The Roswell Conspiracy tl-3 Page 7

  It raised one hand to Fay’s face, and she didn’t recoil. The hand stroked her cheek once, then fell away.

  The shaking stopped and the labored breathing abruptly ended. The creature that had saved her life was dead.

  Fay bawled at the thing’s sudden end. She stayed crouched over its motionless body until the rain began to gush from the sky, washing away her tears.

  She couldn’t stay, and she couldn’t move the heavy corpse. She’d have to leave it where it was.

  The thing obviously didn’t want her to report what had happened, but she couldn’t just leave the creature there for no one to find for days or even weeks, its body at the mercy of scavenging coyotes.

  Fay knew that Mac Brazel and little Dee Proctor rode the fence line every Thursday, so they’d be coming in this direction the next morning. She could leave clues that would lead them here.

  She climbed onto Bandit and took one last look at the creature, who now seemed so vulnerable and unthreatening lying against the streambed wall. She kicked and Bandit trotted up out of the arroyo through the water coursing down in a torrent.

  As she topped the slope, Fay was amazed to see that virtually nothing was left of the craft but small chunks littering the ground around her.

  She picked up a dozen of the silvery metallic scraps and rode Bandit toward the fence line, scattering pieces behind her every few hundred yards. The shiny metal would lead the way back. When she reached the fence, she dropped the last few bits where she knew Mr. Brazel and Dee would see them.

  But two remnants of the crash she kept with her, safely tucked into her vest. One was a curved piece of silver craft itself, its jagged edges wrapped in her bandana. The other was the strange wooden carving.

  She wouldn’t tell anyone what she’d seen. Something about the way the creature pointed at her gave her the sense that she would get into all kinds of trouble if she volunteered the story.

  If the creature wasn’t washed away by a flood, Mr. Brazel would find it. He would come across the wreckage, too, and then tell the government authorities about it. After it made the news, she imagined that the discovery of such an alien craft would be the talk of the town in nearby Roswell.

  TEN

  After Fay finished her story, no one moved. Tyler stared at his empty plate and mulled over what he’d just heard. Grant had a look like he was trying not to show he thought she was nuts. Jess twirled her knife back and forth in her fingers and kept her eyes on the table.

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone about this back in 1947?” Grant asked.

  “I was afraid. When Mac Brazel reported the spaceship wreckage, the Army came in, covered the whole thing up, and convinced everyone Brazel was crazy. If people wouldn’t believe the ranch foreman, why would they believe a ten-year-old girl? I don’t even know what they did with the alien body. Took it back to Area 51, I suppose.”

  “But you went to the UFO festival a couple of weeks ago. Why?”

  “I had tried on my own for five years to find the truth, and I never got any closer to answering my questions. I was at a dead end. I had nothing to lose. Or so I thought.” Tyler felt Fay’s eyes fix on him. “I can tell you don’t believe me.”

  He ran his hand through his hair, trying to think of a way to put his next words delicately.

  “I like you, Fay,” Tyler said.

  “Oh, this isn’t going to be good.”

  “You really think you met an alien?”

  “He certainly fits the description of other encounters that have been reported: the gray body and huge head, the bulging black eyes, the slit for a mouth.”

  “And you believe those stories?”

  “I can tell you don’t believe in UFOs and aliens.”

  “I believe in UFOs. They’re unidentified flying objects. Anytime someone can’t figure out what something is flying through the sky, it’s a UFO by definition. That doesn’t mean they’re spaceships from another world.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Fay asked. “‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’”

  “Sounds familiar,” Grant said to Tyler, who squinted as he tried to recall which Shakespeare play the line was from.

  “Hamlet, Act One,” Jess said to Grant, then looked at Tyler. “Did you take any English courses at MIT?”

  “Just one,” he said. “Science Fiction and Fantasy. I can give you a great analysis of the human compulsion for self-destruction symbolized in A Canticle for Liebowitz.”

  “So you’re a science fiction fan who doesn’t believe in aliens,” Fay said.

  “It’s the fiction part that’s important. I do believe it’s probable that alien life exists in other parts of the universe. It’s even likely that some of that life is sentient and intelligent. Astronomers are finding new planets all the time. Eventually, we’ll confirm that some of them are capable of supporting life.”

  “Then why is it so impossible to believe that some of those civilizations have visited Earth?”

  “I didn’t say it was impossible. I’m not an absolutist. Shakespeare was right. I don’t know everything. But I’m also a scientist, so I go by evidence. No one has yet produced incontrovertible video, photographic, or physical evidence that spacecraft have visited us.”

  “Don’t we have stealth aircraft that you can’t see on radar?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why couldn’t the aliens have something similar but more advanced?”

  “They could,” Tyler said, “but then you run into another issue. Current scientific knowledge states that faster-than-light travel is literally impossible. An alien civilization would have to send ships that take thousands of years to get here.”

  “Maybe they did,” Fay said.

  “But why do the ships always land in Podunk little towns in the middle of nowhere? No offense.”

  “None taken. Maybe it’s because they know humans have itchy trigger fingers, so they’re trying to feel us out. Maybe they’ve been in our solar system for hundreds or thousands of years just observing us.”

  “Why?”

  “They could be waiting us out. Seeing if we kill ourselves. Then they can just move in.”

  “They’ve been waiting for thousands of years and have never made their presence known?”

  “They have made their presence known,” Fay said. “I may not have a college degree, but I’ve been studying this for years now. There are eerie similarities among cultures around the planet. Simultaneous development of key technologies. Common structures like pyramids built by the Egyptians, the Inca, the Mayans, the Cambodians, the Indians. I’ve been all over the world and seen them with my own eyes. You can’t just dismiss the strange coincidences. What I find hard to believe is that humans could build such advanced structures and technology with the primitive tools they had.”

  “I don’t think that gives much credit to human ingenuity and creativity. We’re a pretty smart bunch of people. I’ve been around the world, too, and I’ve seen things you would have a hard time believing if you hadn’t been there.” Tyler exchanged a knowing look with Grant, who’d been with him to witness those incredible sights.

  “And what about my own experience?” Fay said, exasperated. “Are you saying I’m making it up?”

  “Fay, I don’t want to sound patronizing, but this was sixty-five years ago. You were ten and probably had never left your county at that point in your life, so anything outside of your experience would have seemed exotic. I’m sure you saw something you didn’t understand, but that doesn’t make it a flying saucer from another world.”

  “Then what was it? A weather balloon?”

  “It sounds like some kind of aircraft.”

  “And the alien?”

  “It could have been a man in a flight suit.”

  “Then why couldn’t I understand what he said?”

  “Maybe he was injured in the crash and that messed with his language skills,” Grant said. “I’ve had a couple of
concussions, and I could barely pronounce my own name for a while after each one.”

  “And the blue blood?” Fay said.

  “Are you sure it wasn’t just water?” Tyler said. “You said yourself there was a storm coming.”

  “It wasn’t water. It was bright blue, like glass cleaner.”

  Tyler turned to Jess. He knew she would have an equally hard time with the belief in aliens. Time to put her on the spot.

  “What do you think about all this?” he said to her.

  Jess cleared her throat before speaking. “To be honest, it’s a pretty fantastic story, and I didn’t believe it for a long time.” She looked at Fay with chagrin. “Sorry, Nana.”

  “But you believe it now?”

  “I don’t know what to believe. But those men thought she had something worth killing for.”

  “Fay, you said you were in a video. Can you show it to us?”

  “I’ll bring it up on my computer,” Jess said. She left and came back a minute later with a laptop. They all crowded around while Jess brought up the video on YouTube. The user name said UFOseeker0747. According to the stats, it had been viewed over 15,000 times.

  “Who was this video for?” Tyler asked.

  “A young man named Billy Raymond was filming it for his UFO blog,” Fay said. “When I was in Roswell a few weeks ago for the festival, he was interviewing attendees. I only appeared on screen for a minute.”

  Jess started the video and skipped forward to the five-minute mark.

  The interviewer was off-camera inside some kind of conference center. Crowds milled in the background, and it looked like he was wrapping up an interview with a woman dressed in a flowing kaftan covered with a field of stars. Then the video cut to Fay in the same location.

  “This is Fay Turia,” Raymond said. “Have you ever had an encounter with UFOs or aliens, Fay?”

  “As a matter of fact, I have,” Fay said. “I saw the crash at Roswell and met an injured alien who gave me an artifact. I’m writing a book about the encounter now.”

  “You were actually there? Amazing! Can you tell me anything about the incident or the artifact itself?”

  “I’m not ready to just yet. I also have a piece of the wreckage. I have an expert coming to look at it soon, and I’ll be including his findings in my book.”

  Suddenly Tyler felt guilty for not acting earlier on her request. Maybe her house would still be standing if he had.

  “Come on, Fay! You’re killing me! Can’t you give us just a hint about what happened to you to convince my viewers that you were really there?”

  “Well, I can tell you what the alien told me,” Fay said reluctantly.

  “The alien spoke to you? What did it say?”

  “Rah pahnoy pree vodat kahzay nobee um.”

  “Huh. Any idea what it means?”

  “I was hoping someone here could tell me.”

  “Any luck?”

  Fay shook her head.

  “Well, Fay, I hope you find out. That’ll make a hell of a book. Can’t wait to read it. When your book comes out, I’d love to do a follow-up interview.”

  “Happy to.”

  The video cut to another attendee, and Jess paused the playback.

  “After we were done,” Fay said, “I gave him my name, email, and address, but I haven’t heard from him since. I only found the blog and the video because he had transcribed the dialogue and mentioned my name.”

  “Did you ever find anyone who had an idea what the phrase means?” Grant asked.

  Fay shook her head.

  “Anyone could have seen this video or read his blog and heard you talk about the artifact,” Tyler said. “What you said got someone’s attention.”

  “But it makes no sense,” Jess said. “The piece of wreckage, the wood engraving, the opalescent metal those men asked Nana about. Why is any of it valuable?”

  “The whole scenario does seem extreme for UFO hunters,” Grant said.

  Tyler picked up Fay’s weathered piece of wood to examine the engraving again. It was clear that the drawing on one side was a map, detailed enough to pinpoint a location depending on the scale. It could be a city or an island, but without a starting point, it was useless.

  Tyler flipped the wood over and ran his fingers across the grooves etched in the surface.

  “If I didn’t meet an alien,” Fay said, “how do you explain that?”

  The four primitive etchings were of a monkey with a spiral tail, a tarantula, a condor with its wings spread wide, and a human-like figure with one arm raised.

  Tyler had recognized the images immediately, remembering the Chariots of the Gods TV special from his youth that speculated about gigantic messages drawn in the desert. The 1,500-year-old drawings — many of them hundreds of feet in length — could only be seen in their entirety from the air, so the theory was that the multitude of animal symbols, straight lines, and wide pathways were actually created to signal ancient aliens about potential landing sites.

  The four images on her piece of wood were identical to ones that were part of an ancient archaeological enigma: the mysterious Peruvian geoglyphs known as the Nazca lines. Fay believed that Tyler was holding in his hands proof that aliens had visited Earth.

  ELEVEN

  Morgan could tell that Vince was not happy with the flight arrangements, mostly by the way he’d been bitching about it ever since they were changed. Even though the United flight from LA would have been more comfortable, the military would have had to shell out big bucks for the full-fare coach seats. Not only was the Air Force saving money by having them travel on the C-17 carrying the Killswitch to Pine Gap, but the two of them could do it without being noticed as extra security. The flight would make one stop at Hickam Field in Honolulu and then it was straight on to the Alice Springs airport, with in-flight refueling from a tanker on the way.

  They were sitting in two of the permanent side seats in the cavernous main cargo hold. Crates of equipment bound for Pine Gap were chained to pallets running down the center of the plane. Some of it was Dr. Kessler’s, but most of it was routine machinery and supplies used to run the facility. The only passengers were Morgan, Vince, and Kessler’s technician Josephson, who slept on a seat at the far end of the hold.

  “Why couldn’t we go with Kessler and the rest of his team?” Vince said.

  “Their charter flight was full,” Morgan said without looking up from her e-book reader. It was loaded with every book by Charles Dickens and Jane Austen, so she had plenty to keep her occupied. She found that losing herself in nineteenth-century English literature was a strong inoculant against stress.

  “This sucks,” Vince said. “At least in coach you get dinner and a movie.”

  “I told you to bring some books.”

  “I was going to watch a few DVDs, but I forgot to charge my computer, and they don’t have any outlets down here.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Then we get a flight attendant who thinks he’s a comedian.” Vince aped the loadmaster’s Alabama drawl. “‘You have a life jacket under your seat, but if we crash into the ocean, we’re all going to die anyway, so don’t worry about it.’”

  “You sound worried about it. He said don’t.”

  “If I liked the water, I would have joined NCIS.”

  “Get some sleep.”

  “Sleep? On these seats? Sure. And then once I get my eight hours in, what do I do with the other twelve?”

  “You could keep whining. That seems to be working for you.”

  Vince crossed his arms in a huff. He stayed quiet for a whole five minutes. Elizabeth Bennet had just received an all-important letter from Mr. Darcy when Vince interrupted Morgan’s reading.

  “I’d feel better about the transport from the airport to Pine Gap if we went with the weapon.”

  “The truck will have four armed agents in it. What would you add to the equation?”

  “We could follow in our own car.”

  “It’s a n
ondescript truck. A chase car would draw attention.”

  “Do you think the leak is an Aussie?”

  “We shouldn’t talk about it outside of a secured facility.”

  Vince exaggeratedly looked around at the hold. “Where do you think they hid the bugs?” he said in a stage whisper.

  He had a point. On board an Air Force cargo jet was about as secure as they could get. The noise from the engines would make it impossible for Josephson to hear them, even if he were awake. And they wouldn’t have much time to plan once they arrived in Australia. She closed the cover on her e-reader with a sigh.

  “Since the person who posted it used an anonymizer,” Morgan said, “we can’t pinpoint where it came from. So it could be anyone on the team from the US or the Australian side.”

  Since they’d discovered the posting three days ago, Morgan and Vince had been working nonstop trying to trace where the message had come from. Backgrounds, relationships, and possible motives for everyone involved in the project had all been checked. On the US side, the trail was cold.

  “Maybe we should look at it from a question of motive.”

  Morgan nodded. “All right. There’s greed.”

  “Could be. There are a dozen countries that would be willing to buy the Killswitch technology. But nobody on the team seems to have sufficient money troubles to sell out their country.”

  “And none of them has any suspicious bank deposits. But we can’t rule it out because a lot of these people are smart enough to hide overseas accounts.”

  “Unfortunately, we don’t know if they want to steal the Killswitch itself, steal the technology, or sabotage the test.”

  “It’s doubtful they’d attempt to steal it before we get to Pine Gap,” Morgan said.

  “Why?”

  “Because of the xenobium stored there. It’s the only known sample in the world, and the Killswitch is useless without it.”

  “Xenobium. Ever since I heard the name, I keep thinking it’s a heartburn medication. ‘Xenobium — Relief is on the way.’ What do you think it is?”

  “I don’t have enough information to speculate.”