Chapter Twenty-Eight
When Thomas Horan flew back to Washington, DC, after the UFO hearing, he was surrounded by reporters when he deplaned.
When he went on TV and told his tale of being abducted by ETs, he was front-page news again.
Then a sex scandal drew the members of the Fourth Estate toward new prey, and his tale of his abduction by aliens became old news.
Horan couldn’t figure out how to generate new interest in his campaign until Margo Sparks came to his office.
The ex–CIA agent was dressed in a cream-colored blouse, a severe gray skirt and jacket set, and her gray hair was cut tight to her face. She wore very little makeup and was all business once she, the congressman, and Eric Gilmore were seated in Horan’s office.
Gilmore was a veteran of the political wars and had signed on as Horan’s administrative assistant after managing his successful congressional bid. He was in his midforties and overweight, and his features were starting to show the first signs displayed by people who smoked and drank too much.
“It’s good seeing you again,” Horan told his guest. “I hope you have no ill feelings about the way I cross-examined you at the hearing.”
Sparks smiled. “I expected to get worked over. Convincing anyone that aliens have visited Earth is a hard sell.”
“I’m glad you’ve forgiven me for being overbearing at the hearing. So, why are we meeting?”
“That should be obvious. You are the most prominent person who has ever claimed to have seen extraterrestrials in person and to have visited an alien spacecraft. We can use your help to alert the American public to the cover-up that has been going on for so many years.”
“The congressman is already the target of attacks on his credibility,” Gilmore said. “Everything has quieted down in the past two weeks. I don’t think it would be wise to stir things up again.”
“Let’s not be hasty, Eric,” Horan said. He did not dread the publicity he’d received since he’d told his tale on Wake Up, Portland.
The stories in the newspapers, TV, and radio were publicity his campaign did not have to pay for.
Since the attention he received had tailed off, his main concern was how to get it up and running again, because, much to the surprise of his advisers, his polling numbers had gone up since he’d announced that he was the victim of an alien abduction.
“What did you have in mind for me to do?”
“Discover the Truth, our nonprofit, is holding a convention in two weeks. We would be honored to have you as our keynote speaker. The only thing we would want you to do is tell your story, which you’ve already done several times.”
“I don’t think that’s wise, Tom,” Gilmore said. “No offense, Mrs. Sparks. I know that you mean well, but there are a lot of crackpots in your organization, and I don’t think it will help the congressman to be associated with them.”
“I understand your position, Eric,” Horan said, “but I’d like to think about Mrs. Sparks’s offer. And now, I’m afraid I have to get to a committee meeting. It’s been good seeing you again.”
Horan worked on several pieces of legislation before meeting a lobbyist for dinner. He got back to his DC apartment a little after nine and watched a basketball game while he nursed a scotch. By the time the game ended, Horan was beat, and he had no trouble falling into a deep and troubled sleep.
When his dream began, the congressman found himself in a dark space where the only illumination was provided by the pale rays of moonlight that filtered through the gauzelike drapes that covered a French window.
In the dream, he was having trouble breathing, and he crumpled to the floor.
A thing loomed over him. It was ghostly white and shapeless.
It leaned down, but his vision was blurry, and he couldn’t make it out. Then he started to scream.
Moments later, Thomas Horan struggled up from his sweat-soaked sheets, his heart racing and his eyes wide open.
The dream had been so real. The thing in it must have been one of his alien abductors, but was it?
He concentrated, trying to bring back the image that had terrified him, but it was no use.
Horan got out of bed and walked into his kitchen.
As he filled a glass with cold water, he thought about the nightmares that had haunted his sleep since he’d been found on the road next to the farmer’s field.
They were similar, but they were different.
Lately, the thing he was seeing was growing more distinct.
Was the thing a figment of his imagination, or was it real?
Almost nobody believed he’d been kidnapped by extraterrestrials.
Psychiatrists who had been interviewed about his allegations called them false memories created in response to trauma.
Were the memories false? When he dreamed, was his subconscious trying to make him remember what caused the trauma?
He had been struck hard enough to cause a concussion.
Was the blow delivered by an alien, or was there another explanation?
When he was calmer, Horan went back to bed. It took him a while before he succumbed to sleep. When he woke up, he felt ragged. After he washed up, he checked his phone. Francine had sent a text that said he should call her because she had something important that she wanted to discuss.
“Hi, honey,” Horan said when his wife answered. “I got your text.”
“I’m very worried about you.”
“I know. It’s the alien thing, right?”
“And your nightmares, and … You’ve been so depressed.”
“Don’t worry. I’m dealing with it.”
“Those detectives visited me. They told me they know someone who can help you. It’s a doctor, Valerie Girard.
I talked to her. She thinks you suffered a terrible experience and that you’re suppressing your memories of what happened.
She told me that she might be able to help you, if you let her hypnotize you. ”
“I’m not seeing a shrink. If that got out, it would kill my chances to get elected.”
“No one would have to know. You could fly back, and we could sneak you into her office.”
There was dead air. Francine could hear Tom breathing.
“Please, Tom. I hate seeing you this way. Do it for me.”
“I … I’ll think about it.”
“I love you. I want this to end.”
“I love you too.”
The call ended, and Horan put down his phone.
He’d gone through hell since he was abducted, and he hated that Francine was so worried.
But hypnosis and seeing a shrink … He wanted the nightmares to end, but the publicity could destroy him.
Still, if there was a chance that he could find out what really happened to him …