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only recently ‘discovered’ in the Western Medical Literature, it has been with us for time immemorial. In the olden days, those with HS were labeled as ‘elves’ or ‘pixies.’ They were shunned by their families and forced to live in the forests, robbing and murdering for a living. Now, with our more ‘sophisticated’ society we have abandoned such notions of magic and fantasy, only to see them replaced by notions of alien encounters and flying saucers. As I’ve already shown, all so-called UFOs are easily explainable by a variety of naturally occurring and man-made phenomena. I now put it to the reader that the people who claim to have seen ‘aliens’ have instead seen nothing more than a person suffering from HS. Look at how similar the description of HS is to that of the so-called ‘grays.’ HS sufferers have bald heads, discolored skin. Their eyes are larger and different from ‘normal’ eyes. They have small noses and mouths, long fingers and spindly limbs. It’s clear from the description that we are talking about exactly the same thing here people! When will this lunatic fringe of society finally accept the fact that there are no aliens, that there are no pixies or vampires? As long as society continues to tolerate these myths, to enforce definitions of ‘normal’ then these unfortunate people will be forced to continue to eke out meager existences on the fringes of society, firmly convinced that they are some sort of creature of the night. Who knows how many lives have been lost, how many lives continue to be lost, as uneducated moralists take matters into their own hands and administer vigilante justice to these so-called monsters.”
     
    Four months after Colin Hayes performed his first viral assay, Bethesda Naval Hospital, Bethesda, MD
     
    The maternity ward at BNH has a set of large, double doors that swing open. Usually the only time they fly open is when a woman in labor breaks through on a gurney, screaming in pain, husband, nurses, doctors all in tow. But on this day the doors burst open to reveal a very different entourage. Ray Johnston has just broken through. He was disheveled. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in days (in truth he hadn’t). His hair, which was usually so well trimmed in a military cut, had grown ragged and mopish. His tie was skewed to one side, and the top button of his blue polyester dress shirt was undone. His tan raincoat clashed with his dark suit and black shoes. He pushed the big double doors to the maternity ward open with both arms. It was a more difficult task than one might think, because each arm was being held by a nurse. “Sir, sir, you can’t just barge in there like that,” said the nurses. Ray didn’t care. He had other things on his mind.
    “Get these people off me,” he said to his compatriots. Three men dressed in dark black suits pulled the nurses back. The men wore dark sunglasses and had little white earphones in their ears. They were much larger than the nurses, and well schooled in a variety of personal combat techniques, so they removed the nurses from Ray’s arms with very little effort. The entire entourage made a fair bit of noise bursting in like that, which attracted the attention of the head nurse. She was taking the temperature of one of the babies. She stopped her work and looked up at the mob of people that had entered her ward. “What the hell do you think you are doing?” she said. “Who the hell are these people; where’s security?”
    Ray just ignored her. He moved amongst the newborn cribs looking for something. He moved down the aisles with precision, sometimes lifting a blanket to see underneath. The babies began crying. Of course, once a few start, they all begin bawling. The ward became filled with the din of babies woken prematurely from their afternoon naps. The head nurse moved to stop Ray, but her arm was grabbed by one of the black-suited thugs. She glared up at him and raised her free fist to strike