by A. D. Winch
Ursula smiled, "Okay."
Granddad Benjamin found a small table, placed it next to the bed and set up the pieces. Andrea did the same next door.
The children played chess without ever seeing each other's board or with any verbal communication. When Ursula made a move, she focused on it and the new board position. Eric would tell this to Andrea, who would adjust his board accordingly.
The children played a number of games, and Ursula won each one. Eric blamed his defeats on the situation he had to endure, and for once his excuse was valid.
They finished playing when the last bag of blood was half-empty. A little later and the blood transfusions were over. Both children were advised to relax once the needles had been removed, but Ursula was restless. She did feel different, not hugely but enough to notice. She felt fresher and had more energy. Mémé told her it was from lying down all day, but Ursula did not agree and bounced into Eric's room.
Eric's eyes were shut, and he looked very pale. The sun tan that had browned his skin seemed to have vanished, and his face was white.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"I'll be fine once everything has gone."
Ursula looked around the room. All the blood, tubes and needles had already been removed, and Eric was laying there alone.
"They have gone," she told him.
Eric opened his eyes. Ursula was standing beside the bed, and Mémé and Granddad Benjamin had appeared at the doorway. A sense of relief came over him, and he sat up gingerly.
"You need some sun," Mémé told him. "Ursula, Jerome, help Eric downstairs."
By the time they had reached the terrace, Eric was feeling considerably better. He felt a little weak but not worryingly so. It helped that he was out of his room and away from the location of his bad experience.
"It's just the blood and needles," he said to no one in particular. "I'll be fine."
"How about a glass to celebrate?" Johan asked, entering the yard with a pink bottle and some glasses.
"They have new blood! You are not going to poison it straight away with Rosé wine," Alexander scolded. "You encourage them to do a bucket list, you put their lives in danger by sky-diving and now this! What's next?"
Johan looked hurt. "It is rose syrup," he explained, "and full of sugar. I made it to help them recover."
Alexander looked sheepish, apologised, and walked away.
The children appreciated the sweet drink, and Eric soon felt as good as new.
Over the course of that evening, Andrea and Alexander monitored the children's readings but every result indicated that the new-old blood had had no ill effects. Even so, the children were placed in a room together that night. Andrea watched them as they slept and continued to monitor their vital signs.
By morning, she concluded that the transfusions had been successful and announced that there was no longer any reason to stay in Parga. Later that afternoon, Ursula sent a message to Jason via the Morocco forum. She explained that for the next few weeks, they would probably be out of contact. It had been difficult to write, but in the end, she had decided upon Going on a trail in Morocco for a few weeks possibly. There will be no internet connections. Will let you know how it went when I return.
After hitting send, she looked out of the window at the beach. There were not many people around, and those who were out were locals as the vast majority of the tourists had already left.
A large, dirty campervan drove down the road next to the bay. There were dents above the right wheel and a cloud of exhaust exploded out the back. The locals walking past shook their head in disgust and moved away quickly. It was shattering the peace, and the pollution was not welcome. Ursula watched as the campervan approached and parked next to the hotel. She looked down and saw Andrea getting out of the driver's door.
"It looks like Andrea has found a way to get us back to Prague," Ursula shouted from her room.
Everyone went outside to look at their new vehicle. There was a vague sense of excitement to be leaving and going somewhere else. Ursula was last and, after walking around the campervan, opened the rear door and stepped into the living area. A map of eastern and central Europe had been stuck inside the door, and a wiggly line had been drawn from Parga to Prague. The journey would take them from Greece, through Macedonia, into Serbia, across the border into Hungary, and then Slovakia before finally reaching the Czech Republic.
Next to the map, an itinerary had been neatly written with times and destinations. According to this list the entire journey would take eighteen hours and thirty-nine minutes of driving, but Andrea had planned stops on the way. Ursula looked at the relatively spacious interior and wondered how cramped it would be with six or seven people.
She stepped back outside and looked up at her window. Tonight she would really appreciate the privacy of her own room.
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***
Chapter 8 – Alien History
After nine hours driving, the campervan had reached northern Serbia. The sun had set, and dark fields stretched out on both sides of the motorway. Most cars overtook them, and soon disappeared into the distance. The novelty of a road trip had long since worn off for the travelers and boredom had set in.
Granddad Benjamin was happily snoozing. Mémé had returned to her knitting. Alexander had told Andrea that he would drive for a while, and Ursula was reading. Only Johan and Eric were looking out of the windows. They were both gazing up at the clear sky and the visible stars.
"Did you believe in UFOs, Johan?" Eric asked and then corrected himself hurriedly, "I mean before you actually saw one."
Johan faced him. "Before I actually saw one?" He mulled over Eric's question. "No. It was not something I had ever even thought about. I was content to know about what I considered to be real things – physics and physiology. I studied these and never felt any desire to study other areas. I thought UFOs were science fiction, and I did not care for fiction.
"Even if I had been interested, it would have been difficult to find out any information. We didn't have the internet, and we could only read books in the libraries. At the time, I don't remember seeing any books on aliens or UFOs that were not science fiction.
"The world has changed. Today, anyone can find out about anything. The leaps in learning and availability of knowledge, since I was a student, are extraordinary. At the time, I never knew about astrophysics or quantum theory or UFOs. If I had had an interest in any of these, there was not much I could do. In today's world, I can go online and become an expert in a few hours.
"For me flying saucers were man-made inventions. Three months before the end of the war, I had helped Schauberger build one in Czechoslovakia and launched it. It had flown high up into the clouds using liquid vortex propulsion. It was physics. Our flying saucer did not come from another world, but the technology was so revolutionary that anyone who saw it may have said it was a UFO.
"These experiments brought me to America and changed my opinions forever."
The campervan drove over a bump on the motorway and bounced everyone in the back. Eric barely noticed. He was staring at Johan in awe and desperate to hear more.
"So when it happened? When you saw one? What did you think?"
Johan's face fell, "Honestly, Eric, all I thought about were my friends and colleagues. I saw an Unidentified Flying Object when we were testing our flying disc for the Americans at Roswell. It was July nineteen forty-seven, but you probably know this already. There had been some talk about aliens and UFOs as we built it and Archie, in particular, kept saying people would think our craft was one also. After what I had already achieved in Czechoslovakia, I did not disagree."
Johan coughed a little and discretely wiped his mouth with a handkerchief.
"For me, the flying disc was simply a machine. There were four of us who had built it, but Archie and Ted had agreed to pilot the maiden flight. It is hard to believe now that something other than a helicopter or an aeroplane could be in the sky, yet our flying d
isc worked. The disc shot into the air quicker than any vehicle available at that time, but then it was hit by the dart – a real UFO."
Johan's head dropped. The memories were painful to this day, and he could still hear Archie exclaiming, "Oh my God! What is..."
He stopped talking and listened to the sounds from the campervan as he was brought back to the present. Jerome was snoring lightly. Mémé's knitting needles clicked, and the wheels hummed on the tarmac.
"Are you okay?" Eric asked.
"Yes. Yes." Johan coughed. "Old memories, nothing more."
"I've experienced them too," Eric told him.
Johan gave him a disbelieving look. "You weren't there, Eric."
"I know that I wasn't there but when they took me to see that alien, if that's what it was, I could see its memories. I saw what you are talking about. I was in a craft over an old town. It was then over the desert, and then I saw the sun reflect off something that was ascending incredibly fast, and then Buddy Angel hit me and it stopped."
"You missed the moment of the crash," Johan sighed. "At the time, I had no idea what had happened. I thought we had made a terrible error, and our flying disc had exploded. I looked up at the sky and watched bits of it falling to Earth. That was when I saw the dart come down like a supersonic paper plane. As I watched this UFO, all I could think about was Archie and Ted, but we never found their bodies.
"After the event, I tried to calculate the probability of this collision occurring but it was so improbable that I decided there was a reason that the dart was there. My first and only experience with a UFO was, therefore, a terribly painful one. Did you know about this incident before you acquired these new memories?"
"Yes," Eric replied. "I read about it in a book Jerome gave me but a dart was never mentioned. The 'Roswell Daily Record' said it was a flying saucer."
"The flying saucer was my team's craft, but the dart was kept secret. I think the words that people like to use today are 'it was a cover-up.' As I told you, the events that day changed me. Once I had recovered from the shock of what had happened, I became interested myself. I had a real UFO to investigate and then an alien to dissect. The dissection was relatively easy, but I could only guess as to the function of the organs I removed. The only thing I know with any certainty was that the skin was adverse to water. A few drops made it darken and appear to age while releasing an indescribable smell.
"Over the years, I developed a healthy scientific interest in the extraterrestrial. I wanted to know more, and I wanted to understand more in order to support my work. I have read a lot on the subject. Unfortunately, the growth of the internet made it considerably harder to find the more genuine accounts but by this stage my theories were formed."
"Would you mind telling me?" Eric asked expectantly.
"Of course, if it would not bore you."
"I am not going anywhere, and there isn't much else to do," Eric replied looking around the languid campervan.
"I have been a scientist my whole life, Eric. I only believe that which can be proven. I believe there are extraterrestrial beings because I have seen one. I believe that these beings have craft that are superior to our current technology because I have seen such a craft. These experiences have formed theories that I have not yet proven. Unfortunately, there is no way that I know of to prove them. They may be correct, and they may not be."
"I don't mind. I am just interested that's all."
"My first theory is that there are many, many more alien races. The universe is of an almost infinite size. I agree with my wife that if life can emerge on our planet then it must have emerged on other planets in other galaxies and other solar systems. I have seen proof of this, but I doubt the species I have encountered is the only one.
"Frank Drake never knew about my work and that aliens do exist. He designed a theoretical equation to estimate how many extraterrestrial civilizations there could be in the Milky Way. It is useful for discussion, but there are parts of the equation that are currently unknown. I already know that there is at least one civilization. However, if you use his equation, the number of alien civilizations can range from thirty-four million down to zero. As I have already said, we know that zero is incorrect."
"My second theory, is that we are not the most advanced life form in the universe. There are isolated tribes in the Amazon rainforests who have had little contact with the outside world. They use basic tools and weapons and would view our life as alien. The Brazilian government monitors them from the air. These tribes have little understanding about us and may well view aircraft as UFOs. We are more advanced than them and because of this we observe them from long distances to see what they are doing. I think it is arrogant to deny that a more advanced life form would not do the same with us."
Johan stopped to drink a little water before continuing.
"My last theory is that aliens have either lived on our planet or visited for thousands of years. I also suspect that time does not work in the same way for them as it does for us."
Johan began to cough, and Eric took the opportunity to ask, "Why do you think that?"
"There are a number of reasons but first we must ignore all the UFO pictures and videos that are uploaded onto the internet. With today's software and computers, it is impossible to differentiate what is real from what has been created. This is a great shame as some may well be genuine. I do not trust images on the internet, and therefore I prefer to look further back in time; a long time before computers. Maybe I can show you."
Johan stood up and walked past Eric to Andrea at the front of the campervan. She was watching Alexander from the passenger seat. He appeared to be tiring. If he exhibited any serious signs that would put everyone on board in danger, she would take over.
"Is it possible to access the internet?" Johan asked her.
Without taking her eyes off Alexander, Andrea leant forward and pulled out the tablet from the glove compartment. She dragged her finger across the screen and passed it to Johan.
"Thank you," he said and sat next to Eric.
"More than three hundred years ago a Dutch artist called Aert de Gelder painted 'The Baptism of Christ.' I'll show it to you."
Johan found the painting on the internet.
"It was painted in seventeen ten. See if you can spot anything odd about it," and he gave the tablet to Eric
It was a sombre painting that looked as if it is was portraying a scene just after the sun had set. There were dark mountains in the background with a hint of light over the ridge. In the foreground, people wearing ancient robes in brown and cream were looking towards the centre. This was the only bright part of the painting. A man in white, who Eric presumed was Jesus Christ, knelt down in front of another man whose arms were open and welcoming. They were both bathed in light.
"Look upwards," Johan encouraged.
The light came from four beams that pierced the night sky, and Eric followed them upwards. They came from an object in the sky, and Eric could not believe his eyes – it was unmistakably a flying saucer.
"It's a UFO," Eric said, barely able to contain his excitement.
"I agree," Johan replied.
Eric stared at the craft in the sky. At first he hadn't seen it, but now this was all he could see. It looked so out of place on a religious painting that he wondered if this was a trick.
"It is a genuine painting," Johan told him, before Eric asked.
"But why would an artist three hundred years ago put a UFO above Jesus?"
"That is a mystery."
Johan took the tablet from Eric and typed on the screen.
"Two hundred years before de Gelder, an Italian artist called Jacopo del Sellaio painted this picture. It is called 'the Madonna and child with the infant Saint John.'
A child with a halo cradled an infant on the floor in front of the Madonna. It was not as sombre as the other painting and both the child and the Madonna were wearing striking red garments. They were all inside a stable, and horned cows stared vacan
tly at them. Outside of the stable, the artist had painted an estuary and rolling hills beyond. The sky was blue, and there were few clouds. That was when Eric saw it. Behind the Madonna's head was an object floating in the sky. He zoomed in. It was saucer-shaped with lights shining out from the top and the bottom. A man was clearly looking up at it; his hand shielding his eyes from the light. Beside him, his dog barked up at the UFO. Eric was speechless.
"There is one more I want to show you, Eric. I believe that the first two I have shown you are from one alien civilization. I believe the next one is from the same race that I have had personal experience with."
Johan typed on the screen and handed the tablet to Eric.
"This is a Byzantine Crucifixion painting. It is over one thousand years old."
Compared to the other two, this picture was much brighter. Vivid blues dominated the artwork, and people were dressed in different shades of reds, oranges, blue and whites. In the centre of the painting, Jesus Christ was nailed to a cross, and the people were staring up at him. There were angels in the sky above a city's walls but in the corner were two objects that again did not seem to belong. They were pointed at one end and curved at the other. Inside each of them was a person.
"They're not flying saucers," Eric said, glued to the tablet's screen.
"No, they are similar to the dart and in some ways to your pods. I know the pods were man-made, but the dart wasn't. It is my theory that the first two paintings show one alien civilization and this one shows another. Or it shows that our civilization or a future one has returned to this time."
"Are there any more?"
"There aren't any more paintings that I can think of, but there are a large number of written descriptions that cover much of our history. The problem is that they are all on the internet. I have tried to check the validity of some of these, but I am taken from one UFO site to another. Unless I see the original document I am not convinced, and I do not have the time or motivation to do this. There is, however, one which I consider to be more credible. It is written by a Canon in a monastery in England. His name was William of Newburgh, and he lived about nine hundred years ago."
