Too Jung to Die

(The following is based on true events and contains excerpts from an actual radio broadcast)

Date/Time: September 10^th, 1997, 11:47pm

Location: Desert residence, outskirts of Reno, Nevada

After the thunderstorm caused a power outage, Andrew passed his time in a fluffy recliner, soon dozing off to sleep with his left thumb securely bookmarking a pulpy paranoid sci-fi paperback. On the table next to him lay a battery-powered lamp, a his mom's old clock radio, and a copy of The Structure and Dynamics of the Psyche (Carl Jung).

//BUZZ, CLICK!\\

The power popped back on around 1:15 am, jarringly waking Andrew from near-REM level sleep. The kitchen lights seemed far too bright, and the radio was tuned into Art Bell's Coast to Coast AM (one of Andrew's famous pastimes during his occasional bouts of insomnia).

Tonight's broadcast was something rather unforgettable indeed, since a very frantic caller fought through a mesh of powerful static:

"I don't have a whole lot of time...um...I was a former employee of Area 51...let go on medical discharge a week ago...and...(crying)...don't know WHERE to start...they'll triangulate on this position really soon...

What we're thinking of as Aliens ...they're EXTRA-DIMENSIONAL BEINGS...an earlier precursor of the SPACE PROGRAM MADE CONTACT WITH...uh...NOT what they claim to be...INFILTRATED...the MILITARY ESTABLISHMENT...DISASTERS that are coming...the GOVERNMENT knows about them....and there's...SAFE AREAS in this WORLD THAT THEY COULD BEGIN MOVING THE POPULATION TO...but they...THEY WANT THE MAJOR POPULATION CENTERS WIPED OUT SO THAT THE FEW THAT ARE LEFT WILL BE MORE EASILY CONTROLLABLE....(crying, breaking up more)...I started getting..."

Silence. The broadcast went dead. Andrew tried not to freak out, considering the storm...but he soon realized that the lights were all on...an insinuation that the electricity was fine.

He turned the radio to other stations, and none worked. Perhaps it was a short-circuit from a surge? He tested another radio in the bedroom, but it was also on the fritz.

After what felt like an eternal auditory blackout (though it was only two minutes), both radios simultaneously popped back on, and there was an echo of Art Bell apologizing for the radio silence, and a baffled attempt to explain what may have happened. (For some reason) Bell's conspiratorial ramblings this evening seemed all the more convincing.

*KNOCK...KNOCK...KNOCK*

It was 1:30 in the morning, in the middle of the desert, but those deafening knocks could have easily been confused for gunshots.

Andrew stared at the front door, which, at a mere 20 feet away, in that particular moment seemed larger and more ominous than any door he'd seen, or even imagined, in his life.

 *BANG!*
 Andrew was promptly jarred out of what one would assume to be pure catatonia by another tremendously loud noise.

He jumped back and looked down at the Jung book, which had just dropped and (perhaps mockingly) opened itself to the page he'd extensively highlighted earlier that evening regarding synchronicity, and the defeat of assumed coincidence.

Andrew shut his eyes tightly and prayed that this was a dream.  Just then, there were three longer, stronger knocks at the front door.

TO BE CONTINUED