by Rae Knightly
Connelly studied the meeting participants coldly. As if he were giving a lecture on some tedious subject matter, he said: “Three ships. Three aliens.” He pointed to an image of the three ships and their three occupants. “We had assumed that there was one alien per spaceship. However, recent evidence shows this may not be so. As you can see, there is enough room inside the vessels for at least one or two more occupants. In vessel number 1, which was the first to crash, we recovered DNA from the young alien man in this area of the ship,” Hao indicated, “but we recently also discovered a different, unknown DNA - here.” He pointed next to the image of the young alien, who had been virtually placed within the spaceship.
The room went deathly quiet as all the attendees digested this piece of news. One man wiped the sweat off his forehead with a cotton tissue.
The woman with graying hair and stark composure spoke the words they all were thinking: “Agent Connelly, are you telling us we are missing an alien suspect? Possibly a live, alien suspect?”
For a second Connelly held his breath, then said clearly: “I am, Minister. One, or more than one, alien suspects.”
***
Inspector Robert Hao leant back in his office chair, a cold, wet towel pressed against his eyes. He heard his office door open and peaked under the towel to watch Connelly enter the room. Connelly threw a file on Hao’s desk, then sat in the chair before him.
“Do we have to do this now?” Hao lamented, as he massaged his temples. “We just left the meeting!”
“We do.” Connelly confirmed matter-of-factly.
Hao sighed: “This had better be good, wonder boy.”
“It is.” Connelly said. “This is new evidence.”
“What?” Hao exclaimed, the towel falling from his eyes. “Already?”
“Our meeting attendees got enough than they bargained for, so I opted to leave out this piece of information for now.”
Hao frowned in disapproval, but said nothing as he opened the file. A photograph of four broken pieces of glass lay before him. “What’s this?” He asked.
“This evidence came from the crash site.” Connelly explained. “When you assemble these pieces, they form a lens. I believe it is the lens of a telescope.”
Hao frowned, his interest piqued. “Telescope… telescope…” He mumbled. Then his eyes brightened and he got up to search through a box on the floor which was labelled “WITNESSES”. He went through several files before fishing one out that was labeled “Ryan Archer”. He flipped the file open on his desk. “Yeah.” He said slowly, as he scanned the notes inside. “This witness stated he was out stargazing in a field near his house when The Cosmic Fall occurred. Must be from his telescope.” He shrugged as he closed the file. “Makes sense.”
“But it doesn’t.” Connelly corrected. He removed another picture from the file he had brought. This time it was a close-up of the lens. There were distinct fingerprints all over it. “I had these fingerprints analyzed.” Connelly explained. “Most belong to the witness, Ryan Archer. But these smaller ones didn’t come up with a match.”
Hao sat up straight in his chair. “Are you saying we have a missing witness?”
Connelly nodded. “Ryan Archer wasn’t alone on the night of The Cosmic Fall.” He said.
“… and he failed to mention it.” Hao finished, a million thoughts crossing his mind. “One missing alien. One missing witness.” He began slowly. “I don’t believe in coincidences, Connelly. Get a team together and find out who was with Ryan Archer that night!”
Connelly picked up his file and stood up with satisfaction. As he turned his back on Hao to leave the office, his eyes changed from green to honey-brown, and he smiled.
***
By the time Ben and Laura reached Highway 1 Eastbound, it was after 5 o’clock, which meant they were stuck in rush hour. Ben fell asleep as the sun set behind them in a myriad of yellow and orange, while Laura navigated from one busy lane to another. They had travelled half the distance to Chilliwack when Ben woke up. He stared out at the cloudy night, his mind wandering. A sudden thought crossed his mind.
“Mom?” He began, irritated by his own trembling voice, “Are we staying at Grampa’s house?”
Laura glanced at him. “If we can’t stay at the hospital, then yes, of course we’ll stay at the house.”
“Really?”
Laura sighed: “I can’t afford to go to a hotel, Benji, you know that! And even if I could, I wouldn’t go: there’s more than enough room at Grampa’s house.” She noticed his angry face. “It’s still our family home! What happened in the fields next to it doesn’t change that.”
Ben slumped back, scowling.
Laura’s eyes softened as she said more gently: “You used to love that house, Benji. You remember that, don’t you?”
He shrugged, saying nothing.
Yes, of course I remember. But that was before…
“You know, you’re going to have to talk to Grampa.” Laura interrupted his thoughts. Ben pretended to ignore her. She continued gently: “He’s in intensive care, honey. He had a pretty big heart attack, he couldn’t even remember his name. The nurse said the only thing they found on him was my cellphone number, which is how they got a hold of me.” Her voice wavered: “The thing is, I’m not sure how long he’s got… You and he need to have a serious talk about what happened on the night you disappeared.” She paused for a moment, before adding: “I need to have serious talk with him.”
Ben turned to her, showing interest in the conversation for the first time: “Are you still angry with him?”
It was Laura’s turn to remain silent as she ran things over in her mind. Finally, she answered: “Grampa has always there for us when we’ve needed him. I was so proud of him for helping us out after your Dad died. Remember when I told Grampa you had the measles when you were four years old? He jumped on the first bus over! And every time a school break started, you couldn’t wait for me to drive you to Chilliwack! You were having so much fun with him over the summer holidays! I could tell from our phone calls!” She broke off, then chose her words more carefully: “But what happened on the night of The Cosmic Fall is beyond me! Why did Grampa abandon you? What were you doing miles away from the house? How did you get there? And where has Grampa been all this time? All I got from him was a single phone call in the early morning after The Cosmic Fall letting me know that he was fine but urging me to come and pick you up in Chilliwack. Since then, not a word to find out how you were doing, or to let us know where he’s been. If Tike hadn’t found me that day and led me to that tree you were lying under, who knows what could have happened!” She stopped herself as she shifted in her seat. “So, yes, I am still angry!”
Ben read his mother’s face like an open book.
Not to mention out-of-your-mind with worry!
Ben turned his attention to the starry sky outside his window, mulling over what she had said, wondering whether, he too, was angry. But he found he was having a hard time grasping the feelings he had for his grandfather. Although his memories with his Grampa were very good, his feelings for him tended to become entangled with the murky nightmare he kept on having. And that was not something he wanted to linger on.
***
They made it to the Chilliwack General Hospital and into the coronary care unit over an hour and a half later. The nurse who had spoken to Laura earlier said that Ryan Archer was in a stable condition. He had been resting all afternoon, though he was not out of danger yet. She took them to see Grampa, who they found sleeping, tucked away in a hospital bed under impeccably white sheets, his face covered by an oxygen mask, his chest hooked up to an intravenous pump and a heart monitor, which was beeping at the rhythm of his heart.
Before leaving them, the nurse added quietly that she would need Laura to fill in some forms at the reception desk, as they were missing key information on their patient that they needed to input into the computer.
Laura nodded, thanking her. Once the nurse was gone, Laura an
d Ben quietly approached Grampa’s bed to avoid waking him, staring in shock at the man they both loved. He was so frail, contrary to the strong, confident man they had once known. His hair, which had been the same colour as Laura’s when he was younger, was paling from ash-blond to white, while an unkempt beard dotted his chin. Laura placed her hand on top of his, feeling the bones under his long, thin fingers. She whispered: “Daddy?” but there was no response.
They stayed beside Grampa for several hours, until another nurse came by to check on him. She told them they were welcome to spend the night in the waiting room, although, if they preferred, they could go home for a decent rest. The hospital would call them immediately if there was any change to Grampa’s condition.
Laura wanted to stay, but decided against it when she saw her son’s ruffled hair and tired eyes. He was hungry, he said. Besides, she figured she could do with a quick shower. Before going, she remembered she needed to fill in some forms. She did this while Ben scouted for something to eat. He settled for two rather dry cheese sandwiches from a vending machine.
After getting the nurse to promise again that she would call if Grampa’s situation changed, Laura and Ben headed to Grampa’s house, which lay twenty minutes away on the outskirts of Chilliwack, surrounded by corn fields. It was almost two o’clock in the morning: the house loomed under a cloudy sky without a moon or star in sight.
Ben cowered in the car while his mother stood before the front door, illuminated by the car headlights, searching for the keys in her handbag. She entered, switching on the corridor lights that splashed out into the driveway. Ben reluctantly picked up their suitcases, dragging his feet until he was inside, as Tike followed him closely with his ears back and his tail down between his legs.
They headed straight upstairs to the two guest rooms which they had always occupied when they had vacationed at the house. Laura checked in on Ben, saw that there was a warm quilt on his bed, then kissed him goodnight.
The room was a very decent size with high ceilings. Grampa had painted the walls a soft blue after his grandson was born. Two large windows looked out over the fields. There was an old carpet, a sturdy bed next to a nightstand, a cupboard with three drawers on which were displayed a couple of photographs of baby Ben and Grampa, a sofa and several shelves with wooden toys and books Ben had played with for as long as he could remember.
Ben yawned as he kicked off his trainers, then dropped his head on the pillow. He was about to cover himself up when something caught his eye. He sat up, suddenly alert. On a shelf on the opposite wall was a sleek, white telescope. He had never seen it before. He got out of bed, pushed the sofa closer to the wall and clambered onto it before carefully removing the beautiful telescope from the shelf. Ben was surprised to find that it still had the store tag attached to it, meaning it was brand new. As he took the telescope off the shelf, something clanked inside. He unwound the lens, then tilted the telescope to release the object that had come loose.
A watch slipped into his lap, followed by a piece of paper.
Ben stared at the unexpected items, then unfolded the note. It read: “Dear Benji, I believe this jewel is yours. I found it under the kitchen sink. Remember me when you look at the stars. Love, Grampa.”
Ben stared at the note, then at the watch. At the center of it there was a very beautiful, glittering gem that might have been a diamond, though he didn’t think diamonds shone this much. He wondered if Grampa had had it placed in the watch on purpose. One thing was certain, he had no recollection of it.
He sat on the edge of the bed for a long moment, sniffing and wiping his eyes with the back of his shirt as he stared at the items. When exhaustion finally gained on him, he let himself sink into bed. He covered his head with the bed sheets and fell into a deep sleep, the watch clasped tightly in his hand.
Only Tike witnessed what happened next.
The dog was lying next to Ben when a movement caught his attention. The canine lifted his head, his tongue lolling. A tall man with white, wavy hair was standing in the bedroom beside one of the windows. Man and dog observed each other carefully from a few feet away. Then the dark form turned his head, distracted by what was happening outside.
At least a dozen deer had materialized onto the fields, their antlers rising proudly over the cold mist that blew out of their black nostrils. They remained in front of the house for a long time, watching expectantly.
Then, as soon as he had appeared, the man was gone again, leaving Tike staring curiously at the empty room.
***
In a bright, white office on the third floor down of the Dugout, a CSIS fax machine clicked on, releasing a sheet of paper. A police report appeared with a picture of Ryan Archer’s face on it. A red, handwritten note read: “Location: Chilliwack General Hospital”.
CHAPTER FOUR
Tiwanaku
A TALL MAN WAS SITTING ON THE LARGE STEPS OF the Kalasasaya temple - an ancient monument that belonged to the ruins of Tiwanaku, a city built many centuries ago by a pre-Inca people of South America. A cold breeze blew through the stranger’s white, wavy hair, as he gazed at a stunning sunrise over the dry Andes mountain range which crossed eastern Bolivia. Behind him towered an impressive door built out of perfectly carved stones, which lead to an open courtyard guarded by a ten foot monolith representing some forgotten deity. In spite of his unusual hair, the stranger’s strong features belonged to a man in his mid-thirties. He wore a crimson poncho over his long-sleeved shirt, which protected him from the early morning temperature. He closed his honey-coloured eyes, the sun warming his olive-tanned face, and did not immediately turn to greet the old Aymara native who had walked up behind him. After the white-haired stranger had had his fill of high altitude sunlight, he finally stood up and joined the older man, who offered him a large smile.
“Suma urukiya[1], Observer.” The old Aymara greeted.
The stranger’s eyes softened as he answered: “Buenos días[2], Amaru.”
“We have been waiting for you for a long time.” Amaru said, before noticing that the stranger’s attention had turned to the monolith placed centrally behind the gateway. Understanding his attraction to it, Amaru nodded. “It represents our shaman ancestor. A great shape shifter. A rare skill, indeed, as you well know...” He trailed off.
They stared at it for a moment, before Amaru ventured: “You barely made it here alive. And yet I have been told that you wish to return to the crash site! Are you sure that it is a wise desicion?”
The stranger’s gaze was lost in the distance as he replied: “Last night I had a vision, Amaru. A spirit portal called me. It took me back to the crash site. Only one of my own could have activated it and sent me such a powerful message. It has to be my daughter! I must return to find out if she is still alive!”
Amaru sized up the white-haired stranger, before sighing and reaching inside his poncho. He produced a dark blue Canadian passport which he presented to the tall man. The stranger flipped through the pages until he found the identity and photograph of the passport’s original owner. The name said Jack Anderson from Ottawa, Ontario. The face of a young man stared back at him with determination.
“Our scouts found Jack Anderson’s body along the Inca Trail.” Amaru explained, “He was reported missing two days ago after he went trekking on his own. Our scouts found his remains at the bottom of the mountainside bordering the trail. We have not yet informed authorities that we have found him. Therefore his passport will serve you well for the next 24 hours. That is enough to get you back to Canada. But by tomorrow afternoon, we will be returning this poor man’s body to his family.”
The stranger nodded: “Yes, of course. I understand.” He stared at Amaru, then said with sincerity: “Gracias[3], Amaru.”
Amaru dismissed his thanks, continuing: “With luck you will pass as Jack Anderson when you reach airport security.” The old man dug into his poncho again and pulled out a beige fur hat with ear flaps so that the stranger could cover his unnaturally white ha
ir. “Let us hope that this will do.”
The stranger stared at his Aymara friend, sensing that he was not happy with the situation. “Amaru, my friend, rest assured that when the time comes, I will speak a good word for you.” He said.
Amaru glanced away hastily, clearly uncomfortable by the stranger’s words.
“What is it?” The white-haired man asked, frowning.
Taking courage, Amaru said: “You are the Observer. Your mission is to be neutral and report the facts.” He paused, “But dark forces are at work. Your companions have perished. Your daughter is lost and you barely survived yourself. We fear that you are no longer neutral, that your judgement has been clouded.”
The stranger put up a hand: “You said ‘we’…”
Amaru stared at him unhappily, knowing that he had to finish now that he had started speaking his mind: “Yes. I speak for all the Wise Ones.” He paused before adding carefully: “We have given you the information you came for, as is customary. It is not our place to judge. But word is spreading that you have already made up your mind about your mission. The word is that your loss has blinded you.”
The stranger replied sternly: “You cannot know my mind. I have made no decision, and I have yet to meet two Wise Ones.”
Amaru bowed respectfully: “We understand. There is time yet.” He led the stranger down the perfectly polished steps of the temple, away from a group of tourists who had appeared on the archeological site. “No matter.” He continued. “What I meant to say is that I do not need you to put in a good word for me. I do not wish to leave this place. I have a wife, many children and grandchildren. We have some wood for the fire, our llamas for warm fur and the most beautiful sunrises and sunsets on this planet. We could ask for nothing more.”