Van's Hardware Journal

I don’t know where to start. There’s so little left, so little in my heart. And what’s the point? No one will read this; there’s no one left.

No, I don’t know that. I can’t think that way. I’ve got to go on. I’ve got to get back home somehow. My family might be okay. They MUST be okay.

I’ve got to write to keep up hope, to keep believing that all is not lost so that I can find the strength to get back home.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

It all started only three months ago in July. That’s July, 2012. I was at the London Olympics. I never thought I’d be in the Olympics, not at my age. I turned fifty last March and only took up archery five years ago. Somehow, I managed to make the U.S. Olympic Archery team. I barely made the team, but I performed well enough to get me to London and get me a full set of crappy, Chinese made USA Olympic outfits.

I was on the field that night during the opening ceremonies when suddenly the music stopped and most of the stadium lighting shut off. We had rehearsed the whole thing the night before and we all knew that something was wrong but none of us were surprised because nearly every aspect of the London Olympics had been buggy so far.

After a few seconds Katy tugged on my blue Ralph Lauren blazer. “For an old guy, you look cute in that little blue beret,” Katy snickered, “French and a little constipated, but awkwardly handsome.”

“Gee, I thought I looked more like a balding Che Guevara,” I muttered quietly in the nearly silent stadium. Meekly holding up my right fist so as not to get too much attention, I stiffened, clicked my heals and continued “Viva la revolucion!”

“Uh, I think that’s more like ‘Southern Nazi’ than ‘classic Cuban revolutionary,’” Katy remarked. “Yeah, I need to polish my Argentine accent a little,” I admitted. “Argentine? I thought Che Guevara was Cuban,” she asked. “Common mistake,” I replied, “Che was a ‘citizen of the world’ as the pretentious rabble like to say today. He got around a lot.”

“But now that you mention it, you do look a little like Che in some of his later and less groomed years,” Katy mused, “Not that I know much of anything about Che Guevara except what they taught me in high school, and you can see they didn’t teach me much.”

A member of the USA women’s archery team, Katy was a sprite of a young lady, barely topping five feet tall and just over one-hundred pounds. We both had competed earlier that day and the archery bag she carried that night was nearly as big as her. Katy believed in being prepared and her archery kit would make the Green Arrow envious.

At eighteen, innocent, full of life and with long blond hair and blue eyes, she reminded me of my oldest daughter who had just turned fifteen. Katy approached everything with joy and wonder and her wide eyes had never been wider than during the opening ceremonies that terrible night.

And despite being weird and downright creepy at times – the 13 Illuminati pyramids encircling the stadium overhead were just the beginning – the opening ceremonies were a spectacle to behold.

“Do you think they just found the mother of all computer bugs?” Katy asked about the breakdown of the opening ceremony. “That’s my guess given their dismal track record,” I grumbled. I ‘m an old school computer programmer by trade and I don’t have much patience for computer glitches.

But just at that moment, the relative silence of the stadium was shattered by an ear splitting roar. The black sky was simultaneously lit by a rope of fire overhead, followed by another and then another. By the third instance, it was clear that three fighter jets had passed only about a hundred feet over the stadium. A smattering of applause and cheers arose from the confused crowd who assumed the nearly supersonic planes were part of the opening ceremony.

“What the hell was that!” I said to myself. By that time, all heads were turned skywards as the nearly one-hundred-thousand people in the stadium were obviously thinking that same thing.

As the exhaust trails from the three jets thinned enough to see the sky above, a bright light directly above the stadium came into view. Slowly and gradually it appeared to be growing in intensity. Soon it became obvious that it was some kind of craft descending steadily towards us, but still far up in the sky.

The lead jet was closing quickly on the craft when a barely visible, violet light suddenly connected the two vehicles. At once, the jet plane careened off in a violent spiral causing the two trailing planes to abort their approach. The lead fighter twirled frantically for several seconds before exploding into a ball of flames like an enormous Fourth of July firework.

Immediately, panic gripped the crowd, but few if any people tried to leave. After all, everyone had been told ad nauseam that the stadium was the most secure place in London. At that point, I felt Katy squeeze my arm. “Don’t worry, this is probably the safest place to be in the world right now,” I reassured her.

As if on cue, the stadium PA crackled to life cooing a soothing, aristocratic, British female voice. “Thank you for joining us tonight in a global celebration of the 2012 London Olympics. We are currently working through minor technical difficulties. We are grateful for your patience.”

At that moment, four full batteries of Rapier missiles came to life in a deafening peal, launching sixteen rockets screaming straight upwards towards the still steadily descending light.

In only a second or two, the Rapier missiles had already reached halfway to their target when a subtle violet ray of light strobed each one from the UFO. As with the downed fighter jet, all sixteen missiles spun wildly out of control and exploded within a fraction of a second.

Flaming debris began to fall upon a wide area of London surrounding the Olympic stadium, but fortunately nothing struck the stadium itself.  The PA system stirred again. “London welcomes the world to the 2012 Summer Olympic Games. We continue to be working through minor technical issues and we fully expect to have them resolved shortly. Thank you again for your kind patience.”

The confusion caused by the grossly understated second announcement only served to deepen the terror now engulfing everyone within the stadium.

“For the safety of others as well as yourselves, please remain seated and calm. For your continued inconvenience, complementary food and drink will be served for the remainder of tonight’s ceremonies,” the PA lady continued.

Another wave of confusion swept over the 2012 London Olympic Stadium before the arena’s video screens came on bearing the image of Queen Elizabeth. “We are most terribly sorry for the apparent delay of tonight’s ceremonies, but I assure you that you are safe and we are progressing as stated. Please return to your seats, relax and enjoy tonight’s festivities. Everything is under control, and everything you have seen is as planned,” the Queen calmly announced.

Amazingly, nearly everyone returned to their seats and waited while an army of ushers distributed food and refreshments. Likewise, most of the thousands of athletes on the field returned to their positions, sitting now on the ground or in folding chairs. The stadium soon glowed from countless smart phone screens as people updated their social networks, emailed friends, phoned home or filmed the ongoing spectacle.

All the while, the light above the stadium slowly grew larger and larger.

After a few minutes, the various video screens around the stadium lit up again and music began to play. Images of the British Royal Family flickered across our faces. The Royals were singing a bizarre song. The lyrics were unmistakable since the video was captioned with them.

 And did those feet in ancient time.
Walk upon England’s mountains green:
And was the holy Lamb of God,
On England’s pleasant pastures seen!

And did the Countenance Divine,
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here,
Among these dark Satanic Mills?

Bring me my Bow of burning gold;
Bring me my Arrows of desire:
Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my Chariot of fire!

I will not cease from Mental Fight,
Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand:
Till we have built Jerusalem,
In England’s green & pleasant Land

 “That’s Jerusalem by William Blake,” Katy stated matter-of-factly, “it says so on the program we got yesterday.”

When the song completed, the video screens went black and the stadium was silent briefly before spotlights all around the area pierced the darkness and illuminated the skies overhead. The crowd released a collective gasp as the full outline of the UFO could now be plainly seen. Hovering silently just a few feet above the stadium, the light on the craft was only about thirty or forty feet across, but the vast ship engulfed the night sky and exceeded the dimensions of the stadium itself.

A gentle violet light pulsed once from the entire surface of the enormous ship and London fell into darkness. Even the thousands upon thousands of cell phone screens in the stadium went black. The only illumination visible in the area came from the craft above our heads.

Through the white light in the center of the massive UFO descended a gold shuttle that looked somewhat like an ornate, horseless carriage or chariot. Wheel-like appendages at the four corners of the vehicle crackled with static electricity as the conveyance set down softly on the large stage located at the north end of the playing field.

A door swung upward from the center of the landed craft and out stepped a towering figure in a hooded, white robe. Gliding slowly toward the center of the stage as if almost weightless, the being stopped and removed his hood revealing a bald head that was both shocking and beautiful at the same time.

The creature, roughly nine or ten feet tall, had pale, white skin and more closely resembled a giant Greek statue than a human. In fact, he looked very similar to the alien engineers seen in the recent movie Prometheus.

The light from the hovering ship overhead grew brighter until it was like midday in the stadium. The video screens came to life again, this time filled with an image of the creature’s face. Staring directly into the camera with unblinking, blue eyes, the being uttered three words in a slow, deep, booming voice that resonated strongly within my chest: “I am God.”