The Roswell Protocols

by Allan Burd

  He had seen this many times before during heated contract negotiations. Chase was playing win-lose, assuming everything he wanted had to be taken from his opponent. If he was to be the winner, then his opponent had to be the loser. It was always the wrong way to think. A defeated opponent distrusts you and his bruised ego will eventually retaliate. All win-lose achieved in the long run was creating an enemy from a potential friend. The best way to negotiate, Logan knew, was to go for win-win, where both parties mutually benefited from the agreement. This way both sides prospered and cooperation was ensured. But Chase’s ego was too great and his mind was too small.

  Logan looked out the window, watching the spacecraft get smaller and smaller with distance, as he resigned himself to the situation. He knew Chase wouldn’t listen to him anyway, despite the fact that he had successfully negotiated hundreds of business deals across the globe. Unless, Logan wondered, Chase wasn’t—

  His thoughts were interrupted by the loud roar of an F-18 Hornet passing the chopper on the left. He spotted the silhouettes of the Sparrows mounted beneath its fuselage and the four other missiles mounted beneath the wings, unsure if that was reassuring or downright terrifying. He followed its path, then looked back and saw four more helicopters hovering above the spaceship.

  The first stage in bringing the prize home was about to take place. The spaceship was free from any surrounding debris, save the white flakes and scree thrown about by the artificially generated winds of the helicopter rotors. Four, six-inch thick steel cables with grappling hooks were dropped, one from each helicopter, and fastened to the magnetic clamps attached to the ship’s hull. Two tugs on the cables told the pilots they were cleared for lift. Moments later, to the creaking sounds of arching metal, the ship was carefully hoisted about six feet into the air.

  To prevent the spaceship from buckling under the pressure of its own weight, steel mesh netting was immediately pulled underneath it and quickly attached to the four cables, forming a cradle. Black tarpaulin was then pulled over the spaceship to hide it from any casual, or not so casual, observers. When that was done, three tugs on one cable told the lead pilot they were ready. A ladder was pushed out the helicopter’s open door, unraveling as it fell. The final rung bounced less than a foot away from where Major David Gaines and Colonel John Chase were standing. They climbed up, and when they were safely aboard, the remaining ground crew tugged each cable, telling the pilots to leave.

  The four helicopters cautiously lifted off, rising gradually over the trees so as not to upset the invaluable cargo. Major Gaines looked nervously around to the surrounding skies, glad to spot one of the four F-18 fighter jets escorting them to base. They had full combat capabilities and orders to strike down any one dumb enough to stand in their way. Hopefully that would prove unnecessary.

  David pondered over every detail of the transport in a methodical fashion. The flight to the rendezvous point with the eighteen wheeler would take them ninety minutes. All the portable cargo would be transferred by then and the ground transportation crew should be ready to go. Every item, every alien entity, would be covered, preserved, and guarded for the six-hour-long drive through the mountains. Chase, himself, and the spaceship would continue on a shorter route through the air. If everything went according to schedule, by 2:00 A.M., Pacific Time the mission would be over, with everything successfully hidden in the underground research facility code named Yukon Base Five.

  Gaines checked the night sky in all directions. He noticed Chase was doing the same. They saw nothing out of the ordinary. Major Gaines hunched forward scanning the helicopter’s radar screen. He saw seven blips, all of them friendly. The skies appeared clear and safe. Unless, he thought, there was something alien lurking from high above that they couldn’t detect. That unsettling thought, he knew, would keep him on constant alert all the way to the base.

  54

  PRINCE RUPERT

  Jack was half paralyzed with fear. He believed in extraterrestrials. Enough so that he was certain they were the cause of Stacy’s nightmares. But still, he was woefully unprepared for one showing up in the rear of his pickup to prove he was right. Especially one trying to smash in his rear windshield with a toolbox. It was more than his mind could grasp. Unable to cope, he slammed on the brakes bringing the vehicle to a screeching halt.

  Stacy and Jack were jerked forward. Their fastened seat belts held tight.

  They were the lucky ones.

  The alien’s head crashed into the rear window, lengthening the cracks, and staining the window crimson with blood. The tool box flew forward, popped open, and rained an assortment of tools over the roof and down upon the hood. The metal tool box, landing last, made the loudest bang as it careened off the windshield, bounced off the hood, and then sprang onto the road below.

  For a long moment Stacy stared at the gray blue head through the crimson-stained broken glass—a real life sharkman. She found herself in a state of disbelief as she looked up into its lifeless eyes. She fervently hoped it was dead.

  Suddenly the alien pushed its face away from the glass and rose.

  “DRIVE, DRIVE, DRIVE!” Stacy bellowed in a fit of panic, as if driving would somehow put distance between themselves and the alien. Not knowing what else to do, Jack pressed the gas pedal to the floor. The sudden acceleration threw the alien backwards, sending him sliding shoulder first into the back of the pickup.

  “Oh shit. Oh shit!” Jack thought out loud.

  “Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!” Stacy echoed.

  Jack glanced into the rearview mirror, watching as the alien got to its feet. It sprang forward again. He spotted a left turn ahead and he came up with an idea. “Hold on,” he said, turning the wheel sharply, quickly taking the curve.

  The alien stumbled to the right, catching the side panel of the truck to prevent itself from falling over. Jack swerved sharply in the other direction. Then he continually jolted the vehicle from side to side, hoping to constantly keep the creature off stride.

  Stacy stared, completely mesmerized as the alien labored to reach the rear window. For a moment it was as if she was in a zoo examining every detail of this beast that was trying to get to her. In front of her was her most popular fictional villain come to life. No … It was more. It was the thing that haunted her dreams. The moment abruptly passed as she realized the thin veil of glass would not separate her from the monster for much longer. She gasped as she spoke, hardly able to catch a breath. “It’s not working. Try something else.”

  Jack saw a sharp right turn coming up. He waited until the last possible instant then rapidly cut the steering wheel clockwise. The right two wheels lifted off the ground, nearly tipping the truck over. As he hoped, the aliens lost its grip, but the maneuver pitched the alien forward and to the left, directly behind him. Using the left side panel for leverage, it grabbed a wrench from the floor and thrust it hard into the glass, shattering it to pieces.

  A shard slashed Stacy’s cheek.

  Jack fared worse. Even though he instinctively ducked when he heard the glass shatter, numerous fragments lacerated his head. He felt blood trickling down his neck, and no longer able to concentrate on the road, he tried to fend off the alien. As he turned to face it, the alien punched him in the face. His head snapped sideways into the steering wheel, knocking him unconscious. His foot slipped off the gas pedal. The vehicle eased off the road, slowing down as it rode over the thick underbrush.

  Tears wet Stacy’s face as the vehicle rolled to a halt. As bad as her nightmares were, all she had to do to escape them was wake up. This was infinitely worse. There was no place to run. Nowhere to hide. No way out. The alien’s long webbed fingers reached inside the truck, gripping the rear frame where the window used to be.

  In desperation, Stacy grabbed the club which lay on the floor between her and Jack. She fumbled for the latch and managed to unbuckle her safety belt. With all the strength she could muster, she swung the club at the alien.

  The alien caught the metal bar in mid-sw
ing and ripped it from her grasp. It glanced at Stacy, checked a watch-like device on its wrist and then emitted sounds in its alien tongue that she couldn’t understand.

  Stacy cowered helplessly in the front seat. A feeling of déjà vu’ overcame her. She had been in this situation before … a long, long time ago. At this moment, she realized that Jack was right. She had been abducted by aliens. She was a little girl when they first took her. They performed experiments on her so horrifying that the only way her mind could protect her was to block them out. She remembered more. Two other incidents flashed through her mind. Abducting her at age five was only the first time. They came back for her again and again throughout her life. They stole her childhood, turning her into a frightened little girl. They were responsible for all of it. She would not let them take her again.

  “YOU BASTARD!” she yelled in rage. Releasing her anger, she slammed her palm into the alien’s fingers. It lost its grip and tumbled backward. She quickly slid over to the driver’s side, pushing Jack’s limp body against the door, and in a fit of rage stepped hard on the gas. The truck jolted forward. The alien stumbled, but managed to grab onto the seat. Stacy reached back and dug her nails into the creature’s hand, feeling its blubbery skin ooze beneath her fingernails as she forced it to release its hold. She gunned the truck over the lip separating the pavement from the dirt and the pickup leapt into the air and back onto the road. The centrifugal force tossed the alien to the back once again. When the tires touched down, they skidded and streaked black on the concrete, and the vehicle sped off.

  “OK, OK.” She took several deep breaths but couldn’t stop the racing of her heart. Now what? She looked over at Jack, who was still unconscious, then quickly turned her attention to the road. She looked in the rear view mirror, adjusted it, and noted the alien was quickly recovering. Her panic returned.

  The alien was now upright. She couldn’t read its expression, but surely it was angry. As it approached, she intentionally drove the car off the road. The jarring from the unpaved ground jostled the alien to its knees. Now she could only see its odd shaped head through the mirror.

  Her home was only five minutes away. If she could get there and reach a phone, she could call for help. She quickly swerved back onto the road. She looked again into the rear view mirror and saw nothing. “Oh my god, oh god, oh god.” Frantically, she adjusted the mirror in all directions but couldn’t see it. She whirled her head around to the right. She saw nothing. Then the driver’s side window burst inward and the aliens’ slick hand reached through and grabbed the wheel. Stacy screamed again.

  Jack stirred as more shards of glass lacerated his face, the sharp pain awakening him. The wind blew through the broken window stinging his open wounds, bringing him fully back to consciousness. He felt Stacy next to him struggling to keep control of the vehicle. Upon seeing the strange limb in front of him, he remembered the situation and pounded on the alien’s arm repeatedly until it let go of the wheel. Then, just as suddenly, he blacked out from a blow to the back of his head.

  “JACK!” Stacy yelled. She was only four minutes away from home, but she knew she would never make it. She veered the vehicle hard to the right and sped up again. She heard the alien grab hold of the frame, feeling its malevolent presence right behind her. Her time was running out. She scanned the vehicle wildly, looking for anything that might be useful. She saw something that triggered an idea and without thinking rationally, she acted upon it.

  She slipped Jack’s seatbelt over her head and under her right arm, securing herself as best she could. She turned the vehicle sharply to the left, driving it off the road once again. The alien grabbed her hair, yanking it hard as he stumbled to the right. The pain brought tears to her eyes. It didn’t matter. She just needed to keep the steering wheel steady a little longer as the truck bounced wildly over the rocky terrain. She took a deep breath and prayed. Her heart beat faster. The alien reached in. There were scant seconds left when she chickened out and slammed on the brakes. But it was too late.

  The truck smashed head-on into a tree. The air bag popped opened immediately, cushioning Jack’s and her impact. Moments passed before she regained her senses. Even with the safety device functioning properly, Stacy was in so much pain, she could barely move. But she had to make sure.

  She pushed the white cushion away from her face and looked behind her. The rear of the truck was vacant. She looked ahead, scanning the dark array of trees through the thick white smoke which rose from the engine. A part of the wooded area was illuminated by the beam of the left headlight, still functioning much to Stacy’s surprise. About thirty yards ahead, she saw it. The alien was sprawled out on the ground like a limp doll discarded by a child. She watched it, making sure it didn’t move. Breathing a sigh of relief, she removed her seatbelt and collapsed on the front seat.

  55

  ABOVE THE COAST MOUNTAINS

  The four CF-18A’s—the F-18 Hornets of the Canadian RAF—soared through the darkening sky. Purchased from Mc-Donnell Douglas in 2001, they were first used by squadrons based at CFB Cold Lake, Alberta, and soon became the favorite low cost escort fighter / interdictor replacing the F-4’s and the A-6E’s. They carry up to six AMRAAM weapons, two fuselage mounted and two on each outboard wing store stations. Each equipped with an AN/ALQ-165 airborne self protection jammer, reconnaissance equipment, Flight Incident Recorder And Monitoring Set, which incorporates a signal data processor interface with the fuel system to provide overall system control and automatic adjustment of aircraft center of gravity as fuel is consumed in flight, and an all weather night attack capability including pilot night vision goggles and a Hughes aircraft FLIR thermal imaging navigation set.

  To pilot Virgil Ramses, code named Hound—the sole operator of the single seat multi-mission fighter—there wasn’t a better place to be. “Lynx, you reading any activity?” he asked over the comm-link.

  “Skies are clear,” Lynx reported back.

  “Sure is good to be back where we belong, buddy. In the Hornets, we are large and in charge.”

  “I know what you mean. Those whirlybirds just don’t cut it.”

  “Betcha what we’re guarding does,” responded Moose, the third pilot guarding the ship.

  Grizzly, the pilot of the fourth F-18, interrupted them. “I recommend you can the comm chatter, Moose. Otherwise, Gaines will have your head on the wall instead of that Moosehead you gave him.”

  “You got that right,” Gaines said. “I hear one more careless remark like that over the airwaves, it’ll be your last.”

  “My apologies, Major,” said Moose.

  “Unaccepted. Don’t do it again.” Gaines paused. “We’re one click from rendezvous. Status report?”

  “No activity,” answered Hound.

  “All clear,” responded Grizzly.

  “Clear,” reported Lynx.

  “Same here, Commander,” said Moose. “Looks like a cake walk.”

  “Don’t treat it like one. Circle the perimeter. Anything even looks suspicious I want to know about it.” Gaines put down the chopper’s radio. His helicopter slowed down, as did the other three.

  It was completely dark now. Below, he saw the lights of the ground transportation crew. From the frenzied activity it looked like they had fallen behind schedule and were hurrying to catch up. He pulled out his new personal two-way radio and spoke into the mike. “Rebecca, what’s going on down there?”

  Rebecca waved her blue flare so Gaines would know her position and then answered back. “Only two more minutes needed. The last helicopter preferred safety over speed and arrived a little late. Judgment call. I gave him the benefit of the doubt.”

  Gaines didn’t like it, but he knew safe was better than sorry. He signaled his pilot to alert the others to hover until he personally saw the ground unit leave. “You got two minutes, no more.” He put the radio away.

  “What’s the problem?” asked Chase.

  “There is none. We leave in two,” responded Major Gai
nes, sharply.

  Chase smirked and disapprovingly shook his head. If these men were under his command they’d have been ready, he thought. Gaines knew what he was thinking and ignored him.

  “We’re going to have to kill him,” Chase said.

  Gaines quickly faced him with a puzzled, annoyed expression.

  Colonel Chase brushed off the nasty look. “Let me rephrase. We’re going to have to kill it.”

  Gaines didn’t catch on right away. “It what?”

  “The alien that got away. It’s the only way.”

  Gaines hadn’t forgotten. He just didn’t know what to do, so he filed it in the back of his mind until the immediate concerns were taken care of. “What about the Roswell Protocols?”

  “Don’t much matter now. Even if the crash site is covered up, it won’t make a hill of beans worth of difference if that alien makes its way home. Matter of fact, it’ll look a hell of a lot worse. We have to find it and kill it.”

  “There’s got to be a better solution,” said Gaines. His guilty conscience wouldn’t accept correcting one tragic mistake with another.

  “If you think of one let me know. Until then, I suggest we proceed with that course of action.”

  Hound banked his F-18 sharply to the left, reaching the area of the perimeter that was nearest to the coastline. A blip briefly flashed on his AN/APG-65 radar—then disappeared before he got a second look. The multimode digital air-to-air tracking radar has built-in modes for Velocity Search, Range While Searching, Track While Scan, which can track ten targets and display eight to the pilot, and a Raid Assessment Mode. Hound quickly cycled through the modes. He stared at the display for a few seconds to see if the ghost image would return. It didn’t. He engaged his night vision goggles but failed to see anything in the sky. “Lynx, you readin’ anything?”

  “Still clear, Hound. Have you got something?” Lynx asked.