‘I saw the light under the door,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t sleep either.’ He was wearing an old dressing gown, frayed at the edges, obviously purchased about 1955 and now far too tight for him. ‘I brought a bottle,’ he said.
‘So I see,’ Stanford said.
‘I thought you might be able to do with a drink… keep the rain from your doors.’
Stanford grinned at that, swung his legs off the bed, rubbed his eyes and then looked at the rattling doors.
‘That’s some storm,’ he said.
‘It certainly is, my friend. I’m wondering if there’s any connection. Where are the glasses?’
‘Why a connection?’
‘We can’t drink without those glasses.’
‘You’ll find a couple in the bathroom. Now why a connection?’ Epstein went into the bathroom, returned with two glasses, unscrewed the bottle of Scotch and poured two stiff shots.
‘Here,’ he said, passing one to Stanford. ‘It’ll settle your nerves.’ Stanford took the glass from him. ‘What makes you think I’m nervous?’
‘Aren’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘So am I. That’s why I’m here.’
They both sipped their Scotch. Epstein sat in a bamboo chair. Stanford remained on the edge of the bed, observing the rattling doors. ‘You think there’s a connection?’
‘There might be,’ Epstein said. ‘This storm just blew up out of nowhere – and it’s uncommonly violent.’
‘You’re thinking of Galveston.’
‘We’re both thinking of Galveston.’
Stanford had another sip of Scotch. ‘I feel weird,’ he said quietly. The thunder rumbled again. They heard the crackling of lightning. The rain poured down on the verandah, whipped across by a howling wind, the wind making the double doors rattle, trying to push them both open.
‘How’s Gerhardt?’ Stanford asked.
‘I think he’s sleeping,’ Epstein said. ‘I had a look before I came here. His room lights were turned off.’
‘There’s something odd there,’ Stanford said.
‘You think so? I hadn’t noticed.’
‘I’m thinking of his conversation. He said the experience terrified him. A minute later, he said he felt nothing, and then he said he felt elated. Those are contradictory words. His expression was also contradictory. His eyes were very bright, very eager and excited, yet the rest of his face was tense with fear… It doesn’t really add up.’ ‘Is that what you saw?’
‘It’s what I think I saw.’
‘He seemed calm when he went into his bedroom.’
‘He seemed unnaturally calm.’
Epstein sipped some Scotch, his gray gaze roaming restlessly. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ he said eventually. ‘I did think he was a bit odd. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but, yes, he was too calm. Given the nature of his experience, he should be more concerned than he is. And that was a pretty strange story he told. He mentioned Saturday night. That’s tonight, Stanford.’ Epstein drank some more Scotch, splashing a little on his wrist. ‘I would love to have seen those photos,’ he said. ‘I wonder where that photographer went.’
‘It’s interesting,’ Stanford said. ‘I was thinking about it later. The photographer said he didn’t see a thing when he was taking the pictures. I got to thinking of Gardner. He mentioned a similar case. I think he was talking about the Lubbock lights and the photographs taken at that time.’
‘That’s right,’ Epstein said. ‘It was definitely the Lubbock photos. Gardner said that what the photographer picked up was an exceptionally bright light source that had a color at the most distant red end of the spectrum. That means it was infrared – or something similar to infrared. That in turn means that the object would seem dim to the human eye but be very bright and clear on a photo. It’s an interesting possibility. That’s what we could have here. That disk could have been solid, giving off infrared light, and thus would have become invisible to the photographer while coming out on his photos.’
‘Take it further,’ Stanford said. ‘Go beyond the known spectrum. If those objects could produce such a light, if they could produce it at will, that would explain why they could materialize and disappear in the wink of an eye.’
‘It’s possible,’ Epstein said. ‘It’s within the bounds of probability. The UFOs are usually described as being surrounded by glowing colors: blue, green, yellow, orange, red. Assuming that we’re dealing with a metal composed of already known elements – possibly of unusual purity and radical mixtures, but known elements nevertheless – that we can also assume that what we are not dealing with is a magical metal that can actually transmit light.’
‘I’ll buy that.’
‘Thank you.’ Epstein cocked his ear to the distant thunder, shivering when the double doors rattled. ‘So,’ he said. ‘Electrical discharges of unusual strength will sometimes lead to a soft white glow, a corona, near high-voltage transmission lines. This leads one to assume that our UFO may have either some sort of negative potential that causes electrons to leak into the atmosphere surrounding it, an alternating potential that agitates gas atoms in the surrounding atmosphere to their ionization potential, or even an alternating current within its own shell, which draws energy from that same surrounding atmosphere.’
‘A neat theory,’ Stanford said. ‘But that only accounts for a white glow.’
Epstein smiled. ‘Very true. However, what we’re now assuming is that the UFO’s luminosity is not caused by its own unique composition, but by the natural air closely surrounding it. Let’s now bear in mind the fact that if atoms are sufficiently agitated by the absorption of electromagnetic radiation, a few of their electrons will be elevated out of their normal orbits or possibly removed from the atom completely; then, as further electrons fall back into these empty spaces, a certain amount of energy will be released and radiated away as photons. That being said, I need only point out that within the visible region a stream of such photons having the same wavelength and frequency will be seen by the human eye as an unusual, glowing color, ranging all the way from violet to red.’
‘Electromagnetic radiation?’
‘It fits in with our trace cases. We’ve often found unusual traces of electromagnetic radiation upon examination of reported landing sites.’
‘Right. And assuming that such craft were made of some exceptionally pure composition of white metals – say, aluminium, magnesium, titanium or strontium – and that this unusually pure metal was electromagnetically charged, that would account for the fact that our UFO often appears to be white or silvery up close, a dull or dark gray when viewed through atmospheric haze, or is just as often surrounded by a glowing halo of various colors.’
‘Precisely. And, of course, as you’ve just said, should it be able to create a color source beyond the known spectrum – and turn that source on and off at will – it could be invisible to the human eye, show up on normal film, and yet materialize in our visible spectrum whenever it wishes.’
Stanford whistled softly. ‘That would explain a lot,’ he said. ‘The whole subject is a mystery,’ Epstein said. ‘And it’s driving me crazy.’
The thunder roared outside and was followed by crackling lightning. The doors rattled, making Epstein glance up, then he stared down at the floor. His own words were meaningless to him; they were words to bridge the silence. He was frightened and he didn’t know why, which only made him even more frightened. Stanford clearly felt the same. He appeared to be deep in thought. They were both very frightened at this moment, neither knowing the reason. Epstein thought of Professor Gerhardt, thought of what Stanford had said: Professor Gerhardt had changed in a subtle manner, and was hiding some secret knowledge. Epstein sighed and sipped his Scotch, heard the beating of the rain. He thought of the night at Galveston, of the strange girl on the porch, of her ambiguous smile and distant gaze, her eyes fixed on the sky. He wondered what the girl had experienced, wondered how it had affected her; wondered if Gerhardt ha
d been affected the same way, and, if so, to what extent. Epstein looked again at Stanford. His younger friend was pale-faced. He had never seen Stanford so tense before, and he cursed the whole mystery.
‘We should go to sleep,’ he said.
‘I can’t sleep,’ Stanford said.
‘What on earth do you think is going to happen?’
‘I don’t know,’ Stanford said.
Epstein stared at the shuttered doors. They were rattling dementedly. Thunder roared and lightning flashed through the shutters and the doors shook again. Epstein felt that he was dreaming. The storm seemed to be unnatural. He saw Stanford rising slowly to his feet and then putting his glass down. Epstein couldn’t think straight. He saw Stanford turning around. The lights suddenly went out, plunging the room into darkness, then the locks on the shuttered doors snapped and the doors were blown open.
The howling wind rushed in, , sweeping Epstein from his chair, filling the air with flying sheets and pillows and papers and bottles. Epstein rolled across the floor, heard the sound of exploding glass. A fierce light filled the room, very warm, almost blinding, and he gasped and rolled into Stanford and they both slammed into the nearest wall. Stanford cursed and grabbed a leg of the bed. A bottle smashed above his head. The wind howled and pressed Epstein to the wall with debris flying around him. The heat. The white light. He covered his eyes with his hands. The heat receded and he opened his eyes to see a black, streaming darkness.
‘Gerhardt!’ Epstein bawled.
He crawled toward the main door. A spinning sheet coiled around him. He cursed and clawed wildly at the sheet while the wind hammered at him. Then it hissed and receded. He looked up, disbelieving. The wind still swept the rain across the porch, but the storm seemed more natural. Lightning flashed across the sky, briefly illuminating the room; he saw Stanford rolling away from the bed and clambering back to his feet. ‘Jesus Christ!’ Stanford said. He glanced dazedly around him. Epstein clambered to his feet and shook his head and then rushed to the main door.
‘It’s Gerhardt!’ he bawled.
Epstein pulled the main door open and found the corridor in darkness. He and Stanford both raced along the corridor until they reached Gerhardt’s room. The room door was open. There was no one inside. Epstein cursed and looked frantically at Stanford and then they both started running.
The whole hotel was in darkness, doors opening and closing, people shouting as they hurried back and forth, a few carrying torches. Stanford and Epstein rushed outside. The wind howled along the terraces. The coco palms were bent low and creaking, silhouetted in faint light.
‘The beach!’ Stanford bawled.
They ran together along the terrace, passed Reception, crossed the patio, the wind howling and sweeping the rain about them, almost bowling them sideways. Stanford reached out for Epstein. They held on to each other. They fought their way through the rain and beating wind until they came to the gardens. Stanford pointed a finger. ‘ – down there! Somewhere there!’ He started forward, pulling Epstein with him, thunder rumbling above them.
The storm was demoniac, lightning ripped through the sky. They leaned forward and headed into the wind, circling around the hotel. Torches shone and blinked out. The gleaming white walls receded. They found the track at the rear of the hotel and headed for the beach. Epstein kept his head down. The thunder made his ears ring. He glanced up as more lightning ripped through the sky, a giant skeleton hand. Stanford was shouting at him. Epstein couldn’t hear what he said. The wind howled beneath the rumbling of the thunder as the rain poured down brutally.
‘ – there he is! Over there!’ Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the ground below. Epstein looked ahead and saw Professor Gerhardt, a shifting ghost in the distance. Gerhardt was wearing his pyjamas. He was not looking back. He was hurrying toward a grove of coco palms that led down to the beach, his pyjamas flapping wildly about him, both hands on his head. More lightning flashed across the sky. A fierce glare flared up and died. The winding track and the surrounding earth and trees materialized and then vanished.
‘ – what the hell is he after?’ Stanford shouted against the wind, the rain hissing and sweeping across him. The lightning lit up the night and the distant palm trees. Professor Gerhardt had vanished. Stanford cursed and raced ahead. The lightning passed and he saw a strange glow fanning out in the sky.
‘ – over there! That’s the path!’ Stanford pulled Epstein onward. They stumbled toward the palm trees. Thunder roared and lightning tore the sky in jagged fingers of yellow flame. Then the darkness returned. They saw that glow above the sea. Stanford cursed again and Epstein groaned. The wind whiplashed the rain. The thunder roared and the wind howled through the trees and the mud made a squelching sound. It all seemed like a nightmare. The land flared up and vanished. They were blinded by lightning and lost in darkness, and they stumbled through the beating wind and rain as if running in circles.
Then they reached the palm trees, which were quivering, pouring rain. The lightning flashes and they saw a stretch of sea, a black sheet streaked with silver. Then it was dark again. Thundered rumbled above their heads. Stanford pointed to the left and started forward and pulled Epstein with him. They passed between the creaking trees. The branches shivered and drenched them. They left the shelter of the trees and found the path that ran down to the beach. More lightning illuminated the beach before returning to darkness. They had not seen the beach. To their right, between them and the beach, was a high bank of earth.
‘ – we’re going down! Watch your step!’ The steep track was running mud. They both slipped and tripped on stones. The track curved to the right, broadened out and then narrowed, climbed a little and then plunged on down and started leveling out again. The thunder rumbled above them, the wind howled and then receded, the rain lashed them in a final bout of rage and then abruptly ceased.
Epstein glanced up, surprised, saw a dark cloud drifting by, saw the stars and then gazed down sloping earth and saw a white stretch of beach. Epstein couldn’t believe it. There was no wind there at all. Stanford jerked his wrist and pulled him forward and they both hurried downhill.
‘There he is!’ Stanford hissed. They both stopped on the instant, saw a broader expanse of beach, Professor Gerhardt hurrying across the sand, his pyjamas still flapping. The moonlight fell upon him, elongating his shadow; he was drenched and his hands were by his sides and he seemed very fragile. Then he stopped walking. He was near the coco palms. Another man came into view, uncommonly small and slim, wearing a one-piece suit of silvery material, a strange cap on his head.
Stanford and Epstein were both stunned. They stared in silence, staring down. The banked earth limited their vision to a triangular stretch of beach, the long lines of trees forming one side, the other formed by the moonlit sea. Professor Gerhardt was near the trees. The small man had stopped in front of him. Epstein blinked and felt a pressure in his head, an almost imperceptible vibrating. The small man stepped up to Gerhardt, his suit gleaming in the moonlit. He reached out with his left hand, touched Gerhardt on the neck, then they both walked to the right and disappeared behind the high, muddy bank.
‘Jesus Christ,’ Stanford said, ‘did you see that? Gerhardt didn’t resist!’
They both started running again, slipping and sliding down the track, the mud squelching beneath their bare feet, the branches shivering and dripping rain. Epstein felt cold and frightened, his head tight and vibrating. He thought he heard a bass humming sound, but he couldn’t be sure. They stumbled together down the track, passed through moonlight and shadow, gasping as the branches dripped rain, further soaking their clothes. Stanford cursed and then fell, tumbling down the last stretch of the hill. He rolled over and then clambered to his feet and they both raced to the beach.
‘Oh, my God!’ Epstein whispered.
They both slithered to a halt. The beach lay before them. It was fringed with coco palms and those trees formed a wall that stretched in a semicircle toward the s
ea. Out there in the sea was an eighteenthcentury ship. Its huge sails were billowing in the breeze, illuminated in white haze. The great disk was above the ship, was twice as long as the ship. It just sat there in the sky, about two hundred feet up, a dark mass in a plasma-like glow, the stars winking around it.
Stanford and Epstein just stood there. They were stunned by this awesome vision. They saw the past and the future in the present and were dazed by this miracle. The white sails of the ship billowed. The great disk glowed and pulsated. The air hummed and vibrated and seemed alive with some mysterious force. Epstein rubbed his stinging eyes. Stanford shook his head in wonder. The great disk hovered over the ship and they were both bathed in a silvery-white haze.
‘It’s the Endeavour,’ Stanford said.
‘What?’ Epstein said.
‘It’s a replica of Captain Cook’s ship.’
‘What the hell’s that above it?’
Stanford didn’t reply, but merely stood there, gazing up. The great disk was a dark mass in a glowing haze, its details obscured. The breeze ruffled Stanford’s hair. He glanced briefly at Epstein. They stared at one another, both speechless, wondering what they could do. The beach vibrated beneath their feet. They both heard the bass humming sound. The sound was all around them and above them and had no fixed direction. They both stared at the Endeavour. Its huge white sails billowed outward. Raising their eyes, they saw the great disk above, its glow hazing the stars.
Then Epstein remembered Gerhardt. He turned around to survey the beach. The sand stretched out to the curved wall of a cove at the end of the beach.
‘Gerhardt must have gone there,’ he said. ‘There’s nowhere else they could have gone. That creature must have taken him over there. I think we better go look.’
He started hurrying along the beach, followed instantly by Stanford. The light walling on the beach wasn’t moonlight: it came from the great, hovering disk. Epstein was gasping, but he kept moving, his heart pounding uncomfortably. The silvery-white haze fell across the nearby trees and made them look artificial. Epstein heard the lapping water, a rhythmic, timeless sound. He kept walking, feeling hollow and unreal, his head vibrating and tightening. He wondered what that was. He knew it came from the enormous disk. Stanford hurried up to his side and then passed him and raced on ahead. They were nearing the wall of the cove. Epstein felt a great fear. He saw a curved line of trees, a wall of stones, and then a roar split his eardrums.
GENESIS (Projekt Saucer) Page 25
