The Goldilocks Zone

by David D. Luxton

  26: Toilet Paper

  Back at the ranch, I went to work on press releases, updating social media, and creating online advertisements for Daniel’s new apps and alien repellent kits. I snooped around the Proxima Foundation network folders to see what financial files I might find on the iM4ET app. I found some old invoices, most of them related to grounds maintenance, the big circus tent, and some bids for work around the compound, but no documents related to the app or anything else suspicious. But why would I? Nadine and Daniel wouldn’t leave something like that out in the open for some employee to discover. If there were records, they’d likely be locked away in Nadine’s private office or in the Proxima Foundation vaults.

  Nadine dispatched Mike and me to the big box store in town in the morning. She had an extensive list: wine, toilet paper, rice, beans, canned food—obviously preparation for alien arrival or social unrest, whichever came first.

  The store was packed with preppers.

  “We should have done this before we did the TV show,” Mike said jokingly, handing me a walkie-talkie. “I don’t want to stay in here any longer that we need to. We still want to get to the gun shop.”

  So Mike went to the dry goods, I to the produce and wine section where I ran into Brenda in her t-shirt and jeans, her raven black hair in a ponytail. Miniature dream catcher earrings hung from her ears.

  “Hey, Brenda.”

  “Well, if it isn’t the UFO celebrity,” she smiled. “Going to sell me some of that alien repellant? Maybe recruit me into your pyramid scheme?”

  I grinned. There was that Brenda snarky attitude that turned me on so much. “I have some information. Do you have a minute?”

  She slung a case of Bud into her cart. “I don’t have any time for bullshit. What is it?”

  I looked over my shoulder for Mike. Luckily, the water and toilet paper were on the other side of the warehouse. I told her about my conversation with Jack Clark regarding the FAA radar data.

  Right away, she got defensive.

  “So you don’t believe my aunt saw something? You think she was crazy?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t say that. I’m just saying that according to Jack Clark, the data is inconsistent, like it may have been tampered with.”

  “By who? The government?”

  The radio chirped before I could respond. “No toilet paper,” Mike barked. “We’re going to have to stop at Home Depot.”

  I pulled the radio from my pocket. “Copy.”

  Brenda smirked. “Should have stocked up for the mind-control alien invasion, when you had the chance.”

  “Listen, Brenda. I’m still trying to figure things out.”

  She eyed me suspiciously. “So you’re back to being an investigative journalist now?”

  “I think what happened to your aunt is important to figuring out this whole UFO thing.” I told her what my friend Jonathan Mahue had said about the iM4ET app and its apparent ability to cause cell phones to transmit on alternate frequencies.

  “So?” she asked, shoving a second case onto her cart.

  “I did some research and found evidence that the frequencies used may have to do with brain functioning, cognition, hallucinations, and maybe mind control. The technology may have something to do with the strange things that have happened to me and your aunt.”

  “You think the alien app is causing people to believe that they are seeing UFOs and aliens?”

  “I know it sounds crazy, but I think there’s something important about these frequencies.”

  She paused and reflected for a moment, then said, “You should talk to my uncle. I’ve been researching things, too. Maybe we can meet up and I can show you what I’ve found.”

  I was interested in what her uncle had to say, and in seeing Brenda again. “I would like to talk with him, if you can arrange it.”

  Mike interrupted on the radio again. “Where the hell are you? I’m going to the check-out, I need the card.”

  “Copy, I’ll be right there.” I looked at Brenda. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Of course, you do. Muscle boy needs you.” She smiled.

  “When can I see you again to meet your uncle?”

  She threw one more case of beer into her cart. “I’m off tomorrow. Why don’t you meet me back here in the parking lot at noon? You can follow me out to his place.”

  Fleetingly, I thought about Nadine’s warning regarding Brenda. “I’d have to come up with some reason for being in town again. They’re prepping and have me working extra hours. They might get suspicious if I come back too soon.”

  “Say you need to come back to town for something you forgot to get. You’re a smart guy. I’m sure you can come up with something.”

  I looked at my cart, then pulled out the bottles of wine and put them back on the shelf. “Okay, I’ll meet you here at noon. Let me give you my new number.” I pulled out my new flip phone.

  “What’s with the flip phone?” she asked.

  “No apps, no tracking, and no weird frequencies, just in case.” I sent her a text so she’d have my alternate number, then left for the checkout line.

  Back at the ranch, Mike and I unloaded the supplies, then I retired to my pod to work on more social media updates and a refresh of the Foundation Wikipedia page. Nadine called me to her office an hour later.

  “Ben, where’s my wine?”

  “I forgot. I’m really sorry. The stores were crowded, and Mike insisted we needed to get going to Home Depot for toilet paper. Stuff is selling out fast.”

  She sighed. “It’s no surprise. We have an impending alien invasion on our hands.”

  “I’ll go back to the store in the morning for the wine. I need to get an oil change anyway. Do you need anything else from town?”

  “No, but go with Mike, and take Chester with you. He needs to get out more. And don’t be in town for too long, we’ll need you back here in the afternoon. Daniel has more work for you.”

  That evening after dinner, Mike, Chester and I discussed plans for the next day. Mike had ordered an AR-15 from an online dealer, and the required two-week waiting period was up. He wanted to pick up his rifle, and then have a red-dot sight fitted. Chester wanted to go with him. I’d drop them off and do my errands. I figured with a long line of preppers at the gun shop, I’d have plenty of time to meet with Brenda and her uncle.

  27: Crop Circle

  I dropped Mike and Chester off at the gun shop the next morning, grabbed the wine, picked up the EMF beanies from the Amazon Locker, and then met up with Brenda in the big box store parking lot. She insisted on taking one vehicle, so I climbed into her Jeep Cherokee stick-shift 4X4.

  “What’s with the beanie?” she asked.

  I pointed to my new hat. “Oh, this? It shields EMF frequencies.”

  “A tinfoil hat?” she smirked.

  “Call it what you want. It really does block all kinds of frequencies bouncing around. I researched it.”

  She glanced at me as she pulled out. “Is it working?”

  “I think so. I got you one too.” I pulled her hat out of the packaging and placed it on her lap. “Maybe try it on later?”

  “Sure. Well, I found something out, too. I looked into the escaped con who supposedly killed Aunt Sally. Department of Corrections records are publicly disclosable, so I requested them. His name is Jimmy Durst and convicted for killing his wife and a business partner. He was transferred to a federal facility up in Toole County, Montana a day after my aunt was murdered. He couldn’t have done it.” She pointed to a stack of papers on her dash. “Take a look.”

  I shuffled through the documents. “Holy shit, Brenda, this suggests he was a patsy. They didn’t cover this up very well.”

  “I told you there was something not right about it. But it doesn’t explain who killed her.” Her voice cracked a little as she turned onto the highway.

  “Were you close to her?”

  “Not really,” she said, wiping her eyes with the palm of her free hand. “
We’d had some disagreements over the years. She didn’t get along with my mother at all. They were opposite personalities, I guess. My family is pretty upset, though. I wish she’d never gotten so obsessed over the UFO thing.”

  “I’m interested in what your uncle has to say. Will the kids be their?”

  “They are with my mother today. My mom and I have been helping my uncle.” She down-shifted and turned onto another road. “What’s it like living out there on the ranch, anyway? Do you all sleep on bunk beds in those shipping containers?”

  “We don’t have bunk beds. I do their press releases and social media, stuff like that. It’s pretty normal, I guess.”

  “And you’re free to leave when you want but worried Nadine Byrne is suspicious of you going into town. That should tell you something.”

  “You mean it’s like a cult?”

  “It is a cult.”

  I hesitated. “Nadine doesn’t want me associating with you. She says you are…” I paused, realizing my words might offend her.

  But she was already offended. “What does she know? I’m not just some going-nowhere small-town waitress. I’m about to graduate from U of M with a pre-law degree and dual major in psychology. I’m supposed to go law school next year. I killed the LSAT and am just sticking around for a while to help my family and save some money. Then my aunt was murdered. That’s why Nadine Byrne doesn’t want you talking to me and asking questions because the culties had something to do with her murder. Something’s not right about the Byrnes. You should be investigating them. You work there—you’re in the perfect position to do just that. You call yourself an investigative journalist, don’t you? That means you research stuff. Get to the bottom of it.”

  In a way, I was already doing what Brenda was saying—digging for information—finding sources—asking questions. I was a Pulitzer Prize-nominated journalist with more than twenty investigative stories under my belt, a Master’s degree in journalism from Northwestern, and a press pass, for whatever that was worth.

  She pulled onto a dirt road leading to her uncle’s property. On one side were grazing horses, on the other an expansive view of rolling hills. A late model maroon Ford F-150 was parked out front of a modest single-story ranch house. We got out of the jeep and Brenda rang the doorbell. A moment later, Mr. Jensen answered. He was in his mid-forties with a beard and a cane. He’d thrown his back out and was now on disability. We sat in his living room, drinking soft drinks. His voice was country gentlemanlike with a bit of a smoker’s rasp.

  “So how do you know my niece?” he said, popping the top of a Coke.

  “We met at Ramblin’ Joe’s a couple of months ago. I was doing a story on the Proxima Foundation. Maybe you read it?”

  “Yeah, I read it. I was always suspicious of those UFO people, just like Sally was.”

  I glanced at the framed photo of his deceased wife standing next to a horse and smiling in jeans and riding boots. He followed my eyes.

  “Sally loved horses, but she had developed a fascination for UFOs too—an obsession really.”

  “How long had she been investigating UFOs?” I asked.

  “Ever since we saw one, right out there.” He pointed out the window, “a late evening last summer. We had just come in from feeding the horses when we saw a formation of lights drifting across the sky, then moving off to the west at super speed. We’d never seen anything like it. Then with those UFO people in the area, she started investigating. Like I said, it became an obsession. She’d investigate on her own time, but was worried about being ridiculed at work. She was very professional.”

  “I saw some of her reporting online. She was good,” I said, hoping to cheer him up.

  He nodded. “Damn FBI. I don’t understand it, why they kept everything so secret about the investigation. I think they were out here to seize what they could, not to investigate. Doesn’t seem right to me.”

  “Brenda mentioned they took your computers. Why do you think they did that?”

  “I don’t know for sure. Maybe they were looking for clues as to whom she might have been connected to. Funny thing is, Sally had this theory about electronic interference. She’d been complaining about a strange humming sound. She was fascinated by the connection between UFO sightings in the area and a facility up on Solomon Mountain, over in Lolo Forest,” he said.

  “Facility?”

  “Yes, an old Air Force installation. About a year ago, they took down the old radio tower that was there and put up a camouflaged cellular phone tower—you know, the ones that look like trees. Never seen it myself, but a few guys I know who hunt in the area say it’s there. She thought it might have something to do with the humming sound.”

  “Did she describe what the humming sound was like?” I asked.

  “A buzzing, kind of like crickets in late summer, up in pitch at times. I thought she was coming down with tinnitus or a neurological problem. She went in to the doctor a couple times, but she checked out fine.”

  Was there a connection to what I’d been hearing? “When did she start hearing this buzzing sound?”

  “Last summer, after the tower went up.”

  I glanced over at Brenda. “Did she ever meet the Byrnes?”

  “She did. She went over there one time to talk with Daniel Byrne. She wanted to ask some questions about UFOs. His wife—what’s her name?”

  “Nadine,” Brenda answered.

  “Yes, Nadine Byrne told her to get the hell off the property. She must have known that Sally was going over to that area at night. Sally was found about five miles east of the ranch. I don’t think she’d been over there before, but she was chasing after that light she saw in the sky. I don’t know what she saw, and I don’t think it was a hoax, regardless of what the news people say.”

  “Did Sally ever used an app called iM4ET from the Proxima Foundation?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.” He thought for a moment. “Come to think of it, she did mention something about an app on her phone that had something to do with UFOs. I’d let you look at it but the police never returned her phone to me. Why? Is that important?”

  “I don’t know yet. It’s something that I’m investigating.”

  “Did Brenda share that phone message from Sally with you? The one where she was chasing the light?”

  “She did,” I said.

  “That was the last message from Sally.” Mr. Jensen held an absent gaze for a moment. “She was a good woman, and a good reporter, too.” His voice cracked. “This shouldn’t have happened to her.” He drew a deep sigh. “Brenda said you might be interested in seeing where they found Sally. Maybe it would be helpful for your investigation.”

  I hadn’t really thought about the crime scene since I visited the sheriff’s office. I looked at Brenda.

  “I’d like to see,” she said, looking at me. “You have the time?”

  I checked my flip phone. It was almost two. “I’ve got an hour or so.”

  “You can follow me so you won’t have to come back here,” her uncle said. “You need the four-wheeled drive.”

  We followed Mr. Jensen down into a valley, up on a high plain, and then along a ridge on a gravel fire road. At the top, we exited the vehicles. He pointed east. “It was over there where they said they found her. Best you walk from here.”

  “You coming, Uncle John?” Brenda asked.

  “No, this is far enough for me. I’ll wait here. You go on.”

  Brenda and I walked a few dozen yards up a grassy road until we found yellow crime scene tape still wrapped around two trees. Brenda stopped near the tape. I could see the grief in her eyes, so I gave her some space. I continued to look around, inspecting the area and imagining where Sally Jensen had her last breath. On the far edge of the area, a trail of flattened grass went over a knoll, possibly a deer or elk run. Curious, I headed down the trail.

  “Where you going?” Brenda shouted.

  “I want to see where this goes. Maybe I can get a view of the Air Force instal
lation across the valley,” I said.

  Brenda followed me. Over a knoll and ahead was a massive circular clearing about 30 yards in diameter. Brenda came to a stop behind me. I must have been in a daze for a minute or longer, transfixed by what I was beholding.

  “Is this what I think it is?” she asked.

  “Appears to be a crop circle,” I said. I kneeled down and touched the grass. It was pushed over in a perfect spiral—too perfect. I walked part of the perimeter, then cut across to the circle’s center. Was it here when they found her, or was it a hoax played by locals? I pointed to the east. “Over there somewhere is where the so-called facility is.”

  Just then, the wind gusted up and my ears began to ring. It grew louder and increased in frequency. I felt a powerful zap to my head, as if a migraine switch had been flipped. With the palms of my hands at my temples, I bent over—a futile involuntary reaction to the now fierce, pulsating pain.

  Brenda, saw my distress. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not sure. Something’s not right,” I groaned. “I think we should go.”

  She helped me stand up and restore my bearings. We backtracked to the vehicles where I vomited. By the time Brenda got me to my car, the ringing was gone.

  “There’s something up with the cell tower and the mobile app,” I said, reaching for my flip phone.

  “Who are you calling?” Brenda asked.

  “Jack Clark. Maybe he knows something about this.”

  Jack answered. I asked him if he knew of the link between electromagnetic energy and UFO sightings.

  “There have been stories about UFO sightings around power lines and power plants, sure. Nuclear power plants and nuclear missile silos, definitely. You remember the famous story about Maelstrom Air Force Missile silo, don’t you?”

  “Something about a UFO shutting down the missile?”

  “Shut down ten ICBMs. Scared the shit out of a lot of people back then.”

  “What about cell towers? Any link there?”