Subject 117

nd there was no glass in the windows. 
Nobody lived there. There was a big number nineteen above the door.
"Nineteen—always nineteen," I thought.
The door was open. I took my flashlight from the car and slowly walked inside.
It was very dark and cold. I went into the first room and shined my flashlight across the floor and walls. There 
were some old chairs, a table, and another door.
I went slowly through the door into the second room. Was anybody there? I shined the flashlight in front of me 
and saw— nothing.
There were some stairs at the end of the room. I ran carefully up them. At the top there was another door, and I 
opened it.
I was in a large, square room. It was full of white light, so I turned off the flashlight. There was nothing on the 
floor of the room, but on every wall there were big photos. There were hundreds of large photos of men and 
women. Under each picture there was the word "subject" and then a number.
I walked around the room and looked at each photo. There were men and women, young and old. I didn't know 
them—they were strangers to me.
Then I saw two pictures on one of the walls.
"You're not strangers," I thought. "I know you."
The first picture was a photo of Mayhew. Under the photo were the words: Subject 110—dead. The second 
picture was a photo of Hitchens with the words: Subject 114—dead.
I looked at two or three other pictures, and then I saw it.
I saw a picture of a young man with short, dark hair. He had brown eyes and a friendly smile. I knew that face 
well because it was my face. Under the photo were the words: Subject 117—he will die today.
Who put these photos in this room? Why were they here? Who were these people? And why was I 
"Subject 117"?
I wanted those photos.
"Now the police will have to listen to me," I thought. "Something very bad is happening. Hitchens and 
Mayhew are dead—and I'm going to die, too!"
I pulled the three photos from the wall. Then I heard a noise.
I looked out the window. Outside the building, there were two police cars. The police—again! Here at 
19 Haven Street. How did they know? They always knew.
"Don't move!" a policeman shouted. "Put the flashlight down. Do it now!"
"Help me!" I cried, "Come inside the house and look.Then you'll understand."
"Don't speak," the policeman said. He had a gun in his hand.
"Look at the pictures!" I said. "Look at these pictures!"
I ran down the stairs and gave them to him. The policeman took the pictures and looked at them.
"What are these?" he asked. "I can't see anything."
"Can't you see?" I cried. "Mayhew, Hitchens—me. In the photos. Look at them!"
But there were no photos in his hand—the paper was white.
"Put your hands behind your back," the policeman said. "We're taking you to the police station."
"No!" I shouted. "They were there—photos of me, Mayhew, and Hitchens! I'm Subject 117! You have to listen to 
me! Please listen to me!"
"Get in," the policeman said. He pushed me into his police car.
"No!" I cried. And then I understood. Why did the police come to 19 Haven Street? Because they knew. And how 
did they know? Because they knew everything about me.
I started to shout and fight, but the policemen were very strong. I couldn't get out of the car.
"You're an alien!" I cried to the man next to me. "You're all aliens!"
Chapter 9 "This is Subject 117"
The next day, I stood in front of a police detective.
"Please! Listen to me," I cried. "I didn't hurt Hannah. Something's happening to me—"
"Be quiet!" the man said.
"But you don't understand. There are people—things—out there. They killed Hannah and they want to kill me—"
The detective didn't listen to me.
"You're a dangerous man, Mr. Foster," he said. "You killed a young and beautiful woman. She was your wife, and 
you killed her. I'm sending you to Wilsonville Special Hospital.You're going to stay there."
He turned to another policeman.
"Take him away," he said.
The police put me in a car. I saw a woman across the street. I didn't know her but I watched her carefully. 
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Daniel Funkner daniel_daniel@mail.ru
9There was something strange about her.
She put her hand up to her mouth, and I saw something red on her finger. Red glass. The red eye. I remembered 
the red glass on the box in Mayhew's yard. Was she an alien? Or was she a friend?
The car started to move.
"Wilsonville Special Hospital," one of the policemen said. "That's a bad place, a place for crazy people. You'll be 
there for a long, long time."
After twenty minutes, we arrived at the hospital.The same young doctor came to the door.
"Detective Hitchens?" he asked. "Or is it Cade Foster?" He looked at the policemen. "Take him inside."
The policemen put me in a small white room. There was only one chair in the room. They put rope around my 
hands so I couldn't move.
The policemen left the room and the doctor came back in. There were two other men with him. One was tall 
and thin with black hair. The other was smaller and his hair was gray. I knew the man with the dark hair.
"I saw you," I thought. "I saw you in a car outside Sam Hitchens's house. I saw you here, too, on my first visit 
to the hospital."
The doctor had some pills in his hand. He stood over me.
"Open wide," he said. He pushed the pills into my mouth.
The three men stood and watched me. After two minutes, I closed my eyes.
"He's asleep now, so we can talk," the doctor said to the other men. "This is Subject 117. There are 117 types of 
people on Earth. This man is type 117. And he's different from the other men.
"When we gave pills to the other men, they saw strange pictures in their head. They also lost their jobs and 
their money. They went crazy very quickly and then we killed them."
"Subject 110 and Subject 114—they're dead now," the man with the dark hair said.
"Yes," said the doctor. "We gave the same pills to Subject 117. He didn't know, of course. He didn't see us. Then 
we took away Subject 117's job and his money. We were very smart. We took Hannah away, and we put an alien in her 
place. Now he thinks she's dead."
The other two men laughed.
"But Subject 117 is different," the doctor said. "When we hurt him, he fights us. He's not crazy. He visited 
Hitchens and Mayhew and he asked questions. He went to 19 Haven Street. Mayhew and Hitchens didn't find the 
place. Subject 117 is smart.
"Nothing stops Subject 117, so he's dangerous. But why is Subject 117 smarter than other men? Why is this man 
different? We want to know. We're going to cut open his head and look inside. We're going to learn everything about 
Subject 117. We have to learn everything about this type of man."
"This is very interesting," said the man with dark hair. "Good work, doctor."
"No," the doctor said. "Subject 117 did the work. He's a great fighter."
"Really?" the man said. "When we come to Earth again, we don't want to find dangerous men here. Are there 
more men of this type? What's his name?"
"They call him Cade Foster," the doctor said.
The man with gray hair moved near me and spoke. His voice was strange.
"Nineteen ... Nineteen ... The aliens will kill nineteen million people," he said.
"Now," the doctor said, "we'll leave Foster. Let's look at Subject 56. He was the boss of a large company. We only 
worked on him for two weeks and now he's crazy."
"Only two weeks? That's very interesting," the man with dark hair said.
Chapter 10 "I know you're here ..."
The three men left the room and closed the door. I opened my eyes. I wasn't really asleep—the pills were in my 
mouth, not in my stomach.
I pulled at the rope around my hands. It was strong, but I broke it with my teeth. Then I took the pills out of 
my mouth and put them on the chair. I made a number nineteen with the pills.
"The aliens like the number nineteen," I thought. "What did Nostradamus say? Nineteen million people will die. 
Somebody has to stop these aliens."
I looked at the lock on the door. It was a Goodwin lock. Quickly and quietly I opened the door and looked out.
There were a lot of people outside. I knew some of them. I saw Birmingham, my boss. Why was he here? And then 
I saw Mrs. Hitchens and the two policemen from the hotel. Why were they here, atWilsonville Special Hospital?
I looked again at their cold, dead eyes.
"That's not Birmingham," I thought. "And that's not Mrs. Hitchens.These are aliens."
The doctor stopped Mrs. Hitchens.
"Good work," he said.
"Thank you," she said.
Mayhew was right! The aliens were here on Earth. Now I understood. I wasn't crazy. They weren't men and women—
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Daniel Funkner daniel_daniel@mail.ru
10
they were aliens. The doctor and the other men in the hospital, Mrs. Hitchens, my boss Birmingham, my beautiful 
Hannah—they were all aliens. My Hannah—they took her away and put an alien in her place.
"They want to watch the people on Earth," I thought. "They want to understand everything about us. That will make 
them strong. Then they'll come to Earth again and they'll destroy us."
I remembered Mayhew's book. Nostradamus said:
Aliens will come to Earth three times.
The first time, nobody will know them. They will be men
and women.
The second time, the aliens will kill nineteen million people.
The third time, the aliens will destroy the Earth.
On the seventh day, a man will walk on Earth. Only he
can stop the aliens . . .
I moved quietly out of the room. A man tried to stop me, but I hit him. He fell to the floor. Other people came. 
They wanted to stop me, too, but I was too fast for them. I was angry and I was strong. Nobody could stop me now!
I ran quickly to get out of the hospital. There was a camera high up on the wall and I looked into it.
"Take my picture," I said angrily. "I want you to remember my face. I'm Subject 117. I know you're here. I know 
you're here. I know you're here ..."
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Daniel Funkner daniel_daniel@mail.ru