Bonnie was a bonafide alien abductee. Her life was in ruins, her marriage over and she would do anything but sleep at night. A once pretty woman, she now looked haggard and neurotic.

    Over the course of three years she had gone to every lecture, watched every television program, read every book and magazine she could find on the subject. She was desperate to stop these forced trysts with life forms she found ugly and repugnant, immoral and arrogant. One night, in a deep funk of sleep deprivation she wrote a letter to Fox Muldaur and sent it to the FBI headquarters in Washington D.C. seeking his advice on how to stop the nightmare her life had become. The letter was returned and marked, "return to sender, addressee unknown."

    None of her research, reading or soul searching had produced one viable solution to her dilemma. She considered suicide, in fact, acted on the impulse once, at least she had tried. Something wouldn't let her. It was as there was someone holding her back from doing it, though she was completely alone. "Them," she thought. They were stopping her. She hated them even more.

    In all of her reading she had read of many abductees doing a 180 degree turnabout of attitude toward them. In the end, believing the beings were benevolent and were truly here to help the people of the earth. Some people were even crazy enough to state they felt honored to have been kidnapped, probed, operated on against their will, and having tissue, sperm and eggs stolen in order for the aliens to procreate a race of star children. The whole sentiment made her want to vomit. They were, in her view, pathetic victims believing themselves to be participants in the greater scheme of things.

    "There has to be a way to beat them," she told herself over and over again. "I'll beat them at their own game, I'll figure out a way and I'll beat them."