Saturday, August 18, 2007

Aug 18, 2007 - Entry #15

Aug 18, 2007 - Entry #15

*This diary is intended to be an official record for the world as to what is happening to me and my family and what (although unknown at this point) is to be. -- for an accurate reading, please scroll down and begin with Entry #1*

I am sitting in a cafe in Anchorage Alaska. This is the first moment I've had to get at a keyboard and have access to the internet (since my last post).

The past several weeks Boyd and I have been held in a military facility, located underneath a scientific project called HAARP. Some kind of communication system being developed using the ionosphere. (more interesting facts on this later)

We have been treated fine and have had all of the comforts of home minus televsion. My torture lay in the hours and weeks that have ticked by like a sloth on morphine. There has been zero news on the location of my wife and son until now...

Michael and my wife have been located and in the morning Boyd and I will be transported to Iraq.


continued from my last post...

Shortly after arriving at Groom Lake (area 51) I was ushered toward a hangar while Boyd was shoved toward another.

I stopped in my tracks, dug my heels in and asked 'Mr Leatherskin' where Boyd was being taken to.

He told me not to worry. Boyd was to be debriefed (whatever that meant) and was to be safely escorted home.

'And me?'

'You are to be informed on various aspects on your situation and processed into our system. You will then be transported to Alaska. Don't worry, reasons will become clear.'

It suddenly dawned on me, as 'Mr Leatherskin' waited for my legs to move that they (whoever these top secret goons were) needed me.

I shook my head. 'Boyd stays with me'.

He lowered his brow and clenched his jaw. It was obvious nobody said no to this man. For a moment I thought he was going to grab me by the throat and pull my tongue through my nostrils.

I didn't give him the chance to reply...'You want me? Boyd stays by my side. End of discussion.'

Mr Leatherskin looked at his watch and scowled. 'Fine'

The complex we were led to would be best described as a massive office building with dozens of floors...inverted underground.

We were taken inside past a jet fighter hangar and through a series of hallways to a set of 12 elevator doors. Security, as you can imagine, was in place to keep anyone and anything out that wasn't permitted.

Boyd and I had our retinas scanned, photographs taken, the inside of our mouths swabbed (I'm guessing for DNA). then finally, after a series of various body measurements (height, weight etc) -- we were given ID tags with magnetic keys. During this entire time I wondered what the hell they wanted from me so bad that they would go through all of this to get me into a top secret facility.

Knowing I was about to see behind the curtain made my palms sweat and with each documentation of my body, uneasiness grew in my guts, warning me that this wasn't a good thing.

We entered a guarded elevator. I could see Boyd was disappointed at no sight of 'flying saucers' and I noticed he was just as exhausted as I was from the last couple of days.

After a series of carpeted hallways we ended up in an office like boardroom. Soft chairs, a table that would seat twenty, a pitcher of water and a large plate of fresh fruit. I had no idea what floor we were on (elevators had no numbers showing, only a touch screen and keyboard)

Mr Leatherskin did not waste time. He directed us to sit as he worked a control panel on the wall.

Boyd immediately dug into the fruit and helped himself to the water. Mr 'Accountant' calmly walked in from another door as an overhead projector screen lowered and a slide show began.

Various slides continued to show surveillance shots of families in the public...each with a young child....a family at a park...another walking in a mall...a mother loading her daughter into a mini-van. All oblivious that they had been photographed.

"...These families have several aspects in common..."

Boyd happily munched on a strawberry as Mr Leatherskin turned toward me and paused. I could feel myself slowly sink into the chair from the weight of his unblinking stare alone. "All of these children are the genetic offspring of an Alien race. Their paternal mothers had been abducted by Drones. You may have heard them as Grays.'

Boyd suddenly choked on his strawberry and leaped to his feet. Two soldiers at the door tensed as he slapped his hand on his thigh. "I knew it!"

I told Boyd to shut up and sit down. He reluctantly sat, squirmed in his chair, leaned over and whispered in my ear 'I knew there was fucking aliens. Lying cocksuckers.'

The slide show clicked again...

The screen now displayed my wife, my son and I three years ago at a county picnic. I remember that day clearly. My son rode on my shoulders as my wife and I held hands. We were making our way toward the parking lot sunburnt and tired. It was the end of a hot day of baseball, watermelon and good friends. The perfect of perfect days.

'Mr need to listen carefully and understand this. Your adopted son's mother was abducted by the drones and was impregnated with your son. He has special abilities and is one of many...'

I swallowed hard at a completely dry throat.

'You and your wife had been chosen to be the parents of Michael. Based on your psychological design and protective nature. The Alien Race who have sent these Drones had factored in insurance to protect their genetic investment. They need to protect the children while being absent. Finding a parent who would protect their offspring to ends of the earth isn't difficult. But finding an adoptive parent who would is. You and your wife are of select, rare individuals by nature.

My blood pressure began to rise. I leaned forward and locked eyes with Leatherskin. 'Look. I don't care about this alien shit. This story you are feeding us is bullshit. Why aren't you finding my son? And where the hell is my wife!'

Mr Accountant stepped forward. 'Dillan. This Alien race had factored in something else...a safety mechanism...'

I folded my arms, bracing myself for another stream of manure.

'...if the parents are physically not present with the child for a period of time, a biological switch is triggered and the child will begin to slowly die...'