The Roswell Swatch

by Scott Powers

  “And I found his house on the county property appraiser’s site.”Max turned the tablet to Eve.“Here. We can be there in fifteen minutes.”

  Ted Lee’s place was in an old, semi-rural neighborhood past the outskirts of Orlando, a small ranch house, with a wheelchair ramp rising to the door. It was 3:00 a.m. The neighborhood was dark except for Ted’s house. A van and a sedan were out front. The lights suggested he, or someone, was inside and up. Someone from the IBTT likely was holding twenty-four-hour vigil, or waiting to be relieved. Max drove around the corner and parked.

  A pond stretched from the backyard, and because of the pond, there were no fences. They crept to a stand of trees behind the house.

  Eve let him know that at this point, she was the boss. Her Army training provided her with the skills they would need here.

  “You think I don’t have training in this shit?”Max protested.

  “Ever kill anyone?”

  “No.”

  “Then shut up. Shit, you don’t even have a gun,”Eve said.“So I have a plan. Two rooms are lit. Ted would be in the back. Go there. Give me thirty seconds, then break that window." She pointed. "Then duck.”

  “Duck?”

  “Duck.”

  Max did his best to sneak to the side of the house by the high, lit window in back. Eve ran lightly to the front. Max found a rock about the size of a brick and peeked into a corner of the window. It wasn’t a bedroom as he thought. It was a bathroom. A woman sat on the toilet.

  A woman? Max panicked. What if she’s not a captor? What if she’s a wife, or girlfriend? He froze. Ten seconds went by, twenty, thirty, forty.

  Eve slipped around the corner and raised her hands, signaling him to act.

  Now.

  He tried to pantomime the situation, first waving a female form, and then acting out sitting on a toilet. She waved a gesture of frustration and disappeared. Max took another peek. The woman was still there.

  Eve smashed the front door with a splintering bang.

  When he looked again, the woman was up, had pulled up her pants, and was holding a gun. So he threw the rock, smashed the window, and ducked. The woman inside fired two shots into the wall in his direction, but they didn’t come through Max’s side. He ran for the back of the house as he heard more shots fired. He heard Eve too.

  “We got you pinned, bitch! Throw your gun,”Eve called through the house. There was a pause, as if Eve awaited a response, which didn’t come.“If you free Ted, and he’s okay, we won’t hurt you!”

  “What?”

  “I said,‘We have you pinned. Throw—’”Eve said.

  The woman interrupted.“Heard that. What do you mean about freeing Ted?”

  Eve was moving and said nothing. Max heard the woman scramble from the bathroom.

  “You’ll never take Ted!”She screamed and fired.

  “Owww!”Eve yelled and Max thought his heart would stop.

  “I hit you?”

  “You wish!”Eve screamed and fired back.

  Max sensed a standoff that could only end badly.

  “Come and get me, Sheila!” Eve called from somewhere in the front of the house

  Max tried the backdoor but it was locked. As he gathered courage to crash it, he heard a man yell.

  “Jen! The back door!”

  Someone fired another shot, missing Max by inches.

  “You know, in Florida we can kill intruders,”Jen said.

  “What?”

  “I said it’s legal for me to kill intruders like you two.”

  “Ha! We’re not intruders. We’re rescuers!”

  Oh, geez, Max thought. But then another worry emerged. He saw a glow from headlights appearing out front. He rounded the house and saw two cars, far down the street, moving very slowly, still more than two blocks away.

  He assumed the worst.

  He ran around back again and spied a mower and a plastic gas can under an awning. He grabbed the gas and ran into the street. The two cars were still a block away. He ran in a circle¸pouring gasoline almost from curb to curb. He struck a lighter and reached toward the circle, and it leapt into flames.

  As he hustled to the middle of the circle, he saw the two cars stop, still about a hundred yards away. He got up and began dancing and singing, loudly. He chose Blink-182.

  “Turn the lights off! Carry me home.”

  Max stripped off his shirt, trying to look ceremonial. He began strumming an air guitar, channeling Blink-182 singer Tom DeLonge.

  “Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, naaaa, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na naaaa.”

  Eve and a much taller woman came out the front door together. Together? They looked like friends or sisters. Max tried to direct his voice to the porch as he turned his back to the cars and the fire for a moment.

  “Two cars coming! I think they’re IBTT! Get Ted and get the hell out of there,”Max yelled.“I’ll distract them.”

  He turned back to the cars, waiving his shirt.

  “Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, naaaa, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, naaa!”

  Lights came on in other houses at last. Max figured he had maybe one more minute before someone came over to investigate, maybe two before those cars came forward to confront him, and maybe five before the police arrived.

  The fire was dying. As he danced, Max saw Eve pushing a man in a wheelchair from the backyard. They quickly vanished into shadows.

  Max could hear sirens in the distance. Neighbors appeared on two front porches across the street. The cars remained where they were, their drivers frozen in confusion or indecision.

  The tall woman named Jen came out Ted’s front door carrying a large, heavy box. She put it in the van and then drove through the yard to Max.

  “Get in the back!”she screamed.

  There was a squeal of wheels down the street. The two cars were moving now. Max yanked open the van’s sliding door and dove in.

  “Weren’t you just shooting at me?”

  She ignored him and slowed just long enough to yell to a neighbor on the porch across the street.

  “Gil! Watch the house for a while, will ya?”

  She punched the gas and drove into the street, through a corner of dying flame. They turned the corner where Eve and Ted were waiting. Max rolled open the door, and the woman helped him lift in Ted. He looked groggy, drugged. Max jumped out and ran to the driver’s door of his car, ahead of Eve, who scrambled into the passenger side.

  “Scoot! I’m driving,”he said.

  The van took off first, just as the two Ford Interceptor SUVs appeared at the corner. Max threw his car into reverse then spun it around to face them. Eve reloaded as Max floored it. The street was narrow, without curbs, and he forced the first car into a ditch on the shoulder. Max tried to force the second car aside too, but it held its bearing. Max swerved to his right, just avoiding a head-on crash.

  His maneuver worked though. The first Interceptor was going nowhere. The second was stopped, indecisive. Ted’s van was gone. And the Interceptors faced the wrong way when Max gunned the Chevy.

  “Those are cop cars but those aren’t cops,”Max said.

  Max’s feeling of triumph was fleeting. As he glanced in his mirror, he was amazed at how fast the second Interceptor turned. This time Eve was ready for the chase, bracing herself as she looked back.

  “Here they come,”she said.

  Max made a left turn and then a quick right.

  The Interceptor stayed with them.

  “There’s two of them,”Eve said. "A driver and another man.”

  Max made another quick left, tossing Eve against the door.

  “The second car is back there now,”she said. “So Jen and Ted must have gotten away.”

  Max turned onto the highway and quickly reached ninety miles per hour. But he could not outrun them. The four-lane highway ran through dark pine and palmetto forests. Every quarter mile or so, Max passed someone.

  So did the lead Interceptor, pati
ently pacing. And then the second one appeared and blew past the first. Max tried to run but the Interceptor had momentum. The Interceptor slipped in front of Max’s Chevy and then wove trying to block both lanes and shoulders. Max had the Camaro up near 100 miles per hour and braked. The other Interceptor began weaving behind him, penning in Max and Eve.

  “They’re going to take us,”Max said.“But you can run.”

  “What?”Eve said.

  Their Camaro was slow enough now, below sixty miles per hour, for Max to try a move. He needed to buy time. He cut the wheel hard left and headed into the median. The car went airborne and came down on the opposite shoulder in a spin. Max accelerated into the spin and the car fishtailed, shooting across the lanes. He cranked the wheel and went into another spin, gassed, fishtailed, and came out straight, heading back toward town.

  Max glanced in the rear-view mirror. The Interceptors were slower making the turn, but they were doing it. He dug into his coat pocket.

  “Here’s my phone. Get in touch with Ted. Redial the third number back. Remember, consecutive primes. Everything else you need is in the trunk.”

  The Interceptors were chasing the Chevy again.

  “Here’s the fake Ted’s phone,” Max said, handing it to Eve.“Get this to Ted. He'll know what to do.”

  She stuffed the phones in her purse as Max drove.

  “What do you have in mind? Something stupid?”she asked.

  “Me?" Max said.“Do you still see them?”

  She looked back.“Uh-huh. They’re maybe a quarter-mile back, coming fast.”

  “I’m going to give myself up to them so you, Ted, and that tall chick can keep going.“I’ve always wanted to meet the‘men in black.’ Again.”

  “That’s stupid even for you. They might kill you.”

  Max swerved.

  “Nah, it’s you they want. I’ll be okay as long asyou’re free, as long as you hold onto that sample. Just don't get caught. Hear me?”

  Max came up on a pickup truck, changed lanes to pass, and then slowed to keep the truck close. Up ahead they entered a narrow bridge over a small river. Max braked hard. The Camaro swiveled left and then right until the pickup caught up. Max braked harder and both vehicles skidded sideways to a stop, blocking the entire bridge.

  He leaned over and kissed Eve. As she recoiled, he said,“Wish me luck, darlin’." Max jumped out, slapped the door shut, and shouted,“Go!”

  The Interceptors braked hard to avoid hitting the pickup or Max in the other lane. Eve had scrambled into the driver’s seat. She put the Camaro in gear and disappeared with a long squeal.

  “Hey, asshole!”shouted the young truck driver as he too got out.

  But the silencer aimed a handgun and said,“Get your truck the fuck out of the way! Now!”

  The driver climbed back in and left, flipping them off. That left Max on the bridge with two armed men, plus more in the Interceptors. He approached them. He recognized neither. Both were wearing slacks and golf shirts. Each had forgettable faces.

  “Gentlemen, we can talk this out, can’t we?”Max said.“How 'bout a lift?”

  The closer one punched Max hard enough to lift him off his feet.

  CHAPTER 8

  GIVEN TO FLY

  Max regained consciousness in the backseat of a moving car, handcuffed and blindfolded. Someone sat beside him. As his head cleared, he thought about the blindfold and smiled. Since they bothered, it was a sign they intended to release him.

  “He’s waking up,”said a man with a Russian accent.“Should I hit him again?”

  A man in the shotgun seat laughed.

  The guy hit Max anyway, hard, on the ear. Pain rattled his skull and neck, and when his head cleared again, his neck still ached. He didn’t know where they were or where they were going, but it figured to be a long ride. He had a deep-seated headache and thirst and felt nauseated. He wondered if he’d been drugged as well as beaten.

  “Water?”he asked, hoarsely. The act of speaking hurt in different places. He’d been punched in the throat and in the ribs.

  The Russian spit in his face. The shotgun seat laughed again. Then the driver spoke, in what sounded like Russian, but for all Max knew, it could have been any other Slavic tongue. It was a slow, stern, gravelly voice. The man in back pressed a water bottle into Max’s hand.

  The driver spoke again, this time in unaccented, American English.“You pissed us off, but we won’t hurt you.”

  “That’s awfully kind of you,”Max said.“Sorry if I hurt anyone’s fist.”

  The men laughed. Good. Humor was acceptable.

  They drove for a while longer in silence. Max had plenty of time to think, but he did not know what to expect, so he had no plan yet. He assumed Eve escaped. Did she catch up with Ted and the tall chick? Will they carry on without him? They had to. He knew she would.

  Max was convinced the guys in his car were all foot soldiers, not officers. Eventually he would meet with the real men in black. Then he would know. At last, the car slowed and turned onto a gravel drive. Max figured they went another quarter-mile before stopping.

  The shotgun passenger got out, and Max heard him opening a large, sliding door, wood-on-wood. The car pulled in and the door rolled back.

  The Russian next to Max pulled him out of the Interceptor. His feet settled on a dirt floor. He could smell the rich, organic scents of manure, hay, animals, and decay. They were in a barn. The guy pushed Max into a wooden chair and locked his handcuffs onto a chain. Max heard the barn door open again and the car leave.

  “You wait,”said the Russian. He left and closed the barn door.

  Max removed his blindfold. He was alone. The other end of the chain was locked to a timber post. There were no animals, but the stalls looked recently used. He could smell fresh manure.

  There was nothing useful within reach, except the chair. It was a hot day even though the old barn was well ventilated. They had emptied his pockets and taken his watch, belt, and shoelaces. What they couldn’t take was his collection of personas. He settled on a defense. He would channel Captain America. A perfect match for Russian spies.

  The captain had great strength, though no power against timbers and chains. But he had great moral resolve. It was time. He heard a helicopter approaching. He hoped for it to land, not pass over, and sure enough, he heard it land. A couple of minutes later, he heard men talking outside the barn. He couldn’t make out the language, let alone any specific words.

  Two men entered the barn. One was one of the thugs Max had met earlier, but the other was new, a businessman with a dark suit, a red tie, and an expensive-looking haircut. Like the thug, he was in his mid-thirties with a strong build under the well-tailored suit. Max sat in the chair with his hands on his knees and the chain hanging in-between. He’d been busy focusing his mind.

  The businessman spoke.

  “Max, I’m Sam and this is Bo. We’re here to help you.”

  Max replied slowly:“My name’s Steve Rogers.”

  “Now, Max, we must be honest with each another.”

  He withdrew a small box from his pocket and took out a syringe and a vial. He filled the syringe. The thug came over behind Max, grabbed his arms, and pulled them around behind the chair. Max decided not to struggle. What would be the point? It might be a good trip anyway.

  Sam injected the serum into Max’s shoulder.

  In a moment, Max felt relaxed and drifting. He ran the storyline of Captain America through his mind. The drug seemed to help. He was Captain America.

  The thug dragged over two more chairs from somewhere and he and Sam sat down. No one said anything. After a while, Max laughed, and Sam got up to check Max’s pupils with a penlight.

  “All we want to do is ask you a few questions, and you’re going to answer them, Max.”

  “Don’t call me Max.”

  Max felt completely carefree, almost euphoric. For the moment, he didn’t mind that he was chained in a sweltering barn. Or that he had no idea what
would happen. It was all right.

  “Where’d you get this? Sam asked. He was holding Eve’s swatch.

  Wow, after all this, there it is again.

  Max giggled uncontrollably. He almost choked for air and drooled. They waited patiently, so he decided to answer when he caught his breath.

  “That’s Eve’s. Where did you get it?”

  Sam stepped forward.

  “Eve’s,”he said.“And where’d she getit?”

  Max wanted to tell him but Captain America returned. Don’t tell them anything.

  “My job is to plant myself like a tree beside the river of truth,”he said.“And tell the whole world.”

  Sam nodded to the thug, who got up, put his foot on Max’s side, and then kicked him over, out of the chair.

  "These are dark and desperate times," Max said as he got up. He spit blood and laughed.

  "Look at me," he said. He turned and caught Sam's eyes. "I believe in an idea, an idea that a single individual who has the right heart and the right mind that is consumed with a single purpose, that one man can win a war."

  Bo and Sam looked perplexed. Who is this guy?

  “You’ve got it wrong,”Sam said.“We’re not the enemy. We’re just like you. We love this country. We’re paid to protect it, from all enemies, foreign and within. Why were you testing this material? Don’t you know this is important for your country’s defense? Don’t you realize this country has enemies, and you are only going to help them? Do the right thing. For your country. Tell us before it’s too late.”

  “Tell you what?”Max honestly couldn’t remember the question.

  “Why were you testing it?”

  “Testing what?”

  “The foil!”Bo barked, but Sam put a hand on his shoulder and motioned for him to sit down.

  By now, Max was lost in a haze between his own delusions and the confusion brought about by whatever drug they gave him. He was having a hard time concentrating on what they were saying and making sense of what he was doing.

  “This,”Sam said, holding it in front of Sam’s face. The foil looked psychedelic from this angle. Sodid Sam’s hand, for that matter. Stars were raining down from the foil.“Why were you testing it?”