“Do you own this place, Mrs. Harris?” Drew asked as he sat down.
“Yes. I run it with my husband and sons, one of whom’ll be along to take care of you. Again, please don’t hesitate to let me know if there’s anything I can do to make you more comfortable.”
“Thanks,” Achilles said, taking his seat.
They examined the neatly printed menus, each a single sheet of paper the size of a large envelope.
“It’s not true what they say about British food,” Achilles said. “Dinner was a treat, and you can’t beat their breakfasts. The black pudding… my gosh, I wish America’d catch onto it. That’s what I’m getting.”
Drew smiled and nodded as he read. “Same here.”
“I’ve never seen a full English presented like that,” Drew said, inspecting his plate after their young waiter had left the room. The eggs were perfectly round, the bacon thick and fat free, the sausages short and plump, and the puck of black pudding seared to perfection. He came back and delivered hot, buttered toast.
“What’s the agenda for today?” Achilles asked.
“I reckon we should inspect the rest of the site and surrounding areas, including the ruined farmhouse.”
“Right. One interesting thing I saw in one of those books was that they found two perfectly straight tracks through the corn in the next farm over, leading away from the scene. The farmer reported strange apparitions like ball lightning, and his farmhands were on the ground glowing. They were never seen again.”
“Yes, I read that. Could be the ramblings of a confused old man or an attention seeker. Or it could really have happened. It’d probably be remiss of us not to walk that route, too.”
Mrs. Harris entered. “Everything well, gentlemen?”
“Yes, lovely, thanks,” Achilles replied. Just as she turned to leave, he asked, “What’s your take on the Rapture?”
She turned back. “My fourteen times-great grandfather himself saw it,” she whispered playfully, as though reading a ghost story to children.”
She now had their full attention. “Really?” Drew asked.
“Yes. The Harrises have lived around here for centuries. The story’s been passed down through the generations, along with an heirloom: his diary.”
Drew’s arms broke out in goose bumps. “You don’t say?”
“Yes.”
“Do you… have the diary?”
“Yes. I keep it in a safe.”
“Do you think we might… view it? Obviously, we’ll treat it as though it were made of gold.”
She nodded. “I can arrange that. Come and find me after breakfast. Meanwhile, enjoy.”
Drew looked at Achilles. “Can’t beat actual historical documents from the time period you’re investigating.”
****
Drew and Achilles wore latex gloves to avoid contaminating the ancient document with the oil from their fingers as they pored over the small leather-bound book at the rosewood table in the airy day room.
“His writing is one stop short of being hieroglyphics,” Drew said, examining the ancient fountain pen-written scrawl.
“They wrote in cursive back then.”
“Lot of misspellings.”
“Literacy rates were low,” Achilles said. He flipped the page. “Check this out! He sketched it!”
The pages showed a whooshing column of fire against a dark background, with fires burning all around, and the outlines of onlookers. “He was a decent artist,” Achilles added.
“Must have been a hell of a thing to witness,” Drew said. “If only it’d happened in the age of personal video devices.”
Drew flipped the page and examined the writing closely. “Next entry: July 26th, 1850. Found strange object in field.” His eyes grew as wide as saucers. “Strange object! Holy Christ, it was wreckage!”
“My God! Part of it actually made it back to Earth,” Achilles managed, his forehead beading with sweat. “There’s a part of the craft somewhere out there.”
“Our one and only mission from here on out is now to find that wreckage.”
Drew got up quickly to fetch Mrs. Harris, while Achilles continued to read the diary. He soon returned, with the ever-smiling woman in tow. “Mrs. Harris, where was Arthur’s farm?”
“Near Frimley Green, just over the border in Hampshire.”
“How far away is that?”
“About ten miles.”
“Actually, I meant from the Rapture site.”
“Oh… about six miles.”
Drew turned to Achilles. “Six miles! The outer edge of the wreckage zone!”
Mrs. Harris frowned. “Oh, you’re reading that part about him finding a strange object. Nobody’s paid much attention to that; they were all fascinated with the drawing.”
“Does your family still own the property?”
She shook her head. “No, not for 100 years at least. It was sold off.”
“It’s… still a farm though, right? It didn’t get built on?”
“I think so. A dairy farm, if I recall. I haven’t been out there in a while, not since my grandmother passed away.”
“Thank you. Thank you very much.”
****
“I can’t get over how beautiful England is,” Achilles said as farmland and trees slipped by outside in almost complete silence.
“Yes. The countryside’s blessed with a charm you just don’t get at home. I went to the Lake District and Scotland. They have to be seen to be believed. The area around Lake Ullswater is named Eden. It’s very apt,” Drew said.
“I’d like to see it some time. But I’d like to solve the mystery of the Rapture more.”
“Me too. We’re only half a mile from Castle Farm now, so those are probably some of its fields,” Drew said, gesturing at green pastures on their right, dotted with black and white cows.
“So, how are we going to do this?” Achilles asked.
“Knock on the door and ask them.”
The car slowed and turned right between two ivy-covered brick gateposts. They crunched along a gravel driveway, and parked in a small clear area to the left.
Both men inspected the stone house, which was also partially covered in ivy, and had a slate roof and white window frames. “Seems like that particular English charm comes standard everywhere here,” Achilles said. Drew ascended two low stone steps and rapped the brass knocker onto the door. He looked around at the giant, sturdy oak trees and past the car, across the wire fence to the milking shed.
A woman in her early fifties answered the door. Her face was ruddy and weatherbeaten, her hands well-callused. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m Drew Kovacs from NASA, and this is my colleague Achilles Tyler.”
“Ma’am,” Achilles nodded.
“Can we come in?” Drew asked.
The woman frowned. “NASA? What would you be doing here?”
“Um… searching for evidence left behind by the Surrey Rapture event,” Achilles said.
“That was hundreds of years ago. What makes you think there’s any on our farm?”
A strong scent of dog wafted from the front door. Sure enough, two border collies bounded towards the invaders, protecting their turf, their barking causing Drew to step back.
“Be quiet, you two!” she scolded. Chastened, they contented themselves with sniffing from within the house and whining. “You’ll have to excuse them.”
“That’s quite all right. We just wanted to ask you a couple of questions about the farm’s history.”
“Well, I suppose…”
“May we come in?”
“You’ll have to be content with the front steps, I’m afraid. We’re not big on strangers, and neither are the dogs, as you can see.”
“Okay, thanks,” Drew said, feeling more awkward than when he had floated inside the alien craft. “Is there a strange object somewhere on the property?”
She shook her head. “Not that I’ve ever seen, nor my parents or grandparents. I’m aware o
f the legend, though. Something landing here after the Rapture. Arthur Fenshaw wrote about it in his diary, which I believe still exists.”
“We’ve read it.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Really?”
“Yes. He wrote a lot about his life here.”
“I’d like to read it.”
“We can put you in touch with its owner. She doesn’t live far away,” Achilles said.
“That’d be marvelous, thanks.”
“Unfortunately, Arthur didn’t elaborate about what he found, where it was, or what he did with it,” Drew said. “We’d be very grateful if you’d let us search the property.”
“Oh… Why do you need to find it so badly?”
“It’s probably the only surviving piece of the ship that landed at Featherstone Farm. Its composition would yield a wealth of information.”
Comprehension dawned on Miriam’s face. “You’re… one of the astronauts…”
“That’s been inside the Enigma,” Drew finished for her.
“Yes.”
“Fancy having someone who’s been there at our house! As far as I’m concerned, you can search the farm all you like.”
“Thank you very much.”
“You’ll want to watch out for the bull, though.”
****
The bull’s nostrils flared mist into the cool air, as he angrily mashed the turf with his large hoof.
“Crap! Where did I put?” Drew panicked, patting his pockets for the remote disabling device that the farmer had given him. An angry bellow issued from the middle distance as the animal readied to charge.
“Find it, dammit!”
“I know it’s here somewhere!”
Achilles wasted no more time. He turned and ran back towards the farmhouse, as fast as his rubber boots would allow. Each thud of the angry bull’s hooves shook the ground as he charged towards the now wide-eyed Drew. Drew’s hand closed around something in the breast pocket of his shirt and he pulled out a slim device the size of a cigarette packet. He pushed its one large, red button. The beast skidded to a rolling stop, steam still pouring from its nostrils. It dipped its huge head and lowed plaintively as though confused.
“Wow… must deactivate one or more of the centers of its brain,” Drew marveled, looking down at the device in his hand and up again at the becalmed animal, ten yards away.
“Is it under control?” Achilles shouted as he turned around.
“I think so.”
“That thing’s more dangerous than the darn Enigma!”
“Not quite…”
“Right, nearly forgot about your encounter. Although, that wasn’t the Enigma’s fault. So,” he said as he rejoined Drew, “back to avoiding cow pats in the name of science. Still want to keep walking out there and back?”
“As long as we don’t have another encounter like that!”
“I think she said they’ve only got the one bull,” Achilles said. “Hopefully that control’ll subdue it for a while.”
“Call Miriam and ask.”
“It works for about an hour,” Achilles said, after checking.
“Good. Should be long enough.”
They resumed their trek over the gentle rise to the gate, several hundred yards from the house, and slipped through into the last field.
Drew took in a deep breath and exhaled, his breath condensing in front of him. “Nothing like getting a workout while taking in the beautiful English countryside.”
“Ha.”
They trudged on in silence.
“Whoa,” Drew said, clutching his head.
“What’s up?”
“Don’t know, I just felt really weird for a moment there, like déjà vu.”
“You okay to keep going, or do you want to turn back?”
They stopped, close to the middle of the large field. Drew looked at the fence and then back towards the house. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just stressed with everything going on.”
“I’d be pretty surprised if you weren’t; there’s an entire planet of people wondering what’s going to happen once that ship reaches us. All of them hoping for a miracle from us.”
Drew sighed. “Yeah, that’s probably it. Let’s head back to the car and I’ll give Manfred an update on our progress. Then we’ll figure out what to do next.”
They turned and began to pick their way slowly back across the field, the cold air nipping at them. “Whoa! There it is again!” Drew said. “Achilles! This is it!”
“Huh?”
“There’s something there! That same weird feeling happens whenever I walk over this spot. It’s the same feeling from when I was in the Enigma. I can’t really explain it, but… Did you feel anything?”
“No, nothing.”
Drew continued walking for another fifteen feet, then doubled back. His face lit up when he came back over that same patch of ground. “Right here!” he said, pointing at the ground. “I bet you almost anything there’s debris buried here!”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Drew folded his arms and smiled with satisfaction at the hole in the ground before him. It was enclosed by a blue tent the size of a small hotel ballroom. Helicopters buzzed noisily above and crowds of reporters blocked the road outside Castle Farm for hundreds of feet in either direction, wanting a piece of the action.
“It’s exactly the same material?” Manfred asked, standing to Drew’s right.
Drew nodded, looking down at the roughly twelve by six-foot section of jet black material, lying in a shallow grave with the glare of floodlights on it, as archaeologists continued to dig carefully around it, dusting it clean as they went.
“And you get the same reaction every time you’re near it?”
“I’ve no idea how it works, but the stimulus is identical.”
“How close do you have to be?”
“Less than fifteen feet?”
“We have a small army of scientists on the way. Chemists, physicists… And a few psychics too,” Manfred said.
Drew turned to Manfred. “Psychics…?”
“I figure if anyone’ll be able to unscramble any waves that thing’s broadcasting on a metaphysical level it would be them.”
“O-kay…” said Drew, unsatisfied with Manfred’s explanation and invocation of such nonsense.
“So old Arthur Fenshaw just buried it then,” Achilles said, from Drew’s left. “Good thing it wasn’t radioactive, or toxic. How much do you think it weighs?”
“Won’t know for sure, or its full dimensions, until they finish uncovering it, and we have to figure out how to move it,” Manfred said. “But if it’s a foot thick as it appears to be at the one edge they’d dug up so far, something around 2,200 pounds, it looks like.”
“Must have been hard for Arthur to bury it,” Achilles said. “Digging a big enough hole wouldn’t be that hard, but then you have to move it.”
“Probably hooked up a bunch of horses and pulled it,” Drew said.
“Yeah.”
“So, that clinches it,” Drew said. “The Surrey Rapture was a landing by the same race that’s presently flying toward Earth.”
“There’s every chance some of them got off the ship before it lifted off, so they might already be here. We’ve got to follow any trail they left behind.”
“If there is a trail after all this time,” Achilles said.
“If there’s anything, we’ll find it,” Manfred snapped, taking the other two by surprise. “This is the beginning, not the end. We have to find out who these beings are and what they want from us, before a giant ship full of them reaches Earth.”
****
The black chunk of another world lay on the shiny floor of the gymnasium-sized laboratory. Daylight from windows high above reflected from the array of gleaming machines trained on it, and from the metal cap on Drew’s head.
“You guys haven’t detected any wavelengths emitting from it?” Drew asked Carl, the chief physicist.
“Negative,” he replied, holding a tablet a
nd checking the readouts. “It seems to be as inert as a lump of material can get.”
“Baseline check, alpha wave readouts,” Lisa Stansfield, another scientist to Drew’s right, said as she monitored Drew’s brain wave patterns. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” Drew replied. “But then I always do when I’m this far away from it. It only changes if I’m close by.”
“Okay,” the white-coated woman said. “We’re ready to begin. Drew, please approach fragment one.”
Drew slowly paced towards the dark object while the cadre of scientists monitored their machines. “Twenty feet,” one fellow called out as he watched Drew’s progress along a ruler painted on the floor. “Fifteen feet.”
“Picking up some unusual activity now,” Lisa said, watching her tablet. “Stop for a second.”
Drew did so.
“It’s stabilized,” Lisa said. “Drew, approach it very, very slowly.”
Drew made as though he were trying to cross ancient floorboards without them creaking.
“Interesting, the beta waves are now taking on an odd shape,” Lisa said. “Any changes in the material’s properties?”
Carl shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Okay,” she said without looking up. “Drew, continue creeping forward slowly.”
“Ten feet,” the technician called out. “Five feet.”
“Stop again, Drew.” Lisa showed her tablet to a man standing to her right. “See what’s happening now? The top of the M is becoming chaotic and deformed.” He nodded, looking utterly perplexed.
“Drew, I want you to keep going, and then touch it.”
Drew turned around, fear written on his face. “Touch it?”
Lisa nodded. “Yes, please. Just for a second.”
“His heart rate’s going through the roof,” the medic behind Lisa said. “Just passed 120 beats a minute.”
“Probably fair,” Lisa replied. “I can’t really say as I blame him.” She turned back to Drew. “Okay, go ahead and touch it, please.”
Drew crouched, and reached out his right hand, his palms sweating. Finally, his fingertips made contact with the hard, black surface. “Whoa!” He quickly withdrew his hand.
Destination: Earth: The Enigma Series, Part Three Page 5