After we entered the dark cloud in front of my house, the trip got really weird. I don’t remember much of it, only vague images. I couldn’t see outside the car, but whatever was out there was bright. Lights would flash and move about.
I never felt the car turn. It seemed as if we were heading in a straight line, but with the shifting lights, it seemed that the world was turning around us. I couldn’t make heads or tails out of it. But, then, the sensation passed, and that is when my memory becomes super fuzzy.
The next thing I know the car door opens. After we get out of the car, I look around. We were in a valley. There were mountains all around us. I could see a river or a stream off in the distance. Beyond the river was a dense forest.
We were no longer on the plains of the mid west. I’m not even sure if we were in the United States anymore. We could have been in western Colorado or Utah. Or, we could have been in Timbuktu. There was no way to guess.
There was only one man made structure in sight, a small log cabin not far from where the car was parked. I was escorted to the front door.
“Where are we?” I asked. There was no answer. “Well, I guess I get some answers at some point.”
This solicited a response from the man on my right. “You will be told what you need to be told.”
We entered the cabin. There were no furnishings. Very little light was streaming in from outside. The main source of light in the cabin was a small end table lamp in the corner of the room. Next to the end table was a huge wood desk.
The man seated at the desk spoke. “Welcome to Area 52, Mr. Fields.”