by A. D. Winch
“We can’t give you free access to the whole base,” Florence had explained when she told them they could venture outside. “So we will assign a soldier to you. He will inform you when you are straying out of bounds.”
The Benjamins had nodded and were appreciative of the gesture. Both of them knew the soldier was to stop them escaping, but they also knew that there was no chance of this happening. They were too old, and too wise, to think that they would succeed.
It was hot, even in the shade. Granddad Benjamin had removed his shirt to reveal his bare chest and bulbous stomach, much to Mémé’s horror. She was no cooler despite rolling up the sleeves on her flowery blouse. A sea breeze blew weakly around them, but the base’s tall walls blocked most of the cooling winds.
Even so, it was pleasant to be outside and the new freedom they were enjoying had energized both of them. Granddad Benjamin was happily reading, while Mémé’s knitting needles clicked away as she tried to knit a large E and large U into a jumper for Eric or Ursula.
She stopped and held it up in front of her. Half the E and half the U were already visible, and she was happy with the way they were forming.
“What do you think?” asked Mémé.
Granddad Benjamin looked up from this book and asked “Won’t it be too warm?”
“It’s not for now,” Mémé replied. “It’s for Christmas.”
“But Christmas is six months away. It’s the second of June.”
“I am making the most of our time here, and I am also, if you haven’t noticed already, getting free wool. I am going to put it to good use,” she said defiantly and turned to the soldier. “What do you think?”
The soldier stepped forward. He held his gun tightly and looked at the half-finished jumper.
“I don’t understand French,” he said.
“She asked, ‘what do you think of the jumper?’” translated Granddad Benjamin.
“Oh,” replied the soldier, unsure of what to say. “It looks nice.”
“He likes it,” Granddad Benjamin told Mémé.
“I’ll knit him one too.”
Granddad Benjamin translated, and the soldier mumbled a thank you.
A door opened in the block nearby. Olivier Martel and Florence Caron came outside and slowly approached. They were carrying a chair each and were not in a rush to join the Benjamins. Neither of them looked comfortable.
“Is there something the matter?” asked Mémé as they sat down.
“No, nothing,” Olivier Martel replied.
“It’s not a good idea to bottle up your problems. A problem shared is a problem halved.”
Granddad Benjamin put his book down and smiled at his wife.
“”Honestly, Madame Benjamin, this is nothing you can help us with.”
“Well, you know where we are if you want to talk.”
“Thank you, but no.”
Florence Caron joined the conversation, “We have some more questions that we’d like to ask you.”
“Of course,” Mémé replied.
Granddad Benjamin nodded his head.
“And then we will bother you no more.”
Mémé leaned forward and stroked Florence’s knee, “You’ve been no bother at all. Please don’t worry about it. We have enjoyed talking to you. Maybe when this is all over we can still stay in touch.”
Florence Caron forced a smile and began.
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Chapter 28 – Crazy Talk
Alexander waited until Johan had risen from his siesta and had drunk some water, before attempting to talk to him. His initial excitement had calmed, and he was now wondering if Johan would think he was mad also. He hovered around his father as he drank, unable to keep still, and Johan couldn’t help but notice Alexander’s change of demeanour.
Once Johan had finished his fourth glass of water, he said, “You seem agitated. What is the problem?”
“There is no problem,” Alexander answered, dancing from foot to foot; unable to keep still. “I need to show you something.”
Johan followed Alexander into a small room crowded with shelves covered in boxes. In the corner sat an old, desktop computer. Johan sat in front of it.
“How many discs did my mother make?” Alexander asked.
“Four.”
“No. She made five, but the OSS don’t have the fifth. Let me show it to you.”
Professor Larsen appeared on the screen, but Johan had never seen her so dishevelled. Her grey hair was a mess; her eyes were bloodshot, and her gown was done up wrongly.
In her arms, she held Eric and Ursula, and she gently rocked them while talking rapidly.
“This is Professor Larsen and this is an additional compact disc to my original four. I do not think I have long and, therefore, I must be quick. They have found me, and because they have found me, I must pass on my fears. These are fears that have come from my observations and inferences. Some people will dismiss them as the mad ramblings of a space sick, old lady. I assure you that they are not, and despite my current appearance my thinking behind these is clear and logical. My three fears are these...
“Number One. In the fall of nineteen forty-seven, I accompanied Professor Schwarzkopf and Major Marshall into a secret laboratory far below ground at Roswell Airforce base in New Mexico. We were taken down white-washed corridors to a sterile white tiled room. Inside it, on two metal tables, were two child-sized bodies covered in white sheets. They were extra-terrestrial beings or aliens, from the dart-shaped craft which had crashed. Other scientists believed that they were both dead. I do not believe this was true. I am certain that at least one, maybe both, was still alive. Its body may have seemed dead, but its mind was not. The moment I pushed the heavy doors open and entered, I felt as if my own mind had been seized. It was as if someone was hypnotizing and analyzing me at the same time. It tried to take control of my mind and read my thoughts. I fled before it achieved its aim.
“Over the following years I have come to some conclusions regarding our alien visitors. None of these are based on fact, only observations, and I hope that they are simply the result of my over active imagination.
“The crash between our Foo Fighter and the alien craft in nineteen forty-seven was a tragic accident. However, I do not believe the alien’s location was an accident. New Mexico is a hot, dry, barren and rugged area of the world. In many respects, it resembles other, non-gas planets, more closely than anywhere else on planet Earth.
“Many scientists are now beginning to believe that originally there was no life on Earth and that you cannot create life from nothing. Therefore, life had to be introduced to our planet. A theory has been proposed that a meteor storm crashed into the Earth bringing life in the shape of single-cell organisms and maggot like creatures. From this ‘accident’ we all evolved. On Mars, rocks have been recently discovered that contain tiny tunnels as if made by a tiny, maggot like creature. It is my assumption that the same meteor storm which hit the Earth also hit Mars and other planets. It is possible, though not probable, that life evolved on other planets too. In an infinite universe, it is hard to believe we are on the only planet capable of supporting life. But different worlds have different environmental conditions and therefore life could evolve differently and at different rates. On some worlds, this could be slower than on Earth but on others it could be faster. Likewise, some alien races, if there are others, may be technologically behind us while others may be light years ahead of us.
“I have said before that the role of science is not to speculate, and I will try to avoid this. I shall, therefore, report the facts. In the last sixty years especially we have witnessed huge technological advances and with them our lifestyles have changed. All these advances require energy. We are using more and more fuel and also wasting more and more. The energy we use has come from rapidly vanishing natural resources underground as well as massive deforestation. The results of this have been increased carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, global warming
and an increased temperature on average of between one and half and two degrees. This does not seem like much, but it has meant increases in storms and their power, loss of biospheres and species, an increase in lands that we can no longer use and a loss of coastal areas. In short we are becoming a more extreme planet and in this respect much more similar to other planets in the universe.
“The questions I want to ask are: what if another race has advanced quicker than us? What if they destroyed their world the way we are destroying ours? What if they are looking for another one? And what if a hotter, more extreme world, is their idea of home?”
“What do you think?” asked Alexander, pausing the film. His voice rose with excitement. “Was she mad? Do you think aliens really landed?”
“I know they did,” Johan replied matter-of-factly. “I was in charge of dissecting one.
“And the other one? Could it still be alive?”
Johan considered the question. Apart from that one time, when he had been with Ingrid, he had not seen the other again. It had puzzled him that this had been the case but, after the explosion in his lab, he had not dwelled on it.
“I have no proof to suggest that it is alive or dead. I never saw it. We can, therefore, assume that it could still be alive.”
“Good,” said Alexander and he pressed play.
“My second fear also goes back to Roswell. In nineteen sixty-six, after discovering Operation Mulatto and the plan to create Identical Hybrid Beings or Hybrids, I fled New Mexico and America. However, before doing so I returned to the underground labs for only the second, and last, time.
“I stole more alien samples and other items I thought may be useful to me. As I mentioned on another compact disc, I also destroyed everything else.
“My fear is that my efforts were in vain. Agent Angel does not give up easily, and he will not be beaten. He has set a goal and will not stop until it is achieved. He will still want to create his Identical Hybrid Beings, his cloned army, and have a ‘super army for a super power.’ I may have delayed him, but I have not stopped him, of this I am certain. If I can achieve his goal, albeit on a smaller scale and on my terms, then so can he.”
Alexander pressed pause again and asked, “Is this true?”
“Yes. We were using samples from Eric to try and create IHBs before we escaped, and that will be continuing as we speak.”
This time, Johan pressed play.
Professor Larsen stopped and looked down at Eric and Ursula like a mother with her newborn infants.
“My last fear concerns my Adam and my Eve. Before beginning my research on humans, I conducted preliminary studies on rats. For a number of years, I achieved nothing with these studies but then slowly, painfully slowly, I made breakthroughs. Two years ago my research on rats was successful, and I managed to create a ‘test tube’ rat.”
Suddenly a loud beeping noise drowned out Professor Larsen and her face filled with panic. She left the camera for a short while, and the beeping stopped. When she returned, she was crying.
“I must be quick. I do not have much more time. The average life span for a rat is three years or thirty-six months and is equivalent to the average life span for a human of seventy-two years. I noted that, for the first three months of my rats' lives, they were normal. At around three and a half months they started to develop, what I can best describe as, abilities beyond that of an average rat. However, each time this happened they visibly aged. None of my rats lived beyond six and a half months. In human terms, this means that my Adam and my Eve will not live beyond their thirteenth or fourteenth birthdays.”
The beeping began again, but it was faster and louder. Professor Larsen leant forward, mouthed the word ‘sorry’ and then the screen went blank.
“What about this? Do you think she is correct?” Alexander asked with concern, trying to keep his fingers away from his mouth. Before Johan had a chance to reply, he added. “I am sure she is.”
“She is right,” Johan answered absent-mindedly. “It is June now. According to our research, the boy has until January or February at best.”
However, Johan was no longer interested in Alexander’s questions, and he replayed the last part of the film again. As he watched, he muttered to himself, “The beeping? It is a proximity warning system. Something was approaching the space station. What was she so scared of?”
Johan recalled the article he read online that linked the explosion of the Space Station to two training missiles launched from Diego Garcia. This was the last piece of proof he needed. He was now convinced that Buddy Angel had her killed. Anger grew inside him and, like Eric, he wanted revenge.
“Do you mind if we go for a walk?” Alexander asked, unaware of what was going on in the old man’s head. “I need to discuss something with you but I don’t want to talk here.”
Johan agreed. The distraction would, hopefully, calm him down.
They walked outside and strolled slowly along the path into the forest next to the house. The sun was setting, and their surroundings were covered in glorious orange light. While they walked, they made idle small-talk like two polite strangers. Nothing much was said.
After a kilometre or so, they reached a fallen tree and sat down on the trunk. The exertion, though not great, was causing Johan to cough
“What do you want to discuss?” Johan asked when his throat was clear.
“You said that I am trying to ‘save a fish by giving it oxygen.’”
“Did I?” laughed Johan, looking confused. “My English is still not perfect, even though I spent most of my life in America.”
“But I began to think about Eric and Ursula, and a passage I read in this,” Alexander showed Johan the diary.
“What is that?”
“It’s my mother’s, your wife’s, diary.”
Johan’s gaze changed. He looked at the diary as if it was the most precious item he had ever seen. For a moment, he did not know what to say and then a question came to him.
“Does she mention me?” he asked hopefully.
“All the time. It is written to you.”
“May I read it,” asked Johan, holding out a shaking hand. It was as if she had been brought back to life before him.
“Of course, but right now I would like you to read one section and ask you about it.”
“Okay,” his voice was tinged with disappointment.
Alexander looked around them, as if he was expecting someone to jump out from behind the trees, and then he turned to the back of the book. He found the passage on the aliens and the UFO, and handed it to Johan.
Johan’s bony hands were still shaking. He tried to compose himself by looking away. The last of the day’s sunlight was breaking through the trees, sending rays towards the ground as strands of rope. He watched as they spot lit leaves on the earth and breathed deeply. His hands were steadier, and he brought the book towards his face. There was a faint smell of cigarettes, but he could also just make out Ingrid’s aroma clinging onto the pages. Memories came flooding back, and he smiled sadly to himself.
Before he even began to read, his eyes had filled with tears. They continued to form as he read about that day in the underground lab, her reaction and the dart being opened. Once he had finished, he read it again, savouring the time they had had together. He was not in a rush to return the diary to Alexander.
“What is your question?” he asked eventually.
“Was my mother mad when she wrote that?”
“Mad!” Johan started to laugh. This became a coughing fit that turned his face bright red. “Ingrid was the most logical, sane person I knew. She was never ‘mad’ in all the time I knew her.”
“Then why did she write that?”
“Because it happened. What she writes about. What she talked about on the film. All of it happened.”
“What happened exactly?”
“I will tell you the short version. Back in nineteen forty-seven we built, what you would call, a flying saucer at Roswell in New Mexico.
On its first flight, it hit a silver dart, causing the dart to crash and killing two dear colleagues of mine. The army collected all the pieces and found the dart. I was led to understand that its two pilots, the aliens, were found nearby. They were examined by doctors and pronounced dead. We did not know about this until one day we were taken deep into an underground lab to be shown the dead bodies. Ingrid is describing this and I have already confirmed this to you. We walked in and, as Ingrid describes, she left after a few seconds. What actually happened to her? I cannot say. But if Ingrid says something entered her mind then I believe her.”
“Why?”
“We returned to the silver dart and she opened it. No one else managed that, and she did it with her mind.”
Alexander huffed, “Yet you couldn’t see inside her mind. And the dart could have been a craft that was built without your knowledge, and she could have been involved with its construction.”
Johan shook his head.
“It is true that I could not see inside her mind. But, and this is a fact as I have already told you - I dissected one of the aliens and worked on the silver dart for years. Either I am also mad, or I was living a fantasy, or what Ingrid and I are telling you is true.”
Alexander stood and paced up and down on the path. He was mumbling to himself and biting his nails.
“This is what happened. I do not understand why my words have upset you. What is the problem?” Johan asked. His life had been dominated by extra-terrestrial life. For him, it was normal, and he did not understand why his son found it so hard to believe.
Alexander stopped abruptly, “The problem is this. Everything you have read in the diary and that you have told me is a just a fairy story to me. It’s science fiction.”
“But Eric told me you, yourself, found a similar craft. One that transported Ursula to Earth, and you also found Eric’s too. “
“That is not the same. Those pods came from a space station orbiting the Earth and from my mother. There is nothing alien about them.”