Snatched

T

he year was 1983. It would have been a very ordinary summer afternoon at The Fritz Memorial Home for the Elderly except that one of its residents had passed away a few hours ago. The nurse dialed the chief doctor to let him know about Bernard Mickelson’s death. Bernie as everyone called him was a long-time resident at the home and must have been more than 90 years old.

Bernie seldom talked. In the rare occasion he spoke, it would be about the time when those aliens abducted him. Of course, no one believed him and he would become hysterical. The handlers would have to subdue him and confine him.

* * *

The man regained his consciousness. The bright blue lights hit his eyes and he instinctively tried to use his hands to deflect the glare. He realized that he couldn’t move his arms or legs as they were fastened to the table that he was lying. The cool air in that room made the hairs on his skin stand up.

 He looked around the room and was unable to make anything out of it. All the articles in the room looked strange to him and he had never seen anything like it. That’s when he noticed the two creatures.

“Where am I? Who are you and why am I tied up?”

The two creatures looked at each other. They spoke to each other in a language that he couldn’t understand. One of the creatures walked up to him. It picked up what looked very much like a switchblade and removed a tuft of hair from his scalp.

It leaned forward and spoke to him an incomprehensible language.

“What are you doing? I don’t understand what you are saying”, he said.

The other creature applied a gel and stuck an electrode to his head.

His face grew pale. His eyes filled with terror.

A synthetic voice boomed from one of the creatures. “We will keep you here until we know enough about you humans. What is your name?”

The blue lights started flashing.

“My name is… Aaargh!”

“Your name is Bernard Mickelson!”, bellowed the creature.

It felt like an electrical shock to him but he couldn’t tell. He screamed for twenty seconds and then fell unconscious.

* * *

Bravo Company had successfully executed its order. They were inside the Führerbunker. All its occupants were either already dead or were rendered unconscious by the gas used by Bravo Company.

Private Wenz and Private Huxley hurried up securing their cargo, a general issue steel box used to transport dead soliders. It held the unconscious Führer. They had to get out before the Russians reached the bunker.

* * *

“Congratulations gentlemen! The war will end now. But your job isn’t done yet.”

Colonel Schwartz paused for a second and looked at Wenz and Huxley of Bravo Company. The two men listened intently.

“The two of you are about to propagate the biggest hoax of this century! You will make Adolf Hitler believe that he is someone else and was taken away by aliens!”