by A. D. Winch
Eric searched for the name on the tablet. He discovered that William of Newburgh had written, The abbot and monks were at a meal, when a flat, round, shining, silvery object flew over the abbey and caused the utmost terror. There was a link below it entitled 'The Green Children of Woolpit.'
"Have you read this?" Eric asked, pointing at the link.
Johan nodded his head, "It is about two children with green skin, who spoke a language no one understood and wore clothes that no one had seen before. When they finally learnt English, they said they came from a land where there is no sun. I believe it is just a folk tale, Eric, nothing more."
"But it could be aliens, couldn't it?" Eric asked, his voice growing louder with excitement as he spoke. Jerome stirred, and Eric quietly added, "What do you think, Johan?"
"We will never know, but there are enough other unexplained events to make me seriously consider my theories. If I was conducting an experiment that I had conducted a hundred times, but I witnessed a reaction that I was not expecting, I would probably give it little thought and dismiss it as a perception error. If a colleague was conducting the same experiment in a different room and if the same reaction occurred, I would have to concede that this event, though unexpected, was in fact real and would be likely to happen again. This is how I view extraterrestrial beings."
Johan's throat was dry, and he needed to cough.
When he was ready again, Eric asked, "Did you ever talk to anyone about your theories?"
"No, I knew we were not alone in the universe as did the people I worked with. I may sound like I was obsessed, but I wasn't. If someone has an interest in history, he or she tends to remember anything they see or hear or do related to history. My work has centred on aliens and alien technology, so I have done the same."
"I don't understand why you didn't talk to other people."
"I am a scientist, Eric. I was respected for the work I did. I view the authors of the vast majority of the work on aliens and UFOs as delusional or as conmen. Even though, I have direct experience, I do not want people to regard me in the same manner."
"I don't think you're delusional or a conman," Eric said sincerely.
"But you're part alien," Johan joked and they both laughed.
"Do you think aliens went back further in time?"
"They probably did. Some people believe that aliens visited Ancient Egypt. They argue that the pyramids, hieroglyphics and the way the people were depicted looking similar to aliens prove this. They even show carvings of a UFO inside pyramids as further proof, but I do not accept all these. Over our history, extraterrestrial beings seem to have actively avoided leaving much evidence of their existence. So, why would they advertise themselves so openly? It makes no sense to me."
"There must be other places and other evidence?"
Johan thought before answering.
"There is a wide collection of so-called evidence. Aliens built Puma Punka in Bolivia. Alien skulls were found in Peru. Aliens drew the Nazca lines. The Wow Signal is aliens communicating with us. French cave paintings show aliens, but I don't believe any of them. People are desperately trying to present evidence to try to prove that something exists and rewriting history in doing so. They are reading much into little."
"But you know they exist?"
"Yes, I had the evidence and that is why I can be dismissive." Johan did not want to sound arrogant and chose his next words carefully. "Because of my experiences, I believe that I am in a superior position to judge than many people."
"When you were part of the OSS did you see any other UFOs or aliens?"
"None. I was aware of sightings by people who I thought were trustworthy, but I saw none myself."
"Who were they? What type of sightings?"
"They were sightings by astronauts."
"Astronauts!" Eric said incredulously. "I never heard about that."
"They were kept secret. That is why. Coleman, Slayton and others are documented as seeing UFOs. I was able to see these files while at Roswell as it was felt that it would help me with my work on the dart. Once again, I thought some of them were truthful. Others, I thought were the result of the extreme pressures on the body and mind caused by space travel."
Eric gazed at Johan. His eyes were wide, and he wanted to hear more. When Johan did not continue speaking, Eric looked disappointed.
"You keep saying about your experiences. What were they?" Eric asked.
"My experiences are classified."
Eric's shoulders slumped. "You're not going to tell me?"
Johan laughed. "I didn't say that. I just said they were classified. What would you like to know?"
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***
Chapter 9 – Stalkers
The campervan pulled off the motorway just after eleven p.m. Andrea had not needed to force Alexander to stop. He knew he was tired and needed a break. Therefore, the red neon sign of the service station had come as a welcome sight.
The car park was full of long lorries and trucks transporting goods from different countries across Europe. Most of the cabs were dark, and the drivers were asleep inside after a long day's driving.
Alexander parked the campervan between two lorries from Macedonia and turned the engine off.
"Who's coming with me?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at his passengers.
Jerome was fast asleep, and Mémé had dozed off with her knitting on her lap. Ursula put her book down, but Eric and Johan were happily talking and did not move.
Alexander couldn't help but feel a pang of jealously at their relationship. Eric was far closer to Johan than he was, and finding his father had not changed Alexander's life in the way he had expected. They hadn't bonded, had different outlooks on life, and though he hated to admit it, they were very different people. Only on an intellectual level, they were similar, and they had shared some stories about his mother and Johan's wife. Maybe that was the key? Maybe his mother could bring them together.
"I'm going," he announced. "Who is going to join me?"
Ursula stood up, placed a light summer hat on her head and waved at him sleepily. She was joined by Eric in his Mexican cap and Johan in his sombrero. They continued talking and looked an odd pair.
"I do not need a break," Andrea said. "I will stay here."
It felt cold outside the campervan, and a chilly wind blew around them. The heat from the many engines warmed them as they walked past lorry after lorry, and there was a heavy smell of exhaust in the air.
Alexander and Ursula walked quickly towards the service station shop and café. They reached the forecourt, and the harsh light caused them to squint before they went inside.
Muzak was playing on tinny speakers, and the uninspired piano piece seemed to capture the place perfectly. A sole motorist was stood at the counter paying a bored-looking attendant for his petrol. Alexander and Ursula walked behind him to the café area. A small selection of sandwiches that had passed their sell-by dates were scattered across the counter. The sandwiches were accompanied by some sad-looking fruit and stale-looking cakes. As they tried to make their choices, Johan and Eric joined them. They leant in front of Alexander and Ursula; took a donut each, grabbed a bottled drink and sat at a table overlooking the forecourt. Alexander ordered a coffee; Ursula took an orange juice, and they joined them.
The motorist got into his car and drove off, leaving the forecourt empty. Patches of oil glistened under the neon lights, and the petrol pump hoses swayed in the wind. It felt as if they were in the middle of nowhere, and they sat in silence eating and drinking.
"We are about halfway there," Alexander told them, trying to be positive, despite his tiredness. "We're making good time, giving the limitations of our transport. We just have to drive through a little bit more of Serbia, then Hungary and Slovakia, and finally we'll be back in the Czech Republic. How are you all doing?"
"I am looking forward to seeing Prague again," Johan replied. "I remember it to be an attractive city, from when I was
there last."
"When was that?" asked Alexander, trying to start a conversation.
"Nineteen forty-five," Eric answered.
Johan laughed and winked at Eric, "You were paying attention!"
Alexander did not bother to ask anything more.
Once the drinks were finished, Alexander went to the toilet, and Eric and Ursula went outside to the forecourt to stretch their legs. The stillness was broken every few seconds as a car sped down the motorway beyond a line of bushes, and light streamed through the branches. They walked away from the speeding vehicles and towards a field. It was silent and empty. The summer crops had been harvested, and only weeds remained in the moist earth. A grass verge ran beside the field, and they walked along it in the direction of the campervan.
Neither of them spoke. Despite the chill, they were feeling sleepy but felt the need to move around before another ten hours of driving.
They walked along the verge for a few hundred metres to the end of the car park, where the slip road met the motorway, and turned back towards the service station. That was when they saw them.
Six large men stepped out from behind one of the lorries. Each one held a cigarette, and the red glow from the burning paper shone in the darkness. They shouted out in a language that neither Eric nor Ursula recognized. The children kept walking, but a little faster. As they got in line with the group, the headlights from one of the lorries suddenly switched on. The bright beams spot lit Eric and Ursula and bathed them in yellow light. For a moment they didn't move, unsure what to do and unable to see where they were going. They both averted their eyes and ran forward until they were back in the darkness.
The men laughed, wolf whistled and then one shouted what seemed to be a question. Eric and Ursula ignored them. The shock of being caught in a spotlight had woken them up, and all they wanted to do was get away. The men stared at the two children, shouted something else and began to follow them.
Eric and Ursula did not need to look over their shoulders. They had already sensed what was happening.
"Don't go back to the campervan!" Eric ordered.
"I know," Ursula replied sharply.
They continued to walk but at a much faster pace. They no longer noticed the cold and kept their eyes focused on the service station building. The men were about thirty metres behind. If they chose to chase, the children were confident they would outrun them.
The forecourt was still empty, and the children moved to its centre. They waited beside a petrol pump for the men to appear. Johan looked out of the window and wondered what the children were doing. He beckoned to them to come back inside, but the children waved his invitation away.
"Why are they there?" asked Alexander, sitting down opposite Johan.
"I don't know, but they don't look happy."
It was true. Both Eric and Ursula looked serious and determined. Their muscles were tense, and they stood like statues.
Three men appeared around one side of the building and three others on the other side.
"You take the three by the field, Ursula. I'll take the three by the motorway," Eric told her.
"Wait," Ursula replied. "This doesn't feel right."
"Forget feelings. Look at them!"
They were all big men with closely shaven heads, and all were wearing similar short-sleeved shirts. Crude tattoos covered their forearms, and they seemed not to notice the cold. Before they stepped onto the forecourt, they took one last drag of their cigarettes and stamped them out on the tarmac. They stared at Eric and Ursula and spoke quietly to each other.
A man with no neck shouted across the forecourt to the other men. He received a monosyllabic reply. Each man put a hand in his pocket and got ready to take something out.
"We have to attack first," Eric said.
"No," said Ursula and walked confidently towards the service station. "We're safe."
The men watched her as the doors opened up, and she entered. They looked between Eric and the automatic doors and followed Ursula inside.
Eric cursed and prepared himself to rescue Ursula again. He couldn't believe she had let herself be trapped, and he could sense that she wasn't that worried about it either.
The men walked into the foyer area and fanned out between the aisles of sweets, toys, drinks and snacks. Ursula was beyond them. She had her back to the toilets and was standing still, waiting for them to make the first move.
"She can't beat all of them," Eric hissed to himself and ran towards the building.
The doors automatically opened and, as they did so, one of the men opened his legs and crossed his arms. Eric sprang forward onto his knees, arched his body back, so his head touched the smooth tiles and slid between the man's legs. Once through, he jumped into the air and spun around to face them.
All the men smirked knowingly; nodded at each other and slowly clapped.
"What is happening, Eric?" Andrea asked loudly, walking calmly into the building.
The men stopped and looked at Andrea.
Before Eric could answer, she asked, "Why are these men following you?"
"I don't know, I think they are working for the OSS."
"That is highly unlikely. These men are lorry drivers. Their physical attributes would not be sufficient for strenuous exercise."
The men tried to follow the conversation, but only one of them spoke some English. While they looked at Andrea, Johan and Alexander moved from their table. They tried to join the children, but an ice-cream refrigerator blocked their path.
The attendant behind the cash desk eyed the scene suspiciously. His hand twitched on the alarm, and he was ready to press it at any sign of trouble.
The man with no neck asked a question to the group, and each one of them nodded.
"They are Albanian," Andrea told Eric and pushed between the men. "I will translate."
She was dwarfed by the men but looked up at their faces without any sign of fear.
"Why are you asking – 'is that her?' Who are you? Who do you work for? What do you want with her?"
No neck replied, "My name is Luan. We transport concert rigs around Eastern Europe. These are my fellow drivers."
The other drivers smiled and greeted Andrea.
"Why are you chasing these children?"
Luan looked temporarily embarrassed, and briefly looked at the floor. If she and him," he pointed at the children, "are who we think they are, then we are fans."
Andrea translated but did not understand what had been said.
"You must be mistaken. The children are not celebrities."
Luan put his hand in his pocket and took out his smart phone. He slid his finger across the screen and handed it to Andrea.
"This is them, no?" he pointed to the children.
"Yes."
He took his phone back. "Forty-nine million hits, says to me they are famous."
He walked to Eric and Ursula and showed them the 'Battle of Morocco' on his phone. He pointed at the screen and in English said, "Good," as Eric executed a kick. "Very good," as Ursula ran onto the Yukon. "Very, very good," as Ursula jumped from the Yukon to the taxi. He finished by saying, "Bad, bad men, not good."
His work mates crowded around them, shaking Eric's and Ursula's hand and patting them on the back. The children did not know what to do but smiled and enjoyed the attention. Andrea, Johan and Alexander watched, bemused, as the drivers fired rapid questions at the children in Albanian.
"Who are you?"
"Is it real or is it a film?"
"How can you do these things?"
"Who was attacking you? Why?"
"Where are you going?"
Neither Eric nor Ursula spoke Albanian, and the questions went unanswered. Andrea understood. She translated for them and asked, "What shall I reply?"
"Can we tell them the truth?" Johan questioned.
"We need to think carefully. This could help us or damage us. If what we tell them stays within these four walls that's fine, but I doubt it will," added Ale
xander.
As he finished speaking, Eric and Ursula were being lined up for a photo shoot. The service station attendant had been roped in and had a line of smartphones beside him. The lorry drivers were jostling around Eric and Ursula, trying to get closest to the 'celebrities.' Five photos were taken while Johan, Alexander and Andrea continued to discuss what to do.
After the last photo, Andrea collected all the phones and approached the drivers. She spoke to them in Albanian
"You had a number of questions, but the children do not speak Albanian. I will answer for them. The children's names are Eric Meyer and Ursula Benjamin. 'Is the Battle of Morocco real or is it a film?' Everything you see on that video is real. 'How can the children do these things?' They are highly skilled and regularly train. 'Who was attacking them?' We cannot say. When the time is right, we can inform you by email. If you wish this to happen, please write your email down and give it to me. 'Where are we going?' I cannot say. Our safety will be compromised. Our safety will also be compromised if you upload these photos to the internet before we leave here. Did you plan to upload these?"
The drivers nodded sheepishly.
"Before I return your phones, I must insist that you wait twelve hours before you upload the photos. If you do not wait this length of time, you may be accomplices in the possible deaths of these children."
The drivers looked shocked and promised that they would wait. Andrea looked across at Alexander and translated. He motioned to her to return the phones.
Each driver looked at his photo and then put his phone away. They asked Eric and Ursula to sign autographs and gave Andrea their email addresses.
They all left the service station together, and the men waved happily to Eric and Ursula as the campervan pulled away.
