Track 23

“Mr. Brightside”

Present Day

After the meeting, Hayden and I linger at the coffee station. Not because we want to stay, but because Jon’s in the middle of a story and he wants everyone to listen.

“…vinyl records flying everywhere like Frisbees. My entire Fleetwood Mac collection—pfft!—smashed. Then the whole house started vibrating, as if some giant had picked it up and was shaking it like a Christmas present to see what’s inside.”

“Same exact thing happened to me,” Minh says, her eyes wide. “Only I’m too young for vinyl records. It was CDs in my case.”

“Okay, then.” A corner of Jon’s mouth twists downward. “The next thing I remember, I’m laid out on this glass bench and I’m hearing a power saw rev. I’m the coldest I’ve ever been in my life. And I’m from Anchorage…”

Hayden clears his throat. He leans close to my ear and whispers, “I need to leave.”

“Wait. Please. I have to talk to you first,” I whisper back. All through Jon’s story, my stomach was doing cartwheels. Not joyous ones, either. I try to hold Hayden’s gaze, but he looks at his phone.

“I’m sorry. I just got a message.” He points at the phone as a message alert appears, then vanishes. “It’s a family thing.”

I blink. “Oh, of course. Totally understand. Everyone’s all right?”

He gives me a grim, fleeting smile, but that doesn’t answer my question. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

In a completely unexpected move, he squeezes my hand. It’s warm and reassuring, and has the delicious effect of turning my insides to jelly. Before I can recover fully and think maybe I should squeeze back, he slips away and out of the room.

Moira sidles up to me. “I was surprised to see you and your anonymous friend here, Jenny. Although I should have had an inkling when you ran off with my flyer.”

“My name’s not really Jenny.” I offer her an embarrassed smile. “Cassidy. And I was curious.”

“About why you have gaps in your memory?” she asks. Her demeanor is a lot softer now and less intimidating. Maybe even sympathetic. Behind her, Alien Man—or Jake Letoa as he introduced himself later in the meeting—lurks. The hideous mask is poking out of a trash can along with the discarded fluorescent light tube.

“I wasn’t capital T triggered till an hour later.” I explain what I overheard in Taco Heaven. “Seems like everyone everywhere is obsessed with UFOs. Or maybe I’m just noticing it more.”

“Sightings have occurred since the ancient Egyptians and the Mayans. Probably since the beginning of time,” she says. “But news travels so much faster now. Instantly. Widely. People are more open to talking about UFOs.”

“I wonder what T. rex thought of flying saucers.” Despite myself, I grin at the idea of those poor dinosaurs trying to defend themselves against aliens with those short little arms. “So you formed this support group? Is it because you have personal UFO experience?”

“I haven’t had a close encounter. First, second, or third,” she says. “But I do have a degree of separation from alien abduction.”

“What do you mean?”

“My grandfather was one of the gold miners who was abducted in the forties.” When she sees the confused tilt of my head, she goes on. “He was part of a group that saw a UFO hovering over the mine entrance one night. It was reported in the newspapers at the time. But the mining company he worked for later ‘clarified’ that it was just a mass hallucination.”

“What did your grandfather think?”

Her gaze is steady, sober. “My grandfather said it went further than just a sighting. He was taken.”

“And he remembered the whole thing? What happened to him?”

“My granddad was a chatterbox.” Moira shakes her head, a swathe of magnificent dark curls waving down her back. “But there are two experiences he never wanted to talk about. The D-Day landing and the UFO visit. We all know how horrific the first thing was, so I’m sure the second thing was on the same level. Maybe worse. We’ll never know. My dad also had a close encounter, but that’s another story.”

I study the tightness around her mouth. It’s not hard to see the subject of her grandfather is a touchy one. Pivoting slightly, I ask, “Do you think I was taken last night?”

“There are ways to find out.” She hands me her card.

Moira Harris. Registered hypnotherapist. Available all hours to all humans.

“You can hypnotize me?” My heart races as snippets of the vision I had during the meeting sneak into my mind. Aliens. Needles. But is it a real memory? Or a product of my imagination fed by rumors?

I pull my sleeve up and look at the insect bite on my arm. It’s all but gone now. But somehow I can feel the sting like it just happened.

It’s not beyond the realm of possibility that it’s the mark of a needle and not a mosquito.

I shake my head. Hayden’s right. I would have remembered being waylaid by aliens and experimented on. My brain is capable of many things, but scrubbing the memory of a UFO sighting? I’m not so sure.

“Yes, if you’re open to it. If your mind is open to it.” Moira shoulders her bag. “I’d better get home. I hope you’ll come to another meeting soon.”

Moira sweeps out of the room in the same dramatic way she entered it. Most of the others have drifted away, too, I realize. Waving goodbye to Jon and Minh, I head out to my car, absently scratching at the bite.

Jake is sitting in a sparkling cobalt Tundra right next to my spot. His hands grip the wheel, but the engine’s off. He’s going nowhere. I give him a wary side-eye as I edge past his front bumper and see his eyes are squeezed shut. He’s mouthing something.

Suddenly, his eyelids fly open, startling me.

Jake gets out of his truck. Without the mask, vulnerability is plain on his face. Dark purple circles ring his eyes. “Hey! Can we talk?”

“Um, yeah,” I say, transferring my purse onto my left shoulder. He didn’t say much more than his real name in the support group. If that actually was his real name. I can’t fault him for using an alias. “What about?”

Inching toward my car, I feel into my pocket for my keys. Just in case I need to make a quick getaway. And Lord knows it’s been a helluva long day. I’d kill for a ten-hour nap.

“What about?” He snorts and closes his car door. Out here in the elements, he seems less of a hulking figure than he did inside. Even all rugged in a puffer jacket and beanie. “What do you think?”

“You didn’t say boo back there,” I say, gesturing at the meeting place with my head.

“Neither did your boyfriend.”

I’m about to say he’s not actually my boyfriend, but I remember something odd about Hayden’s reaction when he saw Jake’s face unveiled. Did Hayden lie to me when he said he had a family thing to deal with? Does he know something about Jake? But how? Hayden’s new in town. And Jake definitely doesn’t go to our school. A guy who looked like that would not go unnoticed.

“He’s shy,” I end up saying. It’s not a lie.

“Okay.” Jake shrugs and nods. “I, uh, wanted to talk to you because…once I overheard you say your name is Cassidy and not Jenny, everything got clearer. I recognized you. From pictures. She bombards me with them all the time.”

My feet are rooted to the spot, even though a warning bell is clanging in my head. It’s go time, for sure. “Uh, who is she and why is she sending you photos of me?”

“Oh.” He exhales. “Sorry, I’m in my head so much these days that I can’t tell what I’ve said out loud sometimes.”

“I hear you,” I say. He looks up. “Figuratively. And literally. Okay, I’ve confused myself and I need to stop talking. Please go ahead.”

“Angie Tanner. My girlfriend.”

I choke. “You’re Jacob?! Angie’s Jacob?!”

“Jake. But you know Angie. She’ll call you whatever she wants to call you.”

“True,” I say with a snort. Then I remember something vital. “Wait, hold up, she’s mad at you.”

He scratches the back of his neck. His lips quirk. “Yeah, because I stood her up. And it’s not the first time.”

Folding my arms, I say, “So what do you have to say for yourself about that?”

“I didn’t actually stand her up. Not intentionally.” Torment jags across his features. “I was abducted by aliens.”