn't deal with having to 'drop trow' in the forest, even for one night, we ended up moving camp to a pullout area near the Mount Ellinor upper trailhead.

At this trailhead there was a toilet the women could use - a permanent fixture put there by the Forest Service. The next closest toilet was miles away at any of campsite areas that surrounded Lake Cushman in the valley below us. The rest of us could see a place to piss behind any number of trees we were surrounded by. I was sure poor cellphone service and being disconnected from their social media accounts were their next biggest complaints - I stopped listening to them after the move.

I didn't know either of these women all that well and I, like the others in the group, did our best to not show our annoyance about our new campsite arrangements for the evening. We should be more pissed with Marcus and Lane for bringing their significant others - they should have known better! It would be ammo to razz them at future gatherings, hopefully without their women in tow.

There was a third woman in our group, Emma. She went to college with Danny and me. I had a lot of respect for her chosen career path and maybe I was a little envious of the woman she had turned out to be. We gave her major kudos for not giving a crap about toilets or bugs or creature comforts while we were out here camping. She was happy to be out of the city, away from work, and away from her ex. We all knew him to be a douche bag; it just took her longer to figure it out unfortunately.

Emma had her own camping gear; it showed signs of use and wasn't freshly purchased for this camping expedition like Marcus' gear. At the campsite, basically a pullout / short dead end dirt road off the NF-014 road, she was the first to get her tent up and everything she needed for the evening setup. She knew once the sun went down it would be pitch black out here, so setting up before then was the smart play.

We all got the sense Emma enjoyed the outdoors, not that she was a tomboy or anything like that, but she absolutely had an adventurous spirit. She wasn't shy about getting her hands dirty and helped gathered firewood for the night, carried a few large / heavy rocks to construct a fire pit area, and even joined Danny, Rick, and I on a quick three-mile hike around the immediate area before the sun ducked behind the Olympics. No one seemed to miss the two couples, who stayed in the little tent city we'd built and stuck close to the toilets.

That evening we built a roaring fire, cooked burgers and hotdogs, and most of us drank ourselves into a blurred state. It didn't take long for the group to dwindle down to just Danny, Emma, and I. The first to retire were the two couples - go figure. Then we gave Rick hell when he tapped out a few minutes later. By this time my bottle of Jäger was half full and I needed to take a piss like nobody's business. I wobbled unsteadily towards the pitch black darkness of the surrounding tree line, propped myself against a tree, and...

That was the last thing I remember and figured I must have passed out. At some point I ungracefully pissed myself and vaguely remembering opening my eyes for a brief moment to watch odd looking headlights from some vehicle that pulled into the turnout we were camped at. I don't remember it driving away, but I did try to get up, felt like I was pushed down, considered calling out for help, but in the end I blacked out again.

Emma found me just after the sun began to come up. She helped to get me cleaned up as best she could, without actually doing the work of undressing me and getting me into new clothes. This happened before the others finally started milling about. I was embarrassed, but I was more thankful for her kindness and ultimately spared being the butt of every joke for eons to come with this group of friends. "Remember that time John passed out and pissed himself when we went camping?" I would never, ever, live that down, if not for Emma's help...

She surprised me by apologizing profusely for not coming to look for me after I left to go relieve myself. She and Danny thought I'd called it a night and didn't bother checking up on me. I believed she felt bad and told her not to worry about it. I appreciated the three ibuprofen she'd given me, along with a couple bottles of water, and for helping me tear down my tent and loading it up in my car. I was hung over that badly and could barely pack my shit up.

By two-o'clock yesterday the group was fully packed up, the fire pit had gotten a healthy dose of water and dirt to cover it, and everyone left in their separate vehicles. It took every ounce of strength, mental focus, and determination to make the drive back to my apartment. My head was throbbing, my body ached, and the two hour drive to Kent was odd.

Not odd in the sense that I saw anything strange along the way, but odd in that I heard a strained voice say 'You are John...' multiple times while driving. The first time I wasn't sure whether it was the radio or not, but I heard it again twice after I had turned the radio off. I almost hit the tail end of a semi-truck in the lane next to me when I peered behind me to see if there was someone in the car with me. That boost of adrenaline kicking in likely helped get me through the last half-hour stretch home of that drive.

Once parked in my assigned parking space, I wasted no time hitting the bathroom and puking my guts out. After the dry-heaves subsided, I stripped, climbed into the shower, and sat there on the floor until the water started to get cold. I felt a little better afterwards, but while drying off I noticed my arms, neck, and a few places on my face were covered with small little mounds. I resigned them to be my donation to the local mosquito population and rubbed a mixture of hand lotion and hydrocortisone on them.

For dinner last night I could barely keep down a sleeve of saltine crackers, forced myself to drink a few glasses of water, and went to bed after the evening news. I prayed I'd feel better in the morning, but as I lay here now, it wasn't to be. Maybe another sit in the shower would do me some good.

Monday, June 20th, 8:23 AM - My apartment...

God this feels good I thought feeling the warmth of the water cascading over me while again sitting on the floor of the shower. I reached up for the soap and heard "You are John..."

I pulled the shower curtain back slowly expecting to see someone standing there in my bathroom, but there wasn't anyone there. The last time I'd heard that was when I almost clipped that semi-truck yesterday. What the holy fuck!

I got to my feet and surveyed the misty bathroom - the door was closed, there wasn't anyone in here with me - was I losing my mind? I turned the water off and stood there listening, nothing, no sounds, no nothing besides the occasional drip of water from the shower head. I turned the water back on, no sounds other than the water now cascading over me, water drops beating on the shower curtain, water rolling down the drain, it was...

"You are John...," the voice said again clearly, more in control of its ability to speak.

"Fuck you," I barked ripping the shower curtain back expecting someone to be there this time.

I waited a few moments, listening intensely for some sound of movement outside the bathroom door, anything that might...

"John...," the voice spoke in a wondering tone.

"Who's there," I replied.

"John..."

"What? You're John too," I asked.

The voice softly replied, as if next to my ear, "You are John..."

"Where are you?"

"John..."

I didn't let the voice complete its sentence, "Yes! I'm fucking John... Jesus! Who the fuck are you? Where are you?!"

"I am Kizantz..."

I heard the voice clearly, but couldn't tell if it was male or female. The name 'Kizantz' didn't provide any clues, but I was beginning to freak out because the voice seemed to be emanating from inside of my head. If this wasn't some alcohol withdrawal kind of thing - I was fucking losing my shit... Could this be some kind of reaction to the thirty, forty-ish mosquito bites covering my body?

"What do you want?"

"John's help..."

Monday, June 20th, 9:06 AM - InstaMed...

I hated these 'Doc in a Box' offices, but short of going to the emergency room and sitting around for most of the day to get seen, this was my best option to get help quickly. I checked in easily enough and after a fifteen minute wait was called back to an exam room. That led to me describing my weekend to the nurse, showing her my arms and face covered in mosquito bites, and her leaving me there to wait for the doctor who, 'Would be in shortly'.

Ten minutes later the doctor got to hear my story all over again. Why did I bother telling the story the first time with the nurse I wondered? Did they compare stories? Sigh...

"You say you don't feel right, can you expand on that for me," he asked.

I told him about my stomach, feeling lethargic, and about the aches and pains I was experiencing. He asked me to take my shirt off so he could examine some of the mosquito bites. He didn't seem all that concerned - but did spend a few extra seconds poking one of them at the base of my neck right at the hairline. Other than being slightly bigger it didn't cause him any concern.

I felt it after he was done checking me out and was typing something into the computer. It was maybe the size of a dime and a little tender. Had some other bug bit me, a centipede maybe? I should ask...

"I understand you were drinking quite heavily," he said without judgment, "Might be you got a little alcohol poisoning and are just coming down from that. We can run blood tests, broad spectrum, see if anything looks abnormal. The health history you gave the nurse appears very good. You're sure you didn't drink from any streams or tainted water sources?"

I assured him I hadn't. I wasn't that stupid and knew the dangers of picking up a nasty case of Giardia from bad water sources. I was more worried that maybe I'd picked up something from the mosquito bites. When I mentioned 'Yellow-Fever' and 'Malaria' he chuckled and explained those diseases were pretty much off the table for Washington State and the US in general. He said the blood tests would show any abnormalities he'd want to follow-up on. Be a day before the results would get back to him and someone would contact me.

His best guess, a final diagnosis, was alcohol poisoning. He didn't lecture me about my stupidity for drinking so much in the first place, I appreciated that consideration. He said he could write me a prescription for something to ease the nausea and suggested I drink plenty of water or sports drinks with electrolytes to flush my system the next forty-eight hours. Eating bland food would be a good idea for the next couple of days also.

"Anything else I can do for you?"

I felt stupid for bringing up the mosquito borne diseases, but I felt like something more was going on. I was torn about mentioning the voice I kept hearing and decided I didn't need a seventy-two hour mandatory hold / committal for my 'safety' in a padded room someplace because I was hearing voices. I accepted the prescription, waited for the nurse to come back and draw a blood sample, and was back in my apartment by 11 AM not feeling any better.

No little voice in my head for going on three hours. Maybe this was just alcohol relat...

"John you are not ill..."

Monday, June 20th, 11:14 AM - My apartment...

"What the fuck!"

"John is not ill...," the voice repeated.

"Why are you doing this to me? Who are you?!"

"I am Kizantz. I need John's help..."

"This is not fucking helping me! What is happening to me?"

I could feel my heart racing and sat on my couch, switching to a laying position to elevate my feet to keep the blood from drain out of my head. Whatever this was, wait is this some kind of joke? I stood back up and went to the bathroom thinking I would see if there was some kind of hearing aid speaker in my ears, but stopped - the doctor had looked in my ears and obviously there wasn't anything in them. Fuck... I returned to the couch.

The voice in my head had been silent and I'd resigned myself to this not being some kind of fucked up prank. "Kizantz," I asked.

"John..."

Damn it! What do I ask? How do I figure this shit out? I'm not fucking crazy - there's a voice in my head. "Where are you?"

"We are one John..."

"Bullshit!"

My hand rose as if someone had lifted it above my head. I DID NOT DO THAT! I stood panicked, looked around the room, and tried to lower my arm. I couldn't move it no matter how I tried. "Stop! Stop that," my hand fell heavily to my side. "What is this? Why are you doing this to me?"

"You are the host... I have some control, some attachment to your subconscious, limited access to your history."

"NO! That can't be!" I sat back down and tried to convince myself that I was just coming down from alcohol poisoning. That's all this is. I needed to get a grip!

"Do you remember the lights from 1.3 rotations," the voice asked.

"Rotations, what are you talking about?!"

"This planet rotates..."

"Ah, yeah it does, so what? Are you talking about around our sun," I asked

The voice was slow to answer, "Inti, Ra, Helios... You are aware of this? A single planet rotation, not a complete rotation around this 'sun'."

I had no idea what any of those things he named were, but 'Ra' sounded familiar for some reason. "I'm aware of our fucking sun and planet," then thought about where 1.3 rotations would have put me - early Sunday morning? Wait! The vehicle headlights when I was passed just out in the tree line. Oh FUCK NO! This is not happening... "Kizantz, are you of this planet?"

"No..."

No? No, as in whatever this fucking voice was or where it is, it's not from this planet and inside of me. Can't be! "You are not from planet Earth?"

"I am not from planet aith ḗ r, your planet which you call Earth..."

"And you are inside of me?" I knew the answer, my arm had just been raised and I wasn't the one who had done that.

"I mean you no harm John..."

"Then what are you doing to me," I asked worried.

"I need your help John..."

"I got that, you said that already, but why me? I don't know shit man; I work for a composite airplane parts company."

"You are a watcher of skies?"

"No, I'm not an astronomer or watcher of space shit! Aircraft parts, parts used for flying objects humans use to get us from place to place." Fuck! Was this 'alien' not advanced?

"I need to confirm paths of objects entering your area."

"Okay, paths of objects," I said with some exasperation. "Objects? Wait, wait, are you trying to locate something that landed on our planet?"

"Correct. You know of objects in your area?"

"What objects? I don't understand," I replied exasperated.

"One's you cannot identify," Kizantz said.

Shit, like UFO's? That stuff never turned out to be anything or was reported by some crack pot.

"Yes, my object may have not been identified. Did you see it from your position before the 1.3 rotations past?"

Okay, this is fucked up! Is this alien is reading my mind?

"I have limited access to your mind John; the thoughts of now are easier to translate than of your history."

"I'm not liking this Kizantz. I don't want you inside of me!"

"I'm not sure I understand. I will not do you harm John," Kizantz said.

"What's to understand? This seems like harming me. You're someplace you shouldn't be! People are going to think I've lost my fucking mind if I keep talking to you."

"I have limited time John; I must complete my search before the Criona pretonal shifts, closes..."

"I don't know what that is," I complained.

"It is," there was silence for a moment, "A pattern of distance beyond your comprehension. This pretonal will close in 1.2 rotations of your planet."

"Like a little more than one of our earth days? You need to be in whatever a 'pretonal' is?"

"1.2 rotations, yes. It is a small duration of you species life expectancy."

How the hell did this alien know that?

"Your species has been classified, measured..."

I don't need to speak for you to hear me? You reply to my thoughts?

"You do not need to speak, but unless I say your words you will not hear my thoughts," was the reply I could hear in my head, ears.

Fuck! Can others hear you?

"No, only the host can hear the words I say to John."

What did you mean by 'classified' and 'measured'?

"We have studied this planet for many of your planets rotations of your sun, but not as closely as others who have been here."

Others? Like different kinds of Kizantz'? Aliens?

"Many species exist John; yours is less advanced than these travelers who have come to your planet."

Great, we're fucking idiots in space, is that what you're saying? Never mind. Okay, okay, think. What do I need to do to move you along and out of my body?

"Access objects unidentified sightings. Help me find my object."

And why can't you do that?

"The tracking systems I have deployed have not found it."

Then maybe it's not here. I was torn between speaking and just thinking what I wanted to say to the alien inside of me.

"I cannot track where it is on this planet to the degree necessary, but I know it went no further in space, not beyond this planet, the area of 1.3 rotations in your past. However you wish to communicate I will understand your intentions."

Fuck! My intentions are for you to be out of my body. That's my want. Look, I can search Google for reported UFO sightings. I pulled my phone out and tried searching. The first listing was for the FAA. Shit! Emma!!

"Emma..."

It wasn't a question or at least didn't sound like one. Emma is my friend, she works for our government, the FAA, directing aircraft landing in Seattle. She's mentioned they get a daily report of UFO's.

"Can Emma access this data?"

I guess, but let me see what other resources there are from my search. I could see there were twenty-two million references in my results for 'UFO sightings'. I pulled up the second, ArcGIS Sightings Map. There were fifty or more references from yesterday in Washington State. Was the area you decided to jump in my body where you need to be searching?