He awakened as he was walking . . .
Just coming out of a presumed sleep Lindar realized that he was walking along a deserted roadside that he had never been. It was very dark, the only light was from the brightest full moon he’d ever seen. He had no memory of where he had been or what had happened, he also had no conscious thought or plan as to where he was going. Just that he apparently had just awoke while walking. The back of his neck had a burning sensation, and when he raised his arm over his head to reach the area, he could feel a small round crusted mark the size of a quarter. Like an open wound that was still healing. Still he continued walking . . .
Lindar desperately needed to find someplace where he could examine himself and try to get a sense of where he was. He was wearing leather loafers with no socks, pinstripe dress slacks and a matching blazer, no shirt, belt, or underwear. As he continued to walk through the night alongside the roadside, he did notice a faint small light up ahead some distance away. It would be there that he hoped to find some answers.
Sometime later, as Lindar approached what appeared to be a dimly lit, single small building standing alone in the night, he noticed there were no cars parked outside. Finally making it to the entrance he saw this was a tavern of some sort, oddly left standing alone out in the countryside. Coming up the four steps to the doorway, he could see there were eight people inside and one bartender. They each were seated separately away from each other at different tables. Opening the door caused the small bell hanging from the ceiling to ring-a-ling, and the woman behind the bar looked up at him as he seated himself at the bar with no acknowledgement from any of the others.
Looking around at each of the eight that were seated, there were six men and two women, each sitting quietly staring with nothing having been served to them. The clothes they were wearing told of their former occupations, bricklayer, farmer, blacksmith, farrier, baker, doctor, and of the two women, one teacher, the other a housewife. Lindar himself was a commodities broker. A few of them had the same burn mark at the base of their neck as Lindar had, while others had some sort of wound dressing applied. But there were two, the doctor and the teacher both had no dressing, but did have an extending finger-like growth about four inches long and reaching upwards. After taking all of this in, Lindar looked to the woman behind the bar and asked “where are we ?” To which she smiled and asked if he would like his water now. As she turned around to the faucet, Lindar noticed she had the same growing appendage but was much longer at least eight inches extending upward almost past the top of her head. She then stepped away to a dial-up telephone on the wall, picked up the receiver and held it to her ear. After a moment she simply said “they’re all here now”, and hung the phone up. Lindar was aghast, not sure if he was caught up in some alien dreamstate or if his own conscious reality had been compromised.
Again Lindar spoke to the woman behind the bar and asked “where am I ?” To which she smiled and replied “Drink your water, it will help you. You will be home soon” . . .
Once again, Lindar found himself waking up from what appeared to be a desktop nap of sorts. Seated at his desk high above the city in a penthouse suite was where the office was for the newspaper he worked for. He had fallen asleep while going over his commodity reports, an interest of his outside of the newspaper, and was laying over the day’s top news headline story entitled “Antennaed Infiltrate”.
Lindar then reached over his head to feel the back of his neck . . .
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