Disclosing the Secret

by Vincent Amato

Never being woken up this late, the curious boy slid off his bed. He found his robe and shuffled behind his father toward the kitchen, eager to investigate what surprise would be important enough to get him out of bed in the middle of the night.

  The kitchen within the Marcel household at 1300 West Seventh Street was located at the rear of the house. Swing doors separated it from the adjoining dining room. The sink and fridge were placed on one side with white cupboards on the other; gold and white lino covered the floor, which led to the house’s rear entrance. The father usually entered the house through the rear door, which the family left open during the summer nights to let the cooler fresh breeze flow through the house.

  As Jesse Jr. approached the dimly lit kitchen he could hear that his mother was also awake. His curiosity was spiked by his father’s excitement. What was all the commotion about? As he entered the kitchen, the boy’s eyes immediately fell to the cardboard box sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor. The box measured two feet by two feet with most of its contents being delicately laid out across the surrounding floor.

  His father felt a tingle of anticipation as he watched his son’s eyes dart across the exotic objects.

  Beaming, he could no longer hold onto the excitement he had for his boy. “Jess, something extraterritorial has happened.”

  Jess looked up as his father as he crouched down beside him.

  Motioning to the floor, he said in soft tones, “These are parts from a real life extraterrestrial spaceship. It traveled a long way to get here. So these bits and pieces were made a long, long, long way away. Somewhere no person has ever seen!”

  The boy’s eyebrows furrowed; he didn’t understand the terms “extraterrestrial”, “spaceship”, or even why his father was so excited about something being made a long way away. Nonetheless, he knew from his father’s enthusiasm that it was something special. Furthermore, he was completely content just to have his father home, be out of bed so late, and see the mess his father had made on their kitchen floor.

  Wide eyed, he looked over the fragments spread out before him. There were what looked like broken pieces of dark wooden brownish plastic that had jagged edges. It felt smooth to touch, with no wrinkles or depressions. The biggest piece his father had collected covered both of Jess’s hands when he held it flat from underneath.

  Jess then reached for a piece of what looked like ordinary aluminum wrap his mother used in the kitchen – there was more of it than any of the types of material on the floor. As he picked it up it felt like the foil didn’t have any weight; it was even lighter than a small feather. It was also stronger than any aluminum wrap he knew, as the foil didn’t bend or fold when lifted but remained as stiff as cardboard although it was thinner than a stand of hair.

  “This one looks like a little I-beam, doesn’t it, Jess?”

  His father then handed him a metallic beam that was sticking out of the box. Jess now noticed there were a few of these shiny objects; the one he held was around the same length as a ruler he would use in school. Turning it on its end, Jess recognized that its cross-section did in fact look like the letter “I”.

  Jess gave a wide smile. “Yeah, it does!”

  The small “I” was half an inch tall and three-eighths of an inch wide. Its top and bottom flanges had a ridge along the beam’s lengths, as if its cross-sectional shape was made from two very flat triangles pointing in opposite directions attached to the thin vertical. It too felt as light as a feather.

  As he turned it, the light caught what appeared to be writing along the inside surface. Jess thought the markings looked more like little pictures than writing. Running his finger along the markings, he found they weren’t printed or engraved; instead the markings were raised and were only on one side.

  The color was fascinating, and was like nothing he had ever seen before. As he rotated the small I-beam in the light, he watched as a purplish-violet hue danced up and down the length of its reflective metallic gray surface.

  His father’s eyes twinkled. “Jess, one day you’ll understand the importance of all this. And one day, many years from now, when you grow up and have a family of your own, you will remember this night and tell your children about it.”

  CHAPTER 10

  8th July, 1947

  9:50 am

  The sunburnt Plains of San Agustin is a vast flat region of western New Mexico nestled between the Tularosa, Black, and Datil Mountains. At 7000 feet above sea level, the snub nose of the military green Chrysler Plymouth effortlessly shoved the thin dry air out of its way as it hurtled toward its remote destination south-west of Magdalena, 150 miles west of the Foster Ranch.

  A single white pentangle star branded the front doors of the speeding vehicle. It led a small convoy across the barren expanse. Trailing in the dusty wake of the Plymouth was a similarly colored jeep fitted with long range communication equipment. Two long low frequency antennae extending from its rear whipped in the wind as its operator fought to speak over the background roar into his receiver.

  Behind the communications jeep followed two troop transport trucks carrying armed MP officers in khaki uniforms. Crammed under the transport’s wagon-type roof, they sat shoulder to shoulder, holding their rifles upright between their knees.

  “Sir, we’re approaching the crash site now. According to the aerial photos, it should be dead ahead.” Captain Armstrong heard his Lieutenant’s confirmation from the rear seat of the Chrysler.

  The redheaded captain didn’t respond. He was fixated on the approaching hillside and rocky outcrops, and could feel himself overcome by a profound sense of apprehension and uncertainty.

  Armstrong was not a man who could be easily rattled. He was a product of World War II hardening, and his European campaigns had dragged him through the front lines in France and Poland against the Nazi occupation. But now, as he approached his new mission coordinates, all the unthinkable gore and atrocities he had carried out under orders for the allied effort against Hitler’s regime were a distant memory.

  Within the last few hours since his mission briefing, everything he thought he knew about life and the dark side of the world had been turned on its head. Along with his detachment of troops, Armstrong and his men were among the very few who were now living in a new and very different reality.

  During their mission briefing they had learned that mankind’s place at the apex of the evolutionary ladder was suddenly now in question.

  The upper echelon commanding the armed forces had initially suspected that the often reported sightings of “flying disks” were an advanced form of Soviet aircraft, or types of missiles, developed by captured Nazi scientists at the end of the war.

  However, Armstrong and his unit learned that it had been confirmed that there were crafts other than those made by the Soviets or Chinese flying through American skies. The recent retrieval of crash debris made of super-light, super-strong materials of unknown composition indicated the existence of an advanced technology beyond anything that America, or its enemies, had in its possession. More alarming was the discovery of several small non-humans among the wreckage captured by the aerial reconnaissance photographs. The images revealed who or what may be piloting these vehicles, which were immeasurably superior to anything manufactured on earth. And though they knew of one craft that had crashed, the few debris samples that the military had assessed suggested the unconventional aircraft was a product of a civilization with a far greater knowledge of science and technology.

  With the development of the words first atomic weapons, the United States may have staked their claim as the globe’s leading superpower, but now there was material proof that a civilization from elsewhere was technologically superior.

  The president of the United States now faced an impossible decision. Was he to stand before the masses and inform the country that there are in fact unexplained vehicles, from unknown origins, flying through American skies? Should the president also inform the public that the world’s greatest air force may be powerl
ess to challenge these unknown crafts’ activities in any way?

  It had been decided at the highest levels of government that such an admission of powerlessness against a threat to national security would cast into question the total sum of the combined American armed forces. A loss of faith in a government by its people of such magnitude was an equal, if not greater, threat to national security.

  By keeping all knowledge of this amazing yet terrifying discovery secret, the government would not only buy themselves time to study these others to learn about their intentions and capabilities, but it could postpone the day when the public would learn that mankind’s place in the universe may not be as secure as they thought.

  Armstrong’s detachment thus received orders to lock down the crash site, retrieve the crashed vehicle and ensure containment of any and all knowledge of its existence. They were to use terminal force if challenged by anyone. The captain was in command of, to his knowledge, the US military’s first Extraterrestrial Recovery and Disposal Unit.

  If necessary, use terminal force if challenged by anyone.

  The orders spoken by his superior ricocheted around his mind. The use of the word “anyone” had meant just that – the general public.

  In the past the captain had never hesitated to spill blood in the line of duty. Although his men knew him for being a hard man, Armstrong sensed that they would need reassurance that their mission orders were not to be questioned. Even if he trembled with uncertainty about his superior’s orders to lead his unit to exert lethal force on American citizens, he could never show it.

  “Well, I’d be damned!” the lieutenant choked out from the back seat, staring in disbelief at the unearthly object now appearing before them in full view. They were off-road, and had been bouncing alongside a dried out riverbed that cut through the valley toward the small rocky hillside captured in reconnaissance photographs.

  When Armstrong saw it emerge from behind a row of trees they were passing, all he could do was stare. He was speechless. Embedded in the hillside was a metallic silver disk. Although he’d already seen the unknown object in photographs, he felt an unexpected wonder ripple through him as he gazed on it with his own eyes.

  It’s real, Armstrong confirmed to himself.

  From the photographs he had estimated its diameter to measure 50 feet across tip to tip, which he could now confirm, having seen it again from a different angle. From ground level he was also able to estimate the height of its domed center, which looked as if it measured 10 feet from the apex of its dome to its flatter underside. He could also see that the circular craft had rammed through several trees before it lodged itself into the hillside, resting on another tree that held it at an angle. It had dug a trench through the dry riverbed, leaving a parallel line of scorched shrubbery extending from some point of impact out of view to the east. The length of blackened trench, which disappeared past an adjacent hillside, gave Armstrong the distinct impression that the object must have hit the ground travelling at a blisteringly high velocity.

  When the captain’s African-American driver slammed on the brakes, Armstrong flung his door open. He found himself immediately standing in front of the halted convoy to survey the crash site he was ordered to lock down, civilians included.

  The captain counted 12 people of various ages surrounding the unknown vehicle, which was seven more than had been previously photographed.

  They’re multiplying!

  He felt a surge of adrenalin when he realized that the civilian population was not the only variable that had since changed. Under the silver disk, shaded from the midday sun, were four beings: two were dead; the third looked like it was seriously hurt or dying, and a fourth looked as if it was uninjured. The creatures looked roughly 4 feet tall, had gray, dolphin-like skin and heads that seemed disproportionately large for their bodies.

  By human standards anyway, the captain thought.

  Their eyes were jet-black and oddly almond-shaped. Huddled in the disk’s shadow, the injured creature seemed to be having difficulty breathing, as it held itself like a person would with broken ribs. The fourth creature, looking uninjured by the ordeal, was sitting next to the third.

  He watched in astonishment as some of the swarming civilians attempted to communicate with the fourth creature. A small boy, who looked as though he couldn’t be older than 10, was summoning the courage to take a step forward while three of the adults attempted to communicate with it in different languages – German, Spanish as well as sign language. The boy inched toward the creature slowly, expecting the gray visitor to suddenly react. But the creature remained still. It calmly looked over in the boy’s direction as the human slowly moved closer, as if acknowledging the boy.

  The boy’s fear seemed to subside, and he showed a growing confidence as he edged closer. Armstrong couldn’t fathom how the boy could suddenly feel more at ease with the unearthly visitor. Perhaps, with some higher level of perception, the visitor understood that the intentions of the boy and his family were non-hostile. Was it also with that same level of perception, usually out of reach of most humans, that the boy could sense he had nothing to fear from the visitors?

  Behind the captain his soldiers were spilling out of the troop transport, amassing in formation under the lieutenant’s direction.

  He heard the lieutenant’s footsteps approach. “Sir, the men are ready.”

  Captain Armstrong heaved an ominous sigh and turned to meet eyes with his second-in-command. Barely audible, his words cut through the still air, “Round them up. All of them.”

  “Understood.”

  The lieutenant’s follow-on command to the soldiers dissolved the amassed military formation into a chaotic horde that charged the short remaining distance to the crash site. Within moments they had stormed the civilians to completely surround the crashed disk, startling the adults and scaring the younger civilians in the process.

  With his curiosity peeking, the captain calmly walked through the frantic scene and moved into the shadow of the silver disk. From his vantage point he could now see that a rip had opened up all the way down one side, leaving a three foot-wide gap at the disk’s edge. It looked like as if a wedge had been cut out, or the disk had split down one side on impact, the force wrenching the two sides of the split apart to form the opening.

  The metal along the edge of the rip was jagged. Underneath was what looked like a second hull that mirrored the shape of the polished external hull. Beyond those two layers the captain spotted what looked like bundles of fine thread like material bunched together, the way cables and wires were bunched together in a conventional aircraft. There was also a distinct smell now filling his nostrils – a strange mix of alcohol, acetone and ozone.

  Looking closely at one of the bundles dangling out of the ripped opening, he noticed that the ends of the fine threads were illuminated. They glowed in various intensities of crimson red and brilliant white, with some flashing on and off, as the bundle swayed in the light breeze.

  Armstrong tried to peer deeper inside the craft, his eyes following the bundled threads up to the rows of components they were attached to. There was no way of distinguishing the functions of the brown wood-like components that were shaped like cubes. Squinting, the captain tried to interpret the pinkish-violet inscriptions immaculately printed across each cube. To the captain, the closest thing it resembled was Egyptian hieroglyphics.

  No chance.

  It was at that moment that he noticed the same kind of inscriptions printed along the sides of the struts and structural beams that were also visible.

  Although it was a dry, hot day, the captain was surprised that close to the craft he felt cool. When he reached up to brush his fingers across its flawlessly polished surface it was icy cold.

  Feels like it just came out of a giant freezer!

  He glanced at one of the dead aliens; it lay motionless close to the craft. Clearly it too had sought shelter from the scorching sun. Armstrong was astonished to see its six-fingered han
d and that its ears were just tiny indentations. Its ripped clothing seemed to be a one-piece outfit; gray in color, it didn’t have any buttons, zippers or a belt. He could also see that a very deep gash ran the length of its short gray leg. Curiosity got the better of him, and he found himself bending down to touch the deceased being; it too was ice cold.

  Although he wasn’t yet concerned, he could feel the tension between the civilians and his troops escalating. The curious gathering was protesting about being rounded up and ushered away from the craft. They were now huddled in three distinct groups: a family group of two men and three boys, a professor accompanying five college students, and a man on his own who identified himself as a civil engineer.

  Turning his attention to the fourth entity, the captain moved toward the small creature. Its uniform was torn in a couple spots, but seemed to be unscathed. It was then that Captain Armstrong was to have the most frightening, soul-chilling experience of his life.

  As Armstrong moved closer, the creature turned to lock eyes with him, penetrating the captain’s soul with its large black eyes, which radiated a frightening telepathic ability. Armstrong could sense an external presence in his own mind; it knew his thoughts. It felt as if the creature was in Armstrong’s head, as if the creature was doing Armstrong’s thinking for him. The captain felt the mental sensations of being in the spacecraft, the anguish of falling and tumbling end-over-end out of control. He felt its fear, he felt its peril, and its isolation. He relived the crash as if he were there.

  More frightening still, the communication flowed both ways – the small pale being knew the captain’s intentions as well as the intentions of the military once they had it in captivity. The creature knew it was going to die. In that second, on a higher level of perception, the captain was already living the visceral terror that was to come for the condemned visitor.

  *

  Behind the captain, as if unsurprised by the unearthly appearance of the disk-shaped craft, the soldiers pushed and shoved the family of five, along with the others, into tight groups away from the fallen craft. They hadn’t stared at it in awe, or stood motionless gazing in bewilderment as had the young boy and his family.