The Children of Roswell (Book One) The Swift Chronicle

by Alan James

  Kelly couldn’t quite tell if Will had just asked him, or told him, to keep all this quiet. He thought it strange that Will would want to hide this (and the fact that the guns had been fired) from the others, but he nodded his head in the affirmative. ‘I’ll play along with you, for now,’ he thought to himself.

  ***

  Matson stood, “Let’s go have a look at her.” He turned to Perkins, “Ben, you can come out later, but for now, I need you to stay here and monitor the screen. If she’s got something more to say, you can relay it to us by walkie-talkie.”

  “Fine with me Ken … you guys go find out what she’s all about,” he smiled. “I’ll come out when I’m sure it’s safe.”

  ***

  As the men rounded the corner to the front of the trailer, they shielded there eyes from the light of the four bright floods. The glare was compounded by the highly polished surface of the craft.

  As they approached, each man, in turn, seemed drawn to lay hands on it. Cory led the way, followed by Matson, Forest, Kelly and finally Will. Cory continued dragging his right hand along the surface of what had been the left wing’s leading edge as he made his way to the side of the nose. His eyes were level with the gun ports. He was not schooled in the fineries of fighter aircraft, so it never occurred to him, as he ran his hand over the three streamlined openings, that from each of them, death could be issued at three thousand feet per second. It also didn’t occur to him that the blackness in each port indicated: that might have happened already.

  Matson and Forest ducked under the wing on the left side of the disc, and approached one of the landing gear. They could clearly see that they weren’t landing gear any longer. Each of the three struts was made of telescoping tubes, ending in a heavy, circular pad about twelve inches in diameter.

  “Makes sense,” said Matson, “she doesn’t need wheels anymore.”

  The two made their way to the rear, touching everything, exploring everything as they went. The fairing between the old fuselage and the disc wing was molded in ever graduated, perfect elliptical curves.

  “She is really streamlined,” Forest said as they made their way forward again.

  Kelly remained near the left edge of the disc, leaning with his right hand resting on the craft for support. He looked over his shoulder at Will, who was just beyond him at the point that would have been the wing tip. Will stood with both hands on the edge of the disc, rubbing both hands slowly over its surface. The look on his face, and the way he was touching the chrome, reminded Kelly of the little piece of skin Will had shown him in the trailer. Will seemed mesmerized again, just like before. Kelly placed both of his hands on the craft and moved them like Will. ‘Nothing,’ he thought, ‘if it’s having an effect on him, it doesn’t seem to be bothering me,’ he looked at the others, ‘or anyone else.’

  Kelly reached over and touched Will on the shoulder, “Will,” he whispered. Will remained engrossed in whatever it was he was getting from his laying on of hands. “Will,” Kelly said, touching him again. Will stopped for an instant, then withdrew his hands quickly, holding them up in front of him. He looked at the palms first, then the backs, and then the palms again. Then realizing he was being watched, he turned to Kelly, “What?” he said abruptly.

  “You’ve been standing there rubbin’ on that thing for almost three or four minutes now.”

  Will stared at Kelly, like a man who had taken a long walk, and hadn’t completely returned yet. “You’re crazy man, I just this second put my hands on it.”

  PARKER

  “Hey Cory,” Matson said, while he and Forest were making their way back from the other side of the craft, “Grab that ladder under the trailer. Let’s have a look up top.”

  “Hell,” Cory said, “we don’t need no ladder.” The wing was between belt and chest high to Cory. He laid both hands on the leading edge, and like a swimmer leaving a pool, he catapulted himself up, first hooking one foot then pulling up the other. He stood there looking like Hillary atop Mount Everest.

  “Well that’s just fine for you, youngster,” Matson said, “but what about us old guys?”

  Kelly turned from Will, “I’ll get the ladder,” he said.

  As the others watched Kelly, who was taking some time to pull the ladder free from weeds that had grown up through it, Cory suddenly screamed at the top of his lungs. They turned just in time to see him fall, spread eagled, flat on his back; landing on the wing about half way out to the tip. Holding the back of his head, he turned to Matson and tried to speak, but couldn’t. He slowly raised his free arm and pointed. There at the area, where just moments before had been a completely opaque, chromed cockpit area, was now a transparent approximation of a canopy. It covered what once served as the business office for a fighter pilot. And, just visible to the men standing on the ground, was the top of a standard issue combat pilot’s helmet.

  “The ladder, quick,” Matson barked at Kelly. They stood it alongside the wing, and Matson, with Kelly steadying him, made his way up. Forest followed, and together the two men made their way to the now transparent canopy. Matson laid his hands on the clear surface and leaned forward to look inside. It was Parker all right; dead. His eyes were sunk deep into their sockets. His skin was wrinkled and had the look of old tanned leather. He sat solemnly, head facing straight ahead, both hands in his lap, looking for all-the-world like he was taking a nap. Both legs matched his hands in perfect alignment. His feet were back away from the rudder pedals.

  Matson turned to Cory, now sitting behind him, “We’ve got to get this canopy opened,” he said, pointing back at it, “What did you do to make it change like this?”

  “Geeze, I don’t know boss. I just touched it, down lower … there,” he motioned with a still shaking hand.

  “Kelly,” Matson looked at the lieutenant, still standing by the ladder, “where is the canopy release on an F-eighty-six?”

  Kelly moved forward to a spot near where the wing joined the fuselage. “This thing has changed a lot since it was something I would recognize, but, my best guess is,” he pointed, “anywhere along there, just forward of where Cory said he touched it.”

  Matson put his hand to the spot and moved it fore and aft. Nothing happened.

  “Here,” Kelly offered, “try a little lower, along the same line.”

  Matson did so, and as his hand reached a spot about a foot below the canopy line, he felt his fingertips sink gently into the surface. Having no idea what to do next, he pushed a little harder. A sound, not unlike that made when a cork is gently teased from a Champaign bottle, startled Matson. He stepped back as they all watched a line form and then open across the canopy; about where it would have separated if it were still the original.

  “Amazing,” Matson whispered, “That was a solid piece of glass.”

  The rear portion of the canopy, comprising about three quarters of the whole, now slid quickly backwards. It stopped with authority, as if locked in the open position.

  Dr. Forest, as if he suddenly thought that this was his area of expertise, stepped in front of Matson. He kneeled beside the open canopy, and knowing full well that he would get no response, laid two fingers on the dead pilots’ jugular. He didn’t need to say it, but he did, softly, “He’s dead alright.” He turned to Matson, “What now?”

  “We’re gonna have to get him out of there,” Matson replied as he stepped alongside Forest. Then it occurred to him, “Dr., why no odor? I would have expected the smell of death to come crawling out of there when the canopy opened.”

  Forest ran his fingers along the corpses jaw line. He felt his arms and neck area. “Looks to me,” he said, turning back to Matson, “that he’s, somehow, been mummified.”

  “How on Earth could that happen, sitting in a cockpit like this?”

  Forest thought for a moment, then offered, “Ken, I don’t think it could happen on Earth, at least, not around here, but, it could happen, in theory, at altitud
e,” he gestured skyward. “It’s dry up there, above the weather. If the fuselage along side the cockpit, or the canopy, lost integrity while he was as high as this thing can fly, well, over time, the low humidity could have done this.”

  Matson looked at Parker, then turned to Kelly, “If it won’t bother you to help with something like this, why don’t you and Will give us a hand getting Parker out of here.” Matson knew better than to ask Cory.

  Kelly, already standing beside the ladder, used the second and third rungs, and stepped onto the wing.

  “Where’s Will?” asked Matson.

  “Don’t know, right off. I lost track of him a couple minutes ago.”

  Matson gave a quick look around, “Alright then, it’s the three of us.” Then at Kelly again, “Cory isn’t going to be much help with this,” he said with a slight smile, “so, why don’t you get over to the starboard side, and lift from there.”

  Kelly moved to the rear of the plane, at a point where the front end of the dorsal fin, that streamlines the vertical stabilizer, meets the fuselage; right where it’s at its lowest point above the wing. He threw a leg over, like mounting a horse, then slid over the smooth surface to the other side. Once in position, he put his right leg inside on the cockpit floor. He grabbed a fist full of Parkers flight suit at the buttocks with his left hand, and slid his right hand under the right knee. Matson slid his left arm under Parkers left arm pit and steadied his head with his right. Forest, without stepping inside, grabbed hold, much like Kelly had. Matson gave a quick three count, and they lifted the surprisingly light pilot from his seat. Kelly stepped completely inside the plane and bent over the port side of the cockpit as they laid the body gently onto the wing.

  “How ‘bout that,” Matson said, “no rigor. I would’ve thought he’d been stiff as a board.”

  As Matson looked up at Forest for an answer, the Doctor threw up both hands and said with a half smile, “Don’t ask me … we just pulled a mummy out of an F-eighty-six, and I’m supposed to have all the answers? Rigor only lasts for a few days in a body anyway. I’ve got no idea what being cramped in this cockpit for years, at altitude, might have done to it.”

  “Cory,” Matson barked, “think you can handle getting a stretcher for us?”

  “Sure thing,” he said, gaining his feet, “but I didn’t even know we had one around here.”

  “The tall closet, inside, where we keep all the mops and cleaning stuff. Look in the back. There should be a medical cot leaning against the back wall. The legs are made to come off. Grab it and bring it here.”

  “OK,” Cory muttered as he jumped from the wing, glad to be away from the body.

  The three men, Kelly still in the cockpit, stood over Colonel Parker. Forest kneeled, checking the flight suit along its left side between the armpit and waist. “Help me roll him a bit, so I can see this side of his back.”

  “What are you looking for Frank?”

  “Look, here,” he said, as the area under the left lower back became visible, “I think this is blood.”

  Kelly turned back inside the cockpit and checked the corresponding spot on the seat. “There’s blood here too,” he said as he brushed his hand over the area, “looks like it’s been here awhile.”

  Dr. Forest jumped as the walkie-talkie, hanging on his belt, suddenly came to life with a screech. “Ben!” he exclaimed, “give me a warning next time,” he said, holding his heart while looking through the long trailer window at Perkins.

  “Sorry ‘bout that, put Ken on.”

  “Yeah Ben,” Matson said, “what’ya got.”

  “She’s talking again. There’s been nothing but that little question mark all the time you guys have been out there, but now, about the same time you laid the body out on the wing, she filled the whole screen with the word pilot, and each word is followed by a question mark.”

  “OK,” Matson answered, giving a puzzled look to Kelly and Dr. Forest. “Let me know if that changes, and give a yell at Cory and tell him to grab one of the wool blankets too.” And then in afterthought, “Oh, is Will in there?”

  “No. He came in a bit ago. He went back to his station, then back outside. I thought he was out there with you guys.”

  Matson handed the walkie-talkie back to Dr. Forest. They could all hear Perkins yell to the back of the trailer at Cory. Then, a couple loud bangs and a thud issued from that same general direction. Cory rounded the corner as the trailer door slammed shut and the last leg went flying off the cot.

  “Cory,” Dr. Forest asked with a smirk, “when did you turn into such a klutz?”

  “Sorry fellas this whole thing has got me on edge; never have liked bein’ around the dead.” He handed the cot, now a stretcher, up to Matson.

  They laid the body onto the stretcher. Kelly jumped from the wing, and they maneuvered Parker over the edge so that Kelly could grab hold of the handles. They lowered the body and carried it back around to the porch. Cory picked up the blanket from where he had dropped it in his nearly headlong dive out the door; and as they lowered the corpse to the ground, he covered it without looking.

  THE SHED

  Matson stood. He took a couple steps back, looking around the corner to the plane. After a few steps around the porch so he could see down the length of the far side of the trailer, he asked no one in particular, “Where in hell is Will?”

  “Haven’t seen him for awhile,” piped Cory, “maybe he went to the shed to get the cargo chutes.”

  Matson turned to Kelly, “Would you mind checking that out? If that’s where he went, he’ll need a hand carrying three of those things all the way back here.”

  “Sure,” Kelly replied. “I’m gonna go inside and use the head first.”

  Kelly had no intentions of stopping at the head. He went straight for Will’s station. He checked to make sure Perkins was still busy at his own table, then, he hit the switch to turn on Will’s screen. A feeling of relief came over him as he saw the weapons on the plane were still dark. As he turned to leave, he flipped the switch to the off position, and then, he stopped. Suddenly, in his mind, he saw Will, outside, hands rubbing on the leading edge of the wing. He reached over and opened the drawer that contained the piece of disc skin. The drawer was empty. On the way to the hallway and the door outside, he turned and walked up behind Perkins.

  “Anything new?” he asked.

  Perkins answered with something, but Kelly wasn’t really interested. What he wanted, was a look at the box under Matson’s’ table. The same box that held the pistol that Cory had displayed earlier. Like Will’s drawer, the box was empty.

  ***

  Kelly was on his way to the end of the runway, looking for the shed that held the cargo chutes. If Will had come this way, Kelly thought, he would have had plenty of time, by now, to get a couple chutes, and be heading back. He should meet him on the way. He had checked all the shadowed areas as he walked: the small lean-to at the end of the trailer; a disjointed group of sage brush to the left of the path. He found nothing. He cursed himself mentally, for not asking for a flashlight.

  As he approached the shed, he saw the padlock, open and swinging on the hasp. The door was closed back against the hasp, so that a crack about an inch wide remained. He could hear a few soft clanks and bangs inside. Someone was moving things around in there. He changed direction a few degrees, and walked the last few steps quietly. He took a position next to the small side window, away from what little moonlight was left. He stood and listened.

  “What to do, what to do?” a soft voice almost whispered, “we are so very far from home.”

  “Don’t worry,” another voice answered, “we will find a way. In fact, help is now on the way, I can feel it.”

  As Kelly moved, to better his position, he didn’t notice the old shovel and rake that had been hung on a couple of rusty nails along side the window. The shovel didn’t make much noise as it fell from its perch and landed in the tall
grass, but he figured it was enough to blow his cover. Thinking on his feet, he ran to a spot about twenty feet in front of the door and called inside, “Will, are you in there?”

  Kelly could hear what he thought were muffled voices, some shuffling and then another soft thud. “Yeah,” the voice paused, “yeah, I’m in here.” Will then said, nervously, “C’mon in and grab one of these chutes.”

  Kelly pulled the door open slowly. He could see Will standing inside, his hand just coming out of his pocket. He was afraid that hand would be full of the missing gun. It was empty. Will’s eyes were open wide, with white showing all the way around his pupils.

  Kelly really didn’t want to be this far away from the trailer, in this little dark shed, with a man he thought might be going off the deep end. He grabbed the chute nearest the door, and, as Will turned to grab two more, he took a quick look around; there was no one else there, as far as he could tell. ‘If there is another person in here,’ he thought, ‘he’s got to be invisible, or very small.’ At this point, he thought it better not to ask Will questions. He made a quick about-face and moved away from the door. As he started for the trailer, he looked back over his shoulder. The doorway was filled with blackness. How many times, he thought, had he seen that before. He stopped. He would wait for Will. He didn’t want him walking behind.

  As they made their way around the end of the trailer, the porch light struck Will’s face. Kelly thought it odd that Will now looked like the perfectly normal guy he had met earlier.

  They could tell by the voices that the others had moved inside. “Let’s leave these out here,” Will said, dropping his chutes at the foot of the steps. Kelly tossed his alongside and followed Will up under the light cone.

  ***

  The four men sat at their stations, in the same positions Kelly remembered them from earlier that night. Matson turned, “Ah, Will, there you are. Did you get the chutes?”

  “Yeah, they’re just outside.”