Collected (Selected Book 1) Page 7

  "What if I'm not?"

  "Just swab her," Johnson said. "We have to swab her anyway."

  "You damned well better have a court order before taking any of my DNA!" I screamed.

  "What kind of television shows does she watch?" said the other man, the one who wasn't Johnson.

  "Ma'am," said the woman I was facing. "We are from The Bureau of Extraterrestrial Affairs." She pulled identification from her belt and held it open in front of my eyes. It looked quite a bit like the one my driver had shown to me the day of my testing. I stared at it. A moment later, the other three were holding their IDs for me.

  "Officer..." I looked at the ID. "Kemp."

  "Agent," she said.

  "Excuse me?"

  "We're agents, like FBI agents."

  "Fine. Agent Kent. What do you want with me?"

  "Are you Sapphire Fletcher?"

  "Yes."

  She recited my social security number. I was impressed. She didn't reference notes when she did it.

  "I'm the only Sapphire Fletcher I know and the only inhabitant of this house. The fact you're here looking for someone by that name means you found her." Then I stamped my foot. "Now tell me what you think I've done that allows you to treat me like this."

  "Nothing, ma'am," she answered. "However, we must be assured of your identity. You will allow us to swab your cheek."

  "And if I don't?"

  She sighed. "Do you really want to go down that path?"

  "I did not consent to your arrival in my home. You are in violation of my constitutional rights. I do not consent to this theft of my DNA. If you touch me, it is another violation. But somehow I don't believe you care. When this is over, you'll be hearing from my lawyer." But then I opened my mouth widely.

  It was the other woman who had the swab ready. She reached around, took a sample from the inside of my cheek, and then inserted the tip of the swab into a machine that looked like my computer tablet. But my tablet couldn't be used to analyze DNA.

  "She's a match," the agent said after only a short delay.

  The first woman turned me back to her. "Ms. Fletcher, is there anyone else in this house?"

  "I don't have to answer your questions."

  She closed her eyes for a moment, and I wondered if she were counting to ten or something. Then she opened them.

  "Perhaps you would prefer if we asked our questions outside?"

  I stared. "Go to hell." Then I clamped my lips shut.

  "Let me try," said the other woman. And so the two switched places, with Agent Kemp holding me by the arm, and this new agent facing me.

  "Ms. Fletcher, I am Agent Swain."

  I didn't say a word.

  She held out her hand. "Give me the paperwork." And the other man, the one I thought might not be a complete asshole, handed her a small stack of papers. Agent Swain looked through them, finally turning them to face me. "You have been selected. You will see this is our authorization to collect you. It is not a warrant for your arrest, as you are not a suspect in any crime, at least none we know of. But you will be going with us. We're asking questions only so we don't leave anyone in the house who requires your care. Are there small children, elderly, or any invalids in the home, anyone who requires your care?"

  "No."

  "Pets?"

  "No."

  "Is there anyone in this house other than the five of us?"

  "Not that I know of."

  She raised an eyebrow.

  "I don't want to be accused of lying to you, Agent Swain," I said. "For all I know, there are more agents who forcibly entered via the back door, and if I say no one else is here, perhaps you could use it against me somehow."

  She sighed. "Very well. Let's go."

  "Wait!" I said. "You can't take me anywhere like this. I'm in my pajamas!"

  "We're sorry about that, ma'am. We don't make the rules."

  "I see. So you're only following orders."

  "That's right, ma'am."

  "How well did that argument work for the Nazi guards?"

  She sighed and didn't say anything, but she stepped to my side and took my free arm. The two female agents began to pull me towards the door.

  "Stop it!" I said. "You can't drag me out the front door into a Minnesota November morning wearing pajamas and slippers!"

  "She's right," said man number two.

  "She's been a pain in the ass," replied Johnson. "Drag her if she resists."

  "You're a dick!" I screamed. "How would you respond if a bunch of thugs show up at your house in the dark of the night and began dragging you off to some hole in the wall prison?"

  "Shut your mouth," he said.

  "Or what? Going to engage in a little police brutality? I wouldn't be surprised. You don't seem to give a shit about my rights. What's one more violation?"

  "Johnson," said the other man. "Get her a blanket."

  Johnson looked mutinous, but then he nodded and slipped out the door.

  "It would take me three minutes to dress."

  "I'm sorry, ma'am," said agent Swain. "Protocol."

  "I'm not allowed to get dressed? And there's a protocol for showing up, scaring the crap out of me, and then dragging me away?"

  "No, you're not allowed to get dressed. Yes, there's a protocol. I'm sorry."

  "Yeah, well, I don't believe you. You could let me put on a coat. The closet is right there."

  "I'm sorry, ma'am. I know this is difficult for you."

  "Fuck you."

  She didn't respond. On the other hand, it could have been worse. She could have responded.

  It only took another half minute before the front door opened again. Agent Johnson appeared, holding a blanket. The two women stepped forward with me, coming to a stop before him.

  He was almost tender as he draped it around my shoulders, pulling it closed in front of me.

  "I'm sorry, Ms. Fletcher," he said. "I should remember this is difficult for you. The last woman we collected tried knifing me, and I'm still a little worked up from it."

  I glanced at the planter, and four sets of eyes followed mine.

  "What the hell is that?" the other man asked.

  "I didn't know who was at the door," I said in a small voice.

  "Fuck," said Agent Johnson. "I hate this job."

  "Maybe that should tell you something," I said. "Maybe kidnapping innocent women from their homes isn't a good line of business. Do you sleep well at night, Agent Johnson?"

  He turned to face me. "Someone will explain everything at the center."

  "The center?" I asked. "The testing center? I'm almost certain you are making a mistake. I showed up for testing. I made my appointment the day the letter arrived. I even let them keep me an extra day."

  "We're not here for that," said Agent Kent. "Ma'am, we know you haven't done anything wrong. But you must go with us anyway. Someone will explain everything."

  "I have a job. Responsibilities. I have meetings this morning."

  "Someone will inform your employer you won't be in today."

  "I haven't had my morning coffee!"

  She sighed. "I'm sorry."

  * * * *

  I didn't exchange any more words with them. They hurried me into a dark SUV with tinted windows, and I found myself seated between agents Kent and Swain for the half hour ride. They never released my arms, although they buckled me in tightly. No one spoke.

  They didn't take me to the Eden Prairie testing center. Instead, they took me to the airport. We didn't use the main entrance but instead took an entrance from the north, near the old Air National Guard buildings. But there was a new building, one I hadn't seen before. The sun rose as we approached.

  "What are you going to do with me?" I asked, a quaver in my voice.

  "We're taking you to the processing center," said Agent Kent. "It's just another minute or two."

  "What kind of processing?"

  "They'll explain. You've been selected."

  "Selected for what?"

>   "The aliens want you."

  "What?" I screeched. "Is this some sort of weird job offer?"

  "No, ma'am. We can't really tell you anything else."

  "Can't? Or won't."

  "I'm sorry, ma'am. Truly I am."

  "You're not that sorry or you wouldn't do this to people. I think I should have used the knife."

  We approached the building, and then the road descended underground. I began to cry in earnest, sure I was never to see the light of day again.

  "Please don't do this. Please don't do this. This is all a mistake. Please take me home. I won't call my lawyer. I won't say a word to anyone. Please just take me home."

  "I'm sorry, ma'am," they said.

  "Not sorry enough!"

  * * * *

  We came to a stop. That was when I began to struggle with them, fighting to keep them from taking me from the car. The two women struggled with me for a minute before Agent Swain grabbed my shoulders and shook me.

  "Ms. Fletcher!" she screamed. "Why do you think they send four of us? So far, the men haven't touched you. Do you want them to?"

  For a moment, I stopped struggling.

  "You're going inside," she said. "You can cooperate, and we'll give you as much dignity as we can."

  "If you cared about my dignity, you would have let me get dressed! If you weren't traitorous assholes, you wouldn't do this at all. You'd tell the aliens to fuck off."

  "Maybe you're right," she said. "But right now, you're exiting this vehicle and passing through the door you see. Nothing you say or do will change that. The only choice you have is to walk on your own two feet with some level of dignity, or we'll carry you. You have five seconds to choose or we choose for you."

  I used my five seconds, glaring at her, before I dropped my eyes. "I'll walk."

  "Good."

  Of course, they didn't trust me. The two women helped me from the car, and then they each took an arm. But they let me choose my pace. And so I raised my head and stepped forward. But at the door, I said, "Wait."

  "No."

  "I have something to say, and you are going to let me say it. You owe me."

  They let me come to a stop.

  "The four of you know what you are doing is wrong," I said. "But you're doing it anyway. That doesn't say anything good about any of you."

  "You don't know the entire story."

  "We have laws in this country, and this black ops shit against our own citizens is illegal. You four all know it, too. Furthermore, you did it this way intentionally. I don't know what's waiting on the other side of that door, but I'm pretty sure it's not in my best interests. If there's any justice in the world, whatever evil is about to befall me will land on you and your families tenfold. When I die, and they eat me, or whatever the hell is going to happen, I'll go cursing your names. You disgust me."

  I didn't look at them. I wished my speech were more elegant. I wished I could get through to them, to know they would feel real guilt for what they had done this morning. No one said a word, but when the two women tugged on my arms, I stepped forward.

  Explanation

  If I didn't know better, I would have thought it was the same reception area as the one in my visit to the testing center. Agents Swain and Kent marched me to the receptionist desk as the woman behind the desk watched carefully.

  Unlike my last similar visit, this woman was not smiling, and she didn't look particularly kind.

  "This is Sapphire Fletcher?" she asked, her tone brusque. "You're late."

  The agents didn't offer an explanation. Instead they only verified my identity.

  "I want my lawyer."

  "I'm sure you do," the receptionist said. "Take her through and get her settled. We're backed up, so it might be some time."

  "I haven't done anything," I said. "You have no right to treat me this way."

  The agents didn't begin dragging me away, which surprised me. The receptionist paused then sighed. "I know this is frightening. Someone will explain everything. We don't intend to hurt you."

  "No. You're giving me to the aliens."

  "You told her?"

  "We told her she was selected, that the aliens wanted her."

  "You're not supposed to tell them anything!"

  "Want to switch jobs?" Agent Swain asked. "You can show up at their houses at oh-dark-thirty and yank them from their beds. See if you like it."

  "If you hate your job, you should get a new one," I said. "This one sucks."

  "I signed an employment contract."

  "Break it."

  She sighed. "I have a son. He had cystic fibrosis."

  "I'm sorry for your loss."

  She cocked her head. "He's not dead. They cured it."

  I stared. "Of course they did." I looked over to Agent Kent. "What's your excuse?"

  "I was a paraplegic."

  "Damn," I said. I looked at the receptionist. "You?"

  She had the grace to lower her eyes. "Nothing like that. I'm an alcoholic. I was really fucking up my life. Sober two years next month."

  I looked away. "Well, at least none of you sold your souls cheaply. You've been well paid to betray your fellow human beings. How many people do you help fuck over in exchange for their bribes?"

  "If it's any consolation, Ms. Fletcher, they don't intend to hurt you."

  "I don't have anything like that. My life is good. My family members are good, too. They don't have anything like that to bribe me to sell my soul." I looked back. "I'm not going to get a lawyer, am I?"

  "We're not supposed to answer questions."

  "I was taken from US soil. If you're going to violate my rights like this, you can at least have the humanity to answer a few questions. What is it going to hurt?"

  The receptionist looked into my eyes then finally nodded. "No lawyers."

  "Is anyone even going to tell my family what happened to me, or am I being disappeared?"

  "It's not like that."

  "It's not?" I raised an eyebrow. "It sure seems like that."

  "Your employer and family will receive a visit," she said. "You'll be allowed to make a recording. I'm sorry, I can't say anything else."

  "Fine," I said. "There's a delay? Well, let's hurry up and wait."

  At that, the receptionist pushed a button, and to the left, a door appeared. Agents Kent and Swain turned me towards it, and I didn't struggle as we moved towards the next room. We were almost at the door when the receptionist called out.

  "Ms. Fletcher."

  We came to a stop, but I didn't turn to look at her.

  "We're not bad people."

  "You could have fooled me."

  "There are reasons. Good reasons."

  "Well, I'm sure the ends justify the means."

  "Good luck, Ms. Fletcher."

  "I suspect I'm going to need it, and I suspect it won't do me any good at all. I hope you sleep well in your sobriety, Agent."

  And then I stepped through the door, Kent and Swain hurrying to keep up with me. The door closed behind us.

  The room was all white. The aliens seemed to like white rooms. There wasn't a single discernable feature. We came to a stop in the middle of the room.

  "We need to secure you," Agent Swain said.

  "You didn't let me go to the bathroom," I said. "What am I supposed to do?"

  "Hold it," Agent Kent said.

  "Was that intentional, too?"

  There was a pause before she answered. "Yes."

  "Why?"

  "We don't know. Do you want a guess?"

  "It's to make me feel vulnerable. Am I going to be left here until my kidneys release? You dragged me here in my pajamas. You're going to steps to humiliate me. Is this one more?"

  "We don't know. But I don't believe they'll let it go that far. You have a choice now."

  "A choice? I have a choice? Seriously?" I was sure the sarcasm oozed from every pore.

  "We need to secure you. You may accept standing or sitting."

  "Are you going
to explain how I will be secured?"

  "No. Decide."

  I sighed. "Sitting."

  "That's what I would pick," Swain said. Then they turned me ninety degrees to the left before beginning to back me up. I scrambled to keep up with them, but then the backs of my knees hit some sort of bench, and I found myself sitting even before I could respond. The two agents held me in place, and immediately the bench and wall began to swallow me. The agents held me in place until I was encased to my neck. Then their hands withdrew, and the wall filled the space where their hands had been.

  I looked up at them. I didn't have anything else to say. I'd spewed as much guilt as I could muster, and I hoped it ate at their souls.

  It was Agent Swain who knelt down until our eyes were at the same level. "Ms. Fletcher, our orders are very clear. Amongst those orders is a stern admonishment to avoid hurting the people we collect. The aliens don't want you hurt. I don't imagine they ask us to work so hard to bring you here in one piece if they intended harm."

  "They could have invited me," I said. "I would have come."

  "Not all would. We don't always pick up people to bring here. We collect far more for the testing center. For those, we're not told to use as much care. We've had a few fight us, more than a few, and they have arrived rather roughed up. No one says a word, and no charges are ever filed. Do you understand?"

  "No, but I'll point out it could just be they don't like their meat bruised any more than you prefer bruises on your apples."

  "I don't believe that's why you're here, Ms. Fletcher."

  "I guess I'll find out. Are you done with me?"

  "Yes."

  "Don't let the door hit you on the way out. Congratulations on another safe delivery. You have performed your jobs admirably. The innocent prisoner is deeply terrified, cried more than once or twice, and hopes you all die in a horrible car accident. Enjoy your happy lives, and congratulations for your part in destroying mine and those of all the other people you bring here."

  If they were embarrassed, they didn't show it. Instead, Swain stood, and a moment later, I was left alone, the walls again nondescript and boring.

  * * * *

  I don't know how long they left me there. My bladder was my only judge of time, and if I didn't release, sitting there, unable to move, it was only through my own willpower.

  But finally a door opened to admit a woman. She was dressed in a business suit, and I immediately wondered if I were getting some sort of lawyer after all. She looked like a lawyer. The door closed behind her, and by the time she arrived in front of me, there was a chair waiting for her, formed from the floor.