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“Twenty years ago, a meteor streaked across the Russian Federation, entering the atmosphere over the region of Krasnoyarsk. US EarthSat picked it up over Lake Baikal. It should have struck somewhere in Mongolia, but the meteor conducted a course correction.”

Jason felt his mouth dry out at the implications of Lachlan’s matter of fact recounting of this distant, historical event. He had no reason to doubt the professor. This wasn’t Mitchell sitting next to him in a diner with some trashy online tabloid, bullshitting his way through some crackpot conspiracy theory. This was a senior college professor with a mastery of physics.

“The object crossed the northern plains of China, passing over the Gulf of Chihli before ditching in the Yellow Sea, off the coast of North Korea.”

“Ditching?” Jason asked.

Lachlan nodded, adding “The USS Winterhalter was on exercise out of Seoul. She picked up the craft doing Mach 2 and observed it decelerate before ditching roughly fifty nautical miles north of her position. The Winterhalter then launched a helicopter, assuming she was searching for survivors from a downed military jet.”

Lachlan handed Jason a couple of photos. Although they were in color, they were grainy, highlighting the distance at which they’d been taken. The first image showed what looked like a whale or a submarine sitting heavy in the water, with just a small, broad, flat expanse above the waves. The object was circular rather than elongated, though, and looked out of place beneath the sea. A North Korean fishing boat floated just off to one side of the submerged object, providing a sense of scale. The dark object was roughly a hundred feet in diameter, with faint lights glowing around its circumference.

The second image was one Jason had seen before. This was the picture Mitchell had shown him in the Weekly World News article, only this image was grainy, with features like the mast and sails on the fishing boat barely visible. Jason looked up at Lachlan who seemed to know what he was thinking.

“These are the originals,” Lachlan explained. “Taken from the raw footage before any digital enhancements were applied.”

As in the crisp, clear version he’d seen in the Weekly World News, a North Korean fisherman was leaning over the side of his boat pulling a young child from the water. The UFO was completely beneath the waves in this shot, drifting slowly below the fishing boat.

“So this is real?” Jason asked, already knowing the answer. “This actually happened?”

Lachlan must have recognized the rhetorical nature of Jason’s comment as he didn’t respond directly, he simply said, “Two days later, I flew in with a SEAL team to rescue you.”

“Me?” Jason replied, still struggling to accept everything that had happened since he’d returned to his apartment. His hand brushed against the bandages on his arms, marking where he’d rolled on the ground after jumping from a bus earlier that evening in what seemed like another lifetime.

Had he hit his head and been concussed?

Was this some kind of trauma induced hallucination?

Blood seeped through from around one of the plastic bandages sticking to his arm like a second skin. His left forearm was tender. The throb of pain after so much exertion holding on to the back of the bike convinced him this was real. This was no illusion. This was reality.

“I know it’s hard to believe,” Lachlan said, crouching before him. “But I was originally a search and rescue pilot, and look at me now, teaching physics in New York, and all because of you, all to try to unravel the mystery surrounding your life.”

Jason was shaking.

“It’s OK,” Lily said, squeezing his hand. “We’re here to help.”

“Me,” Jason repeated, only this time not as a question uttered in disbelief, but rather in sullen acceptance.

“I’m sorry,” Lachlan said, standing up. “Your life has been an elaborate ruse to try to unlock the secrets buried deep within your brain.”

“And my parents?” Jason asked.

“They never knew,” Lachlan replied. “They only ever saw a beautiful young boy abandoned in an orphanage, but you were never out of sight. DARPA, the South Korean Intelligence Service, the US Secret Service, they’ve never been more than a heartbeat away.”

“But you’re saying—”

Jason was cut off by a radio squawking on the professor’s hip. Lachlan raised the radio to his lips, depressed the transmit button and said, “Are we close?”

“Thirty seconds out,” a disembodied voice replied.

“Quick,” the professor said, gesturing to the back of the truck. “Time to go!”

Lily hopped off the crate, still holding Jason’s hand, gently leading him along with her. Jason followed her, dazed. The truck swayed and he reached out with his hand, steadying himself against the wall.

“We need to switch vehicles,” Lachlan said, gesturing for him to follow. “We’ll continue this conversation in our next ride.”

Lily let go of his hand and grabbed the motorcycle.