I inhaled, and suddenly felt horribly alert. One of the nurses put a breathing mask over my face. They were masked, anonymous, and wore head-to-toe purple scrubs, with only their surgical gloves glaring white. Two polo shirts wheeled me in, where I was met with a doctor and a team of nurses. The next cart, with the next person, went in. The next person was wheeled in, a man with facial piercings filling in for eyebrows. Another minute, then a wet squeal, which turned into an inhuman sound before ending. There was a piercing scream, abbreviated. Then the first kidnapped person, a woman with long black hair, was taken inside. They lined us up outside a cinderblock building with no windows, which abutted the closed hangar. The others at her back wore a similar uniform of khakis, white hats, and black polos-like they were valets, only with chrome 1911s on their hips. The soldiers signed us over to a woman in a black polo shirt who came outside to inspect us. It wasn’t far to a hangar of sorts, with a little terminal beside it, which butted up against a barbed wire fence and a dark forest beyond. I was on the bottom of a stack of three hand carts. It was raining on the tarmac, and they loaded us into truckbeds. Then we hit the runway, bounced, and came to a stop.Ī separate team of jumpsuited people came aboard and we were fitted with IV needles then rolled off the plane. There were other sounds, but no one could quite solidify them into words. I could hear slurring voices all around me. I was dimly aware of of having pissed myself, of being fed a strange red slop, of wondering at the sliver of a face I could see through the slats in the hand truck ahead of me. I made too much noise, so one of the soldiers sprayed something in my face and I don’t remember much after that. Soldiers in jumpsuits, without patches or identifying insignia, moved efficiently to strap us upright to the floor of the cargo bay, locking us into long rows like cans in a coke machine. You could talk around it, but couldn’t be understood. There were many more people aboard, similarly bound, our faces held straight forward by some sort of silver bridle. I was trying to find my way back-had an apartment again after years without a home-when I was snatched off the street by a team of commandos, strapped to a hand cart, and rolled on to a C-5M Super Galaxy military transport plane. I was a famous athlete in my country, but not in a sport you probably care much about.
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