Nick woke up like he would on any other morning. He got out of bed, found a pair of sweats to wear for the day and managed to get into his car on time to find his way into work. Nick did not know that today he would not be going to work; he would find himself in a place that is not familiar to him, a place where his worst nightmares would come true.

Nick hated this routine. Day after day he would do it, just to make enough money to pay for his rent. His parents kicked him out of his house 3 months earlier when they found out about his smoking habits. Since then Nick has had to support himself. Buying his own food, cleaning his own clothes, and hardest of all paying his own rent.

Nick was driving down the highway when he looked at the scenery. He looked over to the mountains and saw something suspended in the sky. Nick thought to himself, It is probably just another of these weather balloon experiments. Nick looks forward to his trip home on the same highway after his day of 10 hours manual labour and forgot about the weather balloon.

Minutes later Nick suddenly looses control of his 1990 Honda and then blackouts.

Waking up from what seemed to be a permanent sleep Nick finds himself surrounded by scientists. Nicks read about this stuff before on ATS, he knows exactly where he is. He’s in Area 51.

[edit on 14-7-2004 by MacKiller]

great story mac keep it coming id like to read another addition..

Nick awakens and looks around. There's a large sign on the wall that reads, "AREA 51." A masked man with goggles stands over him holding a pair of forceps.

"What the...?" Nick gasped.

"Hold still there, Cowboy! I'm trying to suture this laceration on your forehead," the goggled masked man exclaimed.

"Man, I've got a terrible headache!"

"Yeah. I'm sure you do, but let me get this last stitch in and we can talk about it," the masked man replied.

"Who are these people?" Nick asked.

"These are my staff, now shut up and hold still or you're going to have a much bigger scar than necessary. This is only going to take about thirty seconds. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

"Holy zits!" Nick's thoughts raced. "I can't believe what's happening to me. Can things get any worse? First, my parents find out that I smoke Camels on the roof of the house and throw me out. Then, I have to get a job and pay my own rent, clean my own house, wash my own clothes, and buy my own food. Now this! How much stress can a twenty-seven year-old dude endure in three months? What am I going to do to get out of this?"

"All right, Nick. We've got you all stitched up. How do you feel?"

"Not good. My head hurts. My neck hurts and I can't see out of my right eye. How did you know my name?"

"First things first, Nick. You were apparently in a pretty serious automobile accident. The paramedics brought you here on a neck board to patch you up. You were unconscious upon arrival and immediately transported to radiology to get some pictures of your injuries. You're pretty lucky. You've got a mild concussion, some contusions, including the black eye, and the laceration I just sutured. There are no fractures, but I suspect that your going to have some serious neck pain for the next few months. I'll give you some prescriptions to help you deal with the pain and muscle spasms, but the real medicine is going to be time. We'll refer you to several physical therapists and you can take it from there. Other than that, your prognosis is excellent."

"Are you a-a-a-a scientist?" Nick stuttered.

"Well, I like to think so, but actually I'm Julio Suarez, MD, trauma specialist, but Nick?"

"How do you know my name?"

"Okay. Let's see," Dr. Suarez picks up Nick's chart. "You were in a single car auto accident that was reported at 0728. Paramedics arrived on the scene at 0737. You arrived here at 0751 and I just gave you a run down on the rest. Your personal effects, including your wallet, are in this bag and that would be how the paramedics knew which name to put on the report. Your next of kin, as listed on your ID, has been notified and I don't have anymore information. Now, Mr. Gillespie?"

"What are you going to do with me?" Nick blurted out.

"Nick, I don't know how to tell you this, but?"

"Oh, God no!"

"Nick, my patience is wearing thin here; stop interrupting me. I'd give you a sedative, but it isn't indicated under the circumstances, unless I have to give you one to keep you from harming yourself or others. Now, will you listen to me?"

Nick is weeping bitterly.

"Yes," Nick sobbed. "Doctor, I'm so scared."

"Nick, I'll make this as quick as possible. As a routine procedure, we take a blood sample from everyone who enters the trauma center. Nick, your blood/alcohol level was .09%. You were legally intoxicated at the time of the accident. There are two Sheriff's Deputies in the hallway. They're here to arrest you on the charges of Driving While Intoxicated. I'm sorry. I'll have to let them in now. You know you're lucky you didn't hurt someone else."

"Wait a minute, Doctor! Where am I?"

"You're in the trauma center of the Cherrywood Medical Center."

"Wait a second! Isn't this Area 51?" Nick cried.

"What?" The doctor walked back toward Nick.

"That sign! It says Area 51."

"Nick, this is the trauma area, Area 51. The waiting room is Area 50. The loading dock through those doors is Area 52. Now, Nick, if you don't calm down, I'll have to sedate you. I'll get the Deputies, now. I'm sorry, Nick."


[edit on 2005/7/7 by GradyPhilpott]

Bah...

story killer.

Bah...

story killer.

MacKiller:

Be nice! Imagination is the stuff of collaborative fiction. The excitement is to see where it can go and the possible twists and changes. The more unexpected the better. You owe GradPhilpott an apology, IMHO.

As Dr. Suarez exited the secure examination room, he entered into a large hallway big enough to accommodate any of the military transportation vehicles used to shuttle personnel to various areas down the spine of the vast underground complex. In the RECOV section, the hall was lined with several secure examination rooms similar to the one Dr. Suarez had just exited. Each had large viewing stations that from the inside looked like normal cinderblock wall, but from the outside were as clear as glass.

Dr. Suarez paused to consider his newest arrival. Throngs of military personnel and civilian staff busily passed behind him on their way to and from various duty stations. As Dr. Suarez picked up the chart placed at the viewing station, a tall uniformed officer approached, placing his hand on the doctor’s shoulder.

“Hello, Doctor,” said the military officer. “Anything interesting with this one?”

Dr. Suarez returned a warm smile. “The extraction recovered a standard A-Chip, but nothing else of interest. I’m ordering the cellular analysis to see if we have any 283-Retros, but I doubt we’ll find anything. This was pretty run-of-the-mill. Level one abduction. No other artifacts or indications of interest.”

“Do I schedule a rehab on this one?”

“No,” said the doctor. “Go ahead and terminate after I get the cellulars.”


[edit on 23-9-2004 by loam]

[edit on 23-9-2004 by loam]

I'm posting this on behalf of Birddawg who hasn't been here long enough to qualify for "Writer" status. This is a one.

"Nick was a wreck. He was on his way to work and ends up here in hospital.
Area 51, Area 51? What the hell. Nick thinks to himself, his thoughts are racing trough his head at 90 miles per hour. How could he had been intoxicated. Did he smoke part of the joint that was lying in ashtray? Nick always follows the country boy creed, get stoned in the morning and drunk in the afternoon. He knew that he had not been drinking.
“What the hell was this doctor up to?” He needed to get up but couldn’t.
At least they didn’t check for drugs, he thought. That was the real reason Nick was kicked out of his parents house. His uptight parents, or so he thought, just couldn’t appreciate the laid back lifestyle of a vivacious twenty year old. They brought up the cigarettes but he knew the real reason. His parents didn’t want to mention it. They had never had “the talk” , so instead of admitting to their semi failure, they choose to deny it.
He thought, “How long have I been out”.
“Now just where did that doctor go?” he pondered while lazily looking around.
Brigadier Dwight D Fuller, named commanding general of the allied forces during WWII was apparently agitated. Dr. Suarez knew more than he letting on. He could sense it. You don’t make it past the rank of colonel and not have some gut instincts about situational awareness or so he always thought.
Dr. Suarez has never been cagey or ever had the slightest implication of being wary. General Fuller knew that he’d drag it out of him sooner of later. Just the fact of being in this business gave him the necessary tools to do so. Dr. Suarez scribbled something on the form…………. "

nick looked at the white room around him. he knew; they were going to kill him after he had gone. he tried to get up, but fell on the floor, smacking his head on a dresser as he fell. he had the sensation of his head filling with information, and of falling though space.
he stood. he threw off the the gown and replaced it with his clothes that were in the bag. he knew what happened, he could remember it all. they had given him power, and told him to use it as he will. he had decided on the craft, as they showed him his life, that he was not going to waste it. he was going to be great.
he tried the door. it was locked. of course, he thought. he closed his eyes and concertraed on unlocking the door. there was a click! and he tried the door, and walked though.
outside, he was amazed at the scale of area 51. this would survive all known weapons! he thought. he decided to try out his powers. seeing a man with coffee in his hand, he concertared on him. then, to almost his surprise, he could hear what the man was thinking!