“We were flying an aircraft completely unknown to us. From the outside it looked like any other aircraft I suppose, but the inside was very different as well as the controls and instrumentation. Our mission instructions came from a man in a suit, not a uniform. “Fly the plane. Ask no questions.” He said to us. We had twenty-four hours to prepare. A kid from India, I could not pronounce his name so I called him ‘Sonny’, an engineer of about twenty or twenty-two years old, I guessed. He spoke in broken English; he could read English and knew most of the swear words and used them incorrectly and at inappropriate times. We were both exhausted from studying and needed to get some sleep for a six to nine-hour flight, so we were told. I did not sleep a wink and could hear Sonny crying quietly in the other bunk.

  During pre-flight, I noticed about twenty people board the plane. All in civilian casual wear. Carrying a small backpack or briefcase. The last one to board was ‘The Suit’.

  “Do you two need anything?” He asked us.

  “Another six-months of training.” I said laughing a little.

  “You’ll do fine. Time to go.” He said. I was not even half way through my pre-flight as he reached over and took it from me.

  “Everything is fine. Time to go.” He said. ‘The Suit’ was receiving information and relaying it to me as we moved along the tarmac. Sonny was just as nervous as I was as he performed his responsibilities professionally. I tried to make small talk but he only responded with short answers.

  One hundred twenty-three minutes into the flight I noticed a problem right away. We were losing weight at a continual rate. I compensated but had to notify ‘The Suit’. I knocked on the cockpit door and it opened immediately. I explained in detail the issue and he responded; “I know. Thank you.” and closed the door.

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  We landed at a military base in southern Montana and were escorted to a remote area where we stayed for three days with no information. I remember sitting with Sonny in the chow hall going over the flight information and data. Four other pilots seated across from us, one of them came over.

  “So, what do you think. Aliens? Weather modification?” He asked us. Sonny spoke; “Dude man, we are trying to fly the fucking plane! We don’t give shits!” His Indian accent and sentence structure made me laugh a little and I just said “Yea! We don’t give shits!” I repeated to the man. He just called us “Assholes” and walked away, anyway, ‘The Suit’ woke us up in the middle of the night and gave us a flight plan. Small turbo prop, three passengers; Mark, James and a guy named Roger.

  When we arrived in Oklahoma we were immediately separated and I was sent to a decontamination area then a physical, including semen samples. I never saw Sonny or Roger again. We were told about the attack on the island and then the outbreak and were sent to a quarantine area. Bad news travels fast. We were fitted for the treatments, those that did not comply or asked too many questions just seem to disappear.

  It took two years of planning. Secret keywords and hand written encrypted messages were the only method of communication within the Movement. All of your dialog was filtered, transcribed then destroyed by Jason. I actually heard two of your communications. The first one, poor quality, probably from a two-way. The second one, very clear. Helen talking about the man standing on the side of the road.

  Reports of survivors arriving at the facility were rare. The only one I saw was a man, in his forty’s, short, carrying a small duffle bag.”

  Trevor just stopped talking and stared into his cold coffee then turned toward me. “I won’t let you down.” Trevor said quietly.

  “You’re a morning person, good thing.” Scotty said whispering and placing a clipboard with a legal pad full of hand written notes in front of Trevor. I got up and made some more coffee then went outside.