SgtMikal’s Alien Abduction
SgtMikal and I are like brothers from another mother. We both cache; we both love the Philadelphia Flyers; and we even both got married on the same day (not to each other…not that there’s anything wrong with that).
We often go caching together since we have complimentary skills. He can solve puzzles and I can climb trees. It works. We usually will sign logs as “Team Pelle” since we both revere Pelle Lindbergh—a Swedish goalie who died way too early. Mostly when we get together to go caching, we keep our conversations light. Our conversations center on hockey, geocaching, riddles, and the typical things any friends talk about. However, on one recent geotrip, SgtMikal revealed to me the disjointed and uneven memories of a night when he was taken by something other worldly.
Have you ever noticed his geocaching avatar? Here’s the story behind it. 
On one of our recent caching adventures we were driving to our next cache when a song came on the radio. It was Hanger 18 by Megadeath off their Rust in Peace album. Well, normally this friend o’ mine would harken back to the days when he had more hair on his head than his face, and he would begin to head bang along with the music. This time he just got quiet and still. I knew something was up and I asked, “Hey man, what’s going on? You don’t seem like yourself.”
Looking back, I shouldn’t have asked the question. I often tell my students “don’t ask the question if you don’t want to hear the answer.” I wish I had thought of that before I asked, but the words were already out of my mouth.
I was not ready for the story he was about to tell.
Back in the 1980s he had an experience one that has plagued him ever since. He hadn’t told many people about it, but he brought me into his confidence on that particular day.
He had scored tickets from 93.3 WMMR in Philadelphia for a Stryper concert. It was their To Hell with the Devil tour and in the summer of 1987 this band was hot. That day SgtMikal had been working on clearing a trail for his Eagle Scout project when he heard John DeBella on the Morning Zoo say the 93rd caller would win two tickets to an upcoming Stryper show. SgtMikal waited about 3 minutes and called. It seemed like the phone was ringing forever, but when DeBella picked up SgtMikal was crowned the winner! He had tickets to the August 27th show in Maryland.
Well, to move this story along, the end of summer came as July gave way to the dog days of August. SgtMikal took his younger brother to the concert with him. They grabbed the tickets, got into SgtMikal’s first car, a 1978 Datsun 810 wagon , and drove to Columbia, MD. They were bound for the Merriweather Post Pavilion, center section, row H, seats 116 and 117. They were pumped for the concert. SgtMikal was wearing a Stryper T-shirt with the sleeves cut off and a denim jacket with patches. His brother had on his Loudness T-shirt and visor slim sunglasses. (Loudness was the opening band—a Japanese heavy metal band—and goes to show SgtMikal’s brother loved Japanese culture before it was cool).
The concert was everything they had expected and more. The band rocked, the concert goers were stoked, the merch was reasonable, and SgtMikal even came close to getting one of the Bibles Michael Sweet threw into the audience. All seemed well in the teenagers’ world, but it was about to change.
Still basking in the afterglow of the Stryper concert, SgtMikal and his brother got back to the Datsun about 11:11 PM and began the long drive back to the outskirts of Philly. They rehashed the concert, of course, but as the miles passed by, they began to talk about other topics too. They shared their thoughts on the Flyers (a team that had gotten just one win away from winning the Stanley Cup—darn those Edmonton Oilers). They talked about the upcoming school year, girls they knew, and all of the other things teenage boys talk about. However, things changed about 31 minutes later when SgtMikal got off the highway to get some gas.
The sign on the highway said the 7-11 gas station was only about 2 miles down the road, but they never got there. As they progressed on the deserted road, the radio became choked with static drowning out Sweet Child O’ Mine by Guns and Roses. About a quarter mile later the car died. It was like the entire electrical system lost power all at once. The headlights were off, the car was not running, and nothing would turn on. They were a bit afraid, but even more confused. SgtMikal had put in a new battery that spring. It shouldn’t be dead now, maybe it was the alternator…. Anyway, they were sure that someone would come along and give them a jump. In the meantime, SgtMikal got out of the car and opened the hood. They did not realize they were about to get the jumpstart of their lives thanks to the ship that was lurking just above them.
An eerie dull-yellow light began to shine on them, as if God was shining a bug-light onto their location. The light drowned out all the colors and everything began to take on a washed-out yellow-green hue. SgtMikal began to feel an odd sensation run throughout his body. It was like the numb feeling he would get in his legs when they were crossed for too long, but this was everywhere. He felt lightheaded and confused. The hair that made up his mullet began to tingle and rise as if a tremendous amount of static electricity was coursing through the atmosphere. The car’s lights came on and the radio spewed Golden Earing’s Radar Love as SgtMikal’s feet began to leave the asphalt. He was going up! He tried to hold onto the Datsun, but his fingers slipped off greasy engine parts. He was being pulled higher, until his brother got out of the car and grabbed his leg!
SgtMikal’s brother had a tremendous inner strength that overcame his fear. He would not watch as his brother got taken before his eyes. He jumped out of the car and grabbed onto a leg He locked his foot under the bumper in an effort to prevent his beloved brother’s abduction. Unfortunately, he could only delay the inevitable. The alien beam was too strong and pulled SgtMikal irresistibly higher. Eventually SgtMikal’s brother lost his grip. He could only stare upwards as he watched SgtMikal disappear into a small aperture on the underside of a flying disc.
As he ascended SgtMikal began to feel strange sensations. It was almost like he was black-out drunk, but he had not had a drop of alcohol. His body felt heavy and light at the same time. His mind could not hold a coherent thought. He told me the last thing he could remember clearly was thinking, “My parents are going to kill me for leaving my brother alone on the side of the road.” He thought it strange that he could see his breath. Then he blacked out.
The next several hours were a mix of fragmented memories and uncertain emotions. He could remember seeing three different kinds of aliens when he awoke. The first kind were small. Their head barely came up to the level of the table he was strapped onto. He guessed they were about 3 feet tall and had a very light blue skin with black and yellow markings. Their eyes were small, dark, and beady. They reminded him of bird’s eyes. In fact, he began to think of them as penguins since they waddled more than walked. The other two alien types seemed to boss them around.
The second kind were much larger. They seemed too big for the room. SgtMikal estimated them to be taller than his friend (and geocacher) Giant Joe. They had to be at least 7 feet tall and perhaps 300 pounds. They generally stayed away from his table-prison, but they were always in the background. They were covered with a striking orange-red colored hair. They had no noses he could discern, but their eyes were large—as if they could see everything. They did not hurt him, but they treated him with an indifference that put his teeth on edge. Looking at them was like eating a sandwich on a windy beach. No matter what you did it was gritty. That is why he began to think of them as gritty, because of the feeling they gave him.
The third kind of aliens were the most formidable because they were in charge. They were like something out of a movie. They stood about 5 feet tall and had very large heads. Their bodies were covered with a skin-tight iridescent suit which seemed to change colors as they moved. Only their faces were exposed. Their skin was pale gray, their eyes were like black holes, and they never made any noises. In fact, as best as he could tell, SgtMikal believed they communicated telepathically. The close encounter he experienced with these aliens would haunt his dreams for decades to come.
During that time away from his brother, SgtMikal experienced something dreadful. He told me about feeling of helplessness as needles were poked into his arms and legs and blood samples were drawn. He remembered two of the “gritty-types” had to unstrap his body and turn him over. Then the aliens must have taken some spinal fluid because he felt what seemed like a 14-gauge needle get jammed into his lower back. The worst were the glimpses of memory when the third kind of aliens stared at him when all of this was being done. Most times it seemed like they were watching with a clinical disinterest, but occasionally they seemed to enjoy the reactions, or perhaps the fear, they were causing him. Either way, those comfortless eyes could bore into one’s soul and spark nightmares that would bring Rob Zombie to tears.
After the experience, the first thing SgtMikal clearly remembered was laying face-down in the grassy ditch next to the Datsun wagon. He noticed his brother had tears in his eyes as he pulled on the denim jacket. As SgtMikal tried to get to his knees, he felt nauseous and threw up in the grass. His brother was relieved that he was alive! SgtMikal rolled over and took a mental inspection of himself. His head ached, his stomach turned, his arms and legs felt like lead, and his lower back spasmed. His upper arm burned and tingled. Moreover, he had the worst cottonmouth he could remember, but his memory was like a dream. The more minutes passed the less he could recall details and sequences. He wanted to write it all down while it was still sort of fresh, but he was just too tired. His brother told him that it was now 4:13 AM. He had been missing for 4 hours and 31 minutes!
Somehow, he got himself together well enough to drive. The car’s electrical system had, almost magically, began working again. They still needed gas to they went to the station filled up and got some drinks and snacks. SgtMikal sipped sweet tea from a Big-Gulp cup and began to listlessly nibble on a powered donut as his brother munched on Slim Jims and drank some Jolt cola. It was right then when SgtMikal felt an urge to scratch his upper arm. It was painful. He had scratched off the beginnings of a scab. The aliens had etched something into him!
Eventually, SgtMikal and his brother got back into the 810 wagon and drove home. The conversation was lively at first but settled into an uncomfortable silence. Predictably, their parents were a mix of angry and relieved when they finally passed through the threshold of their childhood home. They did not even try to explain what happened.
The next week school started. Teachers assigned homework, the Flyers began their preseason schedule, stores began to put out Christmas displays, and eventually, the leaves began to change colors. The vicissitudes of life began to take hold and push this experience into the darker corners of their minds. Within a month it seemed like a bad dream and SgtMikal and brother decided not to talk about the incident in an unspoken pact.
There is a postscript to this story. Years went by and SgtMikal found himself living in the greater Hagerstown, MD area. He never liked the scars left on his arm from that night. He decided to cover them up with a tattoo. He decided to get a cross. He wasn’t sure if it was because of his strong faith, or because he saw a Christian rock band that night, or if it was something more symbolic. Did he believe the mark was evil and he could cover it up with a holy icon? In any case, he went to his friend Jason to get the work done. Jason noticed a pattern in the marks. There were five horizontal lines and five vertical lines bisecting several of the horizontal line at various intervals. The vertical lines appeared to have small tear-drop shaped dots attached to their points just off center. It seemed…familiar.
As he got finished with his story I was dumbfounded. I had no idea my good friend had gone through such as experience. I had no idea what to do with the information. I began demanding answers to my questions. Who else knows this happened? Did you tell the police? What did your brother do for those hours? Did you ever experience anything like this before or since? How much trouble did you get in for being so late? Why didn’t you get the Bible Michael Sweet tossed? Who should the Flyers draft in the first-round next year?
From the look in his face I understood I had to stop this interrogation. So, I did the only thing I could. I said I would listen nonjudgmentally if he ever needed to talk about it. I was absolutely sincere in my sympathy, but as I told him I would be there for him, SgtMikal just smiled enigmatically.
I immediately asked him if he was joking but he said he wasn’t… but he was still smiling. Now I don’t know if my friend was abducted by aliens or if he is just good at telling tall tales! He has sworn that it’s all true, but I have doubts that just won’t go away.
My revenge is simple. Since SgtMikal uses geocaching as a kind of therapy, I’ll give him another cache to find. If his story is true and he needs a break of his memories, then he can find this cache. However, in case he is spinning a yarn, I am going to make this a puzzle cache that might just give him fits.
There is nothing at the posted coordinates. The story hold all the information you necessary to find the proper six-word phrase you need to plug into Certitude to get the coordinates. When entering the phrase in Certitude, do not put spaces inbetween the words, use an _ for a space.
If only his vehicle was a 1977 model, instead of a '78. That would jive with the answer so well....
You can validate your puzzle solution with
certitude.