Dark Moon Crossing

by Sylvia Nobel

  I really did want to hear more about the people Tally had been visiting these past few months, but the injured cat took precedence. “Lupe, help me get this poor little thing into my car.”

  “Now?‌ What about our meeting with the…the UFO lady?‌”

  Darn. My warning look was rewarded by her blank stare. My intention had been to not publicize our get-together, but I’d neglected to inform her of that fact. Oh, well, too late. “This can’t wait. I’m going to take it to Green Valley. You go on ….”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Payton cut in. “It won’t be necessary for you to inconvenience yourself. I was on my way over to the Sundog this morning anyway to visit my son, so I’ll take the cat with me and you can come check on it later.”

  I’m sure I looked utterly baffled. “That’s really kind of you, but what…I mean why…?‌”

  “At one time, Payton here used to be a member of the high and mighty Beaumont clan,” the bearded guy informed us, underscoring his statement with a conspiratorial wink I didn’t understand.

  “Until he got his ass good and kicked,” added the second young man, smirking just a bit as he jabbed his friend Matt in the ribs. For the first time I took note of their appearance. Both had shaved heads and sported tattoos on each arm. I wondered if they’d been at yesterday’s rally.

  “I don’t know if I’d have had the patience to put up with the raft of crap you did for as long as you did,” the older fellow tacked on with a sad shake of his head.

  “Well, Joe, given enough time, things have a way of evening themselves out.” Payton’s indulgent smile belied the sheen of irritation in his eyes, but when he turned back to me his tone was almost apologetic. “Once upon a time, I was married to Champ Beaumont’s daughter, so.…”

  Oh, my. My frazzled brain finally re-engaged. “I see. Jason Beaumont is your brother-in-law.”

  “No,” he said, kneeling to cradle the cat to his chest. “Former brother-in-law.”

  For the first time I noticed the cluster of freckles on his bare arms and that his receding carrot-red hair was almost the same shade as my own. He rose and headed across the street towards a bronze pickup with a camper shell, so I hurried to keep step with him amid the flurry of scornful remarks peppering the air behind us.

  “Hey, miss!” shouted Matt. “Maybe that space lady can contact one of her flyin’ saucer buddies to send one of them aliens down to doctor up the cat. You know, perform one of them miracle cures.”

  “Yeah,” his friend chimed in, “maybe she could talk one of ‘em into doing that mind meld thing and save you a trip to the vet!” A bawdy chorus of laughter followed.

  Payton edged me a look of chagrin. “Don’t pay any attention to them. They’re just having a little fun with you.”

  My concern for the cat kept me from appreciating the situation. “Sorry, I’m still a little fuzzy from all that’s happened. I still don’t understand why you’re taking the cat to the Beaumont ranch?‌”

  “Open, please,” he said, indicating the passenger door. I did and he gently laid the limp cat on the seat, adding, “My mother…I mean my ex-mother-in-law’s brother, Dean Pierce, lives at the ranch now. He retired from veterinary medicine about six months ago, and just so you’ll know,” he said lifting the cat’s tail and peering closely, “this is a little female. By her size I’d guess she’s five or six months old.”

  “She’s just a baby. Well, I can’t begin to thank you enough for your help, interrupting your breakfast and everything.”

  “No problem. You’re obviously an animal lover like me.”

  I followed him around to the driver’s side. “Do you think she’ll be okay?‌” I asked as he pulled on the handle. “The last thing I need is to have this kitten’s death on my conscience.”

  He glanced over at the limp feline before turning back to me with an encouraging smile that changed the whole complexion of his rather bland face. “I can’t guarantee anything, but trust me when I say this kitty will be well cared for.”

  “By the way, I’m Kendall O’Dell from Castle Valley.” I stuck out my hand and he enfolded it in his own. “Glad to meet you, Kendall O’Dell from Castle Valley. What brings you to this area?‌”

  “I’m a reporter.”

  He tilted his head to one side, looking faintly amused. “If you’re looking for excitement, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Yesterday was pretty exciting.”

  He climbed into his truck and started the engine. “You mean the rally?‌ Well, thank goodness it’s over and we can get back to our normal peace and quiet. But, I expect that’s not what you want to hear.”

  “I was thinking maybe I’d stick around a few days to see if anything else interesting develops.”

  A meager smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “Considering your choice of breakfast companions, I gather you’ll be focusing on the search for possible alien life forms.”

  I ignored his mild disdain. “Who knows, maybe I’ll get lucky.”

  “Don’t hold your breath,” he said with a wry grin. “The most stimulating thing that’s happened in this town in the last two years was the big bash hosted by my beloved ex-wife last summer to celebrate our divorce.” He backed into the street.

  Not sure how to respond to that, I shouted, “Hey, wait a minute. How do I find the Sundog?‌”

  “It’s impossible to miss. Anyone in town can tell you,” he yelled, gunning the truck down the road to Sasabe.

  As I watched him speed away towards rocky foothills crowned with misty-blue clouds, I sent up a silent prayer. Just knowing the injured kitten would soon be in good hands soothed my shattered nerves. Considering the number of weirdos we’d come in contact with since our arrival, we were lucky the benevolent stranger had offered to help.

  “Angels come in all shapes and sizes, don’t they?‌” Lupe remarked, walking up beside me.

  I grinned at her. “I don’t know as I’d go that far, but he certainly qualifies as a Good Samaritan.”

  “Some things aren’t easy to explain away,” said a husky female voice from behind.

  We swung around to face a statuesque woman clad in a garnet-colored ankle-length dress accessorized with an impressive silver concha belt. Straight blue-black hair framing her hollow cheeks partially obscured a mysterious smile that urged me to challenge her statement. “Mazzie La Casse?‌”

  A nod. “And which one of you is Miss O’Riley?‌”

  I raised a hand in greeting. “It’s O’Dell.” I was struck by the candid intensity emanating from her dark eyes, and it chased away my preconceived notion of a wild-eyed eccentric.

  After I introduced Lupe, we walked the few remaining yards to the restaurant’s weather-beaten front door past a sign announcing: Welcome to the oldest bar in the oldest continuously inhabited townsite in Arizona. A tiny notice in the window brought a smile to my lips. OPEN WHEN WE’RE HERE, CLOSED WHEN WE’RE NOT. The screen door whined loudly as we followed her inside. The place was small, warm and crowded, but the appetizing aroma of frying bacon helped revive my stress-dulled appetite. The noisy buzz of conversation dropped to a low murmur as we drew the curious stares of the locals, most of them seniors. Ah yes. The only eating spot in town would be gossip central¾a good thing normally. However, it was disappointing to realize that the small dining area had no quiet alcove or out of the way booth. “Is there another room where we can talk privately?‌” I whispered to Mazzie.

  She hooked a thumb beneath the strap of her large shoulder bag and shrugged. “They could serve us in the bar, but I’m not sure it would be any better.”

  “Okay, this will have to do,” I said, noting the apprehension in Lupe’s momentary glance. We chose the only remaining clean table, near the kitchen entrance. While a young, gum-chewing waitress in overly tight jeans sloshed coffee into our cups, we reviewed the sticky one-sided menu. Apparently the novelty of our arrival had diminished somewhat because only a handful of inquisitive
stares from the surrounding tables continued to come our way. Normally, I would have used my little tape recorder for the interview, but I knew the noise level of the room would make it difficult to decipher later.

  “I’d like to take some notes,” I said, watching Mazzie stir cream and sugar into her coffee before taking a tentative sip.

  “That’s fine,” she said, folding her hands around the cup. “But before we begin, I’d like to be frank about a few things. If you’re seeking information for a feature article concerning the subject of UFO sightings, alien abduction or the witness experience, I can help you. If you’re looking for tabloid sensationalism, or if your questions are designed to try to discredit my work here, I’ll conclude our interview.”

  Clearly she was in no mood for ridicule and I wondered if she’d overheard the remarks made earlier by the group of men in the street. “Actually, my questions to you pertain to a personal matter, so….” I paused to make eye contact with three seniors at the adjoining table practically falling off their chairs eavesdropping. When they averted their eyes, I said softly, “Perhaps we can just start with some general background information until we can find someplace more private to talk.”

  I noted, as her probing gaze darted back and forth between us, that her eyes were such a deep shade of mahogany it was difficult to see her pupils. “There’s a little picnic table out back. Perhaps when we’re through eating and,” she paused and glanced outside at the soggy-looking clouds, “if it’s not raining, we could talk there.”

  “Super.”

  “All right. What do you want to know?‌”

  I flipped to a fresh page in my notepad. “For starters, your credentials as a UFOologist?‌”

  “I studied at the Roswell, New Mexico site with other researchers for two years and then I worked with Dr. Hadlyn Stouffer at the Harkins Institute for UFO studies in California for almost twelve. I’ve written numerous magazine articles, I can get you copies if you wish, and I’ve also co-authored two books on sightings in Europe and South America before beginning my own studies here.”

  “What made you choose this particular area?‌”

  “The proliferation of sightings that started about two years ago and their possible connection to the animal mutilations on some of the ranches in this area.”

  I hunched forward, keeping my voice low. “Then I’m sure you know about the abduction story told by the immigrant apprehended in Morita awhile back.”

  “Yes, indeed. I’m sorry I didn’t have an opportunity to talk with him before he was deported. From the accounts I read in the newspaper, he was obviously suffering from the severe mental aftershock that is commonly associated with these occurrences.” Her expression grew wistful. “He might have found it helpful to have the support of our encounter group.”

  “As a psychotherapist, what exactly is your role in that setting?‌”

  She took another sip of coffee before saying in a matter-of-fact tone, “It’s my job to help clients deal with the fear, depression and anxiety associated with the abduction experience.”

  “What’s your take on this guy’s story that an entire van load of his countrymen was…well, space-napped?‌ Are you aware of any other situations where abductees have simply vanished from the face of the earth?‌”

  “There’s no one way to answer that. In addition to eyewitness accounts right here, there are documented cases from all over the world relayed by people who have never communicated with one another, yet share similar experiences of seeing bright pulsating lights in the sky. Many report being surrounded by a strange cloud and then ending up miles away from the abduction site, hysterical, disoriented, and sometimes suffering from temporary blindness and sleep paralysis. One recognizable factor in all of these cases is the unexplained blocks of missing time.”

  Her expression grew more animated as she warmed to her subject. I cautioned myself to maintain a professional demeanor, as what she was saying sounded totally inconceivable to me.

  “But to answer the second part of your question,” she continued, motioning to the waitress for more coffee, “no Missing Person reports are filed on illegal immigrants, so how can one know if these people actually disappeared?‌ Perhaps they just returned to Mexico. And how can one say for a fact that extraterrestrials are responsible for the hundreds of people that disappear each year without a trace, and not just those who’ve braved El Camino del Diablo?‌”

  “El Camino del Diablo?‌”

  “The Devil’s Highway. It’s located west of here, towards Yuma. No one knows how many poor souls have perished trying to make it across that godforsaken stretch of desert.” She arched a commiserating brow at Lupe before continuing. “Ninety-five percent of UFO sighting can be explained logically, but that leaves five percent that cannot. Think about it. That translates to several million people, including small children, who suffer the aftereffects of these unexplained encounters.”

  “Like what?‌” Lupe asked, unable to hide the gleam of anxiety in her eyes.

  “In addition to the mental shock I mentioned, abduction victims share other common themes such as trauma, often times recurring nightmares, depression and psychosomatic illnesses. There are numerous accounts of bizarre medical experiments performed on them such as surgical implantation of tracking devices, sexual examinations, and encounters with the aliens themselves. Female abductees give frightening accounts of having fluid extracted from their abdomens and tell disturbing tales of stolen human embryos. In the cases I’ve handled personally, the majority of my clients have responded well to treatment. And in all but the most severe ones, these people are able to cope with what has happened to them and rebuild their lives.”

  The fact that this obviously intelligent and educated woman showed no trace of skepticism concerning this far-fetched subject left me more disturbed than ever. “I’m sorry to sound dubious, but short of someone producing biological evidence, living or dead, what makes you so sure these people aren’t just making this stuff up?‌”

  Her face registered annoyance. “To what end?‌ To be scorned by colleagues, friends and family?‌ Let me tell you, just being a therapist places me on the fringe of this ridicule. UFOlogists are constantly on the alert for deliberate disinformation, false leads or people just out there to make money or a run for their so-called fifteen minutes of fame. After years of research, and having listened to hundreds of these witnesses, believe me, I’ve learned how to separate the actual abduction cases from the hoaxes.”

  The arrival of our breakfast brought the conversation to a temporary halt. While Mazzie munched on fruit and dry wheat toast and Lupe picked at her oatmeal, I dug into ham, eggs and hash browns. I was glad of the respite, because as knowledgeable as she appeared, I was having a big problem buying into this whole theory without bursting out with, ‘Give me a break!’ Okay, maybe I could admit that somewhere out there in that ocean of stars there might be other worlds populated with life forms, but I was still having a devil of a time accepting at face value the reality of extraterrestrials tinkering around with human beings.

  By the time we finished eating it was ten-thirty and only a few old-timers remained, shooting the breeze, smoking and edging glances rife with curiosity our way. As strangers in a small town, I acknowledged that we were providing a welcome diversion, but I didn’t care to provide them with their day’s entertainment by allowing them to overhear the actual reason for our visit. I glanced out the window at the threatening clouds and suggested we finish our conversation outdoors while we had time. I dropped some money on the table to cover our tab.

  When we stepped out the back door, the cool wind gusts carried the damp smell of imminent rain. I inhaled deeply, savoring the weather change.

  The backyards of the restaurant and the neighboring properties were all piled with an amazing assortment of junk ranging from rusting appliances and old furniture to broken-down cars. As we settled around the splintery picnic table set beneath the gaunt limbs of an emaciated tree, Lupe sne
ezed several times.

  “You sure you want to sit out here?‌” I asked, watching her slip into the sweater she’d had tied around her waist during breakfast.

  “I’d rather be someplace where we can talk in private.”

  Mazzie appraised us in silence before saying, “So, do you want to tell me the real reason you wanted to see me?‌”

  Her thick brows dipped lower in concentration as I conveyed the information we had, leaving out only Lupe’s relationship to the missing people and Javier’s hiding place. When we finished, she wore a look of eager concern. “Can you arrange for me to speak with this child?‌”

  Lupe and I exchanged a questioning glance before I turned back to her. “I’m afraid not. We’ve given our word that his location remain a secret for now, but in your opinion, how much credence should we give this boy’s story?‌”

  She pursed her lips together for a few seconds before answering. “I don’t really know what to make of the black horse he refers to, but the rest of his story is very consistent with other abduction accounts, including his memory loss, which we refer to as ‘doorway’ amnesia, and also his depiction of the monster bugs.”

  Cold tremors danced along the base of my neck and I could tell by Lupe’s fearful expression that she felt the same. I think I’d have been happier if Mazzie had announced that it was all the product of a child’s active imagination.

  “Let me show you something,” she said, reaching for her bag. She thumbed through some folders and pulled one out, opening it in front of us. “There are three categories of extraterrestrials that have been described in vivid detail and even drawn by the abductees themselves after being regressed under hypnosis. The most common type has been nicknamed the ‘grays.’” She pointed to a sketch of a fragile-looking creature dressed in a coverall. “The description is almost always the same—approximately four feet high, grayish-white hairless skin, an elongated, bald head and black almond-shaped eyes.” She moved her finger to the opposite page. “This one is a blend between a human and an alien. We call it the humanoid. As you can see, it looks very similar to us, except that abductees describe them as being over seven feet tall. Finally, there are these.” With dramatic flair, she flipped the page and pushed it in front of us. Lupe’s gasp of horror sent a shockwave tearing down my spine. “This one,” she said, tapping the page for emphasis, “known as the mantis, sounds very much like what this child is describing.”