Donald Trump (7:23)
My name is Donald Trump, but folks around here just call me Don. I'm a defense contractor by trade, but a bow hunter at heart. Or at least I was until Labor Day weekend back in 64. Because that weekend. Well, that weekend changed just about everything I'd come to think about. Well, just about everything. See, I've always been a straight shooter, a meat and potatoes man. Who's never had much truck with tall tales or flights of fancy. Working in missile defense teaches you that kind of thinking. You learn to trust your instruments to believe that every blip on the radar means something real. That's what I always told my crew. If something shows up on your screens, you better believe it's there. There's no room for imagination in this line of work. But let me tell you something. There are things flying around in our atmosphere that no radar is ever going to pick up. Things that don't want to be found. And I learned that the hard way out there in Cisco Grove. It was one of those clear California days when the air's just starting to get that autumn snap to it. Two fellows from work had invited me out to Tahoe National Forest, about 70 miles northwest up Route 40, a spot near Cisco Grove. I'd never hunted that area before, but they swore by it. Said the deer up there grew big as horses, and the woods were so quiet you could hear a pine needle drop. We hit the road early and made it just as the sun was peeking over the Sierras. And the place was everything they'd promised. Pristine wood stretching as far as the eye could see, with crystal lakes scattered between huge granite outcrops. Paradise, plain and simple. So we set up base camp, strapped on our gear, and headed out. Now, I may not have known these specific trails, but I'd been hunting since I could walk. Had my trusty bow, a quiver of arrows, and enough wood sense to track a ghost. Or so I thought. Because what happened to me in those woods, I don't think any wilderness experience or know how would have helped me one bit. It's funny how the forest can turn on you sometimes. One minute you're following deer sign, confident as can be, and the next. Well, the next minute, you're realizing that every tree looks exactly like the last one. And that sinking feeling hits your gut when you know you've wandered too far from familiar ground. And that's exactly where I found myself at the end of the day. Lost. The kind of lost where you think back on stories of folks who wander into the woods and never walk out. But I tried to keep a level head and followed a ridge line, figuring it would lead me back to somewhere I recognized. Instead, it led me straight to a cliff edge with nothing but air between me and a river far below. By then, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon, and I didn't have a flashlight, just my bow, three arrows, and the clothes on my back. Now, the smart thing to do would have been to stay put till daylight. But I was too dang stubborn to cave that easily. So I cautiously made my way back the direction I came, clinging to the last remnants of dusk. And eventually found myself in a yawning canyon dotted with boulders and pines. And that's when I heard it. The unmistakable sound of something big thrashing around in the brush nearby. My first thought was bear. Had to be, since nothing else out here made that kind of racket. And let me tell you, facing down a bear with just a bow and arrow, that's not exactly a fair fight. So I did what any sensible man would. I climbed the sturdiest tree I could find. A 30 foot pine with a trunk as big as a barrel. And even though the thing didn't have any branches in its lowest 12ft, it's amazing what you can manage with a bear breathing down your neck. So I scrambled up the bark fast as I could and settled onto the first stable branches I could find. Then scanned the darkness for any sign of the bear. But of course, by then the woods had gone eerily quiet. And after a few more minutes passed with no further disturbance, I finally started to relax a bit. Maybe I'd spooked the bear and it had run off. Or hell, maybe there never was a bear and my panic stricken brain had conjured the whole thing up. Either way, I wasn't about to climb back down and find out. So I resigned myself to a long cold night. In the tree, I found a semi comfortable spot where I could keep watch without risking a fall if I dozed off. And I couldn't stop thinking about Judy and our little girl back home, since they were probably worried sick by now. But at least I was safe, right? Ha. It must have been a half hour or so later when I first noticed the light. At first it was just a white glow weaving through the distant trees. And it made sense that it'd be my bodies searching with lanterns or maybe even a rescue crew. But then I saw it sail clean over a tree and my brain shifted to thinking helicopter. Had to be. Who else would be out searching at night? So I jumped up, fired off a signal flare and started waving it over my head like a madman. And that got the light's attention alright. And as it beelined towards me, I remembered thinking, thank God they've spotted me. But as it grew closer, I realized this was no ordinary searchlight. And it wasn't attached to any helicopter or vehicle I'd ever seen either. No, this was something else entirely. And it came to A dead stop about 150ft away from me, and hovered there in complete silence. No engine noise, no whirring blades, nothing. And I could see now it had two smaller, darker objects circling around it like planets orbiting a star. And all three of them began circling my tree, slow and deliberate, like they were looking. Looking, of course, for me. So I pressed myself as close to the tree as I could, because now I most certainly did not want to be found. But before I could figure out if I'd actually been spotted or not, there was this massive flash of light, and I swear I spotted a huge dome shaped craft hovering off in the distance as those two smaller objects dropped straight down into the woods nearby. And I raised my bow as quiet as I could, ready for whatever might come walking out of the brush. And sure enough, a rustling sound came from those woods. And then a pair of ferns parted and, well, what stepped out was no animal. It was something else entirely. The thing was about five and a half feet tall and dressed head to toe in this silver suit that reminded me of the heat resistant coatings we use on certain components at work. But this fabric seemed impossibly smooth, except at the joints. And while the thing had two legs and two arms, there was no neck, just this seamless continuation of a torso into a head with horrifying, bulgy eyes. I couldn't tell if they were some kind of goggles or if the eyes just bulged, unnatural from the head. Either way, I'd never seen anything like it. The thing started inspecting the nearby plants like it was taking samples or something, and I prayed it hadn't noticed me or had just forgotten I was in the tree. But then a second creature showed up, identical to the first, and they started communicating, making me these weird cooing sounds, kind of like owls, but mechanical almost. And I felt this surreal sense of detachment as I watched them, almost like I was watching some bizarre nature documentary. Then, of course, they looked up, those dark, bulbous eyes locked on mine, and I swear my blood ran to ice. And those two things came right up to the base of my tree and started pushing on it with their spindly gloved fingers like they were trying to test its structural integrity. And I debated shooting them, of course I debated shooting them. But all of a sudden they stopped touching the tree and just stood there, staring up at me. But not just staring. Menacing, like they were trying to will me down with the sheer intensity of their gaze. And I thought maybe, just maybe, I could wait them out, that I might be saved. Because these things clearly had no earthly idea how to climb a tree. But it turns out, I thought too soon. Because right then, I heard a mechanical humming like a generator and something crashing from the brush the same way the creatures came from. But what emerged from the woods was no creature. This thing was bulkier and boxier in shape, With a square head and glowing eyes the color of hot coals. It moved with the stiff, mechanical gait. And when it unhinged its mouth, the bottom half of its. Its face fell away entirely. I realized then I was looking at some kind of robot, A nightmarish version of the things I'd seen in science fiction pictures. Except this was real. This was happening. As all three of them, the silver creature and mechanical friend, stared up at me, I realized they had one goal and one goal only. They were hell bent on getting me out of that tree. So there I was, stuck in a tree and staring at three entities from outer space who wanted me on the ground. I'd like to say I faced this nightmare scenario with courage and dignity, but the truth is, I was scared out of my mind and desperate to put as much space between myself and these things as possible, I shimmied further up the tree until I found myself 20ft up and perched on the sturdiest branch I could reach. And what happened next? Well, it would have been almost comical if it wasn't so terrifying. The silver creatures tried boosting each other up the tree. Problem was, their bodies weren't built for climbing. They were too stiff and awkward, and they kept sliding off like sad sacks of potatoes. This went on repeat for a good time. Boost, fall, try again, Repeat, repeat, repeat. And all the while, the big robot thing just stood there, staring at me while the silver creatures kept hooting at one another like demented owls. And even though they weren't making any progress, I wasn't about to wait around to see if they eventually figured it out. So I knocked one of my three remaining arrows and let fly. The arrow struck the robot square in the chest, sending sparks flying. Seriously, it was like I'd hit it with a live wire instead of an arrowhead. And I thought the thing just might go down as it stumbled backward. But it regained its footing and stared back up at me, defiant as ever. So I fired my last two arrows as fast as I could at the silver creatures, but they scattered quickly, and the shots went wide. And though it seemed to put a damper on their climbing enthusiasm, it didn't stop them one bit. They just decided to change tactics. The silver beings made a new bird like Sound and the robot stepped forward, staring up at me with its dead eyes. Its jaw dropped open and this white smoke started pouring out and drifting up towards me. The smell arrived first, chemical and bracing, before the effect hit me like a punch to the gut. The world spun, and the next thing I knew, I was slumped over with one arm and both legs dangling from the branch. It's pure dumb luck that the sturdy limb kept me from pitching right into the creature's waiting arms. But now I knew their tactic and I wouldn't let it work on me again. So I shimmied further up the tree until the trunk was barely 4 inches around and used my belt to strap myself to it. If I passed out again, at least I wouldn't fall into the clutches of those things. And thank God I did, because that robot kept trying to gas me while the silver jerks paced around below. I ought to stop for a second and address the fact that this sounds crazy. And it's true. It is crazy. My mind was racing, and I knew that unless I came up with some kind of plan, I'd end up out of the tree and hauled away to that dome shaped ship I'd seen. So it was right about then, strapped to the tree after being gassed for the third or fourth time, that I realized I needed to fight back. And you know what? I did it. Using the clothes on my very back, I started with my hunting cap. Yanking it off my head, I fumbled for my matches. My hair oil made the fabric light easily, and I dropped the flaming bundle down onto those silvery heads below. The bulging eyed ones instantly scattered, clearly spooked. I noticed the robot thing even recoiled from the flames. So my plan was working. Now I just needed to hit that robot and hopefully catch it on fire. So I stripped off my jacket and started tearing it into strips. Meanwhile, the robot belched another cloud of that noxious gas. This went on and on for hours, with me waking up after each attack to rain fire from above. As the night went on, I started getting colds from the lack of proper clothing and sick from the repeated gas attacks. I even started to lose my sense of time, my entire worldview narrowing to that tree, the creatures, and the flames. But I kept at it. And finally, finally, I hit that robot square in its gaping, hinged mouth with a flaming scrap of sock. As soon as the flames made contact, the robot hissed a sound unlike anything I'd ever heard in my life, Like a mechanical squeal that came from hell itself. And it flailed, trying to unhinge its mouth and dislodge the flaming scrap of fabric. As below, the two silver creatures ran around in a panic. And as I watched the chaos unfold, I thought maybe, just maybe, they'd leave me alone for good. But that thought, of course, was far too naive, because the robot extinguished the flames in its mouth, and then it glared up at me with what had to be hate in its cold red eyes. So I reached to light another scrap of clothing, but realized I was out of matches. So I threw my bow at the thing, then my canteen, the loose change from my pockets, and even some choice insults. But the robot didn't budge. Nor did the two silver guys. They weren't giving up easily and kept trying to gas me. And after another hour of futile attempts to knock me out of the the tree, their plan was beginning to work. I was tired, sick, and out of ways to fight back. And just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, when I was sure I'd either fall or simply give up, I saw the first hints of dawn peeking over the horizon. Relief coursed through me. Surely these creatures were nocturnal. Surely they'd retreat with the coming of the sun. But they didn't. No, that would have been too easy, because instead of retreating, they were joined by a second robot who came bounding out of the trees. And it settled next to the other robot, and they faced each other. And as those horrifying eyes turned to me, some kind of electrical current started arcing between their barrel chests. And I knew it was going to be bad, because the two silver creatures backed off, watching this transpire from a safe distance. And those arcs of electricity built and built until the very air around my tree felt charged. And as the energy coalesced, a pulsing, writhing mass of vapor materialized and rose straight towards me. And I think I might have screamed right then, thrashed like a madman against the belt tethering me to the tree. But it was no use. The vapor enveloped me, cold and sickening, and though I tried to hold my breath, the edges of my vision dimmed and narrowed to a point. Then the whole world blinked out of existence. And the last thing I remember thinking was, this is it. They finally got me. I don't know how long I was out, but when I came to, I was still in the tree. Still strapped to the thin trunk that had had saved my life so far. But when I looked down with bleary eyes, expecting the worst, I realized my attackers were gone. All of them. The robots, the silver men, the distant dome shaped craft had vanished like a bad dream. But this was no dream, of course. My torn clothes, my missing gear, and the horrible feeling in my gut proved it was all too real. I was sick, freezing, and probably in shock. But I was alive. After an hour or so of waiting to make sure they didn't come back, I managed to unfasten myself from the tree and climb down on shaky legs. I half expected those creatures to jump out of the bushes and grab me as soon as I hit the ground. But the woods were peaceful. Birds were singing, and if you didn't know otherwise, you'd never assume anything had ever happened here at all. I started walking, though I had no idea where I was going. I just knew I had to get away from that tree. But I didn't make it far before my legs gave out and I collapsed to the ground. And there, with my face pressed to cold mud, I heard the most amazing sound of salvation. The sound of whistling. Human whistling. So I mustered all the strength I had and pushed myself to my feet and shouted as loud as I could. And after a few moments, my buddy Vincent came running out of the brush. I'd never been so happy to see another human being in my life. And I blabbed out my story as fast as I could about the silver men and their pet robots trying to snatch me out of the tree. And I fully expected him to think I'd lost my mind. But Vincent just listened quietly, with a strange look on his face. And when I finished, he told me something that made my blood run cold. He'd seen something, too. A huge object hovering in the sky the night before. And as he watched, a smaller craft detached from it and zoomed off in the direction I said I'd come from. I reckon that was the moment that I knew with 100% certainty that I wasn't crazy. That what happened out there in those woods was real. More real than anything I experienced before or since. Vincent and I made our way back to camp in silence, both lost in our own thoughts. I was grateful beyond words to be safe to be found. But I knew my life would never be the same. How could it be, knowing what's really out there? Sometimes, late at night, I'll be working the radar systems, tracking normal aircraft through our skies. And every now and then, something will show up on our screens that moves in ways nothing should be able to move. And when that happens, I think about those silver beings, those robot companions, and that dome shaped craft, and I wonder just how many other things are up there, just beyond the edge of what our instruments can detect. How Many other entities are studying us, testing us, trying to understand us. Just like those beings were trying to understand how to climb a tree. I don't have answers to any of those questions, of course. But I do know one thing for certain. I've never looked at the night sky the same way again. And neither would you if you'd spent a night in Cisco Grove.
