"Why do you say that?" Josh asked, as he stuffed his bags into the back of the cart and slid into the passenger seat. He assumed the man was setting the stage for whatever pre-arranged frights were to come.
Chet put the cart into gear and gazed forward in a look of something between disgust and dismay. "Everybody comes in the same. They don't expect anything to happen. Then something happens and scares the shit out of them and they high tail it. Then, probably after they get made fun of, they talk about how it was all some staged prank I pulled on them. Like I got money to waste on that kind of shit. I'm losing livestock here. And money."
"Sorry, man." Josh felt real emotion coming from the man. He was a good actor, or he had some kind of mental issue.
"I'm bettin' you'll get your dose of it. It's been quiet around here for two weeks now, and we don't normally get more than two solid weeks of quiet."
"What can I expect?" It was perfectly possible that somebody else was setting up this poor guy, Josh thought. How hard would it be to fly a drone over his place with a bright light attached, or create one that looked like a saucer? As for slaughtering animals, somebody could be stealing the meat and setting it up to look like something unworldly going on. Josh was starting to think this guy could be a victim, himself. There was something raw and genuine in his demeanor.
"Don't be shocked if you wake up to find one of the little bastards in the tent with you," Chet said. "They come in my house."
This was not the response Josh had expected.
12
Species
It was his fourth night of camp living, and the heat of the campfire felt good on his face. Josh was surprised the temperature dipped so low here in the summer. He could swear it was in the mid-fifties, and he was glad of it. The clear sky, the feel of the fire, the gentle moos from the livestock grazing nearby—it all left him in a magical state of peace, unlike anything he'd felt in a while. In fact, it seemed like he hadn’t felt good about anything much at all for a long time. Once he’d finally finished his PhD, he thought he’d be able to embrace life with a strong sense of accomplishment, at last. But then the panic of finding a teaching job set in. After a few months of no responses and some family pressure, his Aunt Crystal finally agreed to help him secure a spot on the faculty at her university. The condition for this was that nobody find out that they were related. It had been an arrangement that Josh had regretted often, but maybe not as much as Crystal did. She demonstrated her disappointment with him at every opportunity, both in private and in front of his peers. Her snarky attitude toward him was so bad that it had raised a few eyebrows at meetings. So the job had also left him experiencing a big case of imposter syndrome, a condition that was not all that unusual among professionals, but Josh knew he had a particularly crippling case of it. He never felt like he measured up to the professors around him and he always felt like the outsider. Even when he tried, Crystal would make her way into his office and hit him with, "You’re slacking on your job," or "You’re letting down your department." More than once, Josh had tried to find teaching jobs at smaller colleges, far away from his aunt’s mockery and ridicule, but he just couldn’t get a break. It’s not like he spent a lot of time sulking and dwelling on his situation, but these days of serenity on the ranch just seemed to highlight how unhappy he’d been for a few years. Josh wondered to himself if it might be time to force some type of positive change. Or maybe that was crazy, sleepy talk. It was almost midnight, and he was feeling every hour of his long day weighing down his eyelids. It was time to make his bed and settle in for the night.
He glanced at the tents in the distance, and realized that his camp mates had already retired for the evening. There were two other visitors at the ranch when Josh had arrived. One was Randy, a retired truck driver, who claimed he'd seen enough weird shit in his years on the road to make him curious about paranormal stuff. He seemed like a nice, otherwise sensible guy with a great sense of humor. The other was, to Josh's slight amusement, a woman somewhere in her sixties. Her name was Melanie, and she had divorced well, which left her with enough money to do whatever she wanted with her life. She used part of that money to spend a few weeks every six months or so at Skylar Ranch, and she actually footed the bill for installing toilets and showers in the big barn. She had never had children, so the money she didn't spend on thrill seeking ventures went to her odd hobbies and charities. She described herself as an aging hippie, although she seemed remarkably fit for her age, and she was somewhat of a naturalist. Josh had learned a lot about edible plants and natural medicine in their brief discussions over beer. He liked both Randy and Melanie, and Josh decided that the two could provide great insight as to why seemingly sane, intelligent human beings could fall for alien stories.
He decided to let the fire die naturally, since there was little danger from it. It was already struggling for its life, and the ground around him was basically dirt. He undressed before climbing into his tent and cozying up into his warm, makeshift bed.
The morning sunlight in his eyes reminded him why he liked his bedroom so much. Back home, dark curtains and blinds made it easy for him to sleep as late as he desired on a day off. He also missed the blessing of effective pest control. Whatever had been biting him in the night would be addressed with some bug spray, as soon as Josh could find it in the mess of camping gear he'd emptied in his small living space. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and groped around under his sleeping bag for his phone. It felt like he’d only been asleep for a few hours. He felt the familiar rectangular shape of the device beneath his pillow and pushed the button to check the time.
Two o’clock. How did that make sense? It took a moment for the fact to register in Josh’s brain that the bright light outside was caused by something other than the sunrise. Had the old rancher lit up the place with one of his tractors? Or maybe his fire had revived itself? He pondered that idea for a brief moment before he flung his covers back to investigate. He looked through his screen door flap to confirm that the fire was, indeed completely out, yet he could see that a bright glow shone from overhead. Confused, another possibility hit him. Surely, this was not the start of his UFO experience?
"Jesus Christ," he whispered to himself as he reached for the tent zipper. After two hours of sleep, he was hardly in the mood for immature antics. But, he was here to investigate, so investigate he would. He contemplated putting on a shirt or jeans, but then decided that anybody getting him up at two a.m. deserved to see him in his birthday suit. He exited legs first, and scooted his backside out before exposing his head to the bright light. As he scooted, he heard the distinct flutter of a flock of birds taking flight. Josh wondered if he’d just startled a group of free-roaming chickens with his hairy legs. As he brought his head through the opening, the light—lifted. It didn’t blink out so much as it rose out of sight into the sky. Odd, he thought. And impressive.
Now there was nothing but blackness, since his eyes were still accustomed to the light. All he could see for the moment was a soft glow from the fire pit, but gradually, other shapes started to appear, ever so slowly, in the foreign darkness. He could see dark shadowy outlines of a few cows nearby, and he noted with a chuckle that they seemed to be perfectly intact. He sat still for another minute until he could see the shape of the barn in the distance. Now he could see the house in the distance, as well as the tree that sat just along the fence line. All seemed well at the ranch, and Josh was just about to climb back into his tent when he heard the fluttering sound again. He looked up to see that it must have been a flock of birds that he’d startled earlier, because the tree was now covered with what appeared to be dozens of peculiar, black images. The shapes were awfully big to be birds. Vultures, maybe? He squinted his eyes and stood up to get a closer look. The one closest to him took form, slowly, but Josh thought his brain must've been playing tricks on him. It looked as if the bird was in a squatting position, with knees jutting up on each side of it. This was no vulture, but Josh wasn’t sure what it was.
He stepped forward to get a better look, when two eyes came into view. They opened slowly, then blinked. Josh stepped backward, and realized, to his horror, that the other shapes in the tree were taking form. They looked like—gargoyles?
This is a sick trick, he thought. As he tumbled backward, the tree exploded into a cloud of objects that floated in unison out the back of the tree and drifted into the darkness, across the grassy field.
13
Families and Subfamilies
"I guess we signed up for crazy town," Josh held his cell phone between his shoulder and chin while he stirred a pot of pinto beans over his campfire. "I mean, we sort of knew, but I'm not sure any of us realized how far some of these people will go to create a hoax."
"Right?" David answered from his end of the line. "For weeks, I've been surrounded by people who are totally convinced that this Sasquatch thing is real."
"So you haven't laid your eyes on one for yourself, yet?"
"Not yet," David laughed. "But my next big adventure is just about to begin. We're heading out West for some secret mission tomorrow, and that will be my big chance, apparently. So tell me about your night. What else happened out on the ranch?"
"Well," Josh said as he settled the wooden spoon on a rock and sat back on his lawn chair. "Not much sleeping happened, that's for sure. After that weird cloud of—things—went floating away, I settled back in my tent and tried to sleep. I did drift off, but I had some crazy ass dreams. Like there were little creatures walking around outside my tent all night. I didn't actually see that, I just heard stuff that made me dream it.
"Probably killer ducks,” David said.
"I know, I know. At one point, though, I was half asleep and swore I saw the outline of a creepy hand against the side of the tent. I shot up and it was gone. Man, something was really messing with my head."
"Daaaang," David said. "Sounds you got a fun assignment. You should have some good material for our project. Just figure out how that old guy is messing with your head."
"You think I got the plum assignment?" Josh asked in an exasperated tone. "Me? You're spending weeks camping in the wilderness with a beautiful TV star, and I'm camping with a chubby truck driver in a cow pasture. How did that even happen?"
David howled. "Dude, you know I'm better looking."
"Screw you," Josh said, which made David laugh even louder.
"But no," David said as he tried to catch his breath. "Seriously," he paused to pant for a few breaths. "I found out this woman actually scammed me before I scammed her!"
"What do you mean?"
"Well," David said. "It seems we weren't the only gate crashers. That first morning at our conference, when I gave my talk, she got nosy and started snooping around. She was apparently intrigued by the title of my presentation. Or maybe I should say she was offended."
"Remind me. Was it 'Story Time?' Something like that?"
"It's only a story. The title was 'It's Only a Story.'"
"Oh, right."
"And, since you apparently were not there, I'll remind you that I equated qualitative research to storytelling. Using personal stories, diaries, letters, interviews, testimony: that stuff should not fall under the heading of research material, in my opinion."
Josh had walked right into this mini lecture. David was always willing to give his opinion to anybody who would listen.
"Any conclusions that are not based on statistics," David droned on, "That crap should be called something else, other than research. Calling that sort of material 'research' just further blurs the line between real science and fake news. And fake news destroys civilizations."
"I see," Josh said, partly hoping to cut off his colleague's oration. "So your talk undermines the whole concept of her work. All she has—all any of them have for evidence, is their stories."
"Correct. So when I first approached her, we started off arguing, then things got flirty. She said she'd teach me the importance of personal narrative, so I'm having a good time tagging along. She really is pretty awesome, outside of her crazy beliefs. It's weird. I think I'm really falling for the nut."
"I'm happy for you, man." Josh really was happy for his friend. David was a good guy, but he tended to be rigid. Maybe this chick could lighten him up some. "Listen, buddy. I need to eat my soup beans before they get cold. Have fun on your big adventure and take good notes."
"I'll try," David said. "But, listen, man. I wanted to tell you I've been reading up on your location. You need to be careful. I hear the last team that went to that ranch disappeared without a trace."
"What?" Josh said. "David?" But the other end of the line was silent. Then he realized David was yanking his chain. That bastard had got him again. He stuffed the phone into his back pocket and reached to his cooler to grab a beer before leaning back and closing his eyes. It was funny, the way the guys at the university treated him like a kid brother. He'd never had any brothers; in fact, he never had much of a family at all. He'd been an only child, and he'd lost his parents at a young age. It was nice, the way he was taken in by them. Like they knew he could use a pseudo family.
The warm glow from the campfire flickered and flashed beyond the veil of his eyelids, as he dangled the beer can in one hand. For a moment, he almost forgot where he was. Beyond the crackle from the fire, he could hear an orchestra of crickets singing in unison from somewhere in the distance, and that sound combined with the cool feel of the night air made his mind drift back to the time he had spent many years earlier at summer camp. He remembered being so confident, back then. He had happily conquered all of the scouting challenges with ease, and regularly came in first in the rowing and climbing challenges. Then adulthood happened, and it pretty much sucked. College had been pretty cool, but the part that came after, the decision to take the job at the university, that had been a huge mistake. He had very little time to enjoy himself, and there was the ever present indignation of Crystal that hovered over him constantly. He hadn't really realized how much he hated his life until he'd spent these quiet nights, camping in the tent or spending the night in the cozy barn. He'd had some of the best nights of his life, staring at the sky, talking bullshit with his new friends and drinking beer. This was the life. It was too bad that he seemed to have no answers as to what was going on at this place. He'd pretty much chalked it all up to pranksters messing with the Skylars. Maybe there was something special about the property that made it more valuable than Chet realized, and somebody was trying to run him off.
The ping of an incoming message snapped Josh out of his musings. He mustered up the energy to lift his butt high enough from the chair to retrieve his phone from the back pocket of his jeans, and soon regretted the effort. It was a text from Crystal. A preview bar floated across the top of the screen, and the words "Where the hell are you?" hung there in a hateful green word bubble.
"Kiss my ass," Josh said back to his phone.
"I hope you're not slacking off at some ranch pretending to ..." Mercifully, the preview bubble cut off the rest of the words.
I hate her, Josh thought. It came as a surprise, since he'd never really acknowledged that before, even to himself. Apart from distant cousins, she was just about the only real family he had left, and he wasn't proud of the fact that he despised her. But against the tranquility of the evening in this strange land, her spiteful words made him realize that he truly hated her for the way she belittled him. If she says one more word, I swear I'm spending the rest of my life as a hermit in the woods, he thought.
"DO NOT EMBARRASS ME," the next bubble message glowed.
He pressed the off button until the phone screen went dark, and he calmly lifted his rear end from the chair again, and placed the device back into his back pocket.
14
Questions and Observations
Josh broke egg number six into the skillet and stirred with a wooden spatula, while Randy Cole described how truck stop prostitution worked. "Not that I ever took advantage," he said," but I'm telling you, some folk
s made a killin' in the trade.
"Good to know," Josh said. "In case the whole college gig doesn't work out."
"I've always been kind of fascinated about the whole notion of sex being regulated by law," Randy said. "I mean, if aliens really are studying us, they'd be like: 'You paid for what? And you went to jail for that?'"
"You do have a point," Josh laughed. At that moment, Melanie arrived with a pan full of fried potatoes. "Who is going to jail?"
"Me," Randy said. "For prostitution." He rubbed at his extra large sized beer belly. "It's my retirement plan."
"Good luck with that," Melanie said.
Josh smiled as he continued to stir the scrambled eggs until the mixture was at the perfect, soft consistency. He was a few weeks in, now, and breakfast had become his favorite part of this entire ordeal, since he and the two co-campers had started eating together every morning. Randy and Melanie were both so easy to be around, and they were interesting, as well.
"So anybody got anything interesting to report?" Melanie asked. "I feel like something's about to happen. Just a feeling I get."
"I thought I heard footsteps outside my tent the other night," Randy said, as he scooped a spoon of potatoes into a plate. "I was a little freaked out, so I didn't look."
"Let me get this straight," Melanie said. "You're paying good money to camp out here to see if you can experience anything weird, and you hear a little noise outside and zip yourself tight in your tent?"
"That's about right," Randy laughed. "I'm apparently much braver in theory than I am in practice."
"When was this?" Josh asked. "Because I had a similar experience, on my first night, and I did manage to drag my butt out and take a look. I discovered some big flock of owls or something in a tree."
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