Listen to this story as told by master story teller Otis Jiry.
They were coming. Redd Hart jumped up from the soft desert sand and ran towards a parked truck fifty yards away. He had to get away. To warn the others.
Letting out a sigh of relief when he reached the truck, he turned the key that was still in the ignition to the right. The three-quarter ton Army surplus truck coughed and came to life. Slipping it into gear, he let out the clutch, and the truck lurched forward.
Hart found a paved road and fought to keep the truck on the narrow two-lane highway. The shifting sands sounded sinister as they slashed the truck’s rear canvas top. Strips of canvas flapped and snapped as the truck struggled along in the growing darkness.
Suddenly he was blinded by a bright light that filled the sky!
“Time to get up Mr. Hart. You’ll sleep your day away,” the male nurse said with a cheery smile.
Redd Hart’s mouth was dry. It happened again. He got half way through the nightmare and was woke up by one of the staff. At first, he was relieved when someone woke him up during his nightmare about being stranded in a strange desert.
But as the nights came, so did more chapters for the nightmare. The same nightmare. Alone in a hostile desert with enemies everywhere. He had to keep running. If he didn’t run something bad was going to happen.
He spent his days trying to get as much exercise as possible. He walked around in big circles because they wouldn’t let him run in this place. Once a day, he visited with the doctor.
The doctor meant well. Hart knew this, and took it into account when answering his questions. Lately though, the doctor seemed to be getting a little impatient with his continuous nightmare revelations.
“How did you sleep last night Redd?
“I was running for my life! The truck broke down…”
“Hold on! Take it easy….take a deep breath.” In a soothing voice he said, “So, you were having the same nightmare again. What happened next?”
“Before abandoning the truck, I searched it and found a bolt-action rifle and ammunition. I know all about rifles. Did I tell you that I use to be…?”
“Please try to stay focused Redd.”
“Yeah…okay. I took off running with the rifle. At one point I looked back and saw two men in full space suits pursuing me! I stopped, sighted the rifle in at 300 yards, and fired! One of the space suits fell down. The other stopped and raised a clenched fist…”
“That’ll be all for today Redd. See you tomorrow at the same time,” the doctor said.
An hour later at the doctor’s lounge.
“So how was Mr. Hart today Douglas?”
“The same. It’s been two weeks, and he keeps having that same nightmare about being in a desert. He runs, and as of today, he is also a crack shot that shot a guy in a space suit. The nightmare keeps evolving,” Dr. Douglas Harding replied.
“Does Mr. Hart know where he’s at?”
“No. Like the rest of the PTSD patients, he only sees what we want him too. The yard with grass in the back has a 15-foot wall around it like the rest of this compound. None of these men know they’re living in Death Valley, California, in climate controlled rooms.”
“Time to go Douglas. Keep me appraised on Mr. Hart. His nightmares fascinate me.”
Major Douglas Harding’s Office
“I trust you had a good night’s sleep with that new medication I gave you?” the doctor asked.
“I’ll get right to the point doc…remember the guys in space suits I told you about?”
“Yes, of course,” the doctor replied while sifting through his notes.
“They aren’t humans! They’re aliens! After I shot the second one, I went over and checked them out. When I finally got the helmet off one of them, I was greeted by the ugliest mug I’ve ever seen! It looked like a slug with saucer eyes and a narrow slit for a mouth!”
“Was everything okay after that?” the doctor asked.
“Hell no! I saw a ship land and….someone woke me up.”
“You’re going to have to forgive me Redd,” the doctor said when his phone rang.
“I just got an important call. We’ll meet again tomorrow at the same time.”
The doctor closed the door after Hart left.
“Say again, general?”
“This is not a drill! You need to get your staff and patients out of the compound ASAP! Your unit will meet up with the 113th Light Armor at 18:30 hours at the national guard armory in Reno, Nevada”
“Please general! Tell me what’s going on!”
“A space ship has landed northeast of Death Valley! There’s already been skirmishes between state troopers and aliens. It doesn’t look good. There’s reports coming in from all over the world of alien invasions. Now get your ass in gear Major!”
When the entire medical staff and patients were loaded up on old Army surplus trucks, the convoy moved out in the growing darkness towards Reno.
The convoy arrived at dawn. As staff and patients unloaded, Doctor Harding searched around for Redd Hart. He found him rubbing his eyes in the sunlight. In spite of himself, he took Hart to one side and asked, with a touch of tension, “Did your nightmare continue last night?”
Hart looked like a beaten man as he pulled his jacket around himself tighter against the morning chill. “You don’t want to know doc…”
As It Stands, prophets can be found in the most unlikely places.
The Creative Chronicles of Dave Stancliff 