SKY WOMAN OF GROOM LAKE

by Charlie Peart

  The pair briefly mentioned Nick’s use of cash money, “a suspicious activity in this day and age” only utilized by those who did not want to leave a paper trail. Nick countered that he still saw plenty of old people in stores paying with cash. “Are they suspicious, too?”

  It was becoming obvious that the tension in the room was mounting. It was also obvious to Nick, as he began feeling a trickle of sweat working down his back, that no one had decreased the temperature in the room. In fact, it seemed much warmer in there than it had before.

  However, Nick concluded that was all the evidence they had, when they asked him if he would be willing to take a polygraph. Nick reacted defensively telling them he had twice told the two different investigative teams everything that he knew. He reiterated that he had nothing to hide, and he saw no reason for anyone to doubt his word. “I’ve worked for your government for the past forty years as a loyal employee, trusted with the highest level of secret information, and I take umbrage with the idea you want me to take a polygraph. No, I won’t take it. I see no need for it.”

  The investigators persisted, telling Nick it was a routine polygraph. They reminded him that he had taken them before, as did many employees in the world of national security. If he had nothing to hide, what would be the harm? Nick stood fast on his position and sat back, his left elbow on the table and his hand cradling his chin.

  The more physically intimidating man, on the two-man team, was a tall, African-American with broad shoulders. He stood up and Nick started to worry that maybe he was going to get rough with him. He hoped not, but he had seen enough “cop shows” to feel that this could be a possibility.

  Instead the man moved to Nick’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Listen Nick, I’m going to make this easy for you. We know some things you don’t. This alien Amie exerts mind control on people. Who knows, maybe she did it to you, also. That wouldn’t be your fault. You are the victim here, Nick. We wouldn’t blame you if you were under her control. We would understand. We’re not after you, Nick. We’re on your side. We just want to know where she is. Where is she, Nick? Where did she make you take her? Where is she hiding?”

  After giving Nick a reassuring tap, the agent dropped his hand and moved around to Nick’s other side. He waited for a response.

  “Listen guys, I appreciate what your saying, except that I was never around Amie long enough for her to do some kind of alien voodoo stuff or control my mind. I mean, hell, did you look at the records of the project? Probably not, but if you had, you would see what kind of work I did. I couldn’t have done that if she was controlling me.”

  The black man spoke to Nick solemnly now, sitting down beside him and staring into his eyes. “Nick, are you aware that seven years ago this Amie tried to pull the same thing on another guy? She did. It’s not like she has some great feeling for you, Nick. She led this other guy, this poor sap, to think she had some special relationship with him. Told him a big sob story about being held prisoner. Poor woman, chained to a wall at night, you would think, the way she carried on. In reality she has been treated very well. You never saw her quarters, but I can tell you, she and her crewmembers have been treated very good - with nothing but respect and gratitude for their contributions. But she led this guy on, with her whining. However, he told someone what she was up to. She was begging him to get her out of Area 51 so she could reach Sedona, Arizona. There is some special energy in that place and that’s where she asked this guy, this sucker, to take her. But he turned her in. So her plan went nowhere. That was seven years ago. The military kept it all hush-hush. Nobody was told what she was up to. The guy was transferred. Nothing bad happened to him. But now, along you come. A nice guy. Maybe you feel sorry for her. And what does she do? She uses you. Just like with that other guy. She used you, Nick. Tell us about it.”

  Nick was shocked when he heard this information, but he said nothing for a minute or two, as he needed time to process what he had just learned. Could it be true? They did seem to know right away about Amie possibly heading for Sedona. But Nick was smart enough to know that this might be a trick. Instead, he responded with a comeback. “What would be in it for me to try and help Amie escape or hide her somewhere? I don’t get it? What? I’m going to go with her to her planet and live among a bunch of weird looking aliens? I want to retire for God sakes and go fishing off my dock in Florida. Do you honestly think I would risk that for an alien? I mean have you ever seen her?” Nick went on his rant for another minute or so before they cut him off.

  “Okay, that’s enough, Nick. We gave you an opportunity. It’s obvious you don’t intend to cooperate.” The agents sat staring at him for a few minutes; apparently hoping the discomfort of their silence would produce a confession or something further. Then without warning, they both got up and left the room.

  Nick was left sitting in his chair, wondering what would happen next. He checked his watch. “Oh my God”, he thought, “I’ve been here for four hours.” He was suddenly hungry and angry. They couldn’t have anything on him, otherwise he would have known it by now. The only thing they could use against him was his unwillingness to take the polygraph. But Nick had been polygraphed several times in his career, in order to maintain his high-level security clearances, and he knew he was within his rights to refuse this one.

  After several minutes, although to Nick it seemed like an eternity, the steel door opened and his earlier room escort entered and told him he was free to go. Nick silently followed the guy down to the first floor exit turnstiles, where his briefcase, with all its contents intact, was returned to him. The escort asked him if he needed to be driven somewhere. Nick asked the man to call for a cab. He wanted to get home to his condo in College Park.

  The escort walked Nick to the gate of the massive government facility and, when the cab arrived, Nick gratefully climbed in and gave his home address to the driver. On his ride home, Nick was in a total state of agitation, reviewing every question he had been asked and wondering if his answers had sounded plausible. “They don’t know,” was the conclusion he arrived at, with relief, as he paid the taxi driver and walked to his front entrance.

  Chapter 20

  When Nick returned to his rented condo in College Park it was way past dinnertime, yet he had little appetite. He flipped on the lights, dropped his bags and briefcase, and walked around inspecting his place. Was he getting paranoid or did he see the same evidence that someone had been inside his home, messing around with his things? He had suspected that his Florida home had been bugged, and he decided that this condo was probably bugged, also. He wondered how this would all play out in the end. Would they ultimately remove the bugs when he was no longer considered a suspect? Or would he be hounded for the rest of his life? Maybe, to give himself peace of mind, he would have to hire some private security firm to sweep both of his residences.

  Nick poured a generous glass of merlot from the box wine he found in his pantry and turned on the TV. No breaking news about a sighting of a wig-wearing alien, he thought in a moment of self-amusement. Then he remembered Amie’s last episode, sunning herself outside sans her disguise, and it suddenly wasn’t so funny. Someone might spot her at any time, if she did anything stupid. Then, would Amie confess that he had helped her? Even if she didn’t, there was a check for $500 made out to Doug that might arouse suspicion.

  Nick really became depressed when he thought, over and over, about whether he had been used as a dupe. Did Amie really try the same thing with someone else? He had not liked the way the black agent referred to the NASA guy seven years back as a “sap” and a “sucker”. Had Amie played him for a fool? Perhaps they had made up that story just to scare him a little, confuse him, or make him want to get back at her by turning her in. But, if it was true, what was wrong with Amie trying desperately to find someone kind enough to care about her plight? The more Nick thought about these things, the worse he felt. He downed three glasses of wine, before falling asleep on the couch.

  Amie
grew increasingly impatient, even though it had been only four days since Nick left. Following his admonition to not leave the house, she had spent those days eating her fruit and fresh vegetables and watching the TV. Amie could not believe how mindless and banal the human TV shows were. She had only enjoyed them in her pod when she was sitting with X-ray and Mike and the three of them were criticizing the foolishness of what passed for human entertainment.

  Nick had purchased several magazines and given her a book that he thought she might enjoy and, by now, she had read all of this material from cover to cover, and was beginning to reread them all. She would soon have to start on her canned and frozen food, and this put Amie in a less positive mind frame, as she compulsively counted each can and package of food that Nick had stockpiled for her in the rental house.

  Nick had closed all of the window blinds but, on the second day, Amie had heard a tremendous racket coming from outside and very near to her house. As she peeped outside the blinds, she saw two men doing yard work on the neighboring lawn; one man seated on a roaring mower. Now, the same thing had occurred at her hideaway. A two-man team was bustling around on their rattling machine, attacking the beautiful lush grass of her yard. Amie retreated trembling to the bedroom closet, fearful that they might somehow have access to the interior of the house.

  When the lawn crew left, Amie crept cautiously out of the closet, took her plastic chair and sat under the huge oak tree, trying to draw solace from its massive presence. The tree represented strength, the fortitude to persevere through hurricanes and floods, through wind, heat, and cold. Amie sat meditating under that old tree for hours, listening to the wind blow through its leaves and tuning in to the humming and chirping of the insects and birds it sheltered. The strong smell of the freshly mown lawn was all around her. When she felt calmer, she looked up at the sky and noticed a massive cloud presence moving in. Later that day it began to rain, and the showers continued for two days straight. Amie passed the time by rereading her book, and also sat sadly in the smelly chair in front of the boring little TV screen.

  When the tropical rains lifted, Amie found herself staring at the front door, with a strong desire to explore her outdoor surroundings. She put on her blond wig and sunglasses and headed out the door, barefoot, to the puddle-strewn street. Childlike, she frolicked in the large puddles in the road, splashing water and mud all over the legs of her jeans.

  The lonely road on which her house stood, led to a more populated area. Amie debated whether she should remain in the shelter of the trees, at the end of the road, or walk down the road to see what existed there. She decided to explore. Walking down to the cross street, she stood looking in wonderment at all the houses lining it for as far as she could see. There were cars pulling out, further down this street, and a few people walking around their front yards. Amie noted, with some trepidation, that she was in a more heavily populated area than she had realized. However, on her right there existed a large gate at the end of this street, with a sign emblazoned on it “Idabelle Island”. Peering through the bars of the gate, she saw a little bridge, which had been built to cross the river. She had seen this same bridge from afar, as she stood on the end of the boat dock at her hideout.

  Amie was intrigued by her explorations, until she heard the loud sound of a lumbering truck. Looking in the direction of the noise, she saw a trash truck rattling its way down the main street. She hastened back to the shelter of her hideout. But, as she entered the door to the old, gloomy house, she realized that she would need to spend much more time in the outside world, to combat her mounting depression and concerns.

  Nick woke up in the middle of the night from a bad dream about intruders roaming around his condo. He felt a little shaken at first because he saw the light on in his bedroom, but then he remembered he left it on while he had unpacked. He realized he had passed out on the sofa from exhaustion. Moving to his bedroom, he set his alarm for the morning commute to work. Once in bed, he was fast asleep again in a matter of minutes.

  The next morning, after his second cup of coffee, Nick felt more optimistic. Perhaps he had convinced the feds to look elsewhere for a suspect. Yet he conceded that, for the time being, he would probably have to assume that he was being watched, his calls monitored, and his domicile wired with listening devices. He also concluded that both of his cars might have been fitted with a GPS tracking device. This was going to make contacting Amie a near impossibility for him. He wondered why he hadn’t thought about this before. Maybe he hadn’t expected such a harsh response from the federal interrogators.

  Nick pondered this dilemma while driving to work. It occurred to him that he wasn’t going to be able to handle things totally on his own. He would have to draw someone else into his plans; someone he could really trust to want to help him. The person who came instantly to mind was his son, Tom. However, Nick hated having to bring him into the picture and imagined what might happen to Tom and Laura’s life if they were found to be aiding Amie. Nick wondered if it was all worth it to him to risk having his son get caught up in this mess. Yet, he did want to help Amie and perhaps he could think of someway he could do that, and yet keep Tom out of harm’s way.

  Amie sat in her plastic chair, on the edge of the boat dock, looking out at the calm waters of the river. It was a warm day, and she was wearing the one pair of shorts that Nick had bought for her. Her legs were so thin and her feet so small that Nick had advised her to mostly wear her jeans or the blue pantsuit and shoes, if she went outside. But Amie saw no reason to be concerned. There had been a few boaters paddling on the water, but they stayed far out into the river, merely waving at her on her dock as they passed by. No one seemed to care about her skinny gray legs and tiny feet.

  Amie loved sitting out in nature. In the mornings she watched as a large alligator chugged its way along the middle of the river, looking for a meal to start its day. The same gator always swam by in the opposite direction in the evenings, she noted. Then there were the myriad species of birds. There were many types of herons working the riverbanks for fish. A stately osprey oversaw its territory from a large dead tree trunk on the opposite riverbank. And there were flocks of vultures, always swooping overhead in a lazy pattern, catching the wind currents as they searched for a dead animal to dispose of. Amie’s mood immediately lightened as she watched the animals and plants go through the course of their day.

  While perched on her dock, Amie had noticed a small watercraft she knew was called a kayak hidden behind bushes belonging to the property next door. She realized she should probably not touch the things belonging to the house next door; Nick would not like that. But her neighbor seemed like he had abandoned his property. What harm could come from her merely borrowing the kayak to give it a try? If the weather was good, Amie decided she would push the little boat into the water early the next morning. She doubted anyone would come paddling near her, if she went out early enough.

  As usual, Amie arose early. She put on her vest beneath her t-shirt and pulled on her pair of shorts. She wore no shoes, as she did not want her sneakers to get wet when she launched the kayak. She donned her wig and sunglasses, as Nick had instructed. However, she soon found the sunglasses restricted her vision too much in the low light of the morning. Therefore, she removed them and stuck them over her wig like she had seen the movie stars do on TV.

  She could see the moon above her in the early light, and the rising sun hadn’t yet reached the river. The water was very cool to her touch as she waded in up to her ankles and boarded the kayak. There was no life vest in the boat, and Amie never gave a thought to wearing one anyway. But there was a paddle for her use.

  As she pushed out into the river on the wobbly little boat, Amie felt a rush of incredible happiness. Since she had paid attention to the actions of other boaters, she now emulated them. She quickly learned to dip her paddle and stroke it, alternating between left and right sides of the craft. The small, yellow kayak easily cut through the river water and soon she had almost lost
sight of her house, as she paddled right under the small bridge leading to Idabelle Island.

  This island fascinated Amie. It held an enormous house, hidden by the trees, but she could make out tennis courts and the hint of a swimming pool. There were no lights in the house, as if it too was abandoned. Then she quickly glided beyond the mansion, the current carrying her along in her little craft, and she was now entirely surrounded by the dark, jungle-like plant growth along the riverbanks on both sides of her. Mullets were jumping out of the water and splashing around her, causing her to smile at their antics. Amie saw blue herons feeding on the fish in the shallows next to the river. But there was not another house to be seen on either riverbank. She was totally surrounded by nature.

  So Amie was somewhat startled when she rounded a bend in the river, to discover a small, shallow draft boat up ahead in front of her. A man was standing in the boat, throwing some kind of net into the water. She guessed he was fishing, but had not seen anyone catch fish in that manner on TV. He looked her way, and Amie realized she would not want to drift further toward the man so that he might possibly see her features.

  Panicking slightly, Amie attempted to make a sharp turn in the water. As she started her turn, she flipped the paddle to the left side and, in doing so, struck the sunglasses on her head. They flew off and landed in the water with a loud plop, quickly submerging out of sight in the murky river darkness. Plus, the quick motion of her arms and body, twisting as she battled to change the direction of the boat against the tugging stream of the current, caused the craft to badly wobble to the point where it almost tipped over. Amie’s thin arms pushed mightily against the current to right her boat and send it back up stream quickly.