Alpert added, “But I agree with them. There are no gray aliens. From what I can determine, these stories about gray-skinned, insect-like creatures are all just a smokescreen. The real aliens look almost like us, except for some minor genetic and physical differences.”
* * *
The article had been illustrated with an editorial cartoonist’s rendering of an unearthly being in a dark uniform, with a distinctive emblem affixed to its left shoulder. The alien was the classic hairless gray-skinned, bug-eyed entity that one read about in all those UFO stories. The creature wore a striking uniform bearing an insignia that consisted of a bird-like creature with wings outstretched, surrounded by a large triangle. Underneath was a caption: “UFO researcher believes reports of aliens are based on government misinformation.”
Ray put down the newspaper and tried to dismiss rising thoughts. He shook his head—the idea was outrageous, but those nasty dreams and the images they portended came back over and over again.
Ray looked at the rendition of the supposed alien creatures a couple of times and thought, absentmindedly, Gee, they didn’t really get that face right at all. This alien looks nothing like the way she was in my dream.
The images began to form again in his mind: the beautiful alien woman, her penetrating violet eyes conveying the most incredible sensation of understanding, compassion, and agony he ever felt. For a moment, Ray looked upward with a start, feeling she was staring down at him at that very moment. The vision was so vivid, he gasped. Plain as day, he saw the gleaming insignia that adorned her uniform.
He looked at the picture again and stared and stared…
The emblem—it’s a circle, not a triangle!
The vision ended, jolting him back into the real world. The vividness of the images and their sudden appearance stunned him to his very core. Ray lost his grip on his porcelain coffee cup, which fell out of his hand. The cup shattered, and the remnants of his morning beverage spilled across the floor. He stared at the carpet, unable to shake the dream’s image from his mind.
After being drummed out of military intelligence as a “burnout,” following a “routine” mission in the Middle East, he’d dreamed about the alien woman and that devastating battle in space nearly every night. The visions thrust him right in the middle of the action, almost as if he was there with a camera. He felt the death cries of millions, and saw the haunting image of the most glorious woman ever, so human, yet alien. Ray just couldn’t get her out of his mind. At times, even when he was awake, he could almost feel her looking at him and he’d abruptly turn around, but she was never there. The dream had become an obsession.
On a whim, he decided he might as well put those dreams to some use. After his military career came to a screeching halt, Ray took advantage of the knowledge of advanced computer technologies he acquired at MIT before he joined the military to please his father, and accepted odd jobs as a computer programmer. He created a computer game, “Attack of the Rockoids.” Of course, nobody but his analyst and a few close friends knew it was based on those recurring nightmares. The details were so clear, so compelling, all he had to do was write them down each morning, and weave them into his game.
The game ended up being so successful, he was contracted to create another, which he dubbed “Return of the Rockoids.”
There was one aspect he changed, though; the description of the aliens. Ray made them look insect-like, in keeping with modern folklore.
The psychiatrists thought writing that program was good therapy—eventually he’d stop having those terrible dreams. Every analyst he visited offered basically the same conclusion, except, of course, for the ones who thought he should be locked away in an institution. Once he found a way to use the dreams as inspiration for productive work, they said he was cured.
Of course, the dreams never stopped.
Maybe he should just get out more and seek some real female company for a change. He hadn’t called his girlfriend, Patricia, in weeks. Well, his publisher needed another game, and there was that deadline….
The more Ray thought about it, the more he realized it was just a silly excuse. The dreams weren’t going to disappear, no matter how many computer games he wrote.
“I have to get to Area 51!” Ray exclaimed aloud in a deep voice that bore just a suggestion of his Georgia background. Of course, the very idea of breaking into a top-secret government agency, assuming the place really existed, was absurd. The chance of success was slim at best. If he dared, he’d probably find himself arrested and left to rot inside a government prison.
The obvious dangers of this reckless venture should have been enough to dissuade him, but he couldn’t let the thought go. The look in his eyes turned grim. Oh, what the hell…If I don’t try, I’ll never know what’s really going on.
With renewed determination dominating his thoughts now, he absentmindedly swept the broken cup away and poured himself more coffee—this time in a paper cup—and quickly gulped it down.
Ray hurried over to the phone and punched out a number on the automatic dialing keypad. He heard a few rings and a man with a gruff voice bearing a slight trace of a Latin accent answered the phone.
“Hey, Colonel Gonzales, it’s Ray Perkins.”
“Hey, Ray, nice to hear from you again. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah, I guess. Sorry, I meant to stay in touch. Guess I got sidetracked after Dad died,” said Ray, as he briefly, sadly recalled his father’s death two years earlier in a plane accident. His mother took the tragedy especially hard; she died the following summer after a short, painful illness.
Ray sighed. He wasn’t one for casual gossip, but knowing Gonzales wanted to be brought up to date, he steeled himself for the questions, which came just as expected.
“You know, Ray, it’s really bad, you living out in the country all alone. You really need to find someone, settle down….”
“Manny, I was married. It didn’t work out. It happens.”
“Yeah, it didn’t work out because you left on that two-year tour of duty in the Middle East and never wrote or called her.”
“Oh, that…”
“Yeah, and didn’t Sharon run off and start screaming on mountaintops after she left you?”
“It’s called primal scream therapy, Manny, and it’s supposed to cleanse your psyche.”
“I bet it did. What ever happened to her?”
“After she got all that screaming out of her system, she went off to Alaska and did some go-go dancing. Last I heard, she got involved with some guy who runs an oil drilling company. Lives in the lap of luxury, with her two-point-two kids or whatever.”
“Are you seeing anyone now?”
“Oh, yeah, Patricia. Tall, beautiful, great body. She’s lots of fun, when I get around to seeing her.”
Although Ray couldn’t observe Gonzales’ reactions, he learned later what the old soldier thought about the situation.
Stop the chitchat and get to the point, Ray. You and I know you didn’t call just to pass the time of day, Gonzales wondered as he nervously began to pace his living room floor.
“Ray, women need attention. You can’t keep up relationships like that…” He hesitated a moment. “I know you didn’t call just to bring me up on local gossip. What’s up?”
Gonzales sat down again. His wife, Anna, always got bent out of shape when he drummed his fingers on the table; this time, he couldn’t help it. His well-honed instincts, earned during a long stint as an intelligence officer, made him suspect Ray was about to say something he shouldn’t be saying.
“I just read this story in the newspaper about aliens in Area 51….”
“Oh, that stuff,” Gonzales laughed. “Hell, they’ve been making claims about that shit for years!”
Ray’s voice became a little louder now, revealing a trace of anger and frustration. “Please, let me explain. I don’t know if it’s true or not. Something about it sounds real. That’s what the dreams are telling me.”
&nbs
p; Gonzales just sighed a couple of times. He had heard about those recurring nightmares in excruciating detail, over and over again. He tried to be understanding, but sometimes Ray became too annoying and he’d impatiently end a call, pretending there was something that needed his immediate attention elsewhere. When Ray started writing his first computer game, basing it on his dreams, Gonzales thought Ray should promptly check back in with the mental hospital…until Rockoids became the hottest-selling computer game in the country less than a year later.
* * *
Ray remained uneasy, not knowing what Gonzales was up to. At first he was seated during the conversation, but now he got up and paced the floor.
“I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna find, but I’ve gotta get in that place. I feel there’s something…something important out there…something I gotta find. If you don’t help me, I’ll find someone who will.”
Gonzales kept silent for a moment, and sighed audibly. “Ray, this is nuts. There’s nothing weird over there. They just test new weapons, that’s all. There are no gray aliens.”
“Manny….”
“You just want to get it on with this alien chick.” Gonzales laughed aloud, but had a strong feeling he was going to regret hearing what Ray was about to say.
“Damn it, Manny, just listen to me already! She’s calling out to me. She’s somehow involved with that war in space I keep dreaming about. Her anguish, her pain, I feel it. Sometimes I even feel she’s here when I’m awake. I have to find her…I have to.
“Besides, these aliens aren’t gray. They look like us.”
* * *
Gonzales gasped. His mind raced a mile a minute.
Damn you, Frank, his thoughts turned to Ray’s late father, as if thoughts could be read in the afterlife. I can’t believe you told him that! After all we went through when we first saw that place. How could you?
Gonzales thought better of it. There was no way Ray’s father, himself a skilled intelligence professional, would spill the beans. Somehow Ray just knew…
“Please, Manny! I’ve seen her so many times; I can remember every single detail about her. Her face, body, uniform, even this one little emblem on her shoulder…”
Gonzales paused for a long time, rendered speechless. His fist nearly crashed into the coffee table, but he held off just as he was about to strike the glass with all his strength.
“Manny, are you still there?” Ray’s voice sounded urgent.
The old soldier managed to contain himself enough to stammer, “Emblem? What kind of emblem?”
“It was a large circle and inside the circle was some creature that looked like a bird with its wings stretched out.”
Again that long pause, as Gonzales lifted himself out of his lounge chair and paced back and forth. His eyes narrowed, ears perked. He listened intently, just wondering if they were listening too.
“Ray, be honest with me. Have you ever been to Area 51?”
“Manny, I’ve been to Vegas for a publishers’ convention, that’s all!”
“You’ve never been to the Groom Lake complex…” Sweat trickled down Gonzales’ face as he waited for the response.
“I swear on dad’s grave, Manny, I’ve never been there!”
Another pause, but not so long this time, followed by an audible sigh.
“Ray, very few people I know have ever seen that emblem.”
“Manny, tell me what the hell is going on here!”
“I can’t talk about it on the phone…”
“I need to know the truth. Can you get me in there?”
“We were only there a couple times…Frank and I…”
“You and dad? You knew all along, didn’t you?”
“We can’t talk about this now.”
“Damn it, Manny! I’m on my knees here! You got to get me in that place!”
Again the silence was almost deafening as Gonzales thought hard and fast. He was in the thick of it now and there was no getting out. Damn it all! Maybe Ray is the one to help me find out the truth, before it’s too late….
He demurred. This was absurd; he couldn’t risk his pension, a possible prison sentence.
How the hell would Anna ever understand this? He thought bitterly to himself.
The memories came, flooding over him like a tidal wave….
* * *
The streets of Saigon were in chaos. The Viet Cong forces rapidly moved into the city. The sounds of air raid alarms rang out for miles around, and people ran through the streets grabbing whatever possessions they could. Nearby buildings were in flames and smoke rapidly filled the area, only adding to the pandemonium.
Gonzales stood in the middle of the tempest, looking for his beloved. He knew he had little time left before the enemy forces entered the city and he would be trapped.
Damn it, Frank, where the hell are you?
Suddenly, there she was…his beautiful Anna with her gorgeous brown eyes, long, flowing black hair, and her petite, lithe form. Next to her stood tall, brown-haired Colonel Frank Perkins, his most loyal friend. He and Anna rushed up to Gonzales, pushing through the crowd and out into the open.
Gonzales felt overjoyed, his eyes filled with tears. As Anna came up to him, they embraced. He looked at his old friend tearfully, his gruff voice barely above a whisper, “You saved her, Frank. You saved Anna!”
Colonel Perkins answered Gonzales in a hurried tone, “Yeah, yeah, you can thank me later. Now we have to get the hell out of here!”
The trio rushed toward the end of the city as part of a nearby two-story apartment building fell from above and smashed into the ground behind them…
* * *
The memories were compelling, consuming. How could he not help Ray, regardless of the consequences?
Anna will understand, he thought, misty eyed.
He owed Frank Perkins everything for returning his beloved Anna to him. By helping Ray, Gonzales would honor his old friend’s memory, return the selfless favor he could never repay. That alone was a noble enough reason.
Gonzales managed to feign a smile and a faint chuckle. “Okay, okay, Ray, I’ll help you. But next time you fantasize about a woman, make sure she’s human.”
He took a deep breath and then said, almost tentatively, “I really shouldn’t do this…but I do know a way to get you in there. Damn it all, I owe your father a thousand times over for saving my life, for saving Anna….”
“Thanks, Manny. I don’t think you realize how much this means to me.”
* * *
Again silence filled the room. As the seconds slowly passed, Ray thought for just a moment he could hear faint crackles on the phone line and sometimes an abrupt popping sound, but he quickly dismissed the possibility the phone was being tapped. Why would the NSA be looking into his affairs after all these years? Did they suspect he might, out of the blue, want to break into a top-secret military installation?
Sweat began to pour from Ray’s brow as he considered the possibilities. All those times he thought he was being followed on dark, dusty roads when he’d go out for a long drive. Those dark-suited men at the mall that time, long ago, shortly after his first computer game was released. He deliberately altered the insignia on the aliens’ uniforms, but there was a hint of the reality.
Before his paranoia could get out of hand, Ray, with a strong force of will, managed to collect himself.
When he began to speak again, Gonzales’ voice seemed to become a whisper. “Ray, they’ve got very tight security around that place. You can’t imagine…never mind. I’ll try to do the best I can to get them off your back. But there will be guards lurking around inside the complex, and if you get caught, it’s your ass. Understand?”
“I understand perfectly,” replied Ray calmly, nodding his head as if anyone could see him.
“Good. Now you have a day’s drive ahead of you. Meet me there tomorrow night. I’ll get you in there. Trust me,” said Gonzales. He tried to sound clinical, but his voice betrayed him. “Make sure
you get yourself a good night’s sleep. Take a pill or something.”
“Yeah, I’ll remember that. Must have something here to help me relax.”
Ray wasn’t one for tranquilizers, sleeping pills, or intoxicants of any sort. While his military comrades got stoned every weekend during his tour of duty, he’d stay behind in the barracks studying his computer programming books and honing the obscure martial arts skills his Asian mentor taught him.
He hung up the phone and sat in his lounge chair, lost in thought.
Maybe there was something to this secret alien laboratory business. Whatever the truth was, if he got caught, he’d probably end up behind bars or at least spend time in a mental hospital. It was foolish, all right. Still, it was something he had to do. He had a strong feeling time was of the essence. He believed those awful dreams contained a message, a message he must heed—that is, if he could figure out what it was. Who was this alien woman? Why was she calling out to him?
She was so beautiful; her face, the vision of it seemed to fill his mind, overwhelm him whenever he stopped to think about it. Was she real? Or just some cruel trick of fate taking him on an endless journey into total insanity?
Chapter 2
The next morning, Ray packed an overnight bag into the small trunk of his beat-up 1966 red Mustang convertible. The car barely seemed up to the task of going to the corner grocery store, let alone a long trip through the hot desert to another state. That didn’t deter him. He filled up the gas tank at a nearby convenience store, checked the oil, and took off, keeping a steady pace as he headed for Nevada.
The first time he started from a traffic light, a loud, sharp noise assaulted his ears; he looked around with a start. He saw nothing. He soon realized his car had backfired.
Worse, just about every time the car moved off from a dead stop, the awful sound repeated itself. Ray finally stopped by the side of a quiet road. He pushed open the stubborn door, got out, lifted the hood and looked inside. He should have spent a little more time learning how to fix the damn thing. He probed, squinting his eyes in the bright sunlight. All he could do was check that all visible components were connected properly.
Attack of the Rockoids Page 2