CHAPTER
11
The
easy confidence with which I know another man's religion is folly teaches me
that my own is also.
-
Mark Twain
The
blaze from the igniting match bathed the puffy face in a brilliant yellow light
before fading to a lesser flame, which cast an eerie orange glow upon the man,
imparting the aspect of an unlikely jack-o-lantern. The match waved out and the face faded back into darkness, with
only the glittering red ember of the cigarette marking where it had been.
"Mr.
Renoldson, please," Clifford Canter complained, trying not to choke on the
newborn smog that assaulted his nostrils.
"There’s no smoking allowed in the studio. You know that." He got no answer at first. The ruby glow of the tiny ember blazed up,
evincing that his guest was drawing on the cigarette. When the man finally spoke, Canter could see the ember flap up
and down, as Renoldson spoke without taking his smoke from his lips. "Look, you wanna get my story or
not?" he challenged in a voice with a touch of Midwestern, "I’ve
never been on TV before, so I’m a little nervous. Just gimme a couple puffs and I’ll be okay. Okay?"
"All
right, all right... Just make it
quick. Our cue is coming up in just a
moment." Canter slid his coffee
cup, which he had already emptied, in front of Renoldson. "Here, use this as an ashtray. We just got this furniture in."
Canter
could see Renoldson’s silhouette now, as his eyes adjusted to the recent
darkness. He was a big man, bigger than
he should be. He shouldn’t have been
surprised, given how Renoldson had wolfed down the remaining half box of stale
donuts that someone had left sitting backstage since early this morning.
Canter
sighed slightly to himself as he watched the cigarette ember wave about, like a
lost lightning bug, while Renoldson took it from his mouth and put it back
again. Every season the stories get
lamer and lamer, he thought to himself, and his guests get seedier and
seedier. Canter found it easy to
despise people like Renoldson, who he was convinced were only out to make a
buck, or to satisfy their egos with some pathetic grab at celebrity.
Still,
if he thought too much about it, Canter had to admit to himself that he was
part of the problem; perhaps even more than a hundred Renoldsons, or a
thousand. He, after all, helped to put
their kind on the air. He was the one
who gave voice to their sorry stories.
Canter coughed slightly at the smoke and fought the urge to spit the
taste from his mouth.
His
mind drifted back over the first few months of his new show. Tales of bizarre and unsolved murders,
kidnappings by doomsday cults, vampire victims, Sasquatch spotters and of
course the ubiquitous, unwilling patients of aspiring alien proctologists. It was all so pathetic. Now here he was with yet another UFO bozo.
At
least this one had some credentials. He
considered himself lucky if his saucer guests just had all their front
teeth. Canter recalled one story he had
actually rejected, a rare event, about a man who swore aliens were examining
him through his toilet. A wry smile
curled his lips in the darkness. Was it
because the story was so absurd that he let it pass by? Maybe, although he could think of other
stories he used that had at least equaled it in lunacy. Perhaps it just reminded Canter of how he
felt his own career had turned out; in the toilet. Some days he wasn’t even sure which part of the relationship he
was; the ass that dished it all out, or the porcelain that received it.
Pushing
fifty now, Canter saw little chance of ever becoming the respectable news
anchor he once aspired to be. He would
much rather be covering the war that was raging over the Falkland Islands, but
instead he was stuck here with the likes of Renoldson. Canter hoped his little show would become a
viable successor to Nimoy's "In Search Of," which was in its final
season this year, but his ratings had been a disappointment for months
now. If he couldn't pull something new
and exciting out of his hat soon, this first season would also be the
last. The thought of dusting off his
resume and looking for work at his age made his belly ache.
"Ready
for roll!" came the call from Dave, his director, stirring Canter from his
thoughts. Canter cleared his throat and
was about to say something to Renoldson about the cigarette when he saw the
ember disappear into his coffee cup with a hiss. Steve, the beefy stage manager, began the count as Canter tried
to wave off the lingering tobacco cloud, "On five... four... there...
two... one... Action!"
The
lights came up slowly, exposing the two men on the small stage, the small table
between them and flimsy cardboard backdrop with the show’s logo on it. Canter knew when to start speaking as soon
as the lights got to a certain intensity.
"Hello
and welcome to this edition of Mysterious World. I’m your host, Clifford Canter.
Later on today's show, we will investigate a recent sighting of the Loch
Ness Monster by a group of American tourists visiting Scotland. But first, we have an interesting story
about the possibility of a flying saucer and its alien pilot being held captive
by the United States government. My
guest is Mister George Renoldson, who says he worked at the secret military
base near Groom Lake, New Mexico, commonly referred to as Area 51. He worked there from 1977 until just
recently. Mr. Renoldson claims to have
been witness to some very unusual events while at the base." Canter turned from the camera to his
guest. He knew Dave would bring
Renoldson's chubby face into focus.
"Mr.
Renoldson, Can you please tell us about the events and things you claim to have
seen on or about February 17th, 1980?" asked Canter.
Renoldson
squirmed uneasily in his overfilled chair, feeling the camera lens upon
him. It wasn't a live show, but to
someone not used to the routine of a television studio, it might as well have
been. He let out a short cough and his
acrid tobacco breath hit Canter like a slap in the face.
"Well..."
he finally started, "as you said, about two years ago I was working as a
aviation engineer at the Groom Lake facility.
Although I had one of the highest levels of security clearance and had
access to much of the base, I was denied admittance to a few sectors. If I made any inquiries about them, I was
told they contained top secret projects that were on a 'need to know'
basis." Renoldson made air quotes
with his fingers as he spoke the line, then continued.
"It
seemed strange to me, because I was working on top secret aircraft technology,
which as far as I knew was about the most secretive thing they had going
there. They had checked my background
all the way back to when I was a zygote.
I had almost the highest security clearance you could get."
"What
was it that you were working on?" inquired Canter, knowing how Renoldson
would answer.
"I'm
not at liberty to disclose that information, I'm afraid. I signed an affidavit to never reveal what I
worked on there."
"I
see," nodded Canter, "Now you were not actually in the military
service during this period, were you?" Canter asked.
"No
sir," replied Renoldson, seeming to grow a little more at ease in front of
the camera, "I was a civilian contractor working for the US government, but
I did have one of the highest security clearances afforded to a civilian."
"Yet
you never got access to any of the top secret areas you mentioned?" asked
Canter.
"Oh
I didn't say that," answered Renoldson, shifting his bulk in the chair,
"Late one afternoon a little over two years ago, at the end of my shift, I
was on my way to the base's airfield to catch the next shuttle plane back home
to Vegas. I was passing near one of the
prohibited areas when I suddenly hear this big explosion come from within one
of the large buildings. Black smoke
begins pouring out of the roof and from a lot of the windows and doors. An alarm sounded and the next thing I know
there are soldiers and civilians running every which way."
"So
what did you do at that point?" asked Canter, almost sounding like he
cared.
"Well
I went up to the soldier stationed at one of the entrances and asked if I could
help, but he ordered me away from the building. The guy was young, just a kid really, and I could see he was
nervous and frightened; not sure what to do.
We could both hear shouts for help coming from inside. I knew he had orders not to abandon his post
under any circumstances," the heavy man said. He paused for a wheezing breath.
"I
was just turning to leave when suddenly a woman burst out of a nearby
entrance. She was completely engulfed
in flames and screaming bloody murder.
She fell to the ground and started rolling about. The soldier guarding the door left his post
to help the woman extinguish herself. I
could still hear more screams for help coming from inside. I don't know if it was bravery or stupidity
on my part, but while the guard was distracted, I ran inside to see if I could
help."
Canter
was rolling his pen between his fingers.
At least this guy's story had a little action to it. "And what did you find inside?"
"A
whole lotta dark and a whole lotta smoke.
I found two men lost in the smoke not too far from the entrance and I
showed them toward the door where I had come in. I was about to leave myself when I heard a woman's screams coming
from down a nearby stairwell. I went
down the stairs and found a long corridor.
The smoke was even heavier here, but I stuck close to the floor so I
could breathe okay. Only the emergency lighting was working and it gave
the corridor a reddish hue through the smoke.
I felt like I was in hell! When
I got to the end of the hall, things were a mess. I must have been near where the explosion occurred. Windows were shattered and doors had been
blown off their hinges. I finally found
the woman in one of the wrecked labs.
She was trapped under a shelving unit that had fallen on her. I was able to pull it up enough for her to
drag herself out. I helped her back to
the stairwell and sent her toward the exit.
I should have left with her."
"But
you didn't."
"No. My curiosity outweighed my commonsense, so I
headed back down the corridor. I soon
came to the place where the explosion had happened. It looked like a laboratory, or at least what was left of
it. It was completely engulfed in
flames and the heat was so intense it drove me back. I decided at that point that I had better get out of there while
I could, so I started back, but I got confused in the smoke and heat and I found
myself in a different corridor from which I had come. I didn't know how to get back without going past that raging
furnace again."
"So
you tried to get out a different way?"
Canter sat forward a bit in his chair.
Despite himself, he was curious to hear how the story would play out.
"Yes.
I headed away from the flames down an
unfamiliar corridor. It was still smoky
there, but it got a little clearer as I got further from the burning lab. Eventually, the hallway ended in what looked
like a large, underground hangar.
Again, only the emergency lighting
was working and everything was occluded by smoke, but I am sure about what I
saw sitting in the middle of that big room."
"And
that was...?"
"A
flyin' saucer, of course," said Renoldson, sounding a little defensive in
saying it, "...or a UFO, or whatever you want to call it. I don't know what it was, but as an engineer
with many years of experience in aviation technology, I can say for sure that
it was nothing that MacDonnell-Douglas had built."
"Can
you describe it?"
"Well,
like I said, the lighting wasn't too good.
I'd say it was about fifty or fifty-five feet across, maybe twenty feet
high. It had a dark gray, kinda
metallic looking surface. Pretty smooth
looking, not much in the way of outward details. There was a door open on one side of it. I also noticed that it looked like it was
damaged on one side. One part along the
rim was all smashed in and torn up, like it had run into a wall or something. There were other spots where it had taken a
beating also. I think maybe it was crash
damage."
"Did
you look inside?" asked Canter.
"Nah,
I was just about to have a peek when I started to hear the shouts of soldiers
approaching. I could hear one of them
ordering the others to secure the area.
I knew I wasn't supposed to be there, so I ducked out of the hangar,
looking for a way outside. I found
another corridor that seemed to lead away, so I started down it. I came to a T-intersection and was trying to
decide whether to go left or right when I saw it."
"Saw
what?"
"The
alien... that's what. I heard footsteps coming from the right and
someone shouting orders, so I dashed down the left corridor until I found an
open office to duck into. I hid behind
the office door, but I could still see out into the hallway through the hinges.
I saw two folks in white lab coats go
by, pushing a gurney bed. I remember
one of the guys had his face all bandaged up.
The alien was strapped to the gurney.
I could hear the two guys babbling among themselves about how 'she' was
stable, but that they were concerned about her condition because of the
smoke. I heard the bandaged guy say 'We
need to get this thing to a secure location, pronto.' After they passed and I felt it was safe, I left my hiding spot
and continued on my way. I eventually
found a stairway to the upper level and mingled in with a group of scientists
evacuating the building and I slipped out with them."
"Can
you describe the alien?" asked Canter.
"Well
sure," answered Renoldson, in a tone that seemed less than sure. "Keep in mind that I only saw it
through the crack of the door as it passed by, so my view was pretty brief and
I couldn't see it all at once. Just a
few inches at a time as it passed by.
It was the basic shape of a human being. Humanoid, I think they call it.
You know; two arms, two legs, one head.
I'd say it was about the size of a person, maybe a little shorter. Somewhere between five and five and a half
feet tall. Closer to the five and a
half side, I think. It's skin was kinda
green and it looked kinda... oh, I don't know... thick. You know, leathery-like."
"You
mean like an elephant's skin?" asked Canter.
"Well
no, not that thick ...and not all wrinkly like that either. I reminded me more of the kinda leather a
fine lady's glove would be made of. It
didn't have any clothes on, but I couldn't see anything that said boy or girl,
if you know what I mean. But I did hear
the non-bandaged lab guy pushing the gurney refer to it as 'her.' I'll have to take his word on that. Its face was... I don't know... strange."
"Strange
how?" probed Canter, "Did it look like the type of face that has
traditionally been associated with extraterrestrial aliens? With the large, dark almond shaped
eyes?"
"Well,
sort of. Not exactly though..."
replied Renoldson, rubbing his chin with his hand, trying to focus the memory
in his mind. "Its eyes were
greenish and not really almond shaped.
More round, with vertical pupils, like a cat. It didn't have much of a nose, just a bump with two small
nostrils really. Its mouth was kinda
big and the whole snout protruded out a little, sort of like a chimp's."
"A
chimp?" echoed Canter, not quite expecting that.
"Well,
I don't mean to say it really looked like a chimp. It's just that that part of its face sorta reminded me of
one."
"I
see," said Canter, noticing Steve's hand gesture to wrap things up. "We have to go to a commercial now, is
there anything else unusual you can tell us about this creature before we
break?"
"Yes,
I think it saw me as it was wheeled past me.
And I think it tried to talk to me."
"Talk
to you?" exclaimed Canter.
Renoldson had not mentioned anything about that in their prior
discussions. "What did it
say?"
"I
don't know," said Renoldson. He
was staring at the table in front of him now, not really looking at it, but
through it, as if deep in thought, "It didn't make any sound... I think it remained silent on purpose, so
the lab guys wouldn't hear. It just sort
of moved its lips, as if it were mouthing words at me. But I couldn't make any sense out of what it
was saying."
"How
can you be sure it was trying to communicate with you?" asked Canter,
ignoring Steve's increasingly animated signs to cut. Canter gestured furtively back with a raised index finger, asking
for just one more moment.
"I
just know, that's all," said Renoldson, his chubby face almost looking
compassionate as he stared into the depths of the table in front of him,
"I just know. It made eye contact
with me for a fleeting second through the crack in the door. I knew that it knew I was there and that I
was hiding from the same people that held it prisoner. I'll never forget those eyes. They were beautiful in their own way. Elegant."
Renoldson
seemed to snap out of his trance and now looked Canter right in the eye,
"I'll never know for sure what she was tying to tell me that day, Mister
Canter."
A
new cigarette appeared in his hand, as if by magic, and he placed it in his
lips. He then materialized a ragged
book of matches and struck one alight.
Renoldson stared at the little flame for a moment, once again lost in
the past.
"But
I'd bet my life that she was begging me to help her."