The Shakespeare Incident

by Jonathan Miller

  She directed Denise to old newspaper clippings around the year when Denny would have moved here. “Is there like an index or something?” Denise asked.

  “In my head. You’ll have to go through them one by one in that particular year’s volume, about halfway through.”

  Denise went through every Tuesday letters page in the dusty book that hadn’t been opened in years. Denny’s first letter described the adoption process. He talked about missing his birth mother and his experiences with Nastia and how he was glad that he was finally being placed with a decent foster family. He mentioned Fally as well and how the town never dealt with the man’s domestic violence issues toward Nastia and toward him. Denny ended his letter by vowing that he would find his birth mother someday.

  The letter was well-written for an eighth grader. She smiled; his desire to meet his birth mother might help out in her motion for furlough. Denise copied the clippings on the library’s old copy machine.

  She went back to the bound newspaper volumes. Denny was silent for the next few months, but then he began a streak of writing letters every week.

  In Denny’s next letter, he wrote that his foster-father with the unlikely name of Dogberry Dunsinane (Cordelia’s dad) was unqualified and that the entire family was strange except for Cordelia. Denise now understood the Denny-Cordelia relationship a bit better; he was the foster kid and Cordelia was the only one who was nice to him.

  As to Cordelia, she probably liked him to piss off her parents at first and then found out that there was more to him than meets the eye.

  The next letter was far more heated in its prose—the Dunsinane family (except for Cordelia) was all mentally ill and conducted weird rituals behind closed doors.

  By the fifth letter, Denny had gone full-fledged alien-conspiracy theorist, going on about how Dogberry and the rest of his family (except for Cordelia) was part of an alien cult.

  In the sixth letter, Denny named names of local dignitaries, including Nastia’s ex, Fally, and Sheriff JC Diamond himself. Denny mentioned something about a “Shakespeare Incident” in 1947 that happened out by the Shakespeare ghost town. This incident had some connection with the Roswell crash and both Dogberry Dunsinane and the sheriff knew about it.

  There wasn’t a seventh letter.

  Denise looked around at the librarian. “What was the Shakespeare Incident?”

  The librarian took her to the 1947 volume of the Liberal and opened right to a dog-eared page. A local rancher reported a UFO on July 7, 1947, the same day as the Roswell crash.

  The article itself wasn’t that helpful. The rancher was riding on horseback near the Shakespeare ghost town and saw some flashing lights. A flying saucer landed, let some “people” out and then the saucer disappeared. By the time the cowboy got to the landing site, the people were gone and there were no traces of the flying saucer. For some reason the article reminded her of something, but she couldn’t place what it was.

  “Where was this?”

  “Well, the cowboy would have been on top of the hill where the cylindrical water tower is now. The so-called landing would have taken place on the other side of that hill. There’s a rumor that the flying saucer is still buried under the water tower, but there’s no proof of that.”

  “How come no one’s heard of this?”

  “Roswell got all the press. And his story makes no sense. The flying saucer lands, people come out and then both the people and the UFO disappear without a trace. There’s no proof of any of that. Let’s just say the cowboy wasn’t the most reliable witness.”

  “So Denny believes the cowboy, he thinks the aliens are still here?”

  “Or the descendants from the original aliens who married local folks.” The librarian came closer as if scared she was disturbing the invisible patrons of the library. “Here’s my theory. He probably got beaten by Fally. No one believes Denny or his mom about the physical abuse. Then Denny gets adopted by the Dunsinanes. Things go from bad to worse—his foster father, the late Mr. Dogberry Dunsinane abused him, sexually maybe. Denny tried to tell some people, and no one believed him again. He writes about it in the Liberal, but they stopped printing his letters after that. Denny’s projecting all his anger on his abuser, on his foster father, and on the authorities onto these quote-unquote aliens.”

  Denise stared at a map of the county posted on the library’s wall. “Wait a second, did the so-called landing take place on Dunsinane Ranch and that’s right by the Shakespeare ghost town?”

  “It’s a big ranch,” the librarian said. “It’s just a coincidence. Well, it’s not a coincidence that Denny blamed his issues on something that happened fifty years before he was born on the property he was living. I’m no therapist, but it’s narcissism.”

  Part of Denise believed the librarian’s theory. Denny had deep abandonment issues that might have stemmed from abuse—physical and perhaps sexual abuse. He was projecting all of his trauma not on an abuser, but on the quote-unquote aliens as way as if proving that he was somehow important in an unforgiving world.

  “I don’t know the details about the boy’s case,” the librarian said. “But he’s not all there. He used to sit right where you’re sitting, and write his letters.”

  “Thanks for your help.” Time for round one. Denise used the old law books in the library to draft the motion for a furlough on her laptop. She included the newspaper clipping as evidence to show how much he missed her. Maybe by sitting at a table where her brother sat helped her understand him better. She was able to knock out a draft in fifteen minutes.

  “Round 2,” she said to herself. Next, she thought of how crucial it would be to find the military records, especially the psychiatric ones if they existed. Her bother had had a Section 8 discharge, right? And then he was reinstated for experiments by military contractors?

  She found some good case law on point and composed a draft of the motion for a lawyer see the military records without a security clearance. She included the clippings from the Liberal to show his attitudes before he started in the military. She also found some case law about how the interests of justice could override secrecy, override national and perhaps planetary security.

  Once she had a decent draft of each motion done on her laptop, she sent them over to Luna. The wifi did work, thank god. Before she could leave the library, Luna texted that she would get back to her. Denise spent the next few hours in the library reading up on the town. She was starting to like this place in spite of herself.

  No one else came that day. At five, the librarian told her that it was closing time. As she closed the door behind her, the librarian gave her a stern warning. “Whatever you do, don’t go visit the ranch to check on any UFOs. It’s very dangerous over there for outsiders.”

  “But you said,” Denise said.

  “Just because your brother is crazy, doesn’t mean he isn’t telling the truth. A lot of people have gone over to the water tower to check things out, not all of them have come back.”

  This woman didn’t have a spark, but Denise knew the woman might as well be reading her mind. “I don’t think I’m the type who goes to a haunted ranch to find alien ruins,” Denise replied.

  “I hope not. I’m sure your motions will do just fine on their own.”

  Denise couldn’t decide whether the old woman was warning her or inviting her to check out the ranch. She spent another night at the Last Palm stuck in her motel room, which had a microwave in the room at least. There’d been a slim selection of frozen dinners at the local Family Dollar.

  One of the TV stations was showing an X-Files marathon. Was she Mulder or Scully? She knew that either one of them would want to check out the ranch, despite what the librarian had said. Just because her brother was crazy, didn’t mean he wasn’t telling the truth.

  Chapter 32

  Friday, July 24

  On Friday, Denise awoke in the Last P
alm to a text from Luna. Denise could feel the negativity of the current. Something had come up with Luna’s big case, but she’d had enough time to review the first drafts of her motions and hated them. REMOVE THE NEWSPAPER CLIPPINGS!

  At the rickety motel desk, Denise took out the clippings, made some minor adjustments reflecting the lack of exhibits in the briefs and sent them back to Luna.

  While waiting for Luna to respond, she texted all of her friends and told them about the original Shakespeare Incident.

  WHAT SHOULD I DO TO PREPARE FOR THE CASE?

  They all answered back, nearly word for word, that she should visit the crime scene at the Dunsinane Ranch or Shakespeare ranch whatever it was called, despite the warnings of the librarian.

  WAS SHAKESPEARE AN ALIEN? Hikaru texted back. I LOVED “MERCHANT OF VENUS.”

  I LIKED “ROMEO AND JUPITER” MYSELF, she texted back.

  After a few more exchanges of bad puns with Hikaru, she got in her car, crossed the freeway and headed south toward the site. Main Street curved past a few restaurants and a small park with an old army tank at the entrance, next to a big flag. The grass in the park needed watering.

  Above the park, she could see a hill with a cylindrical water tower on it. The tower had LORDSBURG written on its circumference in bold letters.

  That must be the place.

  On the drive toward the hill, she saw a sign for the Shakespeare Ghost Town and couldn’t help but check it out. She turned and drove a mile down the dirt road. She might as well see what the whole Shakespeare thing was all about. To be or not to be.

  She had been expecting a recreation of Stratford-on-Avon with a full-scale replica of the Globe theater. When she arrived at the end of the road, the ghost town had nothing Shakespearean about it, not much ghostly either. It looked like an old western town that had voted for not to be.

  Disappointed, she drove back to the intersection with the main road. A car heading in the direction of the ranch turned out to be the Sheriff’s vehicle. He didn’t recognize her in her new car and drove right by her.

  The ranch was over the hill, so Denise parked by the old army tank at the entrance to the city park. The tank blended in with its desert camouflage as if guarding it from the aliens.

  She thought again about the librarian’s warning. Armed only with her staff, she wasn’t going in with heavy artillery, that was for sure.

  She hiked a half mile up to the cylindrical water tower on top of the hill. She walked around the curve of the cylinder and looked down at the ranch below.

  The New Shakespeare Ranch was smaller than expected, barely the size of a football field with some barbed wire around it. Inside the wire were a residence, a stable and a barn or two. An arroyo around back that dipped under the fence.

  Down below at the ranch, Sheriff JC Diamond had already parked his vehicle, and was smoking a cigar. His deputies were there as back-up. Meanwhile, a CSI team of four figures in hazmat suits was bending over the ground taking some soil samples with long poles. Two others were wielding radiation detectors and doing a lap around a big boulder that seemed to guard the back of the ranch.

  She could see the Omega Grail, still there on top of the boulder like Excalibur, daring anybody to remove it. The grail was smaller than she expected. It looked more like a country club’s tennis tournament trophy.

  And yet, there at the water tower, maybe a few hundred yards away, pulses of electricity passed through her every second like clockwork.

  She noticed that if she clung close to the metal of the cylinder, she was grounded from the pulses. If she leaned closer toward the grail, away from the water, those pulses grew stronger.

  Then again, it could all be in her imagination.

  Another car came to the gate, a black Escalade. All of the people at the ranch—the hazmat workers, the deputies—were drawn to the car, as if it had a magnetic pull. The sheriff stayed put, however.

  Moments later, the crowd descending on the Escalade dispersed. The people seemed to adjust to the magnetic field and went back to their duties.

  Two people exited the vehicle. She didn’t recognize the non-descript people in work clothes carrying assault rifles. Another car came to the gate moments later and the same ritual repeated. Everyone, including the new people came forward, surrounded the car and then dispersed. Two more people got out of the second vehicle.

  She walked a few yards toward the ranch. She could see an image of Denny standing in front of her, about two paces ahead. This must be where he was possessed by the drone or whatever it was.

  If she took those two steps, she knew that the drone would appear, and she would go into the same fugue state as Denny. She wasn’t powerful enough to fight it, she could already hear something incredibly strong in the ground beneath her. Was the drone—or whatever it was—below her under the water tower?

  She went back to the water tower and hid behind the curve. Her stomach settled. She was grounded again.

  No, now was not the time to go after the grail. She certainly wouldn’t get any closer than Denny had.

  A third vehicle came to the gate, a big red pick-up truck and the ritual was repeated a third time. This time a large figure emerged from the truck and strode to the grail, appearing to inspect it. The people in the hazmat suits, the workers with guns—everyone except the Sheriff—leaned toward the figure. It looked to Denise like they were bowing to the figure.

  If this group had a leader, this person was definitely the one. The pulses coming from down below grew stronger. She sensed something familiar about the figure, maybe they’d cross paths sometime during her life. But the figure was too far away for her to recognize by sight or by spark.

  Denise suddenly felt nauseous. Could the figure sense her all the way up here? She pushed back even further behind the curve of the cylinder until she could barely see down below. She could tell the water inside the tower was rushing back and forth, a maelstrom going on inside.

  She worried that the tank would burst, and thousands of gallons of water would pour down on top of her. Would the cylinder open up and an alien emerge?

  Despite her curiosity about this big boss, Denise didn’t want to risk discovery. Maybe it didn’t matter if she stood where Denny stood. She crawled around the cylinder until she was as far away that she could be from the ranch.

  Had it helped? The ground rumbled, the cylinder shook from the rushing waters within. She had better get the hell out of there before she triggered whatever was swimming inside the waters.

  She cautiously inched away from the cylinder, back toward the park below which she hoped was a safe distance from the ranch. She wanted to hide behind the army tank just in case.

  By the time she was halfway down the slope, away from the ranch, the rumbling had lessened. Once she made it all the way to the park, the ground was finally still, but her phone was beeping indicating some kind of alert.

  She got in the Kia and drove like hell out of there.

  Once she was on the other side of the freeway, she cautiously checked her phone. There’d been an earthquake reported along something called the Rio Grande Rift and the epicenter was a short distance away, west of Socorro, NM. It had all been a coincidence that it hit at the same time as her stint at the cylinder, right?

  Back at Room 13 of the Last Palm Motel, still shell-shocked, she called Hikaru again and told him about her experiences at the ranch.

  “I felt nauseous and paranoid,” she said. “But the memory seems to be fading. Online, they’re saying it was an earthquake along the Rio Grande rift, but I think it was me getting close to the grail and triggering something. I’m sure the person in the red car had something to do with it. Do you know who the guy was?”

  “They don’t tell me anything.”

  “But why did I feel nauseous?”

  “The grails affect different people in different ways.” />
  “Maybe there’s a rocket in an underground silo beneath the water tank and it was starting to launch. That’s what it felt like.”

  “Those drones can be anywhere,” Hikaru said. “Not all UFOs come from outer space. Trust me on that.”

  After she hung up, Denise checked her emails on her laptop. Sure enough, Luna now demanded that she put the newspaper clippings back in the motions and make the appropriate corrections in the exhibit numbers. She also needed to specify that Rayne Herring had a clearance to get into Syrinx, as well as a designee, whatever that meant.

  Denise did not have time to digest the incident on the ranch. Was the recollection of that fading? She wrote it down on a pad and that seemed to help her remember it.

  After making the revision, Denise sent the motions off again. Moments later Luna offered more corrections and Denise spent another hour addressing them. Apparently, Denise had put the wrong name as the custodian of records who wasn’t quite named Maldonado.

  Denise made revisions two more times before Luna was satisfied.

  God, she hated people editing her stuff.

  Once Denise saw that everything had been successfully e-filed on the New Mexico Courts website, she breathed a sigh of relief. Once the order was signed by the judge, it couldn’t be that difficult to get some military records, right?

  Chapter 33

  Sunday, July 26

  There was absolutely nothing to do in Lordsburg on a weekend. There was no hotel dinner buffet Sunday night, so she decided to cruise Motel Boulevard to see if anything was open that served edible food.

  After cruising up and down the five mile stretch of Motel Boulevard, twice, Denise finally found a nice Chinese buffet at the western edge of town, with the improbable name of Shiprock Wok. The sign indicated that they also had locations up in the Navajo reservation.