Summer
of ’47……
The four alien children stood in the chamber staring at the
Granilith. Tess was there, having recovered, a few marks still on her face, but
she looked better.
“Sounds like the fluorescent lights in bio lab.” Tess
remarked, moving around the device.
“Did Nasedo ever mention a rock collection?” Michael
asked Tess. She shook her head.
“Do you think it can hear us?” Tess asked Max. Michael
rolled his eyes. He doubted it was capable of thought, let alone hearing.
Max looked at the others. “We'll come back after
school.” The others agreed. Michael looked back one last time on his way
through to the outer pod chamber. He was late, and he needed to return a Jetta
to a very unhappy human girl. She had left numerous messages on his machine, all
of them getting more frantic as her mother kept questioning her about the car.
At school, Michael and Max were walking through the halls.
Maria wasn’t at their usual place, and Michael kept checking the time. Today
would be too long. He should’ve skipped.
“After ninth period, we'll go back.” Max told Michael,
needing to keep him from impulsively taking off.
“Way to prioritize, Maxwell.” Michael said.
Maria walked up to Michael. She wasn’t happy, and he
could tell she was rushed. She was carrying a partially eaten breakfast burrito
and a juice, talking a mile a minute. “I had to take the bus to school today!
The bus!” Michael nodded taking the breakfast burrito and finishing it. As
Maria continued to rant and rave, he took her juice too. “Look at my hair. I
sat next to a man that might have been a woman, and smelt of armpits.” Maria
stared at Michael’s hair. “Hey. New gel?” Maria took back her juice,
almost finished off by Michael. “Did you not get my messages? So, um,
Portishead tickets went on sale this morning. Which will mean nothing unless you
can answer one real important question … do you have my Jetta?”
“Yeah.” Michael kept walking, tucking Maria under his
arm while searching for a place to duck into so he could talk to her. He was
tapped for money, and it was her turn to pick up the tickets. Maria passed
something shiny. Something reflecting. She saw her hair. With a sound of
distress, she patted Michael on the stomach and was gone through the first door
that led to the ladies’ room.
“You’re going to tell her?”
Michael didn’t bother to answer that stupid question. Of
course he was going to tell her, but only after he bought their Portishead
tickets. He had waited all through September for those damn things to come on
sale. All he needed was the money to cover and for that he needed Maria. “Hey,
our agenda involves the four of us.” Michael reminded Max, not wanting anyone
else to mysteriously appear in the mix.
“What about Maria?” Max asked.
“What about her?” Michael asked confused. “She’s
understood, but otherwise, nix on the blabbing. There is no time for
distractions.” Michael made a grunting noise as the biggest distraction he
knew came to join them. Liz Parker.
“Oh, Max … look, I don't know what to do. Calls keep on
coming into Congresswoman Whitaker's office. Should I return them or… ”
Michael rolled his eyes. Trust Liz Parker to get up early
and go to the office before school like a little workaholic freak. How many
calls could there be? Congresswoman Whitaker had only been dust for less than
twenty-four hours.
“Not now.” Michael told the Parker pest, brushing her
off.
Liz shook her head. She was used to Michael, but even for
him, this was rude. “We'll talk in Trig,” she said to Max and then walked
off before something horrible happened, like she might actually have to talk to
Michael again.
“You know, mean people suck.” Max lectured Michael as
they continued on down the corridor.
Ignoring Max as uninteresting, Michael wanted the day to be
over. He had things to do. Lots of things. Tickets to a concert to buy and a
pile of rocks to explode. He was obviously overextended. That was probably why
he didn’t notice his history teacher stalking him until it was too late to
escape.
“Mr. Guerin, true or false? We're not even a month into
the semester, and you're already failing my class.” Michael made a face. True
or false? He had a choice? “This
is a new record.”
“To be perfectly blunt with you, sir, World War II just
doesn't do it for me.”
“Well, try doing this. The 509th bomb group is in town
this week for a reunion. Your biographical account of one veteran's wartime
experience will be on my desk by
“Old people creep me out.”
“Ha. Then think of them as living history.”
Michael watched as his history teacher strode away and the
steel trap of doom closed around him. Turning to comment to Max, he found
himself alone. Damn. Maria! He needed to find Maria.
~~~
“You want me to do what?”
Maria made a face glancing at her watch. “I’m already late, and …”
“Good, you’re late. No use in going.” Michael gave
her a helpful shove to the outdoors. “You can drop me off.”
“I’d like to drop you off a cliff!” Maria sighed
getting into the Jetta. “Why can’t you get the tickets? You don’t care if
you skip class, and I have an assignment due today.”
“I got trapped doing this thing by five today. I
can’t.” Michael turned on the real power. “Tickets, Maria. Here today …
gone tomorrow.”
Maria stopped at a fleabag motel. “You suck.” Looking
at the motel, she turned to Michael. “I better not be standing in line,
skipping class, and dumping my hard earned cash into tickets while you’re off
on a binge with some bimbo in a cheap nookie motel!”
“I’ll take pictures. ‘Sides, I only spend time in
cheap nookie motels with you!” Michael offered with a wink as he shut the
door.
“Great,” said Maria as she drove away. “Now he’s
giving me an eating disorder. Like that won’t make me toss my breakfast …
which he ate!”
~~~
Michael was bored. More than bored, he was struggling to
stay awake as he sat at a table interviewing Hal Carver, one of the members of
the 509th bomb group. His notepad was collecting new doodles at an alarming rate
of speed.
“What was World War II like?”
The old man, Hal Carter looked at the young punk and cut
him no slack. “What do you think?”
Michael made a face. Okay, so he wasn’t going to grow up
to be an interviewer. He could deal with that. “Ok, moving on. Uh,
“I don't know. I haven't darkened her door since '47.”
Hal Carter said, his answer noncommittal.
“Look, Hal… ” Michael said rechecking the man’s
name.
“Captain Carver.” The old man said with a little brass,
drawing himself up to his full height.
“Captain Carver. Let's make this easy. Why don't you give
me a few good details that I can put in this little notebook of mine. Then I'll
just copy the rest out of a book.”
“Well, when the going gets rough, resort to plagiarism,
huh?” Hal said with disgust. “You kids today are softer than soap. You ever
heard of, uh,
“Taken my teeth out to brush them?” Michael mumbled
under his breath.
“What'd you just say?” The Captain stood up in anger,
more than finished with this little punk.
There was a flier on the table. Michael took a look at it.
“B-17G.”
“That's a flying fortress.” Hal informed Michael more
than a little proud of the plane he once piloted. “You like planes?”
“You could say I was born to fly.”
“So was I.” Hal showed Michael a picture of him with
his plane. “That's my picture there.”
Michael looked at the older man who suddenly seemed a
little more interesting. “So, why did you leave in '47?”
“Don't you know what happened that year?” Hal
couldn’t believe a kid, not even an uninterested kid raised in
“Aliens crashed. Humans went bonkers.”
“Yeah. Think you could've handled that?” Hal’s eyes
moved over Michael’s face, his face taking on a new look. “I mean, you had
survivors running loose in the streets.”
“Sounds terrifying. Four feet tall, silver suits, no
hair.” Michael scoffed. “Very scary.”
“That's what the crackpots that wrote the books wanted
you to believe.”
Michael let a look of irritation move over his face. He
knew more about the crash than most, and the accounts were laughable. “Look,
it's all just a bunch of crazy… ”
“We weren't crazy.” Hal said. “We were lied to.”
“Whatever.” Michael went back to doodling, uninterested
in the made-up truths that had nothing to do with facts.
“Hey, look, kid. I'm not one of your hoodlum friends.”
Michael looked up at that. Okay, Maria got a little out of control, but she
wasn’t exactly a hoodlum … yet. There was hope for her. “You better start
showing me a little respect, or I’ll kick your ass through this door.”
“Well, let me save you the effort.” Michael told the
man picking up the flier. “I'm just gonna take this. Then I'll be out of your
hair, ok?”
“They have black eyes. Empty. Vacant. Ageless.” Hal
said quietly to Michael, his voice earnest. Michael stopped short, looking the
sincere expression on the man’s face. “You gonna stand there like some
slack-jawed simpleton, or do you want to learn something?”
“You're gonna teach me about aliens?” Hal nodded.
“Ok, let's hear it.” Michael sat down as Hal began his story.
~~~
“You know, these sissies today that complain about global
warming should have to spend a
“Take a chick up and get grounded, you weren’t nuts
about her … just nuts.”
“You want to hear this or not?” Hal asked, threatening
to cut the interview short.
“Yeah, yeah. Just no graphic details. I’m a kid.”
“Where was I?” Hal asked himself ignoring Michael’s
soft murmur about senility. “So, after three years of army cots and cheap
cigarettes, I was gonna do things my way.”
“Finally! So we ain’t so different.”
Hal ignored Michael, caught up in his memories. “I got
that call that morning. It woke me out of my sleep on the desk. It was Jesse.
There had been a crash.”
“The
crash?”
“The
crash,” Hal confirmed. “It wasn’t one of ours.” Michael nodded, creating
a doodle of Hal in a plane joyriding over the Hoover Dam with some dame with a
large rack.
“Excitement in these parts was about as common as pink
elephants, but when Jesse Marcel placed that call, the whole place was buzzing
in a heartbeat.”
“Interesting,” Michael said finally looking up from his
drawing. Hal was cleaning his service revolver. Michael motioned to Hal's gun.
“Do you always travel with that thing?”
“Better be safe than sorry.” Hal went back to his
story. “You know, some people thought maybe it was a glider or a test missile,
but my money was always on the Commies, you know?” Hal seemed aware that
Michael wasn’t paying attention, but rather doodling in his notebook. “Hey,
you listening to me?! What's with that hair of yours, anyway?”
“The chicks dig it, grandpa.”
“In my day we wore it high and tight. You know, classic,
respectful.”
“Really?” Michael gave the man the once over. “I
thought you said you were all about trouble.”
“You better learn quick, son. There’s trouble, and
then, there’s trouble!” Hal seemed proud of his explanation. “They sent me
and Richard Dodie out to the crash site some 30-odd miles from base. Dodie and I
stopped along the way for a couple of Zagnuts. By the time we got there, the
place was buzzing. Richard was a good guy. He really was. He was a buddy of mine
who worked in the office with me, but he has a tendency to get his skivvies all
up in a bunch. We were a little late due to a little flirtation on my part with
the gal behind the counter. She gave me two Zagnuts for the price of one.” Hal
winked at Michael.
“I’m sure your waistline could handle it a lot better
back then.”
“Are you gay?”
“The story,” Michael reminded him sourly.
“Right.” Hal smiled at having gotten under Michael’s
skin. “The crash site was something. It was no plane like I ever seen. Smaller
than a B-29, and spread about the place. Unfortunately the commanding officer
was Cassidy. Colonel James Cassidy was the kind of guy that hated guys like me,
and that suited me just fine, because I loved taking on blockheads like him.”
Hal smiled at the memory. “Luckily the Colonel was called away to the
roadblock. He told us to check in with Smith and get down to the site to help
out. Of course, Richie thought it could be an experimental aircraft, but I knew
different. There were these soldiers loading stuff into a truck. A thin shiny
object fell to the ground. I picked it up. When I crumbled it in my hand, it
went back to its original shape.” That got Michael’s interest. “I showed
Richie but he wasn’t too excited about it. I’m telling you, people
would’ve paid good money to see it.”
“So it was just you and … Richie?”
“Yeah, the Colonel was over taking care of a menace in
the form of sweetest pair of legs I ever saw. I live by one simple rule when it
comes to women - a great voice equals great gams.”
“Did I not mention the whole graphic details thing?”
“Oh, you want details about this Betty. She was a Betty,
and that was her name too. It was the first time I ever heard her, or saw her.
Betty Osorio, a reporter for the Fort Worth Star-Telegram. She was following the
rumor about a flying saucer. She was a real livewire. Having her cameraman
George snapping as many pictures as he could. Of course, Cassidy couldn’t
allow that, so the camera was detained for national security.”
“So what happened to Betty? Did you talk to her? I
thought you were making it with the zagnut queen.”
“No, they escorted her away. I’m sure it wasn’t the
first time that wild beauty saw handcuffs.” Hal motioned to Michael to follow
him. They left the motel room and found a place outside to continue talking.
“Details! I told you, no graphic details, and we’ll
amend that to include your perverted fantasies.”
“A young kid of today talking about perversions to me?”
Hal snorted. Yeah. Right. “It was too bad they carted off Betty. She was a
nice piece of scenery. Instead, we got Cavitt. Our senior counter-intelligence
agent, Captain Sheridan Cavitt, was known around the base as Mr. Brain. So I
guess when you're lacking in other assets, you've got to trump up the one you've
got.”
“Eggheads. Yeah, unfortunately, I know a few. They can
make the paper grade, but in simple everyday life …stupid people.”
“That was Cavitt.” Hal made a face, it twisting in
distaste as he remembered Cavitt. It seemed that even after all those years, the
man still left a bad taste in Hal’s mouth. “He ordered me to get another man
and take a troop truck to hangar 20. No stops. No questions. Nothing. I, of
course, got my good pal, Richie.”
“I know the rest. The feds made Marcel the scapegoat.
Blamed the crash on a weather balloon. And it was all Cavitt's idea if I
remember correctly.”
“That pencil neck.” Hal confirmed staring at Michael.
“Where did you hear that?”
“I've been reading UFO magazines since I was eight.”
“So you want to believe.” Hal took out his cigarettes
and lit up.
Michael saw the cigarette and the old man who didn’t look
like he could afford to burn up too many more of his brain cells. “You
shouldn't smoke.”
“Look, kid, my doctor says it doesn't make any difference
what I do.” Hal blew out the smoke looking around while sitting on a bench
with Michael.
“Is that why you came back here?”
Hal shrugged. “War has a tendency to create an incredible
bond between men. You know what? Some of the best days of my life were spent
right here on this base alongside the boys of the 509th. So I guess this … is
just my last chance to say good-bye.”
Michael took in what the man was saying. In his last life,
he was a soldier, and supposedly Max’s second in command. Maybe he understood
the sentiment somewhere deep inside him. In the trenches, there had to be a
trust, a belief in the person next to you, and that had to build something
special. Michael thought of Maria and all the nights they spent searching for
clues, watching the enemy, and standing guard. He could understand Hal in many
ways. Michael glanced over and saw an elderly man having trouble fitting into
his old uniform, being helped by his wife.
Michael gestured to the man. “Do you still fit into
yours?”
“The longer I sit here, the harder it is to think that I
could put one on.”
The soldier in Michael was confused. “Why is that?”
“'Cause everything I believe that uniform stood for died
in '47.” Hal tossed Michael the strange object he found in 1947. It was
crumpled when Michael caught it, but when he opened his hand, it straightened
out.
Hal laughed at the look on Michael’s face. “Hey. A
little something from way back when.”
Michael stared at the man with a dawning respect, and an
interest he couldn’t keep from his face. “So you were driving the truck to
hangar 20?”
“Richie and me. Yeah. I tried to discuss the possibility
of the reporter being onto something, but Richie, he was a straight arrow with a
dream of a wife and a white picket fence. You can imagine how upset he got when
the truck slowed down.”
“Thought you were supposed to go straight to the hangar,
no stops.”
“Well, someone forgot to tell the truck that order,
because at that moment some strange force seemed to take control of the
truck.”
“A strange force or a person. What did you see, Hal?”
“A glowing white person in front of the truck. I ran it
over. Richie and I got out and I told him to check under the truck. Richie went
to look in the back of the truck, and soon he was screaming for me.”
“What was it? The alien?”
“Pods. In the back of the truck. They were red glowing
pods, pulsating, and you could tell there was something in them. The things that
stopped the truck must have tried to retrieve the pods.”
“What did you do?” Michael asked sharply.
“What do you think? We got into the truck and hightailed
it straight to Hangar 20 pretending that nothing happened, that we never
stopped, and we never saw those pods.”
“And that is it?”
“No.” Hal shook his head. “Of course that wasn’t
it. We went to get drunk.”
“Right.”
“Parker’s. It was a military hangout. Shoot a little
pool, unwind, and get a nice snot full. The local yocals were talking.
Everything from stories of the crash, end of the world stuff, and fear that the
military would leave, and the town would die.”
“Guess you were right.
“Big enough to do right by you.” Hal looked at his
watch, checking the time before he needed to be at the reunion. “Anyway,
Richie and I were there talking about what we saw. I was a little more open,
wanting to talk, but Richie, he was scared. Cassidy had blasted us for being
fifteen minutes late. I wanted to kill aliens, but Richie … he rather pretend
it never happened. Richie couldn’t run from the bar fast enough.”
“Guess those egghead types are all the same, regardless
of what generation they are born into.”
“Pretty much. Anyway, that was when I got to talk to
Betty, the reporter for the first time. I was more than happy to make time with
her. Like I said, she was a real live beauty.”
“Let’s by-pass the geriatric mating and get on with the
story.”
“That is the story, son. Betty was a smart woman. Real
smart. She knew something was up, and she knew how to dig. She tried to get me
to buy her a drink so she could pump me for information. I was more interested
letting her pump me in other ways, but unfortunately, she wouldn’t even give
me her phone number. She had heard me talking to Richie about blowing up aliens
to Kingdom come. That pretty much ended our conversation. If I told her, I’d
have to …”
“ …kill her? Yeah, sure. So you left.”
“Nope. Got my beers and had old needle dick, Cavitt in my
face wanting to know why I was talking to the reporter. He basically told me to
give her a clear field. Too bad. She was candy to a baby. Sweet.”
“So then you went home.”
“Actually, no. Since I couldn’t convince Betty to play
nice, and not ask questions, I decided to go visit my sort of steady.”
“Steady?” Michael shook his head. Maybe the old man’s
language was a code or something.
“Around this time I had this girl I used to go with, only
she wasn't a girl. She was a woman. Rosemary had been widowed once and divorced
twice … all before her 25th birthday, and our relationship was simple
pleasure.”
Michael looked at the man in disbelief. “Okay, so you had
this chick that you were hot about, the one you flew over
“No reason to be faithful to Rosemary. She wasn’t that
kind of girl. There were more men creasing Rosemary’s sheets than an army
brigade. She wasn’t a keeper girl. Just sex. I knew the score with her, and
she didn’t care enough to ask me questions I couldn’t answer. Rosemary was
interested in only one thing.”
“Sex.”
“Nope. Money. How big my paycheck was, and how much of it
I was willing to spend on her. With that in mind, she gave me some, if I gave
her some.”
“She was a whore.”
“Watch your mouth, son! She was a woman who knew how to
take care of herself. I figured in another five to six years her full figure
would start to thicken, so she was out there looking for a more permanent
situation.”
“But not with you?”
“Not with me. Rosemary knew I was making time with other
dames. I was young. Early twenties. Cocky. I had my pick. I never had fallen in
love. I figured when I did, it would hit hard, and I would be a converted
man.”
“So you got married later, but not to Rosemary.”
“Not to Rosemary. Not to anyone. I … my chance came and
went so quick, I never saw it until it was too late.” Hal obviously didn’t
want to talk about that anymore. “Anyway, I went to Rosemary’s and while I
was there I caught someone watching us from the window.”
“Did you catch them?”
“No, they took off, but it put a damper on the
evening.” Hal looked at his watch again. “Listen, kid. I’ve got to find
some grub. My reunion starts in a little while, and you can’t image the crap
they’ll serve.”
Michael couldn’t lose his source. “I know a place.”
~~~
Hal and Michael were at the Crashdown eating lunch when
Maria came to check on them.
“Would you like some fries with that shake?” Maria
asked the old man making a face at Michael.
“Give me another one, sweet cheeks.”
“That'll be your third banana split, sir.” Maria told
the old man, uncertain if that was a good idea.
“What are you, the dairy police?” Michael asked. Maria
made another face at him. “We're in the middle of a story here.”
“Oh, yeah, I'm not the one sitting next to an ancient
gastrointestinal tract, Pally.” Maria walked off.
“Get the check.” Hal told Michael. “I'll tell you the
rest later.”
“You're gonna be at the reunion later.” Michael asked
wanting to hear the rest, and unwilling to lose track of Hal.
“To tell you the truth, kid, I don't know if I want to go
anymore.”
“The day's young.” He couldn’t lose his source.
Michael quickly thought of an alternative. “We'll go hit some of your old
haunts.”
Hal seemed suddenly interested. “Well, you got wheels?”
Michael looked around for Maria. She didn’t seem in such
a good mood, but this was important. Telling Hal to wait, he went to find her.
“I need a favor.” He told her when he found her in the
back break room.
“If it’s money … forget it. I’m tapped out. I’m
grounded because of misplacing the Jetta … courtesy of the great alien rights
to everything. I skipped class, missing turning in an important assignment, but
hey, we got tickets! Which I probably won’t get to use … since I’m
grounded. And I’m working here instead of going back to school in hopes of
recouping some money I spent today.”
Michael felt bad. Isabel taking the Jetta was bad enough,
but he should’ve returned it immediately. “Look, I came in here because…
”
“Just please tell me that the cheap interlude in the
motel wasn’t the bleached blonde skank. For God's sake, Michael, she's not
even a real blonde.”
“Who?” Michael asked, confused.
“Let me set the scene for you, all right? You. Courtney.
The dark alley back there. Me controlling the urge to spew. And now you have me
drop you off at a cheap motel! Eww. Okay. I’m just saying I expected you to
have better taste, and this …”
“It was the old guy out there, okay?”
“
“I have a history assignment I have to get done by five.
He’s it.” Michael didn’t have time, but he came clean. “Ok, that man out
there knows stuff about the '47 crash. All right? Stuff specific to me. Ok. So I
want to take him around. I want to jog his memory, and to do that, I need the
Jetta.”
“Oh, no way! I just got the Jetta back!” Maria shook
her head. If she showed up with the Jetta, her mom might show leniency. “I'm
sorry. When humans need rides, they take Jettas. And when aliens need rides,
they take spaceships. Oh! Find one.”
“Hey, Maria … hanging out with this guy is gonna help
him a lot more than it's gonna help me. Can't you just make an old guy's day?”
Maria made a snorting noise, poking Michael hard in the
chest with her finger. “Do not try to play me, Pally! I know you.”
“Maria.”
Sighing, Maria tossed her keys to him. “You owe me
big.”
“You betcha.” Michael kissed her cheek, rushing to find
Hal before he settled for a nap. “Put lunch on my tab, and don't forget the
senior discount.”
Maria flopped her hands helplessly. Why did she always let
him get away with murder?
~~~
Michael took Hal for a drive. They ended up on a back road
where Hal could do some target practice with his gun. They were sitting on the
hood of the Jetta, and Michael prompted Hal to continue.
“So what happened next?”
“Aw, my morning was harkened with the voice of an angel.
Betty called me at home, woke me up to invite me to breakfast with her. She
wanted to meet at Parker’s.”
“She called you at home? I thought you were at
Rosemary’s?”
Hal made a face and a snorting noise. “I told you, she
wasn’t that kind of gal. More of the ‘get your business over and get out’
type. You don’t stay over with those types of women, son. Always keep an eye
on them. They lie with their eyes, their mouths, everything, and one day you
could find yourself floating up a river.”
Michael waved that off. The relationship advice was
creeping him. “Yeah, whatever. So you meet the delectable Betty with the
legs.”
“Right. Except the dame wasn’t interested in a cherry
Danish.”
Michael’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Is that another
way of implying sex again?”
Hal laughed. “Yeah, in a way. The hotel coffee shop
across the street from Parker’s served a swell cherry Danish, and it was an
offer for sex, and a Danish afterwards.”
“No wonder you were grounded. You were too busy to
work.” Michael said skeptically. He looked the man over. Those pilot wings
must have come with some major mojo. “So if she wasn’t interested in your
… um, swell cherry Danish, what did she want?”
“Me to talk to this nurse from the base, a Yvonne White.
I guess this Yvonne saw things, things she couldn’t explain. Betty wanted me
to spill my guts so the two stories together could maybe give her one full
story.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did not. I was out of there fast. Being seen with
Betty was bad enough, but I wasn’t willing to risk my career by being her
pigeon. I told her not to call me again. I couldn’t believe it. She was using
me for her headline story, and that didn’t sit too well.”
“So you went to work.”
“No. I went to Rosemary’s.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “Of course you did.”
“Look, I just needed someone to talk to, someone who
wouldn’t really listen, so I didn’t have to worry about getting into trouble
or anything, and obviously, my pal Richie was a dud.”
“Obviously. So did Rosemary want your Danish?”
“Nope. I wandered in on her busy doing another. Deputy
Valenti was in her bed. Guess she found out who left the socks at her place. Of
course, she said he was just there helping her clean up the mess that the
military police left at her place. She said she tried to call me.”
Clean up? He was in her bed?”
“Yep.”
Michael flipped his notebook. “Okay, I really need to
take some serious notes here. Cherry Danish... Cleaning up...”
“Get over yourself.” Hal told Michael, smiling a little
at the younger man. “So I got all pissy, and went to work to complain about
the military police tossing my girlfriend’s place.”
“Everyone’s girlfriend’s place,” Michael corrected
the older man.
“Yeah. So I got to work and talked
“
“His secretary. The dame I took over Hoover Dam.”
Michael put his notepad down. “So did you ever really
work, or was this just a constant scam to get laid?”
“Your mother should’ve washed your mouth out. Getting
laid?”
“Don’t have a mother. Get on with the story.”
“I ignored
“So you finally went to work.”
“No, I called Yvonne White at the women’s barracks.”
“Right. What was I thinking?”
Hal ignored the sarcastic Michael. “I decided to hear her
story, but she had been transferred to
“With the legs to shoot your load to, yeah. Got it.”
Michael pushed the story along. “So what was her story?”
“We met in my car. It was raining. She had seen two
cadavers. There had been doctors, ones she never seen, performing the autopsies.
The cadavers, according to her, weren’t mammal. The epidermis, hands, and
organs, they were unlike anything she ever saw in her life. She was afraid.
After the autopsy, they sent in a high-ranking general from Wright Field to
debrief her, and she was told that she couldn’t talk about anything she
saw.”
“But, she called Betty.”
“She did. According to her, Betty was willing to listen.
She was so afraid that she couldn’t sleep.
“Join the club.” Michael said bitterly. “So she got
on the bus and left.”
“Not quite. I watched her leave, but moments later there
was this loud scream. I got out into the rain and got on the bus. She wasn’t
there. I asked, but the driver told me there was never a nurse on the bus.
Yvonne White disappeared that night.”
“That was it?”
“No. I went back to the office.
“So you got to meet your dream girl again.” Why was
Michael not surprised it was once again a female?
“I met her. She was late. I guess her car had problems. I
offered to take a look at it for her, but she told me that she already fixed it,
that cars were like men. Give their cable a little jiggle and they’re fine
‘til morning.”
“You have way of picking women.”
“Naw, she was different. Spicy. A real tough woman with a
soft inside. I could tell she had an honor thing going for her, you know, real
honest, forthright. She was different from Rosemary. Rosemary had husbands.
Divorced. She was trading up until she found the man with enough bucks to keep
her in the style she wanted. Betty, she was different. This dame would get where
she was going on her own. I had to respect that. I also knew that she wasn’t
the marrying and divorcing type. Once she made a commitment to one man, it would
be forever. It was on her face, in her eyes. She was an open book.”
Michael seemed surprised at the rush of honesty and depth
of interest Hal was showing in Betty. “So she was your dream girl. What
happened?”
“The crash happened.” Hal said cryptically. “We
exchanged information. Betty found a man, Glenn Dennis at Ballard's funeral home
who got a special request from the base mortician for child-size coffins.”
“For what?”
“Yeah, that is what I said. She told me coffins were for
burying things.” Michael laughed and Hal joined him. “Anyway I told her
about Colonel Cassidy asking me to draft death notice memos for the two privates
he claimed died in the jeep accident. What really happened was that those kids
were at the debris site when they stumbled on two sacs 6 feet or so in diameter.
Before they could notify a commanding officer, something came upon them. Now,
one witness says it was two figures glowing white. The men tried to pull their
guns. There was a blinding light.” Hal looked at Michael. “I gave her the
confidential file I took from Cassidy’s office. My brother was shot down over
Hal stopped talking for a moment, sitting there on the hood
of the car, he cleared his dry throat. Michael left him for a moment going to
the back of the Jetta. Reaching in, he took a bottle of cola and changed it into
a bottle of beer.
“You can run fast, but time always has a way of catching
up,” Hal said, his throat strangely hoarse. Michael handed him the beer.
“My friend had one in her car. She's a little bit of a
drinker.”
Hal twisted off the lid. “That firecracker from the
diner?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you two going steady?”
“No. It's nothing. I mean, well, I mean ... whatever
there is, it is a friendship. We’re just friends.”
Hal laughed shaking his head. “Not from where I was
sitting. You know, I'd … um, I'd never been in love before, but … but on
that night beneath the stars and with that woman … and with all that we knew
… I should have kissed her then.
“Why?” Michael felt a sinking feeling at the look on
the older man’s face. “What happened to Betty?”
Hal tossed off the beer in one more gulp. “Got another
beer?” It was the part of the story he hated the most, and after all those
years, it never got easier to tell, or to live with. Michael nodded going to the
back to alter another cola.
Hal kept on talking. He seemed to want to get it over with.
“I went to Parker’s. Richie was there. He was drowning his sorrows, his
cowardliness, in a cold one. I told him it would be okay, that I had a friend. I
told him that by tomorrow morning’s paper, it would all be out there. I
didn’t know it, but he was playing me for Cavitt.” Hal glanced at Michael.
“I didn’t know it then, but I had just given up Betty.”
Michael closed his eyes rubbing them.
“That morning was like any other. Too much like any
other. The story was never printed. I called Betty at the Fort Worth
Star-Telegram. She wasn’t in. I went back to the office and found a letter of
resignation on my desk. I took it into Cassidy’s office, and found my good
friend Richie there. My resignation was due to passing on ‘classified
information’. That was when I realized that Richie had sold me out. He told me
to sign the resignation and take the honorable discharge. I told him no, that
they would have to drag me off the base. Richie asked me why I wasn’t my usual
lazy, self-centered, son of a bitch self this time? I punched him in his little
smarmy rat face, the lying sack of shit. Betrayal comes hard. They had pictures
of me with Rosemary. I signed. There wasn’t an inch of my life they hadn’t
tainted or covered.”
“You signed for Rosemary? So they would leave her
alone?”
“No. Rosemary would always land on her feet, or at least
her back. I signed because it didn’t matter. There was no more Rosemary for
me. I wouldn’t be able to meet her price. It was time to leave. I wished
Richie the Rat well with his picket fence and his future plain pie-faced mouse
he would someday marry. A rat like him, it wasn’t like he could pull anything
with any real looks. I went back to Parker’s to get drunk.”
“Drinking and women. I’m seeing a disturbing trend
here.”
“Bitterly,” Hal agreed. His misspent youth was utterly
misspent. “Anyway, Pete at the bar had gotten something for me that day. It
was a message from Betty. There was a phone number and a key. I went to ring her
up. I got her sister. Betty was dead. Car accident on Highway 70. It must have
been right after I left her. Those bastards were following me. They had to be.
They followed me to Rosemary, even had pictures. Obviously my life was hardly
private. I didn’t know how to say I was sorry for giving Betty up, for ratting
her out to Richie. I hung up.”
“God,” Michael said, shaken. “So all your leads were
gone, and it was all for nothing?”
“No. I still had something. Betty’s message and a key.
I went back to the base, to the hangar. Betty’s message led me to a room and
the key unlocked it. She was some investigating dame! She got inside. She had to
have. Inside the room there were alien pods, split into two groups of four pods,
eight of them total. There were two doctors dead on the floor with silver
handprints on their chests. I had brought a camera with me, and I quickly
snapped some pictures. While I was photographing, I looked up into a mirror.
There were two white glowing things behind the curtain.”
“You … what did you do?”
“Have you ever heard the sound a mother bear makes when
anything gets between her and her cubs? It's something to be afraid of. Now at
that moment, though, I realized I'd been afraid of the wrong thing. It wasn't us
they wanted. I told them to save them. The pods were their children. I left the
room, but there were three people about to enter the room. It wasn’t enough
time for them to take the pods, so I pulled a fire alarm and called to them,
redirecting their attention. They followed me, and I escaped by climbing over a
wire fence. I dropped the camera. It broke, and I lost all the evidence … the
evidence that would’ve justified the loss of Betty’s life. I ran that night.
I ran and never looked back until today.”
~~~
Michael watched as the older man set up a line of bottles
for target practice. After hearing about Betty, it was apparent that the
reporter was the one death he never forgave himself. He had set the bottles up
on a truck and shot at them with his gun.
“Wanna try?” He offered Michael who shook his head.
Guns. He had enough exposure to them.
“What did you see? What was in those sacs?”
Hal made a laughing sound. “I never planned on telling
this much of the story, kid. I never have.”
“Please.”
“They looked like human fetuses. There were four to a
sac. Eight total.” Hal stared out at the bottles, his jaw clenching. “That
night, I packed my things and never came back. The base was on full alert. There
was no way anybody or anything else could have escaped … and that's the story
of Hal Carver. The only time I ever stuck my neck out to save anything … and
it all went to hell.”
Michael stared at the man a moment before reaching out his
hand and blowing up the bottles from a distance. Hal’s cigarette in his mouth
dropped unnoticed to the ground.
“You saved me.” Michael told the older man. Hal was
shaking. Taking out another cigarette, he was having trouble lighting it.
Michael created a flame on his thumb and lit it for the old man. Hal let the
cigarette drop as he and Michael embraced with tears in their eyes.
So it hadn’t been for nothing. All those years, he
thought he had destroyed everything, his career, his friendships, lost Betty’s
life, and all for nothing, a lie created by the government to cover the truth.
He hadn’t known if they had gotten away or survived.
“Thank you.” Hal said to Michael as he released him.
“Thank you. I can actually look at dying a little better now.”
“Was that why you never married? Knowing the truth about
aliens?”
“No. Betty. I only knew her two days, and in truth, for
most of it she was trying to get me to talk. That last time, I just knew that
for me, from that moment sitting with her in the car, that she was it for me.
The one.” Hal cleared his throat, his eyes suspiciously bright. “Two days,
and she was gone. I never got to kiss her, or … well, anything. I regretted my
actions being a failure, but what I regretted most was that, given different
circumstances, she could’ve been my world. I spent my entire life regretting
the missed opportunity. I knew that she was the most important event of my life,
and it was there and gone so fast, I never had a chance.”
“You might be wrong.”
“No. Believe me. Someday, you’ll meet someone, and
you’ll look at them during a moment when your path and hers are at a
divergence where you either walk on alone, or make the decision to stay and walk
with her. When that day comes, you’ll understand what I mean, Michael.
You’ll know that you’re possibly walking away from the most important event
of your life. Love. Then you’ll be forced to decide what’s more important,
the life you always envisioned for yourself or love.” Hal looked at the young
man he saved so long ago. “I hope you get to make the decision and it’s not
taken from you, because living with the ‘what could have beens’ isn’t
living. I don’t care who or what you are.”
~~~
Michael made it back to school before his
“Have you seen Maria or Max?”
“Oh, Michael...” Liz seemed shocked that Michael was
talking to her. “Um, no. He said something about stopping by the Crashdown
later. Maria, I’m not sure. She’s probably at your place.”
“You ok?”
“Me? Yeah. Sure.” Liz gave him a confused look.
“Why?”
“Well, the whole Congresswoman Whitaker thing. We'll work
it out.” Michael said, apologizing for his rudeness that morning in his own
way.
“Yeah, I know.”
“And, uh, and this morning … yeah … I'm sorry.”
“Thank you. Did Max ask you to do that?”
“What?”
“The whole being nice thing.”
“No, I came up with it myself.” Michael walked away as
Liz called to him.
“I like it.” Michael nodded leaving, slightly
uncomfortable. He hoped she didn’t expect it of him all the time.
~~~
“Hey.” Michael said as he shut the apartment door.
Maria looked up from her reading.
“Please tell me you have the Jetta, and that it’s
intact, running, and has no new dents or bullet holes.”
“It’s fine. I even filled up the tank.”
Maria literally threw herself into his arms hugging him
tight. “Oh thank god! You have no idea how close you came to having me move in
with you. If I came home tonight without the Jetta, my mom would’ve put me up
for adoption.”
“What are you saying, DeLuca? I don’t get to keep
you?”
Maria gave him a long look, her eyes noting the seriousness
in his face. “Well, you should be careful about what you ask for.” Slightly
unsure of the atmosphere, Maria stepped back crossing her arms thoughtfully.
“So you got done with your Roswell Geriatric project?”
“Yeah. He wasn’t such a bad guy.” Maria lifted a
brow. “Reminded me of stories you told me about your Grandpa DeLuca.”
“Then you were blessed.”
Michael nodded. “I was. You have no idea.” Clearing his
throat he looked at what she had been reading. “So you have time to go for a
short drive? We can drop off the Jetta at your home and take my bike.”
“Sure.” Maria paused for a moment. “This doesn’t
involve me climbing into tight spaces, breaking into a second or third story
building, or running?”
“No. You’re dressed fine.”
“Oh, good. You know I hate to wear the wrong shoes for
the wrong occasion.”
~~~
Michael took Maria to the Granilith chamber. At first when
they climbed up to the pod chamber, she was hesitant. It was a place Michael had
taken her a few times, but for some reason it always felt completely alien,
completely belonging to the aliens, and there was a feeling of it being
forbidden to humans like her.
“Meet the reason your Jetta was missing.” Michael
pointed to the large alien device.
“My God. What is it?”
“I don't know … but eventually I'm hoping we can find
out.”
“We?” Maria asked needing clarification. “We
as in you and me, or we as in the
entire group … human and aliens?”
“All of us, Maria.”
Maria smiled and took his head to lift on her toes, she
kissed his mouth softly. “Thank you.” It was hard being Michael’s only
confidante. At times it put a wedge between him and the others, and often Maria
found herself caught in the middle. They had been a group before, but since last
year it had been her and Michael only. It was nice to finally work towards
normal.
“Well, today I had a little history lesson, and here's
the thing … I owe more to you than I can imagine. To Liz, Alex, Valenti, to
some old guy named Hal who lives in
“You're welcome.” Maria said, finally seeing him in the
Balance, understanding how fragile his life had been at times, and it was people
like her, Hal, Alex, Valenti and even Liz who saved him. Maria saw him looking
around the place. “What's wrong?”
“You know those pods that housed Max, Isabel, Tess, and
me?”
“Yeah, before you were born?”
“Well, there's another set of them, and they're somewhere
out there.” Michael pulled her closer to him. “We’re not alone. We
weren’t the only ones they sent.”
“Why didn’t Nasedo mention this?”
Michael shook his head. That was a question.
“How couldn’t he mention there were others? I mean
‘Royal Four’ seems to imply only … um, well, four.”
“There is so much more to know, Maria. So much I need to
understand.”
“Maybe they didn’t make it?”
“I don’t know. Hal said there were two white glowing
figures, and two sets of four pods for a total of eight. If we exist, then maybe
so do they. And if Nasedo existed, maybe there’s another shapeshifter out
there.”
Maria stared at the alien device. “There’s so much more
to know.”
“You can run fast, but time always has a way of catching
up.” Michael put his hand in Maria’s. “We’ll find it together.”
