• • • • •
“Okay, so I was just dinking around on the internet, right?” says Seth. Both Meridian X and I are rapt with attention. Her chin is resting on her fisted hand. “And all of a sudden, out of the blue, there’s this loud noise. It sounds like thunder. I take off my headphones, because I could hear it through them, and I sit there for a second, wondering what is happening. Then I see this bright flash, almost like someone took a picture of me. But it was larger than that. Like they took a picture of the whole town. So . . . I get up and look outside, but it was like nothing had happened at all. The town was still.”
I’m sitting next to Seth, arms crossed, wondering why I didn’t hear or see anything myself, but I was sawing logs. Though, if it was as loud as Seth explained, then why didn’t I wake up? Could I have slept through the aliens coming to get me?
Could this explain why I’m still here? I keep sleeping through their arrivals?
Meridian X’s eyes look like a child’s on Christmas morning, and I find myself wondering why she is so fascinated with UFOs and alien encounters. Especially as a middle-aged adult, where it’s probably more looked down upon than if you’re a fourteen-year-old high school student.
“Why didn’t you call me immediately?” I ask Seth.
“Because you were sleeping. And you put your phone on silent when you go to bed.”
This is true. Shit.
“Well, this is just absolutely fascinating,” says Meridian X. “Could it be the same UFO?” She stares at both of us. “Maybe it’s here for one of you?” Her eyes are genuine, and I can’t help but feel my nerves tingling all over my body. My leg bounces a thousand miles a minute.
Meridian X says, “Your story reminded me of the same kind of light I encountered when I was abducted.”
“Abducted?” asks Seth. “Is that . . . Wait. Did they probe you?”
Meridian X laughs. “Want to hear the story?”
We both nod vigorously.
“I was abducted in a church. In a church basement, to be precise. It happened when I was a little girl, no older than ten. It was Sunday morning, and I was in Sunday school with our teacher. What was his name? Well, anyway, the teacher—Todd something. Or was it something Todd? It doesn’t matter. He dismissed the class but asked me to stay back and help him straighten up the room. I gladly helped, and I was putting the colored pencils back in the boxes when a bright flash lit up the room.”
“I thought you were in a basement?” asks Seth.
“I was. But each room had three tiny rectangular windows at the top of the wall to let in some natural light. But that’s why it was so concerning—that so much light came through such small windows.
“Right after the light, which I’ll admit kind of stunned me a bit, there was an enormous crack. Kind of like those fireworks that explode into a palm tree and crackle on the way down.
“I remember my Sunday school teacher moaning. Something was giving him pain. But when I turned to see if he was injured, I saw an alien. Standing right in front of me. At first I thought that I’d jumped and screamed, but actually I couldn’t move at all. And no sound could come out of my mouth.”
My butt feels glued to the seat.
“This is creepy,” says Seth.
“Quit interrupting!” I say.
“Someone’s touchy,” he replies.
I glare at Seth and then turn back to Meridian X so that she can continue.
“The alien put out his hand—and I was suddenly no longer frozen. I took it, and we walked what felt like up and through the wall. But I know that can’t be right. That’d be impossible. But that’s what I remember.
“Next thing I know, I’m being fanned awake by my Sunday school teacher on the carpet of the room. He said I had fainted.”
“What? What kind of ending is that?” asks Seth. “You don’t remember the actual abduction or the spaceship or anything?”
Meridian X shakes her head and takes a sip of coffee. “Wish I did. I’d be a millionaire.”
I finally have to ask a question. “And no one else saw or heard anything?”
She shakes her head again. “The few people I asked just laughed at me. So I quickly gave up on asking. They thought it was a vision I had while I was passed out. But the thing is, I’d never passed out before that occurrence, and I haven’t passed out since.”
* * *
Seth and I stand in the parking lot, waving to Meridian X as she drives away.
There are some dark clouds right above us, but only a few, so it doesn’t look like the storm will last.
“Ready to go?” Seth asks.
I notice the camera hanging around his neck again. “Wait. Do you have pictures?”
“I have lots of pictures.”
“No, of last night.”
“Oh, uh . . . I actually didn’t have my camera handy. I was in bed, and by the time I got up and saw what was happening, the thing was gone.”
“Oh,” I say, looking down at the gravel parking lot, the few weeds here and there, the crumbling cement car bumpers.
“Let’s go,” he says with excitement.
“Where are we going?”
“Anywhere. We have my mom’s car.”
Now we’re on the old highway heading to Waterloo, a town smaller than Whitehall (if you can believe that). It’s only a handful of minutes away, and only a handful of people live there.
Seth is quiet for a moment, and then says, “Do you believe her? The story about being abducted?” Seth looks like he can’t decide what to believe. “It just seems . . . I don’t know. Off.”
“You don’t believe her?”
“I don’t think so. I mean, maybe she just had a dream. We know she passed out. Doesn’t that make more sense?”
“But that’s not what she believes.”
Seth is quiet and thoughtful, and the silence builds. I look at him. The road. Him. He turns to me and smiles. “Does that make a difference?” he asks.
“Does it matter to her if we believe her or not?”
“Hmm. I can’t think this deeply on an empty stomach. How about some pizza?”
Fat drops of rain start to hit the windshield.
“Pizza sounds amazing,” I say.
We reach the turnoff for the “town” of Waterloo, which is literally a dirt road. This should give a sense of the size, when the only road to get to a town isn’t even paved. Seth looks at me and says, “I’ve never been to Waterloo.”
“You don’t want to go.”
“Let’s check it out.”
I shake my head. “It’s depressing. There’s, like, four houses with old people. And some horses.”
“It has to be bigger than that.”
“Nope.”
As he drives through the “town,” he says, “There’s nothing here. What makes it a town?”
“It has a postal code.”
“Seriously?”
“Do you know what ‘waterloo’ means?” I ask.
Seth shakes his head. “Isn’t ‘loo’ what they call a bathroom in England?” His face is serious.
“Really?” I ask.
Seth laughs. “So the word means ‘water toilet.’ ”
I laugh. “Water toilet? No. ‘Defeat.’ ”
“What?” Seth turns the car around. “Let’s get out of here.”
“To ‘meet your waterloo’ is to be defeated.”
“How do you know that?”
“How do we know anything?” I ask.
“What kind of an answer is that?”
“An okay one.” I smirk as Seth shakes his head at me.
We leave the town of Waterloo in the distance.