The Children of Roswell (Book One) The Swift Chronicle

by Alan James

  Brandt and Preston walked to the plane with the other three suits and the Colonel’s aide close on their heels. Securing the area had been their first priority, so this was their first good look at it. Brandt ran his hands down the leading edge of the wing as he walked toward the fuselage. The other three suits spread themselves around and underneath, none of them able to keep their hands off of the smooth, shiny chrome.

  Not to be outdone, Preston pointed his aide toward the ladder. They set it in position and Preston was up on the wing before Brandt could stop him. Brandt snapped his fingers and gave a quick nod of his head, and like trained dogs, the three suits were on the wing with the Colonel.

  “Preston,” Brandt bellowed, as he made his way up the ladder, “I have been trying to be as nice about this as possible. You know, you and your men are here for security reasons only. You know that,” he reiterated. “You don’t work with this stuff in Nevada, and you aren’t going to work with it here.”

  As Preston took a step in Brandt’s direction, he heard from behind, the unmistakable sound of three Army M1911 model Colts; their slides slamming home a forty-five caliber ACP round in each chamber. He stopped, not looking to his rear, “What are you going to do Brandt, shoot me?” he paused, “how’s that going to look?”

  Brandt made a slight movement with his eyes and Preston suddenly felt one of the Colts at the back of his head. “It’s going to look any way I make it look,” he said as he stepped forward into Preston’s face. “Remember who you are dealing with here,” he said sternly, then turning and taking a few steps away, not looking at Preston, he lamented, “Damn it, I’ve always known it was a mistake … letting you military types in on the Nevada thing. I told them from the beginning, we should take the time to build our own security force.” He hung his head for a second, then turned back, “Look around,” he swept with his hand. Preston saw that he was now covered by Harris and his five man team and he could hear the four H-thirteens moving closer. He looked up over his shoulder to see each of the small choppers sitting sideways, above and behind him, with a black fatigued figure, belted and hanging half out the side. He was staring down the barrels of four Thompsons, each loaded with the same forty-five ACP round that was now pointed at the back of his head.

  “Harris,” Brandt barked, “get on the horn. Tell Nevada to let the Director know that I’m having a problem with my military escort.”

  “No, wait … that won’t be necessary,” Preston begged with as much dignity as he could muster, “we’ll do it your way.”

  Still talking to Harris, Brandt ordered, with the slightest of smiles, “Escort Colonel Preston and all of his men to the choppers. I am sure that the Colonel will tell his men to comply. Get them on board along with all of the bodies. Three aircraft should be plenty, and make sure they’re not taking anything but their weapons with them. I want you to round up all the paperwork and tape reels that his men were collecting and put it my chopper,” he turned to stare again at Preston, “then tell the pilots to take them all back to Nevada.”

  “Yes Sir,” Harris said smartly, as he waited for the Colonel to back down the ladder.

  “Oh, and Harris,” Brandt said remembering, “then tell HQ that my guess is this little plane, at first glance, is going to weigh in at around three ton, or a little less.” Brandt was familiar with the weight and size of the disc at the Nevada facility. He continued, “One of our heavy lift Shawnees should be fine for transport. Tell them to have one on standby and I’ll confirm as soon as I know for certain.”

  ***

  Brandt watched from atop the wing as the blades on the big Sikorsky’s began coming up to speed. As the last one took off it blew Kelly’s tumbleweed up over the top of the little pump house. He turned from the dust and watched as the three suits began exploring the canopy area. On their knees, they moved their hands over the clear glass and fairing area between the wing and fuselage. It wasn’t long before one of them touched that spot that Matson had found earlier. Feeling his fingers moving into the skin, he pulled back quickly.

  “What was that,” Brandt wanted to know.

  “Look, here Sir, the skin is, sort of … soft.”

  Brandt waved the man aside and kneeled. He placed his hand on the spot and applied pressure. He jumped as the line formed along the front of the canopy. They watched in amazement as, like before, the canopy parted and slid back briskly to a full open position. The disc he was familiar with in Nevada had never done anything like this.

  He stood and nodded to the man on the other side of the cockpit while pointing at the pilot’s seat. The man, now having permission, quickly stepped inside and then slowly lowered himself into position.

  Brandt took a step back and surveyed the fuselage.

  “This looks like it might have been a Sabre at one time. Have you had time in a Sabre,” he asked the man.

  “No Sir,” he said with a smile, “I was just entering flight school when I got the offer to volunteer for this wonderful organization,” he smiled. “I got a couple hours in an old Bird Dog, that’s about it.”

  As Brandt cast eyes on the other two, they both shook their heads in the negative. “OK,” he said, looking back down at the man seated inside, “climb out. Harris has been in jets. I’ll have him take a look.”

  As the man began pushing himself out of the seat, the canopy, without warning, closed with a gruesome thud against his back, driving the air from his lungs. As it crushed him against the forward half of the glass, the others could hear his ribs cracking. He was unable to inhale. He hung there, gasping for air.. The canopy hadn’t cut him in half, but instead, molded itself around him.

  Brandt grabbed with his fingernails for the crack between the two pieces of canopy, but it was no use, it was gone.

  “Do something!”, he yelled, looking at the others. He pounded on the glass. “Get me something to break this canopy.”

  “Sir,” Harris said, jumping up onto the wing, “you won’t break that. We don’t have a weapon on site that’ll make a dent in it. Especially when you consider it’s probably made from the same stuff the skin is.”

  “We carry a couple of M-nines in my chopper, don’t we?”

  “Well, yes Sir, we’ve got an M-nine, but … that’ll take out the cockpit and half the plane with it, Sir.”

  It seemed Brandt had a human-side in him after all, at least where his men were concerned. He went to his knees again, frantically searching for the soft spot below the canopy. Finding it, he drove his fingers into the recess. The glass separated and slid back once again. The dead man crumpled back into the seat, bleeding from the mouth and ears. Brandt started to reach for him, but one of the others grabbed him by the arm, “Sir, what if it closes again?”

  They stood in silence, staring at the man, who just seconds before, had been known as a colleague.

  “Harris, round up one of the repelling cables. We’ll throw a noose over him and pull him out. We can’t leave him in there.”

  ***

  Twenty minutes earlier:

  “By the commotion, I’d say they’ve found Perkins body,” Matson said, squinting for better focus.

  “Yeah, and Parker’s too … looks like they just pulled him out from under the porch.” Kelly took a deep breath and rested his chin on the window sill to steady himself. “Looks to me like the Colonel and that one suit don’t get along too well.”

  “The guys in the suits and the soldiers in the black fatigues have got to be CIA,” Matson offered.

  “That might work in our favor. I’m sure they don’t enjoy taking orders from one another. A little in-fighting could give us an edge.”

  “Look Kelly, they’re up on the plane.”

  “Yeah,” Kelly said abruptly, then suddenly, something else was on his mind. As Matson and the doctor continued watching, he found his hand at his breast pocket again, pushing the little piece of chrome hard against his heart. How warm it felt. As he reached i
nside his pocket the warmth increased. A sensation of well being seemed to flood over him. He removed the piece of metal from his pocket and held it between his hands. As his vision began to blur, he started to realize he was no longer in the hangar.

  “Kelly!” “Kelly,” the doctor said, shaking Kelly hard by the shoulder. Kelly’s hands separated and he dropped the disc piece to the floor.

  He stared for a moment, looking at nothing in particular, then, “What?”

  “It looked like you went catatonic on us,” said Forest. “Are you OK?”

  “I’m fine … I think.” He paused. “How long was I out?”

  “By the time we noticed, maybe four or five minutes, maybe a little longer.”

  Kelly looked down at the chrome piece, shining back at him from the floor, “That’s the same thing that was happening to Will.”

  “Hey, look guys,” said Matson, “am I seeing this right? It looks to me like the suits are holding guns on the brass.”

  “That’s what it looks like to me Ken,” said Forest, retaking his position at the window, “and look at the little choppers, they’re moving in to cover.”

  They watched Brandt giving orders. They watched as Harris walked the Colonel and the green fatigues to the line of choppers, put them in, and sent them on their way.

  Kelly, now coming back to his senses, said, “Hey, I told you, they started at each others throats, and cut the odds against us in half.”

  “Yeah, but there’s still twenty-two of them, and those guys in black look tougher than the rest of them combined.”

  “Look Kelly, the suits on the plane are messing around the cockpit area. What happens if they get inside?”

  Kelly thought for a moment, then he reached down and picked up the piece of chrome. “Doc, I’m gonna need your help.” He sat cross legged on the floor with his back to the window, and with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand he began massaging the cut on the heel of his right thumb. Scraping away the dried blood with a fingernail, he was able to re-open the wound,

  “Looks like they’ve got the canopy open,” Matson said, not taking his eyes from the window.

  Holding the piece of metal up for the doctor to see, Kelly said, “I’m going to shove this into the cut in my hand. I want you to count the time on your watch. Give me five minutes, then pull it out.”

  Kelly could see the doctor was about to waste time asking a question. “We don’t have time Doc. I’ll explain later. Remember, five minutes.”

  Kelly gritted his teeth, spread his palm as wide as possible to open the cut, and slid the chrome piece in. He pinched the wound and held it closed until he …,

  ***

  Kelly’s brother once again stood before him; the rose colored sky with the same two red and dying suns overhead. “Help me brother,” the vision in front of him cried, “If they take me, you will never find me.” His brother raised an arm, reaching, ‘looking so helpless,’ Kelly thought.

  “They’re here brother … they’re here, now … help me,” he pleaded.

  Kelly felt as if his heart were tearing in two. He began to cry, then to sob. A darkness: full of fear; and then hatred, flowed over him. Suddenly, his emotions turned to rage as a man walked up behind his brother. He was a tall, burly, menacing, brute of a creature. The man took his brother by the arm and turned to lead him away. Kelly fought to maintain control; his face flushed with heat. The sky beyond them began to darken and swallow the two men as the stranger pulled his brother along. With all the strength he could muster, Kelly lunged toward the man, not striking him a blow, but instead, pulling from deep within himself, a force he had never felt before. He guided this force directly at this monster; this black monster stealing his brother. The monster spun to look directly at Kelly; its mouth open wide; its eyes glaring in disbelief. It grabbed its chest as the canopy crushed it.

  ***

  Kelly felt the sharp pain in his hand as the doctor wrapped it with the cleanest rag he could find. He raised his head to look at the blurry figures in front of him. Again he could taste the salt from his tears. As he reached to wipe his cheeks the doctor asked, “How you feelin’ Son?”

  Even while sitting, Kelly needed to steady himself. He put a hand to Forest’s chest to keep from falling forward onto his face. The doctor pushed him back against the hangar wall, held his chin up and checked his eyes.

  “No Doc,” he said, grabbing Forest’s hand from his face, “I gotta keep my head down … I’m gonna be sick.” He leaned forward as the doctor moved out of the way, and, having put nothing in his stomach for the last twelve hours, proceeded to dry heave on all fours. He finally turned his face to the side and rested it on the cool cement hangar floor.

  They gave him a few minutes to gather himself, then Matson kneeled beside him. “Feelin’ any better?” he asked. Kelly didn’t answer.

  “He’s sleeping,” said Cory, “even I can tell that. I heard his breathing go shallow.”

  They rolled him onto his side, and after Forest checked the hand wound another time, they laid Cory’s blanket over him.

  “Let’s let him rest,” Matson said, turning to look out the window again, “we can wake him later if we need to. It looks like those guys are going to be busy for awhile. The canopy closed on one of their men.”

  Kelly lay on the hangar floor, his dreams filled with the vision of his brother … and a rose colored sky.

  A PLAN IN MOTION

  “Kelly,” Matson shook him gently, “Kelly, wake up Kelly. They’re starting to move, over on the other side.”

  Kelly pulled the blanket from his shoulders and sat up slowly. There were three men in this place with him. They looked somewhat familiar. They squatted around him and he stared at each one in turn. Forest recognized the lost look in Kelly’s eyes, “Its Doc, and Matson, and Cory,” he said slowly, pointing to the others.

  As the faces grew more familiar, Kelly rose to his knees and looked out the window. Suddenly realizing that the sun was going down in the west, he asked, “Hey, what in hell happened to the day?” He turned to look out the east facing windows. “The sun was just over the horizon … there,” he pointed, “just a minute ago.”

  As Kelly tried to stand, Forest and Matson each took hold of his arms until he steadied himself.

  “You’ve slept the entire day away Son,” Forest told him.

  Kelly thought for a moment, then, he put his hand over his heart. Someone had put the little piece of disc back in his pocket, ‘where it belongs,’ he suddenly thought.

  “The whole day huh?” he asked.

  “Yeah, like a baby,” Cory responded.

  “Must be this disc skin,” he said pulling the piece from his pocket. “Every time I mess with it, I lose track of a piece of time.”

  “Look Kelly,” Matson said, more forcefully now that he seemed fully awake, “it looks like we might get company before too long. We watched as they spent the better part of the morning trying to extricate one of the suits from the plane. He was crushed when the canopy closed on him. That six man squad in the black fatigues cleared the grounds all the way down to the shed near the end of the runway, and even the first few rows of mothballed aircraft beyond the fence. They’ve got nothing left to do but come this way.”

  “The suit, the one in the plane … did they get him out?”

  “Yeah, eventually. They were havin’ a hell of a time though. It looked, from here, like the canopy kept trying to close on ‘em.”

  Kelly put the little piece of chrome to his chin and scraped it along his growing stubble. He slid it back into his shirt pocket, then, looking out the window, “This is actually gonna work out better, now that it’s getting dark. Cory,” he said, turning to Brickman, “how’d you like to be a hero?”

  Cory looked at Matson, pleading with his eyes. He had no idea how to answer the question.

  “What have you got in mind?” Matson asked in Cory’s stead. “You have to remem
ber,” he said in a fatherly tone, “these guys belong to me. I’m responsible.”

  “I know Ken, but, I’ve got two things to do at once. I’m gonna need some help.”

  “What about one of us then,” he nodded toward the doctor.

  “Look, I figure, even in the shape Cory’s in, he can still run the hundred, twice as fast as either of you. He’s the best choice.”

  “And you? What are you going to do?”

  Kelly looked at Matson, trying to make light of his answer, “Well hell, I’m gonna surrender.”

  ***

  They watched as long as the fading light allowed. The choppers hadn’t taken off yet, but Kelly knew it wouldn’t be long. Matson headed for the north side of the hangar. They opened a window, and per Kelly’s instructions, began throwing out assorted empty packing crates and pallets. They were far enough from the trailer that the ruckus wouldn’t be heard, still, Matson insisted on tossing each piece so it didn’t land on the previous.

  “OK,” Matson called across the hangar when they had finished, “we’re ready.”

  “Go ahead then,” Kelly answered, “stack ‘em like I told you. Climb under ‘em and hunker down, and for heaven’s sake, stay hunkered. This could take awhile and I don’t want you showin’ yourselves beforehand.”

  Matson and the doctor climbed through the window. They stacked the various pieces randomly against the hangar, leaving a small crawl space against the wall. They backed in on their bellies, each from the opposite end, pulling one last box in position to close off their end.

  “You OK Frank?” Matson asked in a whisper.”

  “I’m fine Ken. I guess I’m a little scared … but I’m fine.”

  ***

  Kelly explained to Cory about the pallets he had leaned against the hangar, and the piggin’ wire attached to the two-by-four. “It’s the bare one,” he told him. “The two hooked to the starter button are insulated. It’s gonna be dark, so you’ll have to check by feel. You can handle that, right?”

  “Sure, I got it. I wait for them guys to start searching the car and the loft. I pull the piggin’ wire. I count to ten nice and slow, then touch the other two wires together and hold ‘em together, until all hell breaks loose … then I run for the trailer and I don’t stop runnin’ ‘till I get there … right?”