by Peter Ness
At that, the small ball in the girl’s bag lit up with a sharp flash. The horse, rider and child suddenly disappeared, reappearing in the middle of the Brazilian jungle in 1973.
#
London: July 2012
‘Wow!’ Peter jumped up and down excitedly. ‘I wanna hear more.’
‘Yes. I wonder what that was all about?’ his sister Andrea said. ‘Bald Eagle seems to be from a different tribe,’ she mused.
‘He’s a good Injun then?’ Peter queried.
‘Yes. It would appear so,’ Andrea replied. ‘Okay. Are you ready for more?’
‘Of course,’ Peter jumped about excitedly. ‘Read on Andrea. Tell me more.’
Chapter 2: Marfa, Texas
106 years later, US route 90, near Marfa, Texas: 4:00 p.m. Friday September 27, 1968
A tall, lanky, British national of Irish descent leant against the side of a white van in his blue denim jeans. Robin Grady’s long black hair flicked at the top of his shirt in the light breeze. Then, he squatted down on his worn pale-brown geology boots to analyze the geophysical equipment on the ground, rubbing his dark stubble beard with the back of his hand.
Professor Robin Grady now stood perched against the back of the white panel van as one of his UCLA students laid out more geophysical instruments on the ground.
Another student, a girl, placed a telescopic Canon camera on a nearby tripod. One of the other male students spoke to the land owner who had come to join the party. The two male students began unloading some fold-up wooden chairs, a table and a small tent. A fourth male student stoked a small campfire. Chatting about the weather, the land owners’ wife poured a cup of tea from a thermos, handing it to Robin. He accepted it gratefully.
His eyes flashed down at his gold Seiko watch. It was precisely 4:00 p.m.. And then his head rose and focused hard on a small line of dust collecting above the road in the distance. The pickup truck came trundling down the road towards them trailing a small spurt of dust, pulling up with a grate of brakes on the side of the road. A solitary man climbed out and ambled across.
‘Ay, so ye did get my message after all,’ Robin hollered at the brown-haired man in the blue button up short-sleeved shirt and dark steel-capped miner’s boots. ‘Hi Kirin,’ Robin yelled. Yes, he noted, Kirin still walked tall; he never slouched when he walked. ‘As usual, yer right smack on time.’ His eyes flicked back down to his wristwatch and then up at the man walking towards him extending his hand. ‘Not one minute late. It’s good to see ye could make it.’ Squinting now, Robin noted the almost unimportant red insignia sewn just above Kirin’s shirt pocket. ‘So ye still working for Blue-Sky Mining?’
Robin’s pale blue eyes met those of the rather handsome man in front of him, noting the dark brown hair, piercing blue eyes, and thick, bushy, eyebrows. He wore those blue denim jeans well. They were the same age, in their early-thirties. His friend Kirin here claimed to be a third-generation Italian-American with an Italian mother — a likely story.
‘Yes, old friend.’ Kirin replied, shaking Robin’s hand firmly. ‘I’m still at BSM.’
‘Good to see ye again, Kirin. Ye haven’t aged in the past ten years or more,’ Robin mused, ‘not since we were at Uni. And, yer still wearing the same brand of clothes and even have the same friggin’ haircut—.’ He scratched his beard, having a flashback.
‘Well, neither have you Robin,’ Kirin smiled. ‘Your hair is longer though, I guess. And so is your ego. You do cut it? Your hair, I mean.’ They both laughed, clasping hands tightly, slapping each other on the back.
‘Aye but unlike me ye sure have changed a lot since university though — even yer own mother wouldn’t know ye. That is, if any would have ye.’
‘I don’t have a mother,’ Kirin said, rotating on his geology boots to scan the group in front of him, and rubbing his ear-lobe. ‘She died when I was a baby. My sister brought me up on the reservation. But, you know that. So, you made professor? Well done. It looks like you’re throwing a party. I see you have a few spare seats. Mind if I join?’
‘Before then I have something to show you. Follow me,’ Robin said. Then he moved to the front of the white panel van, opened the door and took out a canvas bag. ‘Come in the tent and I’ll show you.’ Robin placed two small clay tablets onto the hastily erected table.
‘Hmm,’ Kirin’s blue eyes opened widely. Then, glittering brightly they flashed up at Robin. ‘It looks like—. Yes, it’s a type of early Sanskrit. But, how in god’s name did you come past these? Not here — surely.’
‘They were found in a cave in India. I only know two people that can read Sanskrit. And, yer one of them. The other is a chap named Tom Fargo. He’s with the US Air Force.’
‘Don’t know the name, so likely never met him,’ Kirin shrugged his shoulders. ‘It’s okay to touch it?’ he asked. Robin nodded. Picking up one of the clay tablets, Kirin took a closer look. ‘So, what does he claim they say?’ Placing the tablet back down neatly onto the canvas bag now, he turned and stared deep into Robin’s eyes.
‘Tom? Well, he claims to know who ye are. Anyway—,’ Robin’s eyes swung away, and then met Kirin’s. ‘I doubt ye’ll believe what Tom said though.’
‘Try me. I’ve a pretty open mind,’ Kirin replied, rubbing his ear lobe. ‘You know that.’
‘He says that the age dating confirm that they are around 5,000 years old, from 3,000 BC, but that is much older than the dates of other Sanskrit.’
‘Yes. It is. Isn’t it my friend?’ Kirin nodded. ‘It predates Vedic Sanskrit by thousands of years, so is a precursor to it. And, what else did this Tom Fargo fellow tell you?’
‘I’m sorry, but that’s classified.’ Robin placed the tablets back into the canvas bag.’
‘But, I haven’t even started to translate them yet,’ Kirin said, the pitch of his voice rising slightly. ‘That’s if it’s even possible.’
‘Sorry, I wasn’t even supposed to show them to ye,’ Robin said. ‘Ye need clearance from Tom’s boss first.’
‘Yeah, sure I do,’ Kirin replied, almost sarcastically. ‘So, what are you intending to prove with this fancy new equipment?’ Kirin deftly switched topics.
‘Well. We have a theory on the Marfa lights,’ Robin replied. ‘We need some sucker to be a hero and drive where we instruct him. The aim is confirm whether the lights are just reflections of car headlights from the highway!’
‘And—, I guess I’m that person?’ Kirin asked.
‘I guess ye can say that yer that sucker,’ Robin replied with a laugh, slapping Kirin on the back. ‘Ye wanted to debunk these myths for years, so we’ve put ye at the front line to give ye that opportunity.’
‘What if they’re not just reflections of headlights this time?’ Kirin asked, in a rather disconcerted voice. Rubbing his right ear briefly, he adjusted his geology pick. It hung off his slightly worn brown belt.
‘Then, in that case, I guess yer in a real pickle. Ye just have to hope we save yer sorry ass in time!’ Robin laughed. ‘Let me introduce ye. Hey! Everyone! Listen up! This is Kirin. He’s yer man.’ He pointed to Kirin. ‘Kirin, this is everyone.’ Robin waved his hand towards the eager faces of the onlookers.
Kirin grunted and nodded. Wandering around, he briefly introduced himself. He pictured it. Any greener and they would rust. They would likely all hightail it at the first sign of trouble. Well, at least someone was reliable; Robin was here as a back-up.
‘So, tell me my friend, what’s the background on the Marfa lights?’ Kirin asked innocently, with a tug at his ear: get to the point.
‘A station is set up here. Lisa, my doctorate student, has another crew out along Route 67. We’re using radios to communicate,’ Robin responded. ‘Each year people report around fifteen to twenty sightings of the Marfa Lights. Someone sighted one last week, which is why we decided to come. People mostly report seeing balls of dancing light just on dusk or twilight, even late at night bouncing along the horizon — but rarely in daylight hours. To cut to t
he chase, I knew ye were back in the US. That’s why ye were invited.’
‘Okay. So, what do I do? What’s my part in all this drama?’ was Kirin’s reply, looking around. ‘Do I just wander out in the desert and sit on a mesa and wait?’
‘As ye can see the terrain is rugged, so we arranged a 4WD jeep for ye,’ Robin explained. ‘For safety sake, there’ll be two of ye in the jeep. If we strike it lucky, and the lights do appear — and we are expecting a temperature inversion, then yer job is to simply drive into their midst to check out the lights.’
‘What, and sit down and have a powwow with ET?’ asked Kirin. The female student looked up at him, abruptly, shocked. Yes, what would they do? Her eyes darted around, spying the van. She’d run and hide in the van.
‘Well, as ye know, from the perspective of someone like me, with doctorates in both geology-geophysics and in archaeology — all things have rational explanations. And—, I don’t believe in little green men!’ His students huddled around the newly formed fire now, ears pricked up. ‘But, ye already know that,’ Robin smiled. ‘The data suggest the aberrations correlate with variations in atmospheric conditions. But, strange things seem to happen when yer around, that’s why ye were invited. It might bring us some Irish luck.’
‘Is that all,’ Kirin scanned the group. ‘So, if it is ET then who’s coming to save me?’ Kirin looked around at the motley crowd which they both considered novices. ‘You and who’s army?’ He played with his right ear, scratching it almost in annoyance.
Robin laughed loudly, amused, and then slapped Kirin on the back. He knew Kirin was ribbing him. Kirin grinned broadly.
‘Ye don’t need any help Kirin. But whose army ye ask? Ask him. Here he comes now,’ Robin nodded towards a jeep pulling up. He held his hand up in the air and beckoned to the driver, rotating his hand like a lasso over his head.
‘Ah,’ Kirin replied. ‘I was wondering when the cavalry was going to finally turn up.’
They both watched as a tall stocky man, with a military short-back-and-sides haircut, jumped out of the jeep. Kirin eyed Fred Thurman off as he strode towards them. It was more of a fast stroll actually. He picked him a mile off, from the smell of boot polish and insect repellant. And that vehicle, a military looking jeep: a dead giveaway. Fred looked and smelt US Air Force, even his stagger. Hell, it was plastered on his forehead. Kirin analyzed Fred. Yes, a ring on the finger, so married, for sure. And, he probably liked Cuban cigars, drank his coffee black and had few emotional highs or lows. It was immediately clear that this man did whatever was required — even leveling mountains — to get the job done. Kirin stared hard at Fred and frowned, wondering why Robin would invite top brass military to a gopher hunt.
Fred Thurman slid off his dark-rimmed sunglasses, placed them in his left hand and held out his right hand to Robin.
‘Robin,’ Fred squeezed Robin’s hand firmly. Nodding now, he turned towards Kirin. ‘Hi! I’m Fred. Fred Thurman.’ Fred held out his hand, gripping Kirin’s tightly. He spoke in a strong, deep Chicago, accent.
‘This here is Kirin,’ Robin said introducing him, as if that was enough to define the man. Fred eyed Kirin off.
‘Yes. I know. I’ve heard all about you. There’s no introduction required. Okay buddy, when do we start?’ Fred glanced at Robin and then nodded towards the novices. ‘These folk look rather green.’ Kirin gave a slight laugh and then a wry grin.
Robin nodded in agreement and then began to provide some background and some explanation. Kirin stood with his left hand on his hip, pulling at his right ear lobe with his thumb and forefinger in deep thought.
‘This man is military. I can smell it. What’s he doing here?’ he wondered. But, the question that concerned him most was why Robin didn’t let him into his big secret to begin with.
#
Kirin sat with Fred in the jeep now, waiting, watching, as the setting sun slowly slid down over the ranges to the west in the distance. A hazy orange thin veneer of cumulus cloud started to form, spreading out, just above the horizon. The trees scattered across the undulating plain in front of them became less and less distinct. The shadows grew ever longer and the sun dimmed in the dusk beaten western sky. Soon the sun dropped behind the clouds and for a brief period of time the landscape became dark and almost gloomy, hostile, like a place where ghosts and aliens might conceivably hang out.
Orange tentacles of golden light stretched out through the billowing clouds. Then, as the glimmering sun slowly faded below the distant hilltops the landscape rapidly become engulfed in a dark haze. Within minutes the stars peeked out, firstly as small specks of pale white dots poking through the twilight and eventually encompassing the entire sky in a swathe of light.
Fred bent down and opened a bottle of soft drink. He passed one across to Kirin. It was a long wait. Saying little, they watched the sun set and the stars migrate across the sky. It was amazing the number of stars clustering in groups, moving in formation in the night sky. Kirin played with his Rolex in the moonlight. It was 10:00 p.m.. This Fred fellow never said much, he thought. By now most people would have spilled their entire guts and life history to him; if they had one.
Robin picked up the receiver of a two way radio and pressed the button.
‘Testing — testing,’ he said, looking at the dark. ‘Can you hear me?’
‘Yes. Over,’ Fred replied.
‘Okay. We’re taking a short break at this end to eat some grub,’ Robin said looking into the hand-set. ‘Ye can come back, or stay and eat the sandwiches from the bag prepared — in the Malley's Esky cooler in the back seat. It is up to ye?’
Just then, a student standing next to the camera tripod yelled excitedly, pointing at a flashing blip of light. Her eyes diverted back down, looking through the camera lens.
‘Professor Grady, we have something. Look! Hey, look! There it is, right there.’
Robin picked up the radio, depressing the switch with his thumb.
‘Hold on! Just wait up a sec. We see something happening around three hundred yards to yer right. Ye boys need to turn the vehicle around and head the other way,’ he said.
‘Okay. We see nothing from here, but we will mosey over and scout it out—. Over,’ replied Fred. ‘Okay. Let’s move it soldier!’ he ordered Kirin, who glanced across disapprovingly in the enveloping darkness, and then began rubbing at his ear lobe.
Kirin clicked the ignition key. The starter motor whined and the engine spluttered to life, then purred. He dropped the jeep into gear and it took off with a slight jerking motion. Turning, they bounced slowly towards a small knoll in the distance. The terrain was extremely rough. Difficult to navigate in the dark, the jeep jumped around erratically.
‘Okay. We’re at your target destination now,’ replied Fred. ‘Over.’ Kirin killed the engine and flashed a look across at Fred, with an unasked question in his eyes.
‘We see nothing. We hear nothing—. Over,’ Fred spoke into the handset.
‘Give it time,’ Kirin said, prophetically. ‘How much further, I wonder?’
‘Keep going. Keep going,’ Robin’s voice crackled over the radio static. ‘Ye fellows are almost on to them. No! Ye were right. They amn’t there! The leprechauns are just toying with ye and have moved away. Just a sec! There’re two more of the blighters.’
Robin peered through a telescope on a tripod. Several small glowing basketball-sized orbs of light danced about like headlights in the darkness, just behind the little jeep. Sometimes these orbs would fly high into the air. At other times they would appear by themselves, or in pairs, or as clusters of objects which would merge or separate at astonishing speeds, like bolts of lightning. They danced around now, hovering, at shoulder height, not far from the jeep.
‘Well for what it’s worth. We see nothing. I trust you’re getting it all on film?’ Fred asked. ‘Over.’
‘And—, why wouldn’t we be doing that? Can ye get any closer to the little blighters?’ Robin asked.
‘Closer to wh
at—? There’s nothing here, just the reflections of headlights.
That’s all,’ Fred responded, ‘Over—.’ The orbs danced around behind and above them now.
‘Can ye lads move to yer right another fifty yards or so?’ Robin suggested. Things were happening. If only Fred would stop being so darned negative.
‘No! We have a small mesa directly ahead. So we’d have to get out and walk,’ Fred replied. ‘Over—.’ He was starting to think this was a waste of time.
‘Okay. Just — amn’t do anything rash then,’ was Robin’s reply.
‘What, my friend? Like trip over in the dark?’ Kirin turned his head towards Fred, who put the handset down and picked up a hand-held Walkie-Talkie off the seat. He turned the squelch on to check it worked. Just then the moon slid behind a cloud. Darkness splashed over them. They opened their doors and clambered out, Kirin stumbling, almost falling over. Grunting, he fumbled with his flashlight. Its light bounced over the bushes. Slipping out of his grasp, it flipped over a small bush onto the ground. Then the light went dead. Kirin picked it up, shaking it, the torchlight almost blinding him as it shone back up in his face. He jerked his face back, losing night vision.
Ignoring Kirin, Fred walked around to the front of the vehicle. Depressing the squelch button several times, he spoke into the Walkie-Talkie.
‘Can you hear me on this?’ Fred asked. ‘Over.’
