by Rachel Ford
The flash went off, and all four figures turned. This time, Alfred did scream. But he kept taking his pictures. The men in suits pulled the humanoid toward Cassidy’s office. Cassidy himself darted for Alfred, saying, “Dammit, what the hell are you doing here?”
Cassidy grabbed for Alfred’s phone as he reached him. The taxman retreated, heading for the door. His mind was a mess of confusion – he had no idea what he’d just seen – but he knew that he had to get out of there. He could work the rest out later.
He burst out the back entrance, but got no further than five steps before he felt the electrodes of a taser bite into his flesh. In the next instant, he was on the ground writhing.
Pain swarmed his senses. He was only vaguely aware of Mike Cassidy’s knee, biting into his back; and then a syringe, being jabbed into his flesh.
Then Alfred’s world went dark.
He woke in a cell, with every centimeter of his body seeming to hurt. He was lying on a cot, with a rough blanket underneath him and a concrete ceiling above.
He groaned and tried to sit. At first his muscles quivered, like they were made of jello, and resisted any attempt at manipulation. Then, slowly, grudgingly, they acquiesced. He rose to a sitting position, and dangled his legs off the cot. His head swam with the motion, and his stomach churned. For a minute, he feared he might upchuck his dinner.
Eventually, though, the roiling of his insides quieted, and he was able to get to his feet. He headed to the bars. “Hello?” he called. “Anyone there?”
He glanced up and down the hall. It was a small, off-white stretch of prison, with cells on either side. He was, as far as he could tell, the only occupant. “Hello?”
A sound, like the grating of metal on metal, screeched down the hall, followed by footsteps.
“Who is there?” he demanded.
By way of answer, a man dressed in a deputy’s uniform stepped into view. “Well, well,” he said. “Looks like our drunk-and-disorderly is awake.”
“Who are you?” Alfred asked. “Where am I?”
“I’m Deputy Beck. And you are in the Sand Plains jail.”
“In jail? Why am I in jail?”
Beck raised an eyebrow. “Oh, we’ve got a list. Trespassing, disorderly conduct, public drunkenness.”
Alfred blinked. “Drunkenness? Disorderly conduct? I was attacked! They’re kidnappers. They’ve got an alien in that basement.”
Deputy Beck stared at him, then laughed out loud. “Mike said you were ranting about aliens.”
“It’s not a joke, deputy,” Alfred protested. “I’m serious. There’s an alien in the museum. I’ve got pictures.”
“Sure you do, pal. You and everyone else there tonight. Now why don’t you sleep it off? I’ll check on you in the morning.”
Deputy Beck could not be persuaded to listen to reason that night, nor could he be prevailed upon the next morning. “Listen,” he said as Alfred tried a second time to explain what he’d seen at Landing Site Earth, “You’re getting off lucky. Mike’s not pressing charges, and the attempted breaking-and-entering alone could spell a lot of trouble for you. I guess, in his business, he deals with a lot of you kooks. But don’t push your luck, alright?”
Alfred was furious. “I’m not a kook! I’m telling you, I saw an alien there. It wasn’t human, officer. They were kidnapping it, hauling it off to who knows where.”
Beck rolled his eyes and continued working on the paperwork he was processing to release the taxman.
This only further raised Alfred’s ire. “I am giving you a report, dammit. Don’t just roll your eyes. Do your damned job.”
Now, the deputy looked up at him. He sat back in his chair, crossed his arms, and said, “Alright. I’ll take your report, Mr. Favero. Then I’ll charge you with filing a false report. And I’ll recommend the DA – who is a good friend of mine, by the way; we shoot pool every Thursday after work – put you up for the maximum possible.”
Alfred blinked and gulped at these words.
“Or,” Beck finished, “you can save us both some time, and can the crazy talk. So, which do you choose?”
Alfred had the distinct impression that the deputy wasn’t bluffing. “To let it drop,” he decided.
“Smart man. I couldn’t have chosen better myself. Now, if you’ll leave me alone, I’ll finish this up, and you can be on your way.”
Chapter Nine
Alfred left Sand Plains with the deputy’s caution not to bother Mike Cassidy again. “He won’t be so forgiving next time,” Beck had said. “And neither will I.”
The taxman had been given his set of car keys and his phone back. The phone, though, had been smashed. Its screen was shattered, and it wouldn’t even power up. It looked like someone had taken a hammer to it. When Alfred protested that this was an obvious effort to destroy his evidence, Beck had glowered at him, asking, “I thought we were dropping the crazy talk?”
“You mean, you’re going to let them get away with destroying my property?”
“Them? You were drunker than hell. You’re lucky the phone’s the only thing you broke in your state.”
As far as the lawman was concerned, there was nothing more to it than that, and Alfred had to content himself with leaving town without being charged. Not that he was content. His mind seethed the entire trip back.
He headed straight for work, and, this time, to Director Caspersen’s office. For reasons he couldn’t immediately ascertain, she fixed him with a disapproving stare when he walked in. She was consulting with Justin, and, glancing up to see Alfred waiting, she said, “Let me think about it, Lyon. I’ll get back to you.”
“Yes ma’am,” he smiled. “I await your decision.” His colleague’s smarminess, the taxman noted, increased by factors of ten around management. Justin’s eyes widened as he passed Alfred. “Rough night, Freddie?”
Then, he was gone, and Caspersen said, “Get the door, Favero.”
He did as he was bid, and then started, “Director, there’s something-”
But she interrupted. “I got a call from the Sand Plains sheriff’s office.”
Alfred blinked. That was what he’d been about to tell her, but something in his boss’s tone made him think Caspersen had already picked a side; and it wasn’t his.
She was frowning at him. “Drunk and disorderly, Alfred? Really?” She shook her head. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I didn’t drink a thing!” he protested. “Not a sip. It’s a frameup.”
She still frowned, but asked, “A frameup?”
“Yes. A coverup, because I caught them.” He then proceeded to explain what he’d seen and what he’d done.
Caspersen’s expressions ranged from incredulity to outright disbelief. “My God, Favero. You’re going with the little-green-men defense? You really expect me to believe that?”
“It’s true, Director,” he protested. “You know me. I’d never get drunk on the job. I don’t get drunk at all.”
“Which is why I didn’t immediately recommend you for disciplinary action,” she said. “Because this is such an exception. Still, you’re doing yourself no favors by lying.”
“I’m not lying. Caspersen, you’ve got to believe me.” Then, he remembered the shattered phone in his pocket, and drew it out. “Here,” he said. “I’ve got proof.”
She stared at the device, and the thousand-and-one spindly cracks all over it. “A broken phone? What does that prove?”
“That they’re trying to hide what I found,” Alfred urged. “I took pictures, pictures of the alien, pictures of the men in black. I’m telling you – I know it sounds crazy – but they had an alien. A real-life, honest-to-goodness alien. And they dragged him off to Cassidy’s office.” He shook his head. “They’re kidnapping extraterrestrials down there, Caspersen. Cassidy’s got to be working with the government. The Suits had to be government men. Probably with Area 51. I don’t know what’s going on, exactly, but I’m telling you, it’s true. And I got pictures.”
>
“On a phone that just happens to be destroyed,” Caspersen said dryly. “That’s convenient.”
“No,” he protested. “It’s the opposite of convenient! It means I can’t pull them up and show you.”
“Alfred,” she sighed, “you’re a good analyst, and everyone screws up now and then. But lying to me?” She shook her head. “That I’m having a hard time with.”
He felt his heart sink. “Caspersen,” he pleaded. “You know me. I wouldn’t lie, I wouldn’t make up anything crazy like this.”
She rubbed her temples. “You’re not hearing me, Favero.”
“I am,” he said. “But I’m telling you the truth. I wasn’t drunk, I didn’t imagine it. There are aliens in Sand Plains.”
She held his gaze for a moment, her expression a combination of annoyance and disappointment. Then, she sighed again. “Alright. If that’s how you’re going to be, I’m putting you on two-weeks administrative leave, Alfred. Unpaid. Give you time to think about your inability to own up to your own actions.” He started to protest, but she raised a hand to silence him. “You’re not leaving me a choice here. And when you do come back, I don’t want another word about flying saucers or little green men. I want the truth, number one, and an apology, number two, for lying to me.”
“Caspersen,” Alfred said, “you can’t be serious.”
“I am, Alfred. And if you keep lying to me, you’re going to lie your way out of a job. You understand? I need to be able to trust my people implicitly, and right now you’re far from the mark.”
He didn’t have time to check in with Nancy or return to his office. Caspersen had threatened to walk him out of the building, and that was enough to compel compliance. Alfred left the unmarked facility of his employment, reeling.
He sat in his car for a few minutes, too stunned to fully comprehend what had just happened. He felt defeated – physically, almost, deflated, like a balloon missing half its air.
And then, just as he seemed to come to terms with his situation, he’d remember that mottled blue being herded into the back office of Landing Site Earth’s museum. And his mind would swim all over again.
He began, almost, to doubt his own memory. But, no. I know what I saw. It was no hallucination. He’d seen an alien. He’d gotten photos of the alien. That’s why Cassidy had attacked him; that’s why they destroyed his phone.
The phone. It was ruined, he knew, but an idea, a vague hope, crept into his breast. Nance had been able to pull files off Justin’s phone when he’d accidentally dropped it a few months back. Lyon had despaired that the data was gone, but she’d been able to retrieve it. Maybe – maybe – she could do the same for him.
He couldn’t call her – obviously, since his only phone was destroyed. And he didn’t dare go back into the office. Even if Caspersen hadn’t deactivated his badge – and he wasn’t entirely certain that she hadn’t – in her current mood, she’d probably fire him if she caught sight of him now.
No, he’d have to wait for her to get out of work. He thought about waiting in the parking lot, but he imagined that would be just a few degrees less provoking to Caspersen than returning to the building. So he powered the car up and headed out. He’d have to wait for Nance at her place.
Chapter Ten
Nancy arrived shortly after five. It was not a moment too soon. Alfred had been waiting for three hours, and his bladder felt like it might rupture.
She was surprised to see him – surprised, but pleased. “Alfred!” She wrapped him in a hug. “I was afraid something happened.” Now, she drew back to look him over. “Why haven’t you been answering your messages?”
“My phone’s broken. But Nance, can you let me in? I got to use the bathroom. Badly.”
This was done, and when Alfred emerged, it was to a barrage of questions. “Justin said he saw you at the office earlier. He said it looked like something was up. But Caspersen wouldn’t talk about it. What’s going on, Alfred? What did you find out? Are you okay?”
“Nance,” he said, “I need your help. I’ve been framed.”
“Framed?” Concern spread over her features. “By who? For what?”
“Nothing big – but it’s to discredit me. To silence me.”
“Silence you?” She grinned. “Do they know you, Alfred?”
“I’m serious, Nance. I discovered something. Something – huge.” He hesitated. He didn’t want to repeat his experience with Caspersen. He trusted Nancy implicitly; he’d trusted her with his life in the past, and he’d do it in a heartbeat again. But he couldn’t shake the look of disappointment he’d seen in his boss’s eyes, either, when he brought up aliens.
“What?”
He swallowed, and took the plunge. “Aliens.”
Nancy laughed, but then, when he didn’t, sobered. “You’re kidding. Right?”
He shook his head. “I know it sounds nuts, Nance. But I’ve got proof. That’s why they’re trying to silence me.”
She frowned. “What proof?”
“That’s where I need your help. It’s on my phone.”
“I thought you said it’s broken?”
“It is. After Cassidy tasered me-”
“Wait, tasered you?” Her expression became one of concern. “Alfred, are you alright?”
For the first time in the day, he felt something cut through the anxiety he felt. He wasn’t alone. “I’m fine, Nance. It hurt like a son-of-a-biscuit, but I’m fine.”
“That piece of shit,” she fumed, “attacked you? Did they arrest him?”
“They arrested me.”
“You?” Her eyes widened. “What in the hell?”
“He said I was trespassing. He injected me with – something. I don’t know what. But I passed out. He told the cops I was drunk and breaking into his place.”
“Oh Alfred.” Nancy was all solicitude. “Are you sure you’re alright? Should we get you to the doctor, to make sure there’s no side effects or anything?”
“I’m fine. Really, I am. But I need your help. There’s pictures on that phone. Pictures of the alien.”
A shadow of doubt crossed the concern on her expression. “The alien?”
“I know it sounds crazy,” he pleaded. “But you’ve got to believe me, Nance. Caspersen suspended me – she thinks I’m lying to her – but if I can get the pictures back, I can prove I’m not. I can prove they’ve got an extraterrestrial there, against his will.”
This, finally, was too much for Nancy, and she required a full explanation. She listened, in turns furious and skeptical. “Alfred,” she said when he wrapped up, and her tones were very kind, “are you sure…well, that whatever he injected you with didn’t…maybe confuse you?”
“No, Nance,” he protested. “I know it sounds nuts. But I saw the alien. I saw him first. Before Cassidy came after me.”
She studied him for a minute. “It does sound nuts,” she said in a moment.
His face fell. “If you don’t believe me, no one will.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t believe you, Alfred. I said it sounds nuts. But I do believe you.”
“You do?”
“Yes. At least, that you saw something that looked like an alien.”
“It was an alien.”
“Where’s the phone? I’ll do what I can.” His heart soared. “But Alfred?”
“Yes?”
“If this is some kind of government coverup like you suspect…those photos might be gone for good.”
She’d just connected the phone via a USB cable to her laptop when a knock sounded at the door. She flushed. “Crap. It must be six already.”
“Six?”
“Yeah. Josh and I are…well, we’re going to dinner.”
Alfred blinked. In all the confusion and injustice of the day, he’d forgotten about the marine. He’d forgotten about the movie the night before. “To dinner? You mean…like a date?”
“Well…yeah,” Nancy said. “He asked me out last night.”
The taxman swall
owed. “Oh.”
She went to get the door, and the sounds of Josh’s voice carried down the hall. Like nails on a chalkboard. Alfred felt as if he was in a daze. Somehow, in twenty-four hours, his entire life had spiraled out of control. He had seen an extraterrestrial. He’d been arrested and jailed. He’d been suspended from work and threatened with termination. And now Nancy…Nancy was dating someone else.
In a minute, she returned with Josh. The marine had his arm around her, although Nancy drew away as they entered her home office. He frowned at Alfred. Still, he managed a reasonable façade of cheerfulness in his greeting. “What’s up, taxman?”
“Uh…nothing much. Just…working with Nancy on something.”
He nodded. “She told me. Lost files.”
“Yeah.”
Nancy shifted, and her discomfort was palpable. “Listen, Alfred…we’re going to head out. But I’ll work on them as soon as I get back.”
“Head out? Nance, I need those pictures as soon as possible.”
Stevenson frowned, and she hesitated. “It could take hours…”
“They’re the only way to prove what I saw.”
“It’ll wait till morning, dude. Nance’s off the clock,” Stevenson put in. “You may be a workaholic, but she deserves a life.”
She flushed, as if embarrassed by his words. Alfred, though, held her gaze. “I need you, Nance.”
The marine scoffed. “Jesus. What’s so important, anyway?”
“Alfred saw – something important – in Nevada,” she explained hesitantly. “He needs the pictures to prove it, though.”
“So important we can’t go to dinner, babe?”
She glanced between them, then seemed to make up her mind. “Alfred, I’ll get on it as soon as I get back, I promise. Even if I can access the drive, the copy’s probably going to run all night anyway. In the meantime, why don’t you go get another phone, so I can let you know what I do find, when I find it? If I find it.”