The Roswell Protocols

by Allan Burd

  Lung capacity indicates they can hold their breath underwater for about six or seven minutes before requiring air. The lungs are powerful and replace 80% of their gases with each breath (the human exchange rate is 30%). The kidneys consist of many interconnected lobes called renculi to improve filtration when diving.

  All subjects were male so one must draw the conclusion they also reproduce by mating with females of their species. Long retractable penises, with paired testes, are prehensile and fully emerge when erect.

  Eisenhower must have loved that part, David thought to himself. Not only was the incoming President learning that extraterrestrials really existed and were a potential threat to the nation, but they had bigger and better penises too. He skipped forward to the next section.

  51

  Dupres released the magazine from his gun, allowing it to drop into his hand. With a quick snap, he popped it back into place, lifted the weapon butt against his shoulder, and aimed the cross hairs of the scope on the back of Dr. Blaze’s head, watching him as he entered the second tent. It would be so easy, he thought.

  Rebecca saw him and stopped to chat on her way to the ship. “Getting antsy?”

  Dupres peered out from behind the lens, cursing under his breath. He shot Rebecca a sharp glance, followed by a pained expression and a throaty grunt. “I still say we should pop ‘em. They illegally crossed our borders. They have no right bein’ here. This ship should be ours, man—and ours alone. We died for it, not them. It ain’t right.”

  Rebecca nodded. “I agree. Unfortunately, Major Gaines doesn’t. So why don’t you put the weapon away and find some way to be constructive.”

  Dupres had lost a lot of friends today and needed a way to work out his anger. But he knew this wasn’t it. He angrily lowered the gun and reigned in his emotions.

  “Where’s Carlson?” Rebecca asked.

  “Other side,” said Dupres.

  Rebecca reassuringly patted him on the shoulder, squeezing gently as she walked off, letting him know that she understood. She walked around the ship and spotted Carlson supervising three men who were removing a tree that had fallen on the ship. A rope was tied around the thick base and they were strenuously pulling. Gradually the tree loosened and its weighty bulk gave in to their demands. She waited until the tree fell clear before approaching. “Gaines needs a progress report.”

  Carlson barked a final order, instructing a man to magnetically attach a steel clamp to the hull, before answering. “Going well. We’ll have this thing dug up and clear for lift in a little over an hour,” he replied. He removed his gloves and ground his hands together. “The copters are already on their way. So are the escorts. All alien articles, clothing, weapons, food, medical supplies, were fully inventoried and stored. The EB’s are all bagged and tagged and ready to go as well. The only problem we’re facing is with our deceased men. The weapons they used don’t exactly leave a tidy corpse. It’ll take days to recover all the body parts, but what’s going to be nearly impossible is removing every trace of physical evidence. There’s blood and guts everywhere. It’s going to get dangerous too when the animals start sniffing around. I’m going to recommend to the Major that we scorch the area clean.”

  “He’s not going to go for it,” she countered.

  “That’s the best way to guarantee a completely sterilized environment. What if these creatures brought a virus with them? We don’t act accordingly, we could jeopardize countless lives.”

  “The only living things within fifty miles of here are the forest animals and the Major’s not going to let you burn down their home to save them,” Rebecca reasoned.

  “How about national security reasons? What if someone sees what we’re doing? What if the press gets a hold of this?”

  “He’ll tell you a forest fire will attract a lot more attention. Don’t worry. This one’s going in the books as a standard military search and rescue exercise. I don’t think anyone’s going to care.”

  “Then how did the Americans find us?” asked Carlson.

  “Good point, but I’ve worked with the Major for five years. Feel free to ask him what you want. You can even put your opinions in a report to cover yourself. But no matter what you say, his answers are going to be just what I told you. He will, however, be glad to hear about your progress.”

  “Thanks … I think.” Carlson smiled at her.

  “Anyone still inside?” she asked.

  “A few of my men are still searching around—and that Logan guy. He’s been in there for hours trying to decipher the language. Don’t think he’s having too much luck though.” Rebecca glared at him. “Yes, I’m having him watched closely,” Carlson answered before she could ask.

  “I’m going to check on him,” she said, backpedaling away.

  “Last report, he was on the second level.”

  “Thanks.”

  Rebecca entered the ship. It was ironic that what only five hours ago was an incredibly unnerving experience now seemed almost commonplace and even, she thought, a little boring. She made her way up the ramp and across the corridor. Logan was right there, squatting down, intently studying a panel of alien writing. He slowly stood up, tracing the symbols etched in the metal. Around him at a casual distance were two soldiers who watched his every move. It was clear, while they still performed their duty, they were bored. When one soldier saw Rebecca coming, he used the opportunity to ask if he could go outside for some fresh air and a smoke. The other officer nodded, granting him permission to leave.

  He put his back to Rebecca as he sidled past her in the narrow corridor and continued on his way. Logan noted Rebecca’s body language and saw that she considered the soldier’s behavior rude. But she was too professional to comment on it and had more important concerns on her mind.

  “Men,” said Logan, in an effort to relate to her. He liked her and admired her strength. Too bad she was working for the Canadians, he thought. It didn’t matter. He’d seen the way Major Gaines looked at her and her at him. He watched her eyes closely when they were together in the ship. It was clear to him that they had strong feelings for each other. She didn’t have a ring, but Logan was pretty sure they were already involved.

  “Excuse me,” Rebecca said in a cautious tone.

  Logan rose to his feet. “Er … I was just thinking it must be difficult for you working around so many men.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Just that most of us don’t seem to have any manners.”

  Rebecca mistook his conversation as flirtation and changed the subject. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to learn as much as I can about their language while I have the chance. I never got the opportunity I was brought here for, and I get the feeling that once this affair is over, Chase will have me shipped back home immediately. If this is the only chance I’m going to get, I aim to make the most of it.”

  “What have you learned?”

  “Just what I thought I would. Nothing. I’m wasting my time. Written language is secondary. The spoken language almost always comes first. Children can learn to speak quickly, but reading and writing have to be taught. To further complicate it, each written language has its own style, its own syntax. I can’t even tell if these symbols are numbers, letters, pictures, or words, let alone what sounds or objects they represent. Without understanding their spoken language, we have almost no chance of understanding their writing. Even if these symbols are numbers, we don’t even know if they use the decimal system. Their mathematics may be based on a binary system. It’s impossible to know.”

  “What about the rooms you mentioned earlier?”

  “Not much help. Those symbols might’ve indicated a bedroom, like I speculated, but I’m probably wrong. Their words are going to vary depending upon their perceptions and what’s important to them personally. For example, the Eskimos have different words for snow. They have different words for falling snow, snow on the ground, wet snow, fluffy snow, and so on, because snow is important to them. S
o their language reflects that importance. To us, it’s just snow. Conversely, Shona, a language in Zimbabwe, has only three words for colors. Can you imagine only one word representing blue, red, purple, and every shade in between? Not a chance. Color is very important to us. That’s why we have thousands of color names in our language to represent all the different hues. We have no idea how these aliens think, so we can’t possibly learn their language without spending time with them.”

  “You got one hour. Keep going. You never know,” Rebecca teased. She smiled and walked away, secretly glad that the Americans weren’t learning anything.

  One hour, Logan thought to himself. It might as well be a year.

  “So, what’s the deal?” asked Chase.

  Jeff Blaze smiled broadly as if he could hardly contain himself.

  “Nice poker face,” responded Chase sarcastically. “Care to fill me in?”

  “I can do it,” bragged Blaze.

  “You sure?”

  “Absolutely. The aliens did most of it—the hard stuff. Turns out they were almost finished before the Canadians rudely interrupted them. Now it’s just a simple matter of completing what they started.” His eyebrows rose. His smile broadened.

  “You have all the right tools?”

  Blaze nodded affirmatively.

  “How much time do you need?” Chase asked.

  “Five minutes—but I need to be alone. They got eyes on me at all times.”

  “Not much we can do about that. Sooner or later, though, we’ll get a diversion. First opportunity you get, do it. Don’t worry about me either. If I don’t make it, I don’t make it. Only important thing is the mission. Is that understood?”

  “Crystal clear,” Blaze responded. He understood perfectly.

  52

  PRINCE RUPERT

  Stacy and Dr. Peterson walked down the wooden staircase attached to the outside of Dr. Miller’s office building. Dr. Miller watched them from the window and waved good-bye to Stacy when she turned around. He looked at his watch—5:25 P.M.—and let the curtains fall back into place, wondering where all that time went. It had been a long, emotionally draining, utterly confusing day that began with a frantic phone call early this morning from his favorite patient. He looked forward to tomorrow, when his appointment book was filled with patients with much simpler problems—Mandy, who couldn’t get over her divorce; Jackie, who desperately wanted to lose weight; and Greg, a fourteen year old boy who had to learn how to control his temper. Tonight, however, would be a different story. He planned on listening and re-listening to the cassette recording of the hypnosis session until he found that one elusive clue that would reveal the logical explanation for what Stacy experienced. Deep down, though, he knew he wouldn’t find anything new.

  Stacy and Dr. Peterson made their way to the small, dimly lit parking lot in the back of the building. The only illumination came from a lone spotlight attached to one of the many trees which encircled the concrete lot. They stopped at a navy pickup truck as Dr. Peterson fumbled to get his keys out of his pocket.

  “This is what you drive?” asked Stacy.

  “2002 Dodge Ram, one hundred eighty horses—can hold up to two and a half tons in the rear,” Jack stated proudly.

  “I’m not much of a truck aficionado.”

  “What do you drive?”

  “Camry. I took a cab here though. Too frazzled to drive.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “About ten minutes outside of town. I got a place that gives me a splendid view of the mountains.”

  “Well then, hop in. I’ll give you a ride home and show you zero to sixty in six seconds,” he said with the enthusiasm of a man half his age.

  “Six seconds?” Stacy squint her left eye with a look that said she knew he was exaggerating.

  “Maybe ten,” Peterson said with a wink. “Get in.”

  They both did. He used a small key to unlock the club attached to the steering wheel and placed it on the floor between the seats.

  “I didn’t think car theft was a big problem around here,” commented Stacy. She got comfortable in the seat, strapping the seat belt snugly across her body.

  “I lived in L.A. for a few years. Old habits die hard.”

  He started the truck, turning on the headlights before shifting the gear into reverse. He backed the car out of the lot onto the street and—

  THUMP!

  “What was that?” Stacy asked.

  Dr. Peterson put the car in drive and started down the road. “I believe that was an old man accidentally driving over the curb.”

  “There was no curb. It sounded like something fell down in the back of the pickup,” said Stacy, quickly glancing behind her.

  “I probably just hit a pothole and my tool box bounced up and down. They haven’t paved these roads in years,” said Peterson, shrugging it off.

  Stacy let it go. “So tell me Doc—”

  “Jack. My name’s Jack.”

  “All right, Jack. What does a regressive hypno-therapist need with a pickup truck and tool boxes?”

  “I own the plumbing supply store over on Elm,” he replied.

  Stacy was dumbfounded by his answer. Her mouth opened wide and then she began to laugh. “I was right.”

  “About what?”

  “There aren’t enough crazy people in Prince Rupert for you to make a living.”

  “Not by a long shot.” Jack laughed as he made a left at the next corner into the heart of town. “Seriously, though, I am very qualified. I’ve been doing this for thirty years … down in Vancouver and in the States. Known Brad Miller longer than that. We both grew up here. Brad decided to move his practice up here to be closer to his family. I came back to take over the family business. I guess I just got tired of listening to other people’s problems and decided to go back to things that can be fixed easily—like plumbing. You wanted to know my story. Well, that’s my story.”

  Stacy was so busy evaluating this tidbit of information she almost forgot where he was taking her. Almost. “Oh, sorry … Make a right here.” Jack turned the wheel, steering them onto a dark deserted highway that led towards the mountains. “Thanks, Jack. I mean that. With everything going on, somehow I feel that today I finally took a step in the right direction. Kind of like I opened a door in my head that has never been opened before.”

  “I got some theories on that if you’re really willing to listen. I believe I know what happened to you, but I couldn’t mention it in front of Brad. He would think I’m crazy just for bringing it up.”

  “This is not going to be about my dad again, is it?”

  “No. Completely different.” He wasn’t sure if Stacy would think he was crazy too, but he had to mention it. “Have you ever heard of alien abductions?”

  Stacy’s expression indicated she thought he might still be joking. He wasn’t sure if she would ever take him seriously.

  Then a bluish-gray creature with large black eyes appeared in his rear view mirror. Jack’s eyes widened with fear. Stacy turned her head to see what stole his attention, and to her utter disbelief she saw a sharkman, standing right behind her in the back of the pickup. Long thin black hair trimmed its fishlike face and rested on its black skintight body suit. She screamed as the alien smashed a tool box into the rear window. Its face, seen through the distortion of the web-like cracked glass, frightened her more than ever before.

  Then it hoisted the toolbox above its head, ready to strike again.

  53

  COAST MOUNTAINS

  Logan protected his eyes as the chopper hovered above the terrain, kicking up recurring cyclical waves of snow and dirt. He wasn’t sure if this was the fourth different helicopter sent, or the same one on its fourth trip. Either way, it was irrelevant. The final pieces of extraterrestrial cargo were loaded on board and he was next. He grabbed onto the hanging ladder and climbed up, rocking to and fro as he stepped higher onto each rung. Upon reaching the top, he gripped the pilot’s outstretched hand and was pulle
d aboard.

  Taking a seat, he glanced back at the twenty containers and two black body bags in the cargo bay. He could tell by the size and shape that both bags contained dead aliens. What a waste, he thought to himself. There was a lot of waste on this assignment. His talents went unused, except for an all too brief encounter that ended in death. His time on the ship, though interesting, proved worthless. He was unable to gain even a glimpse of insight into their spoken language.

  Nevertheless, he had a job to do—a job which still kept him on the team. Chase needed him to chaperone this shipment. Rebecca, Jeff, and Dupres accompanied the first three and it was important to Chase that both countries participate equally, in every way, in the extraction and recovery of the ship. A petty demand from an untrusting egotistical man, Logan thought. A demand that Major Gaines shrewdly gave into, for it pacified Chase while giving him nothing of substance and granted Gaines a favor which he could call upon later.

  The irony struck him. For all the languages he knew, both spoken and unspoken, and all the negotiating savvy he possessed, it was only Chase’s irrational paranoia that allowed him to remain. Well, it was better than being sent home, as he assumed he would be. At least this way, he still had an opportunity to learn. He was still in the game. A game that Logan knew was being played poorly.