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by Richard Turner


  Hayes shook his head. “The Piri Reis map does not accurately depict the Antarctic coastline. In fact, many reputable scholars believe the map shows the southern tip of South America, which has been mistaken for decades by pseudo-historians as Antarctica. As for Orontius Finaeus, the Antarctic continent is misshapen and attached to Australia. I’m sorry, Elena, but neither map can be viewed as a precise representation of Antarctica.”

  “So, what do you have to say about this one, Professor?” asked Maclean.

  “It’s far too early to draw any conclusions, but if it’s a real map, then it turns everything we know about the ancient world on its head.”

  Andrews drummed his fingers on the desk for a few seconds. “Jeremy, I bet you’d love to study this map in more detail before we have to return it to the Libyan Government.”

  “Most definitely, sir,” replied Hayes.

  “Since it’s quiet around here, I’ll give you a week to see what you can learn from it. After that, we’ll have to hand it over to the State Department.”

  “A week should be more than sufficient,” Hayes replied, smiling.

  “I’d like Sergeant Maclean to work on this with you. It’ll be good for him to see how things are done from a scientific perspective.”

  “Sounds like fun,” said Maclean, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his voice.

  “I knew you’d see things my way.” Andrews turned to face Grant and Elena. “As for you two, I was talking to an old friend of mine this morning, and he’s asked me to send a couple of people to investigate what he called ‘some damned odd things’ that are reportedly happening to the granddaughter of a person he once served with.”

  “What is the name of this person?” asked Elena.

  “Senior Master Sergeant Rebeca Dove, retired. She lives with her granddaughter, Susan, in Charlotte, Montana, where, coincidently, they have also been having a rash of alleged UFO sightings over the past few weeks. I’d like you two to head up there and meet with Mrs. Dove right away. See what her concerns are and if they can be dealt with. As an added bonus, while you’re up there, perhaps you can make some contacts with the UFO research community in the state.”

  Grant shook his head. “Sir, did your colleague mention what was happening to the young girl? And why weren’t these alleged sightings covered in the morning brief?”

  “David, I’ll deal with your second question first. Our duty personnel filter out these alleged incidents like this from our daily briefs because they are deemed to be of no threat to the safety of the country. On any given day, thousands of possible UFOs get reported all around the world. Of that, only a tiny fraction are worth taking a closer look at. As for Susan, her grandmother is worried that something is happening to her while she sleeps.”

  “Like what?”

  “Every morning for the past week, Susan has been drawing things and hanging them up all around her room.”

  Grant leaned forward in his chair. “What kind of things?”

  “A small, gray man in her bedroom.”

  Elena’s eyebrows lifted. “This activity is consistent with several other cases I’ve read about involving visitation by extraterrestrials.”

  Hayes raised a hand. “Try not to jump to any conclusions. This could all be just a misunderstanding. The girl could have an overly active imagination and be remembering something she saw on the television.”

  Andrews nodded. “Perhaps, but I’d feel better if Elena and David spent a couple of days speaking with Rebeca’s granddaughter and the people who live near their farm.”

  “Have you ever investigated a case like this?” Grant asked Elena.

  “No, never. This type of activity is usually done by our retirees, who we have sprinkled across North America. This will be a first for both of us. The colonel’s right, we can use the time in Charlotte to introduce you to some people I have met over the years, and further develop your cover as a member of The North American UFO Investigation Society.”

  Grant smiled wryly. “Got it. I guess we’re off to Charlotte, Montana.”

  “Trade you,” said Maclean.

  “I decide who goes where and does what assignment,” said Andrews, preempting any switching of jobs. “You all have one week to conduct your respective tasks. So, if I were you, I’d get to work.”

  Grant sat back in his chair, convinced that he was about to go and waste a week of his time in Montana talking to a little girl with an imaginary friend, along with local UFO enthusiasts who had misidentified ball lightning as UFOs.

  7

  Montana

  Grant rented a blue Ford Escape at the Helena Regional Airport and drove east through the rolling farmland. Elena sat beside him, reading the few notes on Susan Dove they had with them.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” said Grant, breaking the silence.

  Elena placed the file down on her lap. “The info we have on Susan is slim, but the number of UFO sightings across Montana is surprisingly high. I’d read reports of sightings over the years but hadn’t realized just how many there have been. Some reports go all the way back to the mid-1800s.”

  “What about the area around Charlotte?”

  “According to my notes, Charlotte has been visited four times in the past couple of decades. The UFOs seem to hang around for about a month before disappearing.”

  “What does the craft reported look like?”

  Elena flipped through her notes. “All the sightings agree that there are three glowing, orange balls that fly in a V-shaped formation.”

  “Sounds like they’re reporting the lights on the undercarriage of a secret military jet. What if they are misidentifying an experimental stealth fighter for a UFO? After all, the F-117 was first tested back in the eighties. I bet these reports began around the same time as the test flights of the stealth fighter.”

  “The F-117 was retired in 2008. How do you explain the newer sightings?”

  “Easy. Blame them on the newer F-22 Raptor.”

  Elena shook her head. “I spoke with Colonel Andrews before leaving, and he told me that there wasn’t a possible military connection to this case.”

  “No disrespect to the colonel, but I doubt he gets the daily flight manifests from Area 51. My money’s on a misidentified experimental craft of some type flying around the countryside.”

  “You should hear yourself. You sound like Jeremy when you talk like that.”

  Grant chuckled. “The simplest conclusion is usually the right one, and you should know by now that I like to keep things simple.”

  Two hours later, Grant pulled off the road leading into Charlotte and parked outside of a single-story motel, built to look like a long, log cabin. While Elena signed for two adjoining rooms, Grant stretched out his back before grabbing their luggage.

  “We’ve got rooms three and four,” said Elena, handing Grant a key.

  The rooms were small, but that didn’t bother Grant, as he was sure they wouldn’t be staying long. He placed his suitcase on his bed and sat down. He scrolled through the messages on his phone, expecting to find one from Maclean bitching about being stuck with Hayes.

  There was a knock on the open door. Grant looked up and saw Elena standing there.

  She said, “I called Rebeca Dove, and she said we could come by anytime. As it’s nearly suppertime, I told her we’d drive out to her place around seven-thirty tonight.”

  “Sounds good. Any word from the folks in the local UFO community?”

  “As a matter of fact, I just got a text from one of its members. He says that they’re holding a meeting in the town hall tomorrow night at seven. We have, of course, been invited to attend.”

  “What’s the name of this group?”

  “The Montana Paranormal Group. According to their website, they’re from all across the state.”

  “Have you dealt with them before today?”

  Elena shook her head. “No, I haven’t. We have a retiree, Sam Worthington, from Helena, who keeps an eye on them for us.
He’ll be at the meeting and can fill us in on what he has learned to date.”

  “Looks like you’ve got all the bases covered. Any idea where we can get a decent meal around here?”

  “The motel clerk said there’s an excellent restaurant just down the road.”

  Grant put his phone away and checked his watch. “Okay then, let’s grab a bite to eat.”

  A kilometer off the main road, a white, two-story building stood alone on the rolling prairie. Grant slowed his car and parked it out front of the home. The farmhouse looked to be at least sixty years old, if not more, and had a long porch that ran along the front of the home. Grant and Elena got out of their car and walked toward the front steps. The front door opened, and a slender woman in her early fifties walked out to greet them.

  “Good evening,” said the woman. “My name is Rebeca Dove. I take it you’re Elena and David?”

  “That’s correct, ma’am,” replied Grant.

  “Oh, no need for that, David. You’re making me feel old.”

  “Sorry,” said Grant with a shrug and a small smile. His upbringing, combined with years in the military, meant that his manners were deeply ingrained.

  Rebeca was wearing a pair of old blue jeans and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Her face was weathered from the sun, and her black hair was tied up in a bun behind her head.

  “Grandma, is somebody here?” called out a child’s voice.

  “Yes, dear. The people I told you about have arrived,” said Rebeca over her shoulder. She looked back at her guests and smiled warmly. “Please, come inside for some coffee, and I’ll introduce you to Susan.”

  Grant followed Elena into the farmhouse. They took a seat in the kitchen, while Rebeca put on a pot to brew.

  “David, are you still with the military?” asked Rebeca.

  “Yes, I am, ma’am. Would you like to see my ID?” he said, reaching for his wallet.

  “No, that won’t be necessary,” she replied. “You look, talk, and act like a soldier. And I’ve already told you once to knock off that ma’am crap.”

  “Sorry. Force of habit.”

  “I take it my old CO, Colonel Hodges, contacted your people, and that’s why you’re here.”

  “That’s correct,” said Elena. “I’m not sure what we can do, but I promise you that you’ll have our undivided attention while we’re here.”

  “Well, I can’t ask for any more than that.”

  “Grandma, can I come downstairs?” called out the child.

  “Sure, come in the kitchen and meet Grandma’s new friends.”

  Grant heard the sound of a child’s feet scampering down the stairs. A second later, a girl in her pajamas ran into the kitchen and leaped onto her grandmother’s lap. She looked to be no more than four years old and had black hair in a ponytail, which hung down her back. The girl’s eyes shone bright like the light of a full moon shimmering off the water.

  “Susan, this is Ms. Elena Leon and Mister David Grant,” said Rebeca. “They’ve come a long way to see us.”

  “Hi,” said Susan with a quick wave.

  “Hi to you, too,” said Elena, smiling. “How are you doing?”

  “Fine,” Susan replied, reaching for a cookie on the table.

  “That’s good.”

  Grant sat back and kept quiet, watching Elena attempt to bond with Susan. Rebeca moved her granddaughter to another chair before pouring three cups of coffee for the adults and a glass of milk for Susan.

  “Susan, do you have many friends out here?” asked Elena.

  The girl shook her head.

  Rebeca lifted Susan up and set her back on her lap. “It’s hard out here for kids to get together. The closest girl her age lives nearly half an hour away. She was going to kindergarten in the afternoons, but last week I was asked to remove her from the class because she was allegedly disturbing the other students with her scary stories and pictures.”

  Elena patted Susan’s hand. “Susan, your grandmother told some friends of ours that you’ve been visited by a stranger in the night. Is this true?”

  Susan looked up. “Oh, he’s not a stranger. I like him; his name is Ben.”

  “Your friend’s name is Ben?” said Grant, making sure he heard her correctly.

  Susan nodded.

  “Do you know why Ben visits you in the night?” asked Elena.

  “He doesn’t want to be seen. Ben said people would try to hurt him if they ever caught him.”

  Rebeca gave Susan a hug. “Why don’t you show David and Elena your room?”

  The young girl nodded, wiggled off her grandmother’s lap, and took Elena by the hand. She led her and Grant up the stairs. Susan’s room was at the landing on the right-hand side. She opened the door and flicked on the light.

  Grant stood in the doorway, his mouth agape. The walls of her bedroom were covered in paintings and drawings of her sitting on the floor of her room. With her was a short, gray-skinned person in a silver outfit, with an oversized head and large, oval-shaped black eyes.

  “My God,” muttered Elena.

  Susan picked up one of her paintings and gave it to Elena. “That’s Ben and me. He’s my friend.”

  “This is very pretty; can I keep it?”

  Susan nodded. “Yes, I’m sure Ben won’t mind.”

  “What do you talk about?” queried Grant.

  “Lots of things, but mostly about my sister and me.”

  Elena ran a hand over Susan’s head. “Thanks for showing us your room. David and I are going to go downstairs and chat with your grandmother for a few minutes. Okay, sweetie?”

  “Okay,” said Susan, picking up a doll to play with.

  In the kitchen, they found Rebeca wiping the tears from her eyes. “I take it she showed you the pictures and told you about her sister.”

  “She sure did,” said Grant. “I don’t see another kid running around here, so where is she?”

  Rebeca’s voice cracked. “That’s the problem. She doesn’t have one.”

  Elena sat at the table and took one of Rebeca’s hands in hers. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did Susan come to be with you?”

  “My daughter, Wendy, and I butted heads all throughout her teenage years. It didn’t help that I was deployed away from home several times to Iraq and Afghanistan. Her father was a drunk and physically abused her on a couple occasions while I was away. I only learned about this when it was too late to do anything about it. I kicked her father out when Wendy was sixteen. He died a month later in a car crash with some other underage girl. He was drunk at the time and wrapped his car around a telephone pole. For reasons I’ll never understand, Wendy blamed me for everything that had happened to her and ran away the very next day. I didn’t hear from her until she gave birth to Susan. By the time I arrived at the hospital in Los Angeles, Wendy was gone. A year later, her emaciated body was found in the back of an abandoned car. She’d died of a drug overdose.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Grant.

  “Thanks. Susan more than makes up for all that has gone wrong in my life. That’s why I’m terrified that something horrible is about to happen to my granddaughter. I’ve seen those shows on the television. I’m not sure I believe in aliens and UFOs, but I don’t want her to vanish in the night and never come back.”

  “Rebeca, are you sure your daughter didn’t have another child and not tell you about it?” asked Elena.

  Rebeca shook her head. “My heart tells me that Susan is an only child.”

  “Did Wendy ever tell you stories about being visited in the night like Susan?”

  Rebeca’s lip trembled. “When Wendy was about the same age as Susan, she started to have nightmares. She told me one night that a dark shape had entered her room and scared her.”

  “How long did this go on?”

  “About a month. It abruptly stopped one night, and the nightmares never returned.”

  “Or so she said. It’s not uncommon for children to keep their encounters from their pa
rents for fear of being ridiculed.”

  “I think shortly afterward, that’s when her father began his visits when I was away from home. I shudder to think what that son of a bitch did to her.”

  “How about you? Do you ever recall visits in the night while you were a child?”

  Grant sat back. He was growing curious and wondered where Elena was going with her line of questions.

  Rebeca turned her head away and looked at the floor.

  “There’s nothing to be ashamed about,” said Elena, her tone gentle and comforting. “Whatever happened was out of your control.”

  Rebeca wiped a tear from her face. “I had forgotten all about the visits until Susan began to hang those pictures around her room. Then, like a dam bursting, all these suppressed memories and emotions came flooding back. I grew up on a farm not far from here. Like Susan, I began to be visited in the dark by strange, gray-looking people when I was about her age.”

  “How long did these visits last?”

  “I think about a month and then one night they stopped coming and never came back.”

  “Can you recall what they said, or did, during these visits?”

  Rebeca let out an exasperated sigh. “Sorry, I can’t. I’ve tried. It’s like part of my memory was almost wiped clean.”

  “It just may have been,” said Elena. “Would you mind if we came back tomorrow to see how you and Susan are doing?”

  “Of course not. We’d love the company.”

  “David and I have a meeting in town after supper. After that, we’ll drive up here and see what we can do to put a stop to these visits.”

  “Thanks, I’d appreciate any help you can give.”

  On the porch, Grant and Elena shook hands with Rebeca before walking to their car. Grant started the engine, switched on the lights, and turned their vehicle around. They both waved at Rebeca as they drove away.

  “So, what do you think?” Elena asked Grant.

  “I’m not sure what to think,” he replied.

  “What do you mean, you’re not sure? It obvious to me that her family has been studied for generations by gray aliens.”

 

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