Some text copyright 1984, 2010, 2014, 2015 W. G. Sweet
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your bookseller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places or incidents depicted are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual living persons places, situations or events is purely coincidental.
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June: Jimmy Chang’s
“So, listen, it’s like this. When I die… No… It has nothing to do with when I die. Okay, when the people in my life who have screwed me over die? They will have to pay for what they did to me,” Bobby Weston said.
“Oh. Oh, okay. I got it. The eventual retribution deal. In other words, okay, screw me over right now, but when I die you are so done,” John said.
“Okay. Yes, but not totally. I won’t get them back, God will do it for me.”
Johnny chuckled. “So God, the God, will personally pay these low rent bastards back for you… Sweet. Very sweet.”
Bobby nodded. “And it’s all biblical too. I mean completely. God says he’ll take care of it. Don’t worry about it. I got you.”
“I would like to hear God say I got you somewhere, because to be honest I have never heard him say it here. It seems kind of like a scam though that you got to wait until you’re dead to hear it. I mean what the hell is that? Who can say if that’s the deal, whether it’s real or not? I mean that is kind of a perfect con job. That’s like… That’s like those bank account scams. You know, the guy approaches you and says: “Hey! I got a million dollars in this account, but those bastards won’t let me have it. Talking about some sort of transfer fee. That’s messed up too because I don’t have no transfer fee. I mean, that’s messed up isn’t it? I can’t get the money… My own goddamned money, it’s my money, without paying this transfer fee.”
“Jesus Christ, you make me wanna give you the money, Johnny.”
“Exactly, and that is the scam. You give me my money for the transfer fee. We set it all up legal too, and bam. I got you. I’m gone. Your money’s gone. It’s a wrap, and you never see that money back or whatever I promised extra to you to get you to do it. So… So this thing is the same. You’re dead, how do you know?”
The crowd in the bar was quiet. It was early yet, the noisy younger crowd wasn’t in yet.
Jimmy Chang’s was a neighborhood bar. You wouldn’t think so in East Glennville which seemed predominantly white, but the Asians had been here far longer than some of the prominent white families. Jimmy Chang’s grandfather had come for the railroad work out west back in the 1800’s. When the work died out he had brought his family north and settled in Glennville. There were three branches of the family now: Jimmy, who ran the bar the old man had built first and saw through the dry years of prohibition. His sister Alice who ran Chang’s which was about the closest thing that Glennville had to a Coat and Tie restaurant. And Jimmy’s uncle Billy who owned a truck stop just outside of the city. The truck stop was known across the U.S. by truckers who had spread the word. Bobby had eaten there more than once. It was better food than any of the other nearby diners, and more of it too.
Bobby smiled, ignoring the pain in his side. It had been there a few days now. Maybe a little too much jogging, that stitch in your side that didn’t want to go away. Maybe he had pulled or sprained something: Who could tell. He’d had it before, or something like it, and it had passed. This would too. “Listen, Johnny… It won’t be like that for me because I’ll be right there… I’ll know… I’ll see it.”
“No… No… I mean, like… You are alive now… I’m alive now. Two seconds from now I drop dead, how do you know what I see or don’t see? How can you know even? I mean you have to die to collect, that’s pretty suspect to me, man. No die. No know,” Johnny shrugged his shoulders.
Bobby nodded. “I know. I see. But I…”
“… Been dead before… I know…” He shook his head. “It’s about the only thing that makes me believe.”
“Yep. I mean, I believe you. I don’t think you made it up. I’ve known you all of your life. I believe it.”
“Me too,” Bobby agreed. They both laughed.
Johnny hadn’t moved to Glennville and become friends with Bobby until his early teens, but he had heard the story. Back in the fourth grade Bobby had gone fishing alone. He had crossed the Black while the dam wasn’t running, and crossed over to Saints Island to fish. He had been to that island before as a younger kid with his dad. It was an easy cross, but Bobby hadn’t known anything about the dam and the levels of water in the Black. How they could change in a matter of a minute or two. When he had started back across the top of the dam to cross the Black to get back to the main road he had slipped and gone under. A fisherman had just happened to see his head as he went under. He had managed to snag Bobby and get him to shore, but he had stopped breathing, his lungs full of water.
Bobby had been in the hospital for a month in a coma. Then one day he had awakened. The same old Bobby: Like nothing had ever happened. Except he swore that he had not been dead that whole time, or gone away from his body even when he had been dead on the river bank. He claimed to remember every part of it; all of it, right down to the fisherman’s thoughts as he had hauled Bobby out. “This kids a goner,” he had thought. “Ain’t no hope for him at all.”
Still he had gone to work, picking up his arms, flushing out his lungs, pounding his back, compressing his chest to empty the lungs. If you lived near the river things happened more often than people thought that they did. A truck had stopped on the road above the river and a power company employee had scrambled down the bank to the river. He had taken over and begun CPR; the training was required. He had never used it until then.
He had even turned Bobby upside down and wailed his back hard enough to leave bruises. He had been as surprised as anyone else had been later when Bobby had coughed, sputtered, and then began to breathe once more. Between the two of them they had laid him out on the seat of the power company truck and the man had driven him the three miles to the Glennville Community hospital.
Johnny had never forgotten Bobby relating that experience to him. He had tried to tell his parents but they had dismissed it. Johnny hadn’t. Over the years the story had never changed and Johnny had come to believe it.
He sighed and looked around the bar. The day was growing old, already a few of the younger crowd had wandered in. Looking to nail down a stool or a booth for the evening.
“Coming in earlier and earlier every day, huh?” Bobby said.
“Exactly what I was thinking… Pretty soon it won’t be our place anymore at all.” Johnny sighed again.
“Hey, let’s go to Billy’s. They got those tables right outside. The night is nice. Shit, summer will be gone before we know it. I’ll buy steaks, what do you say?” Bobby asked.
“I say that sounds goddamn good to me, that’s what I say,” Johnny agreed. He threw a ten on the bar and then followed Bobby out of the bar.
July: Jimmy Chang’s
The bar was beginning to fill up. A young guy with a shaved head and a couple pounds of metal in his face slid in next to Bobby and eyeballed him hard. Bobby turned away. He looked over at Johnny and Johnny raised his eyebrows in a What the hell gesture.
Bobby had swung by Johnny’s work place at the Ford dealership and picked him up after work. Johnny’s car was in the shop. He could have gotten a rental right through the dealership, cheaply too, but that went against Johnny’s principle of paying for something he could get for free. A ride from Bobby was free. Always had been since they had been in high school driving clunkers that would have been better off in the junkyard. Johnny had always joked that somehow Bobby always seemed to get the better junker. It broke down less, ran better, was more reliable. He didn’t know how that could be, but it had always worked out that way.
“Time moves on. It all becomes relative,” Bobby said picking up a conversation on politics that Bobby himself had started. The kid’s cologne drifted across to him. Something from back in high school. Patchouli maybe, heavy and cloying. He picked up his beer and took a deep drink. His usual smile was not in evidence.
“Yeah…” Johnny cleared his throat and took a sip of his own drink. “I just hate those bastards. Relative or not, and I ain’t saying it isn’t relative to the way we vote, live, whatever, but the politicians seem to stay the same. No good, broke down lying bastards that would gladly swipe a lollipop from a little kid and then sell it back to them in the guise of some public work project. And!” He smiled widely. “Make the kid think he had gotten something in the deal.”
That bought a ghost of a smile to Bobby’s lips. “Hey, let’s take this out back,” Bobby suddenly suggested.
“Uh… Sure,“ Johnny agreed. “You gonna pound my ass or what? Sorry I called the politicians all broke down bastards, I know Ruth’s brother Don is one.” Ruth was Bobby’s wife of twenty five years.
Bobby laughed. “No ass pounding, just need a little fresh air.” He shot a hard look at the young guy who looked away and nursed his flavored vodka. “Besides, Donnie is the worst of the worst.” He laughed and Johnny joined in. He caught Jimmy’s eye and motioned toward the back door; Jimmy nodded. He didn’t like his bottles walking out. He owed the deposit on them. And he was one tight bastard, but he knew that Bobby would be bringing his bottle back.
They stepped out into the bright moonlight of early evening. The air was cooler. For the last several days it had been super hot. Global warming they said, global holy shit it’s hot, he thought.
“So what’s up with you? … You putting your garage addition on this year,” Johnny asked, fishing for the subject that had bought them outside.
“Oh yeah. Yeah it’s going up. Got the loan. It’s in the bank account. Hired Jeremy Jefferson. Starts in two weeks.”
“Shit. I’m hanging out over there every night after it’s done.”
“Me too,” Bobby agreed. They both laughed again. Bobby sighed heavily. “Cancer, man, the big C.” He sipped at his beer. “All through me… Nothing to do for it.”
Johnny was struck silent. “I don’t even know what to say,” he said at last.
“Well there’s nothing to say,” Bobby agreed.
“But you’re still gonna build that addition?”
“Yeah… Hell yeah… I’ve waited for that forever. Besides. I’ve known men that had a few months left to live that far outlived that.”
“That what they said? A few months.”
“At the outside,” Bobby said quietly.”
The silence spun out. A small group of bats left the tall chimney which was all that remained of an old plant across the tracks and flew across the moon.
“Damn Indiana Brown Bats,” Johnny said.
“Yep. Had to tear the factory down, but they couldn’t touch the stack. Had to fix it up instead… Preserve it… Christ they’ll be sticking money into that stack for the next several centuries to keep it up. Can’t let it fall it’s their natural home now.”
“Yeah… I was shocked when the EPA decided to do that.” The bats flew off and the silence returned.
“So… What you gonna do… I mean really… What are you going to do? What can I do?” Johnny turned to Bobby.
“Really nothing… Come on over and hang out. Watch the garage go up. I’m positive I’ll beat this shit. I don’t really even feel bad… Sick.”
“Sounds like you don’t believe it,” Johnny said.
“You know what? That’s right. This ain’t like being dead… I don’t feel it. I feel like it isn’t real. Just a phase in my life someone got wrong is all…” He made eye contact and winked. “Did you know that once Donnie tried to talk me into some land deal? Swamp land!”
“Yeah… I remember you telling me. Real swamp land too,” Johnny laughed.
“Bastard sold it all and him and his partners made a few million on the down low. Who would think you could sell swampland? Not me.”
Their laughter rose up into the moonlit summer sky. Bobby tipped his beer bottle, drained it, looked at Johnny, “Another?”
“Yeah… One more,” Johnny agreed and laughed.
October: Bobby’s House
Johnny Miller stood at the edge of the sidewalk and stared at the half finished garage. His German Shepherd Tank beside him. Ruth, Bobby’s wife, had stopped the construction as soon as he had died. The garage had sat there unfinished all through the balance of the summer and into early fall. He had heard the new owners intended to finish it before winter. He thought about that. Bobby Johnson was barely cold in his grave and some other guy was going to finish his garage and sit down and have himself a beer. A beer Johnny and Bobby had planned to have once it was done and never had. Never had, had the time for. Two weeks after their night at Jimmy Chang’s when Bobby had told him about his cancer; he had dropped dead of a massive heart attack. Forty three. Healthy. Worked out twice a week. Jogged. Bang: Out of the blue. And Ruth had already sold the house and been gone for three weeks. Gone for three weeks. Back to her people in Minnesota. Jesus please us.
Tank’s nails clicked on the pavement and Johnny looked back at the sidewalk from the garage. The German Shepherd wagged his bushy tail and cocked his head. Johnny smiled. So the big C hadn’t taken him. How was that for ironic? He wondered briefly about the life after death conversation they had, had. Well, he decided now, if there was some kind of life after death Bobby was right there. He lifted his head and looked around. Maybe even watching him right now. He wondered about that for a few moments and then the big dog whined, breaking into his thoughts.
“Yeah… Let’s go, Tank. Let’s finish this walk, buddy.”
Tank needed no further urging, eagerly examining both sides of the walk as he began padding down the sidewalk once more, tugging lightly at his leash. Tank crossed the short expanse of leaf strewn berm, stopped suddenly causing Johnny to plow into him, and then took off into the street dragging Johnny with him. The end of the nylon leash burned his palm as it Tank yanked it from him and broke into a gallop. Johnny lunged off the berm and into the roadway trying to catch it, but he was too late. Tank was already across the street as he straightened, chasing after whatever had caught his attention.
He began to straighten from the crouch he had found himself in when the entire world suddenly burst into bright light.
Sisters of Mercy Hospital: Room 357
Becky Miller smoothed the sheets that covered Johnny, careful not to disturb all the wires and tubes that were a part of who Johnny was now. Her brother spoke from the doorway behind her and she turned and gave him a strained smile.
“Sorry,” Dell Anders said. “I thought I would offer to sit for a while… Let you get a break… Some sleep.” He moved from the doorway and hugged her to his chest. He felt her chest hitch, once, twice and then she began to sob. He eased her over to the chairs and sat her down, pulled another close and held her as she cried…
…Johnny was walking the tracks that split the neighborhood behind Fig Street: It was night… Silent and he was not alone, a young boy walked beside him. Talking quietly as Johnny listened: leading him forward; guiding him through the darkness…
“…It’s me, Bobby,” the dream boy told Johnny Miller.
Johnny stared at the kid as they walked the tracks. He had noticed something was familiar but he hadn’t been able to place what that was. He looked down at himself. He was the same. An old man following along as a little kid walked the tracks, balancing on the rails. He stopped, lost for a second.
“You okay?” Bobby asked as he stopped and turned back to face him.
“Yeah… I think, but why are you in my dream? I didn’t know you then… This place… Did I?” Johnny asked.
“Yes and no. We share certain things.” He walked back and looked up at Johnny; his face serious.
“Will you come with me?” Bobby asked urgently.
This is the strangest dream I’ve ever had, Johnny thought. He stared around at the dark trees; the cold moonlight glinting off the steel rails. The young boy faced Johnny where he stood in the road.
“It’s no dream, Johnny, no dream at all, honestly. You can’t think of it as a dream either. If you do it’ll kill you, man. For real, I swear… Will you come?” Bobby asked again. His bright blue eyes seemed to glow as they locked on Johnny’s own.
“Where?” Johnny asked. The sound of his own voice startled him. It had changed. Become a child’s voice. A voice locked on the edge of change. A voice in between man and boy. He glanced down at his body and was not surprised to see that it had also changed. What he saw was a child’s body. And not just any child, but the same child he himself had been so many years before. The same wash faded jeans, with the same patched knees. He clearly remembered those jeans. Clearly remembered his mother carefully mending the knees. The same scuffed high top sneakers, with the same knotted laces. He raised his eyes and stared back at the small boy.
Bobby moved closer, seeming to float above the surface of the road. “Now. We need to go now. There isn’t much time,” Bobby told him.
The darkness split apart, and gray rock walls sprung up where the trees had been. In the distance Johnny could hear the laughter of children echoing against the cold stone walls. The laughter turned to screams. Shrill, panicked and growing closer, the low bass growl of a wolf mixed in with the screaming. Johnny started to move towards the sound.
“No! Bobby told him. “You’ll die. Not yet. We have to be first, see? We ain’t yet. It’s too early, man. Too early. you’ll die if you try to stop it now.”
“But?” Johnny asked aloud in his child’s voice.
“Home, man,” Bobby told him. “Home first, then here, after.”
The rock walls suddenly faded, replaced by a night darkened and quiet street. Houses lined one side of the street, a huge gravel lot filled the other side. Beyond the edge of the gravel lot long rows of leaning, crumbled buildings stood outlined in pale moonlight. The remnants of a chain-link fence ran partway down the street, still enclosing the buildings in places, overgrown and fallen in others. Johnny turned toward the houses and began to walk
“Here. Right here,” Bobby told him as they walked towards one particular house.
Johnny skirted the dirt front yard of the run-down old house behind Bobby. Peeling gray paint clung to the weathered clapboard, glass from the shattered windows lay glittering in the darkness. The few that remained were filthy yellowed panes set in crumbling frames, impossible to see through. Flecks of gray littered the hard-packed dirt yard. He rounded the side of the house and stopped. A long rope dangled from a broken second floor window. “Here?” Johnny asked.
“Here,” Bobby agreed. He began to climb the rope to the window that stood open above it. He paused part way up and stared back at Johnny where he stood watching. “Climb it, man. That’s my room up there.”
The rope was not nearly as hard to climb as Johnny had thought it would be. He made his way quickly to the top, and eased over the sill into the small room. The room was dark and quiet. He made his way to a narrow cot in one corner and sat down next to Bobby. “And?” he whispered.
“Morning. We gotta wait for morning. Then we can start. Then we can do something, see?”
“No,” Johnny whispered, “I don’t see… Start what? Do What?”
“We all gotta meet,” Bobby told him. “It’s hard to explain. You see, I was here. I lived here, and there are two other kids here. They live close by. We gotta do something important, see? And we need you. We need your help, man, get it?
“No,” Johnny replied honestly, “I don’t.”
“You will. Go to sleep, man. In the morning we’ll start. In the morning. It’ll be different this time. It will.”
Johnny laid down on the narrow cot and closed his eyes.
Sleeping in a dream, he thought. A dream about sleeping. Weird.
“Not a dream,” Bobby reminded him as he spiraled away into darkness. “Not a dream.” …
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your bookseller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places or incidents depicted are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual living person’s places, situations or events is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means, electronic, print, scanner or any other means and, or distributed without the author’s permission. Permission is granted to use short sections of text in reviews or critiques.
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Conner sat at bar and watched football on one of the big screen TV’s Mort had just put in. It was a slow game, he was tired, and his mind kept turning to other things. He couldn’t concentrate. Part of the allure of the Rusty Nail was the quiet. After a 12 hour shift at the mill with the constant noise from the huge machinery, the quiet had been nice. But that had all changed once the bar had become popular with the nearby base. He needed to go home. The crowd in the bar was starting to build and the noise was giving him the beginnings of a headache. He caught Mort’s eye and went back to his thoughts as he waited.
The Rusty Nail had always been a locals only bar up until a few years back when the economy had taken a nose dive. The nail was wedged up a side street off Factory square. Not exactly easy to find, and that had hurt business too as the old people left and the new people came in.
Mort, Mortimer to anybody that felt like being tossed out on their ass, had nearly lost the small bar and the building above it to the bank. The building above it had six small apartments that Mort had purposely left empty when he had bought the building fresh out of the service thirty years back. Who wanted to deal with tenants, he had said then. But times changed, and so he had sold his house, moved himself into one of the apartments, and then sold the bank on remortgaging the whole building as well as renovating the other five apartments. The bank had come up with a loan that took all of that into account and added a second income source from the apartments that could pay the monthly mortgage and put a good chunk of change into his pocket too.
He had signed on the x, taken their money, renovated the building, moved in the tenants and then taken a hard look at the Rusty Nail. He had decided to completely gut the bar and do it over. He had dumped far too much into the renovations though, including being closed for nearly a full month, and then opened it to find that the economy had taken an even deeper nose dive during those nearly thirty days. The third month into the new mortgage and he had found that he was maybe in a bad spot already.
Conner remembered now that he had sat right at the end of the bar when Mort had talked it over with some others, Moon Calloway, Johnny Barnes, Jim Tibbets, Conner had been welcome to include his two cents which he had declined to do.
“Well, what you do is put the word out to those cab drivers. Believe me, I’ve seen it. They will have them soldiers down here in no time, even if you are off the beaten path,” Jim had said. Jim was a school bus driver for the north side district and less than a year away from a fatal car accident on the interstate. Jeff Brown, who had been a local football star, was doing ten years up at Clinton Correctional for hitting Jim’s car head on drunk and killing him. But that night Jim had still been alive and had wanted to be a part of the New Rusty Nail that Mort had in mind. Something a little more modern. Modern bought the soldiers, but more importantly it also bought women.
“I’m not paying no fuckin’ cab driver to bring me G.I.’s,” Mort had said. “And I know your game. You’re just hoping to get some pussy out of it.”
They had all laughed at that, except Jim who had turned red. But after a few seconds he had laughed too, and the conversation had plodded forward the way bar conversations do.
“Well, you ain’t got to pay them exactly, give them a couple beers,” Moon threw in.
“Jesus Christ,” Mort exclaimed. “That’s why you boys ain’t in business. You think the beer is free.”
“I know it ain’t free, Mort,” Jim said. “But it don’t cost you that much. You get it wholesale.”
“Wholesale? I drive right the fuck out to that wholesale club and buy it by the case most of the time just like everybody else. Cheaper than them beer guys, except draft, of course. That ain’t free. You got to pay the yearly fee. You got to pay them taxes to the feds. You got a lot you got to pay for. Some fuck crushes your can, you’re fucked for that Nickle. Jesus… wholesale my ass. It ain’t no bargain.”
“Yeah? … Let’s see,” Moon starting writing in the air with his finger. You get it for let’s say six bucks a case, I know that cause that’s what I pay out there too. So six bucks divided by 24 is,” he drew in the air for a few moments, erased it, and then started over. “How the fuck do you do that, Mikey… The six goes into the twenty-four? Or times the twenty-four?” Moon asked.
“Uh, it’s a quarter a can,” I had supplied.
The argument had raged on from there. Once Moon found out he was paying a buck fifty for a can of beer that only cost a quarter he was pissed off.
In the end Mort had talked to a couple of cab drivers. Free draft beer one night a week if they bought soldiers by all week long and told as many as possible about the place. Within two weeks Conner hadn’t recognized the place when he had come by after shift to have a couple of beers. The soldiers drank a lot of beer, the bank mortgage got paid, and life was fine. Except for the fights, Conner thought, but you can’t load young guys up on alcohol and not expect trouble. Especially when those young men were just waiting on the word to go and maybe die in another battle that remained undeclared as a war. High stress levels meant heavy duty unloading. The M.P.’s got to know the place as well as the soldiers did.
“Conner,” you ready?” Mort asked now.
Conner smiled. “I was thinking back to last year…” He had to shout to be heard. Tomorrow his voice would be hoarse. “This place was empty! … Yeah… One more then I gotta go,” Conner agreed.
Mort leaned closer. “Gov’ment tit. I know it, but fuck it. It’s all the Gov’ment tit. Road and Bridge projects. Job centers. One way or the other it comes out the same. Even them subsidies so the paper mills can still run. It’s all the Gov’ment tit, ain’t it, Conner?”
“It is,” Conner shouted. He nodded. It was. This town would have dried up years ago without it. Mort left and then came back a few moments later with a fresh beer.
“Vacation?” Mort yelled.
Conner nodded. “Two weeks of silence,” He shook his head at the irony and Mort’s laughing agreement was drowned out by the noise.
“If I don’t,” Mort said leaning close.
Conner nodded. “I will.” He raised his glass and then tossed off half of it. A few moments later he was outside on the relatively quiet sidewalk punching numbers into his phone, calling for a cab. The night was cold, but the cold sobered him up. It seemed nearly capable of washing away the smoke and noise from inside the bar. He stood in the shadows beside the door waiting for the phone to ring on the other end. The door bumped open and Johnny Barnes stepped out.
“You ain’t calling for a cab, are you?” Johnny asked when he spotted him.
Conner laughed and ended the still ringing call. “Not if I can get a free ride from you.” Conner told him.
“Yeah, you always were a cheap prick,” Johnny agreed. “Hey, I heard you’re heading into the southern tier tomorrow?”
“Two weeks,” Conner agreed as he levered the door handle on Johnny’s truck and climbed inside. His breath came in clouds of steam. “Get some heat in here, Johnny.”
“Coming,” Johnny agreed. “Man, I wish I was you.”
“Me too,” Conner agreed.
Johnny laughed. “Asshole, but seriously, man. Have a good time. You gonna hunt?
“Nothing in season… Maybe snare some rabbits. Not gonna be a lot this time of year.” Conner said.
“Maybe deer,” Johnny offered. He dropped the truck in drive just as the heat began to come from the vents.
“Probably, but they’ll be out of season. Rabbit, and I got freeze dried stuff. Trucks packed, which is why I didn’t drive it down here.”
The truck drove slowly through the darkening streets as the street lights began to pop on around the small city: The two men laughing and exchanging small talk.
New York: March 2nd
New York: Watertown
Conner and Katie
Conner Collins awoke to the sounds of birds whistling in the early morning pre-dawn. Birds, he thought, usually the sounds from the mills drowned them out.
He had made it home around 6:00 PM the previous evening. He was working the midnight to eight shift and had stopped into the Rusty Nail after work to have a few drinks with some of the other guys from the paper mill.
He had wanted to leave before the bar began to fill up. The Rusty Nail had gotten more than a bit rowdy as of late. Two years before, one of Conner’s good friends, Moon Calloway, had been killed in the bar. That had seemed to turn the tide. After that point the bar had become much worse, a proving grounds of sorts for the young GI’s from the base. Conner often wondered why he even bothered to hang around there at all. Last night it had seemed as though the rowdy element was showing up even earlier than it usually did.
When Johnny Barnes had offered the ride Conner had accepted.
The house on Linden Street wasn’t much, but it was paid for, and Conner knew a lot of guys at the mill who either rented or were damn close to losing their homes to the bank. Times were tough in the old U-S-of-A, and at least he had the place free and clear.
He had practically fallen into bed once he had gotten home. He hadn’t realized how tired he was.
He’d been working all the short shifts he could get, along with his normal evening shifts, saving the money after he’d paid off the house, and today would be the start of his first real vacation in over twelve years.
Conner had grown up in the small city of Watertown, and had never left. It suited him, he liked to think. Where else could you see the seasons change so vividly, or take a quite stroll through the woods anytime you felt, he often wondered. The Adirondacks were close by. The southern tier, where he hoped to be in just a few hours, he reminded himself, stretched away for miles. Forever wild lands, Lake Ontario, wet lands. And if he wanted the big city it was just seventy miles away down route eighty one.
This is going to be one great vacation, he thought, as he got out of bed. Despite the damn birds.
The vacation he had planned was a three week camp out in the State Forest Preserve that started only twenty miles to the east. The preserve was nestled up to the military reservation and stretched from there all the way into Central New York. Conner had no idea exactly where he would camp. He had decided to just hike until he found a spot that suited him.
As he headed for the bathroom he noticed that the clock on the dresser was off. Not blinking, but off, and he could vaguely recall dreaming of waking during the night to some loud noise.
It had seemed at first, when he had awakened within the dream, as though the entire house had been shaking. He had passed from that dream into another, but the noise and the shaking had seemed to accompany him into that dream as well. It had to have been the strangest dream he could ever recall having.
At first he had been in his bedroom; the walls shaking around him, and the next thing he knew he had been standing on a stone pathway that overlooked a wide and deep valley that stretched away for miles before it hooked to the right and disappeared. Its forward path blocked by even higher mountains, with others lifting even higher behind that. He turned to follow the ridge lines back to where he was and the scene had shifted to the bedroom once more. He had found himself sitting up in bed, breathing hard, frightened, the room silent, wondering if this was just more of the dream or an actual waking. As he began trying to figure it out, waiting for his head to clear, he had found himself sitting on a bar stool in the Rusty Nail, Moon Calloway beside him holding down the other stool.
He tried speaking to Moon, but he either couldn’t hear him, or he pretended not to. In his dream he had still known Moon was dead, so it made sense to him that he could not speak to him. He turned to Mort to order a beer and Moon had suddenly spoken.
“It was right here, Conner… Right here. Bad place to die… Used sawdust on the floor… Soaks up the beer… The blood…. You know….”
He tried to turn as soon as he heard the voice, but by the time he turned the scene had shifted again. Instantly the bar was gone and he found himself standing at the edge of what he took to be a lake at first. The water stretched away as far as he could see. There was a tang of salt on the air; red earth crumbled away as the waves came in, taking more land with it. He could remember the salt smell from a trip to Florida as a kid with his grandparents. The smell of the sea.
“This is the place,” Moon said from beside him.
He turned expecting Moon to be gone, but he was standing a few feet away staring out over the water. He turned and looked at Conner. “You see it?” Moon asked.
“Yeah,” Conner managed. The word was barely audible, lost in the sounds of the sea as it worked to take the red dirt away. “Where,” Conner asked. “Where is it? What place is it?” He turned when Moon didn’t answer, but Moon was gone. He blinked and he was back in his bedroom, in bed in his own house on Linden Street, talking to a priest that was sitting on the edge of the bed. He remembered telling the priest that he just wanted to go back to sleep. That had apparently satisfied the priest, as he had shook his head and seemed to float away.
Conner shook his head, recalling the dream as he entered the bathroom. He picked up his toothbrush from the small plastic cup that held it, squinted into the mirror, and turned on the cold water tap.
Nothing happened. No rattle of the old pipes in the wall. Nothing.
“What the hell,” Conner said aloud, “frigging water out too?” He dropped the brush back into the cup and headed into the kitchen to start the coffee.
“Shit,” he said as he entered the kitchen and remembered the power was off, and that there was no water with which to make the coffee. “Now what?” He walked back into the bedroom and tugged on the pair of jeans and shirt he had worn the day before; he walked through the house to the front door, shoving his feet into his sneakers as he went, and opened it to retrieve the paper that he knew would be there. The ends of the untied laces clicked and bounced against the old hardwood floors as he walked. At least he could read the paper, maybe even find out what the hell was going on.
The sun was just beginning to climb into the sky as the door swung open. He bent down.
“No damn paper either?” he muttered as he stood back up and began to search the lawn.
His eyes rose from the lawn and fell on the Hubert house across the Street.
Something seemed oddly out of place, and he puzzled over it for a few seconds before his mind told him what it was. The entire house was leaning to one side. That wasn’t all though. The street in between dipped and rose in places, and the lawn over there had large patches of brown dirt. The snow that had been everywhere the night before was nearly gone. His eyes had skipped over it, lending an illusion of straight lines until he had looked closely. His eyes rose to the Hubert house once more and he realized what else was wrong, the lot looked too big: He could see more of the Hubert house because the houses on either side were gone. No trace. Jumbled dirt and clumps of grass filled those lots. A leaning Oak that had been in front of the Schuyler house for two hundred years: Uprooted and on the verge of toppling onto the fresh soil.
As he left his doorway and started across the street to get a better look, his eyes took in the devastation that had changed most of the street overnight.
Broken cobbles from the old streets poked through the pavement in places, and the broken pipes below street level bought him the sound of running water somewhere deep below. The reality of it hit him and he stopped and turned to look back at his own house. His mouth fell open wide as he stared. The entire house was leaning from foundation to roof, the gutters had detached and snaked down to meet the ground. Almost seeming as they they were holding the house upright. Small sparrows where pecking through the debris that had fallen from the gutters, and singing in the warming morning air. Conner’s mouth snapped shut as he stumbled back into the street and sat down hard.
“What the hell is this?” he asked aloud to the street.
“What the hell is going on?”
Conner believed in the tangible. If it could be touched it must be real, and so believing, he reached down to feel one of the cracks beside him in the road. The road tipped, tilted, had separated, and the other surface had dropped lower. His fingers came away with small chunks of asphalt.
“Feels real,” he declared aloud, as he stared at the road. He pulled at it and a small piece of the asphalt he held snapped off into his hand. He bought it up to his face to examine it closely; threw it back to the ground, and got up from the street.
He looked slowly off in both directions down the length of Linden Street. As far as he could see in either direction the roads and houses were similar. In fact, he thought, the street doesn’t even look like a street anymore. It was still a street because he thought of it as a street. His street. There was now more gravel, dirt and broken asphalt chunks than there was actual street. And in several places it was gone completely. No sign. Wide spots that were wholly devastated.
Conner closed his eyes and then reopened them. It was all still there. Nothing had changed. He stood and stared for a few minutes longer before he started to walk off down the street in the direction of the downtown area, three blocks to the south.
As he went he looked over the houses he passed. Most were partly, and some were completely destroyed. He felt as though he were in a bad dream. He knew he wasn’t though, as he had closed his eyes to blink away the sights several times to no avail. He had also pinched his left cheek until his eye had begun to water. No good. It was still there. He had done acid once, but only once, back in the seventies, and he had heard about flashbacks, and this could maybe be one, and he had been drinking pretty damn heavily yesterday, and…
He spotted a young woman sitting on the curb three houses down and walked up to her. She tilted her tear streaked and puffy face up to him as he approached.
“Is this a dream?” he asked when he stopped.
“No, it’s no dream,” she replied as she slowly shook her head.
“Where have you been since last night? Didn’t you hear the noise? Didn’t you feel it?”
Conner recalled the noise that had awakened him during the night. The noise he had thought was only an extension of the strange dream.
“Well, I thought it was a dream, you know, but I did hear a storm, or something, but I didn’t think it was a big deal… you know, they can get loud sometimes, but… What happened?”
“Yellowstone blew up,” she said simply. “Didn’t you see the TV?”
Conner shook his head.
“Well,” the young woman continued, “anyhow that’s what happened. They cut in to the TV last night; I was watching… you know, and they cut in and said that the Yellowstone caldera was going to fracture because of how close the meteor came. I came outside to see, and, well there was nothing to see at first.., and then the ground started shaking, so I ran to get back inside. But the whole bottom floor of the building was gone.” She shrugged.
The young woman broke into fresh tears, and buried her face back into her hands.
Conner sat down beside her and put his arm around her in an attempt to comfort her.
“Is your husband here?”
“Not married,” she said, “There was a guy… A few years back. He’s stationed somewhere in the Middle East,” she finished, as she looked at Conner.
“Sorry,” Conner said, “how long have you been out here?”
“I called this cop that had given me his card… He said the police would come so I came back out to wait, but they never showed up, so I just sat here. I didn’t know where else to go or what to do! I’ve been here ever since, just watching the street crack.”
Conner looked around at the street.
“It happened all at once?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, also staring at the street. “One second it was still whole, the next it wasn’t. But it’s still going on. Every little while a crack will just appear and then another section will tilt or drop a little. Sometimes there’s no noise, other times it’s this horrible groaning sound… Like it’s alive or something.”
“Is your power on?” Conner asked changing the subject.
“No,” she replied, “went off right after the ground started shaking.”
“Mine’s off too,” Conner replied.
“The power lines fell while I was out here, arcing all over the place. Scared the shit out of me too, and then they just quit… Went dead,” She said.
“Listen… I’m going to walk downtown… see if the police department is open, or see maybe if everyone is there somewhere. You’re the only person I’ve seen so far… do you want to come with me?”
“Sure,” she said, as she stood and brushed at her jeans, “no use sticking around here I guess, is there?”
“I don’t think so,” Conner said. “I think… you know that everyone else is probably downtown. Getting organized or something,” his eyes betrayed the worry he felt. He hoped that everyone was downtown as he had said, but he wasn’t convinced himself. We have to find someone though, he thought, don’t we?
He stood up and they both walked off down the street toward downtown Watertown.
“Conner,“ he told her. Talking to you for an hour and didn’t even know your name.”
“She laughed, halfhearted, but it instantly lifted the mood. “More like fifteen minutes if that… Katie.” She told him.
They exchanged small talk as they walked and it seemed to help quell the fear they both felt.
As they walked they wondered about the rising temperature.
“I wonder if it’s some sort of fallout from the earthquakes. Can it be radiation, Conner?” Katie questioned.
“Maybe. I flunked science, so I really don’t know. I don’t think so though. I mean, if it was, wouldn’t we be sick? I think ash is a possibility, maybe if they triggered volcanoes? Makes me wish I had paid attention in science class, or physics, history, one of those.” Conner said.
She laughed again, this time a little more fully. “No,” she replied. “I don’t think so either… I mean the earth shook… like an earthquake. I didn’t know we could get an earthquake up here.”
“Oh yeah… Lived here all of my life. It’s more than possible, happens all of the time… You from here?”
“No… Syracuse, before that Texas.”
“Ah, the big city… Well up here we don’t have a hell of a lot to do so they teach us about fault lines, earthquakes. We have a huge fault line that bisects this entire region and continues on south to the Gulf.”
“All the way to the Gulf?” Katie asked. She patted his arm. “Big city my ass,” She laughed. “You should see Houston you want to see big city, buster.”
Conner laughed and nodded. “Seen Houston once… I mean, a long time ago. And then only the Greyhound station downtown.”
She stopped. ”Get out, really?”
“Really.” Conner told her. “Very bad place too,” he seemed apologetic.
“Yeah.” her eyes had suddenly gone sad. “Very.” She started her feet moving again. She had come close to telling him just how well she knew that area of Houston, and had nearly bitten her tongue to stop the words. Emotional situations… You never knew the things that would just jump right out of your mouth, she thought. Leaving you all kinds of vulnerable too.
They talked back and forth as they continued down the street. When they reached Fourth Street they turned and walked the short block to Main, turned left this time, and headed into the downtown area.
Conner and Katie
They both stopped short as they topped the small hill at the crest of Main Street, and stared down at the downtown area on the other side of the river.
It appeared to be more of a war zone than a city. The buildings that were still standing leaned crazily to the left or right, and only the tallest seemed to have been, as yet, untouched. Katie wondered aloud at that.
“The taller ones are not that old. Built with federal monies. Earthquake proof…. To an extent. When I was a kid the tallest building was the Baptist church tower.” He pointed to a gray stone spire that reached into the air.
There was a small crowd of people milling around in the center of what had been the Public Square.
“It looks bad to me” Conner said softly. He pointed. “City police building?” He met her eyes with his own. ”Gone… There should be thousands of people down there…”
Katie shook her head. “Ought to go down.” She looked up to see what he thought about it..
Tiny people walked aimlessly around the square or stood, seemingly transfixed, by the huge gray spire of rock that capped the State street end of the square. The sight of the people broke the spell. Conner nodded once and they began the walk down the hill.
They stopped and looked over the bridge that crossed the Black River. It seemed fine, almost untouched. It was so strange a sight that Conner laughed.
“What?” Katie asked.
“Doesn’t it seem strange to you? Everything destroyed and the bridge sitting here untouched?” He looked from side to side before he stepped out on the steel decking and began to walk. As they neared the other side they could see that there was a crack that ran from side to side and the road dropped down more than a foot. They leapt easily down.
“That makes me feel better. It just seemed too weird that it had no damage at all.”
Katie nodded and they continued to walk into the downtown area.
The walked up a small rise that had once been the bank of the river just a few hundred years ago, before the dams, mills, and reservoir projects had changed the water flow, Conner thought. The Public Square spread out before them.
“At least there are other people,” Katie said aloud. “Last night when I was sitting there all alone I was wondering whether or not there were.” She breathed a sigh of relief which was echoed by Conner.
When they reached the first people at the bottom of the hill, they could tell that many of them were in shock. An older woman wandered by completely naked. Blood ran down one calf from an ugly looking wound, and she was covered with dirt and grime. When Conner attempted to talk to her, she tried to hit him with a baseball bat she had been holding at her side.
“Leave me alone, you bastard,” she screamed into his face. And then she had run off towards one of the still standing buildings.
Conner was shaken by the experience and jumped when Katie touched his arm.
“…think,” he caught as he turned around to face her.
“I was saying, I don’t think she knew what she was doing,” Katie repeated. “Hey? Are you okay?”
“Fine,” he answered, in a small voice.
He was still a little shook up when an older man began to approach them, and he found himself wishing he would turn and head in the other direction. He didn’t even recognize him until he was nearly upon them.
“Bob,” he asked, “is that you?”
Conner had worked for Bob driving truck at the gravel pit two summers before, when things had slowed down at the mill. Bob Dove owned the gravel pit, and most considered him a hard guy to work for.
Conner had liked him though. He seemed to be honest; always paid on time, and he always bought Conner a beer when he ran into him. He was forever trying to talk Conner into leaving the mill, and going to work for him full time. Today he seemed old and tired. Conner supposed he didn’t look much better.
“How are you, Conner,” Bob asked, “some vacation, huh?”
Conner had run into Bob just the week before down at the Rusty Nail, and had told him he’d be leaving, but he hadn’t given the vacation a second thought since he’d gotten out of bed this morning.
It seemed odd to think of it now. Wonder what the rest of the world woke up to this morning? He thought. It had only been a short time since he had awakened this morning, but it felt like years had gone by.
“I guess my vacation got canceled,” he said, trying a grin on his face. “Hell, looks like a lot a vacations got canceled,” he continued, as the grin slipped from his face, “you see any of this happen, Bob?”
“No,” he replied solemnly. “I was out at the pit, and I didn’t come into town until this morning. But I saw plenty out there, thank you just the same.”
“As bad as this?” Conner asked, waving his hands at the damage that surrounded them.
Bob paused and looked around at the destruction.
“Pretty damn bad,” Bob said, as he shook his head in agreement. “I was moving the trucks down to the loading area, down the bottom there, and the ground started to shake and the shaking threw me right out of the cab. I jumped down and got the hell out of that pit in a quick hurry, let me tell you. Good damn thing I did too, as about ten minutes after I did the bottom just cracked open and she started to fill. Spent the night in the woods and when I walked out this morning the water was up the top of the pit. Never seen nothing like it.” He paused and looked around the small town square. “So I came down here. But I’ve been over to city hall, nobody’s there. The police department, you know,” he gestured helplessly with his hands.
“Gone,” Conner agreed.
“Seen you coming across here and figured to see what you might know,” Bob finished, nodding.
Conner shook his head. “You can ask Katie,” he said pointing at the young woman beside him, “she saw it on the television last night.”
Bob looked expectantly towards her.
“Well… not like I know it all, but I was watching the TV last night, and they said…”
Conner turned to stare out at the water and the people who stood nearby in small groups, as Katie spoke to Bob.
“Shit, don’t that figure,” Bob exclaimed, when she finished, “So another politician lied to us. All last week they said that meteor would be no problem. Yesterday morning there was some yak attributed to the web about Yellowstone being closed down and already in a bad way and they denied that too,” He swore under his breath. “Figures. Seen any sign of the Guard around, or the Army?”
“We just got down here ourselves,” Conner answered, “but I expect they’ll be here soon, don’t you?”
“That’s right!” Katie exclaimed, “They should be coming, shouldn’t they? I mean, we’re alive, hell of a lot of people are alive, they’ve got to come, right?”
“Maybe,” Bob said slowly, looking from one to the other, “but it seems as though they should have been here already, doesn’t it? I mean, if they were coming, it ain’t that far to the base… Eight miles? I mean, well, hell, it ain’t a long way for them to come.”
Conner nodded his head. “Well, if they aren’t here by noon… Anybody got a watch?”
Katie nodded and held up one hand so he could see the slim silver dial on her wrist, 9:32 he noted.
“Well, if they ain’t here by noon, I vote we go look for them.”
“Sounds good to me,” Bob said, as Katie nodded her head in agreement.
They spent the morning wandering between the few remaining buildings and talking to the small groups of people that had formed around the huge church spire in the middle of what was left of the city’s downtown.
Katie found several other people with similar tales of the destruction they had witnessed the through the night. A few had slightly different takes on what had happened. One woman was convinced the end times had come and spent most of an hour trying to convince Katie to repent of her sins and join her. She had been polite and firm as she told her thanks, but no thanks. She had also stuck closer to Conner after that. Conner was disheveled. He probably hadn’t realized he’d forgotten to even comb his hair when he had walked out of his house this morning and witnessed all the destruction. His eyes were a little wild looking. People tended to shy away from him when they saw him.
As she sat at the bus stop bench overlooking the square she wondered what had happened to some of the people. Conner sat quietly beside her, lost in his own thoughts.
One woman had stopped by the bench and tried to convince them that flying saucers were to blame, and she actually had several people convinced of it. They formed a small protective group around their leader. Katie supposed that with the way things were this morning, that it wasn’t as far-fetched as it may have been just yesterday. She listened cautiously, courteously, and they both breathed a sigh of relief when she became distracted by a small after shock and then moved on, her group hovering protectively.
“Jesus please us,” Conner said.
“Amen,” Katie agreed.
They had discovered earlier that though none of their cell phones worked, some of the phone lines were still working. Well, sort of, Katie amended as she thought about it now. You could call out, but all you got was static or a busy signal. There was a bank of old style pay phones in the Arcade Mall. Conner had tried for over twenty minutes, calling every emergency number in the telephone book. He had finally given up about ten minutes ago, and had ambled back over to sit beside her on the bench.
“You still want to go out to the base?” he asked now.
“No.” she replied, as she released a deep sigh. “I really don’t see a reason for it… I mean, if they were there, and everything was up and running, they would be here by now. So I just don’t see a reason for it. We were fooling ourselves to think that they would come. Let’s face it, they’re probably at least in as bad shape as we are.”
Conner, who had been feeling the same, nodded agreement.
“So what do we do then?”
“I don’t know, Conner. I don’t know what we can do.”
The conversation ended, and they once again sat staring out over the square, neither knowing what to say.
Bob wandered back over from a small group of people he had been talking with, and sat down next to them.
“What did you find out?” Conner asked.
“Well,” Bob began, “mainly a lot of strange stuff. For instance, you know Lilly Roberts over there?” he pointed at a tall woman, standing with the group he had just left.
Conner and Katie both nodded.
“I know of her,” Conner said, “she ran that little diner out on River Road, didn’t she?”
“Yes,” Katie confirmed, “I worked out there last summer part time.”
“Well,” Bob continued, “she said she was at home with her husband and, well… You guys know him?”
They both shook their heads to indicate that they did, and Katie said, “Kind of hard not to know him, or at least to know of him.”
Earl Roberts, Lilly’s husband, had established his own church three years before. The local paper had published numerous stories about him, and the church itself. He had obtained his license through a mail order ministry, and the church was based on the book of revelations; specifically on the principal that the planet Earth was in the last years. Jesus was on his way back, and not the easy going Jesus of the New Testament, a darker, angry Jesus.
“He’s the guy who had the church out in Fort Drum, right?” Conner asked.
“The same wacko,” Bob said. “Well, anyway, they were at home last night, having an argument about that church of his; she says they were awful close to divorcing over it. So they’re arguing and she’s telling him how she doesn’t feel as she knows him anymore, and bang the first quake hits… She says there were three, at least three,” Bob said and paused.
“Maybe five,” Katie said… “At least I felt five.”
“Bob nodded. “Better number. That’s what I felt, but I didn’t correct her. … So, he just turns away from her and stares at the front door for a few moments and then leaves. She’s chasing him down the street, but he’s making for the river fast… Snapped.”
“There’s plenty more here that have slipped over the edge,” Katie said.
Bob nodded. “Well, he did just that. Slipped over the edge. Walked right to the river, and starts talking like there’s somebody there. She said at first, she thought maybe he had just gone clean over the edge, you know? A second later he just jumped in. Nothing she could do the water was high, churning. Bad … She never saw him come back up again..”
“Happens sometimes,” Conner said as Katie nodded her head.
“I’ve heard of that too,” she said.
“Well there’s a couple of others who swear the same sort of thing happened to people they knew. A few others are talking about end times.” Bob paused and looked out over the lake wringing his hands restlessly in his lap.
“I don’t know,” Bob continued. “I guess it makes about as much sense to them as anything else.”
“You mean they think it is the end times? That it was real?” Katie asked.
Bob shook his head. “I ain’t saying I believe it at all,” he replied. “I’m simply telling you we’re going to have to be really goddamn careful who we deal with.” He arched his eyebrows. “Strange winds blowing.”.”
“Seen it while we sat here. I can’t believe something like this can throw someone that far off. But we’ve heard a few similar things this morning.” Conner said.
“And that was strange stuff while we weren’t seeking it out… Just sitting here minding our own business.” Katie added.
“Well,” Bob began, “let’s say that this is the beginning of the end of the world. I ain’t saying it is, but for the sake of argument let’s say it is.”
“All right,” Katie replied, “let’s say it is.”
“Well, so let’s say it’s the end of the world. What does that really mean?”
“I can’t say I follow you.” Conner replied calmly. “I think it’s self explanatory, right?”
“That’s about how I feel about it too,” Katie said when Conner had finished speaking.
“You went too deep,” Bob said, as she finished speaking. He laughed lightly. “I meant, what is the end of the Earth? It’s obviously not the end of the Earth right now or we wouldn’t be here. What it really means to these people, I think.” He raised his hands to gesture at the people milling around everywhere. “Is the end of their way of life. They can’t call a cab. Take the train into New York and see a play, fly to the Bahamas for vacation. That is their end. They can’t see anything past that, and so when that ceases to exist it is the end of everything for them. They snap… Jump in the river… Sit down in the road and wait for God… Or Moses, or Muhammad to show up. The mother ship… I don’t know.” He sighed, leaned forward, cupped his face in his hands and looked out at the devastation. He straightened up, rubbed at the small of his back with both hands. “It’s too soon in my life to be the end of anything. I need some more time. And, anyway, when something ends something else begins.”
Conner was surprised into laughter. “The Mother Ship?”
“Hey, I talked to that lady earlier… She’s pretty much doing just that,” Katie said.
“I don’t know what I believe myself. It’s a question that I never felt a need to answer. I mean, I’ve had a few Bible-thumpers come knocking on my door from time to time. I ain’t mean about it, I just listen politely is all, and when they ask me if I want to be saved, or get to their point, I just pass. I just always figured to each his own, you know? I mean they ain’t hurting me,” Bob continued, “and if they want to go around knocking on doors, hell, let ’em do it.”
“I just don’t answer the door anymore,” Katie said.
“Me either,” Conner added, and continued. “I kind of got into the habit of looking through the peephole lately anyway, on account of the crime being what it is, and if it’s a Jehovah, or some other Bible people, I just don’t answer the door.”
They all three shook their heads in agreement.
“I’ve done that too,” Bob said and then went back to his original argument. “But suppose it is their end? Then what?”
“Well,” Conner started, “I suppose that you could have a lot of people just waiting for God… Or maybe even the mother ship. Right?”
Katie just sat quietly, listening to the conversation, as it went back and forth.
“So you would, but,” Bob continued, “what if there really is a God and a Devil? How does that change things? What if the people that believed in God were taken up?”
“I’ve thought of that,” Conner said, “I guess probably it was the first thing that jumped into my head this morning. It seems pretty far-fetched to me. I mean… Would God have a need to be this dramatic? And doesn’t God just do things and then, I don’t know, after ten thousand years or so the people fall in line and things are okay again?”
“Yes… God is not known to be really easy on his believers.” Bob agreed.
Conner continued. “Take Joanne Hamilton over there for instance,” he said as he waved his hand at a group of people. “I worked with her husband down at the mill, and he’s one of the meanest bastards I ever knew. Everybody knows he used to beat the shit out of her, and there was that business a few years back where he got himself caught with a young girl out on Jefferson Road, parked to the side there where the kids hang out. That kind of blows their theory doesn’t it? I mean if there was ever a meaner son-of-a-bitch I don’t know him, and I can’t see what good side there could possibly be to him, do you?”
Bob seemed to think a second before he shook his head. “I don’t see anything good about him either,” he stated flatly. “I knew him myself, and I couldn’t stand him. But hear me out a second, Conner.”
Conner nodded his head, and Katie leaned closer to Bob to listen.
“I think those people are dead as dead. Swallowed up by the Earth, drowned in the rivers. They’re gone and that’s that. But what about these others? All I’m saying is, it doesn’t matter to us whether we don’t think that’s what happened, it only matters that they think that’s what happened.”
“Then I guess they try to bring us into their psychosis,” Conner said. He looked around at the crowd.
“But that doesn’t make it so,” Katie said.
Bob Laughed wryly. “I wasn’t looking for truth,” he said softly, “I’m just trying to make sure I live… Both of you too. We have got to be careful with some of these. I have been in war, seen how easy it is for people to turn into primitives just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “I say, we need to think about leaving here. It’s only going to get worse.”
Conner turned from looking over the crowd and nodded. “Makes sense. You have a long way of getting to the point, Bob. But logical… Thought out.”
“I spent a whole six months in college before I had to leave to help my mother run the gravel pit after my dad died,” Bob continued. “This makes me wish I’d spent a little longer. Maybe I’d know more about it. Whatever it is though, it’s natural. Something that just happens. I don’t want to get tangled up in someone’s ideal.” He paused and then began to speak once again, changing the subject slightly.
“The other thing that’s been bothering me is something we can all agree on.”
“What’s that,” Conner asked.
Katie answered the question for him.
“I think I know,” she said, “it’s the Earthquakes. I mean if we really were hit by that meteor, shouldn’t we all be dead by now? What I mean is, when I was outside last night, I didn’t see any falling, but I did feel the earth shaking, it felt like an earthquake too, a big one, but that couldn’t have been the Yellowstone one, that’s, what, a few thousand miles away anyway, we wouldn’t have felt it like that, would we? And still have aftershocks?”
She stopped and drew a deep breath inward and then continued.
“The television said that the meteor was sighted inbound, and I could have sworn that, for just a few seconds, there seemed to be a huge glow from the west in the sky. I remember thinking it was where it landed, but when I looked again it was gone. If it was though, why are we still alive?”
“That wasn’t my exact concern,” Bob said, “but it runs along the same lines. I felt the shaking too, and it felt more like a heavy thuds the first couple of times I felt it, something close… Not far away.”
“…I’ll tell you what though, I was talking to Jasper Collins, he fishes Lake Ontario for a living, you know, and he was just docking when it started. He had a pretty good view from there, out across the lake, I mean, and he said he could clearly see a white streak running across the western edge of the sky. He said he was expecting to see a mushroom cloud or something, but the sky glowed for a split-second or two, then the glow just disappeared. But a man’s line of sight is only about 3 miles or so. After that the curve of the Earth drops off. So you are looking at something fairly close, or further away but high up in the air.”
“He also felt the ground shaking after the hit,” Bob continued. “But that’s not hard to explain. You may not know this, but there is a fault line that runs all across the Great Lakes basin. Ontario included. The fault line runs all the way across the continent to the gulf coast. Could be that the impact did trigger some sort of earthquake. My point though, is that if that meteor did hit in the west, close enough for Jasper to see, we should be dead.”
“Conner was telling me about the fault,” Katie said.
“What else did he say?” Conner asked.
Katie nodded her head slightly as if to voice the question herself.
“Well, like I said, he had just brought the boat into the dock and tied it off. That ain’t a little boat, I’ve seen it, forty five footer, and the water where he ties it off is damn deep too. Well,” he continued. “He tied it off, and he’s standing there and the waves are starting to really build so he hot foots it off the dock. Just as he gets off the whole damn thing just sinks. It took his boat and a couple others with it too. That ain’t the end though. As he’s standing there, this is the weird part, the lake just drops about five feet, real fast. He knows that lake, and it could be, if that fault line opened up, it could have dropped. If so I’ll bet we have one hell of a new river running from here down to the Gulf a Mexico, or at least one hell of a lot of damage.”
“Jesus,” Conner whistled softly.
“I don’t know… Food for thought though,” Bob concluded, and leaned back into the bench.
Conner recalled the dream of the night before and quickly related it to Katie and Bob. When he finished, Bob turned to Katie.
“Did you see anything? Maybe dream about anything?”
“No,” she replied, “nothing at all, except for what I told you. But I was up all night after it happened”
“I haven’t had any myself,” Bob said quietly, “Of course; I was awake all night too in the woods.”
All three sat back into the bench and stared out over the square, lost in thought.
“So what does it all mean?” Conner asked to no one in particular, as he continued to stare at the lake.
“I wish the hell I knew,” Katie said, as she turned her gaze away from the Square and back to the two men on the bench beside her.
Besides a few guy’s from the mill that he would have an occasional drink with, or maybe shoot a game of pool with, Conner was pretty much a loner, and so he had never married. It was not something he had chosen to be, it was just the way the world was. You really couldn’t trust people, he thought, you could never really know what they were like. It was a thing that had bothered him for as long as he could remember.
He had known men who seemed to be perfect fathers and husbands, but when they were at the bar, and the kids were home with the wife, they were completely different. It was something he had always hated, and something he had constantly fought with whenever he had noticed the same sort of inconsistencies in himself. It was a battle though that he had always won, and would continue to fight. It was one of the main things that had decided him against religion when he was a kid, that and his father.
His father had been a strict Catholic, and had fought with Conner’s mother to get her to agree to let him take Conner to attend the local Catholic Church. Conner had hated it. His father, who was normally drunken, or at least drinking, would sit calmly through mass with all his other drinking buddies every Sunday, then when he got home it was, “Bring me a fucking cold one, woman.”
He had actually been glad when his father had died, he had never said it aloud, but nevertheless he had been. He had only wished he had died a lot sooner so that his mother could have had more than the one year she had lived past him, to enjoy life. He pulled his mind reluctantly back to the conversation, when he heard Bob speak his name.
“Sorry,” he said. “I was just thinking.”
“That’s okay,” Bob smiled, “we all are.”
Bob continued. “What I think is that the world has changed… That simple. We just need to get on with this different life. I know that’s over simplistic, but it beats staying around here waiting for the mother ship to show up. What I was wondering is what you’re going to do. Hell, what all of us are going to do now?” He paused as most of the silent crowd that had gravitated to them turned their eyes towards him.
“Maybe it’s time to sacrifice an animal… Pray,” an older woman in the crowd said.
When no one else answered Bob continued. “I don’t think, or maybe I’m just not convinced,” he offered the woman who had just been speaking a small smile, and then continued, “That praying, or a sacrifice, will do us much good. Maybe what we should be doing is trying to figure out what we should be doing. Catch my drift? We can’t just stay here and wait for someone to come, it ain’t going to happen, and I think we can all agree on that.” He looked around at the faces that surrounded him, and stopped at Conner’s.
“Did any of you notice the temperature?” Bob asked.
Several people looked expectantly to one corner of the Public Square, where the Watertown Trust Bank had sat with its digital clock, which alternately flashed the time and temperature. They turned quickly back when they realized it was no longer there.
Many of them had noticed the difference in temperature though. Northern New York, even in the summer months, rarely reached the high seventies, low eighties, on the hottest days. The air around them now was much hotter and humid.
They looked back at Bob.
“Katie and I noticed it this morning,” Conner said.
“I picked this up when I went in Samson’s Five and Dime earlier,” Bob said, holding up a small plastic thermometer. The red line on the thermometer hovered just short of one hundred degrees.
As he looked at the thermometer, Conner recalled how warm it had seemed this morning. When he had first opened the front door he had felt it, but then forgotten it as he had gazed out into the street. As he looked around now he noticed that several people in the small crowd were sweating profusely. In fact, he realized, he was sweating a great deal himself.
“Anyway, my point is this,” Bob said as he began to speak again, “there may be something to that earthquake theory some of you have been kicking around. It could be that the fault line may have been triggered,” Bob was saying. “If it was, we really ought to be thinking about finding a safer place to be. I remember reading about that fault line, and it seems to me the book I read, said that if the fault were somehow triggered, it could, and probably would, crack the entire Great Lakes Basin. That means that Ontario, along with all the other lakes in the chain, probably would drop. At least a small amount at first, but after they recover from the initial drop, they’re probably going to rise… They’re probably going to rise, a lot. I don’t know what most of you know about this city, but I’ll tell you what I know. Got it from the same book,” he paused. “…It’s built on pretty low ground. Now… that river,” he said indicating the bridge that spanned the Black on the opposite side of the Public Square, “has surely been rising.”
With that the discussion went back to where they should go, and what they should do once they got there.
“You’re right,” Conner said at last, “We do need to make some decisions,” he paused for a moment and then continued. “When was the last time anyone here ate? I know that sounds a little stupid at a time like this, but if we’re going anywhere we should also think about food, and in this heat dehydration could become a factor as well, couldn’t it, Bob?” he finished, looking toward him.
“I should have thought of that myself,” Bob said, “how many of us are there?”
Katie quickly counted heads and replied. “Twenty seven, Bob.”
Bob nodded his head. “Okay… Let’s do this. We do have to eat, so let’s head up Maple Street to Jacobs Superette, get something to eat, and finish this discussion there.”
Everyone agreed, and the small group left the public square and walked the three blocks to Jacob’s Superette in a light rain that had begun to fall.
Conner, Katie, Bob and several others were standing by the rear doors that led to the stockroom in Jacob’s Superette.
They had been discussing where they should go. A few others from the small group, were there with them.
Conner looked around at them as the conversation went back and forth. They seemed solid enough. Terry Jacobs who had worked for Bob, Patty Johnson who was married to a GI from the base who was now stationed overseas, and Ronnie Vincent, a carpenter working on one of the many housing developments in the area. There were others but many of those others that had followed them to Jacobs Superette did not really seem to be doing anything other than following. The ones that had gathered at the back of the store seemed to be on the same page, leaving Watertown.
Ed Weston and Dave Jackson had joined the small group earlier. Ed had worked for Bob at the gravel pit for over ten years. He was tall with dirty-blonde hair and a slim muscular build, and Conner liked him. He’d grown up right here in Watertown on Fig Street, down by Jackson’s Lumber. A piss poor family, but Ed himself was a damn good man. He seemed a little rattled today, but weren’t they all? He was a hard worker and would be an asset to the group if he chose to come along.
Bob and Katie both knew Dave. He owned one of the local lumber mills: A small family mill. He had also driven truck for Bob once or twice when things were slow. Conner had never met him, but he had seen him around: Watertown was a small city. Neither of the men had voiced their opinions, but had been standing quietly as the other three had talked. Dave was younger than Ed, but just as tall, and his dark black hair was tied in a small ponytail that hung down his back.
The conversation at the market never really got going. The crowd that followed had spread out into the store, taking what they wanted to eat and then split up into smaller groups, discussing their own plans. A few had congregated near the beer coolers. That discussion was sometimes heated, and more than once Conner had caught some nasty looks directed at them from that crowd.
“I guess not everyone is on the same page,” Conner said now.
“It was a good idea,” Bob said now. “You can’t make people see a good idea. Look at cigarettes. People knew for years what they were doing to them and they still smoked. Some of these people haven’t hit the wall yet. They still believe the system will save them.”
“Yeah, except there is no system,” Ronnie said.
“Listen,” Conner started. He paused until they were all looking at him, not sure if he really wanted to proceed. “Might sound stupid,” he said after a few moments of silence.
“I don’t think anything would sound stupid right now… We’re trying to figure this out,” Katie said.
Conner frowned. “Okay.” He frowned deeply, and then nodded decisively. “So it’s this. I was leaving this morning for the Southern Tier. I’m thinking, the truck is all packed, what are we,” he paused and counted heads, “Eight? I have enough food packed to keep us all fed for a few days… We could head out to the Tug Hill Plateau. Close by. We could pick up some stuff here to take with us too…” He paused again, but no one spoke. “I say let’s get another truck or two and get away from the city for a few days. Maybe the Tug Hill Plateau wouldn’t be a bad place to be right now. Let things calm down, especially the hot heads.” He paused, his face grim. “We can come back in a few days… Maybe the Guard will be here by then, maybe not, but it would give us a few days to think this out if it… Well, if it really is as bad as it seems to be.” He looked from face to face as he stopped speaking.
“Smart,” Ronnie said.
“Probably for the best,” Bob agreed. He had all been listening to the nearby conversations, some loud and argumentative, and the beer cooler was emptying quickly: That certainly wasn’t going to help the problem.
“Yeah… These guys seem bent on getting drunk and figuring it all out,” Patty said.
“I’ve seen that sort of thinking before,” Katie agreed. “I vote go.”
“I’m on that,” Ronnie agreed.
Dave Jackson and Ed Weston agreed.
“I make that all eight?” Conner asked.
“Only, let’s get some trucks and get what we need here before we go. This place is going to get picked over fast,” Katie said.
“Who do you want to go with you?” Conner asked.
“I’m open,” Katie replied.
“I’ll go,” Patty said.
“Me too,” Ronnie added.
“That’s enough… I guess we’ll get stuff ready here… Wait on you,” Conner said. He held Katie’s eyes until she nodded. A second later she and the others left and the rest of them began to put together some bags of supplies.
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Earth’s Survivors Apocalypse follows survivors of a worldwide catastrophe. A meteorite that was supposed to miss the earth completely, hits and becomes the cap to a series of events that destroy the world as we know it. Police, fire, politicians, military, governments: All gone. Hopes, dreams, tomorrows: All buried in a desperate struggle to survive. From L.A. To Manhattan the cities, governments have toppled and lawlessness is the rule. The dead lay in the streets while gangs fight for control of what is left. Small groups band together for safety and begin to leave the ravaged cities behind in search of a future that can once again hold promise… … It was the most tired I had ever been. I laid my head down and I was gone for a little while… The sun is down all the way here. I went back upstairs. Nothing on the horizon. That time of evening when the sun is down and the moon has yet to rise. Very dark. Can’t see anything in any direction. Thought they must be all sleeping in the barn, but I heard some movements out near where I… Never mind what I did there, I’ll get to that soon enough, I guess. I only heard it once, but I know damn well it’s one of them… Some of them… I don’t believe the whiskey is going to make it to daylight, but I have a feeling I’m not going to make it to daylight either… Feeling funny now, not myself… I’ll try to get this done… It was the 15th when I came awake in that truck. Hot, but desert heat… September 15th It was late afternoon when Johnny awoke. Somewhere in the day Lana had wound up beside him. He lay still, unwilling to let her go, his hand was curled protectively around her. Lana moved and he felt the sleep leave her body. One moment soft and willing, the next a live wire. “You didn’t cop a feel did you?” Lana asked in a mumbled half sleepy voice. “Lana, can’t you ever just say something like, good morning?” She twisted her head around and smiled. The secret smile she rarely ever gave out. “Good late afternoon,” she said and the smile slipped away. There was still something there, but it wasn’t that secret, vulnerable glimpse into her heart that it was usually. She stretched, yawned, and her feet came up against the door. “Next vehicle we get is an SUV so we have some place to sleep too.” “I don’t know, I kind of liked this,” Johnny said before he could shut his mouth down. Lana laughed and it was the unguarded Lana once more. “As long as you know what the deal is.” She twisted her head once more, and then her entire body so she was looking directly into his eyes. “I… I know the deal,” Johnny said. The press of her body was maddening. “We really don’t need to talk it out?” Johnny shook his head and looked away. “I’m a little too old for you, Lana. I know.” Her eyes became sad. “Let me just say these few things.” She took a deep breath and then began to speak. “I am attracted to you. I considered sleeping with you before you became my friend, before I knew it couldn’t work between us. I even considered it after… Maybe ten minutes ago too, but it would cost me a friend because it wouldn’t mean to me what it would mean to you. It has nothing to do with age or anything else.” She held his eyes as if willing him to understand. “It’s like you see me as this fragile little princess, and I am so far from that, Johnny. So far. I can’t see why you try to see me that way.” She laughed. “It’s a thing men do. Like… Like that is love, you see? Instead of love just being about all the other stuff… The things I admire about you, you about me. The things in common, the things that we share, the parts of you and me that are real that end up in the mix… But no, I’m a princess, unattainable beauty, something to worship, and it has nothing to do with what I really am at all. I have lived that way, tried to live up to that. It’s not possible… The man I need is out there, I hope. Just someone that looks at me as me.” She watched his eyes…
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As Conner walked, he looked over the houses he passed. Most were partly, and some were completely destroyed. He felt as though he were in a bad dream. He knew he wasn’t though, as he had closed his eyes to blink away the sights several times to no avail. He had also pinched his left cheek until his eye had begun to water. No good. It was still there. He had done acid once, but only once, back in the seventies, and he had heard about flashbacks, and this could maybe be one, and he had been drinking pretty damn heavily yesterday, and… He spotted a young woman sitting on the curb three houses down and walked up to her. She tilted her tear streaked and puffy face up to him as he approached. “Is this a dream?” he asked when he stopped. “No, it’s no dream,” she replied as she slowly shook her head. “Where have you been since last night? Didn’t you hear the noise? Didn’t you feel it?” Conner recalled the noise that had awakened him during the night. The noise he had thought was only an extension of the strange dream. “Well, I thought it was a dream, you know, but I did hear a storm, or something, but I didn’t think it was a big deal… you know, they can get loud sometimes, but… What happened?” “Yellowstone blew up,” she said simply. “Didn’t you see the TV?” Conner shook his head. “Well,” the young woman continued, “anyhow that’s what happened. They cut into the TV last night; I was watching… you know, and they cut in and said that the Yellowstone caldera was going to fracture because of how close the meteor came. I came outside to see, and, well there was nothing to see at first., and then the ground started shaking, so I ran to get back inside. But the whole bottom floor of the building was gone.” She shrugged.
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The Deal… The man moved more fully into the shadows. “You Gabe?” he asked in a near whisper. The darker shadow nodded. “You…?” He started. “Now who else would I be?” He asked. The darker shadow said nothing. The other man passed him a small paper bag. “Count it,” he told him. Gabe Kohlson moved out of the shadow, more fully into the light. “It’s a lot; I can’t stand here, out here counting it.” The man laughed. “You asked for this place. It’s the middle of nowhere. I Googled it, it comes up marked as the middle of nowhere. Who will see you?” He laughed and then choked it off with a harsh cough. “Count it. No mistakes… You got it?” Kohlson’s head popped up fast from counting. “Of course I don’t… That wasn’t the deal.” “Easy… Easy… Keep your panties on… I’m saying you got it… You got access to the it?” “That I got… I can get it out this Thursday at shift end…” He held up the paper bag. “A lot of this goes to greasing the skids… You know, to get it out,” Gabe told him. “This stuff.” “Whoa right there,” the man told him. “Don’t say anything about it. I don’t know what it is and I don’t want to know, see? I do a job. Take this thing there, that thing here. That’s all I know. Keeps my head on my shoulders when all about are losing theirs.” “Uh… Lost me,” Gabe Kohlson told him. “Just shut up about it, man. I don’t want to know anything past what I know, okay?” “Okay,” Kohlson agreed. “I do know you got to get it out and I will be here to get it… Hey,” he waited until the kid looked up. “You know who I work for, right? You muck this up you’ll wind up out at the county landfill… Gulls pecking out your eyes let me tell you. I will meet you here next Thursday night… Seven… Don’t be late… Don’t mess this up… Don’t make me come looking for you…” He faded back into the shadows more fully, turned and walked down the shadowed front of the building. A few minutes later he found his car in the darkness: He waited. He heard the kid’s beater when it started. A few moments later he watched as it swept past him, heading out of the small park area toward the river road. He levered the handle on his own car, slipped inside, started it and drove slowly away…
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The planet Earth is about to experience an extinction event. Most of the world will be gone when it is finished, but some will survive. Candace and Mike are two of those survivors. They find each other and gather more survivors to them as they begin searching for a safe place to begin again. A place that can thrive amid all of the destruction. Follow along in this epic tale as they make their way through a devastated world and face danger at nearly every turn. Death, more destruction, gangs, the dead and the lack of any government or help that might come their way, teach them that they must depend on only each other and the small group they are bringing together under the flag of a new nation. Not all will make it to see that new nation and it may not be everything they wished it to be, but they are determined to create it from the ruins of society and make it work.
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Beth comes from Los Angeles in the first days of the Apocalypse and makes her way across the country to the east coast and then finds herself backtracking across the states to the middle of the country and the Nation which is growing in the former state of Kentucky. Before the apocalypse she is beginning to pull herself back up from the gutter of life, learning to live again, trust and believe. The apocalypse almost crushes that hope she had begun to grow, but she must fight past that, refuse to believe the end has really come. She travels across the country with Billy, facing both the living and the dead as she makes her way from one coast to the other. The trip is long and she is holding out hope of structure, life, safety on the east coast: Hopes that may not be realized. The dead seem to have it in for her and twice she is attacked by them as she makes her journey. It is only her own resolve and courage that will help her to overcome those attacks if she can and make her way to the Nation and the safety she has been searching for…
The Story of Bear. Bear is the man who made his way out of New York amidst the death and destruction of the apocalypse and fought his way across the country, finally ending up a member of the Nation, and the Leader of the first OutRunner team. This book follows Bear from Manhattan to the Nation as he makes his way across the country and meets the people who will become members of the OutRunners, lifelong friends and the woman who will become the love of his life. Bear will become the leader of the Outrunners just as Mike is the current leader of the Nation. Bear, Beth, Billy and Pearl are the heart of the team. We don’t know much about Bear, he is a closed man. He is loyal. He is a loner and prefers to be. Learn more about him here as he emerges from the death of the city and finds his way back to life. This book begins at the beginning of the apocalypse and works through the first few months as Bear makes his way from Manhattan to New Jersey, Pennsylvania and then through the middle states and finally Kentucky where he meets Mike Collins and becomes a member of the fledgling Nation, founded by a group of survivors who believe they have found the perfect place to begin to rebuild society. Bear hopes to find a permanent home with them.
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When a catastrophic natural disaster looms on the near horizon, the government releases an airborne virus designed to make the human race tougher, better able to survive. It was developed for soldiers to make them better able to fight, go longer without food and water, and increase their strength. The bonds itself to human cells and helps them to regenerate at an advanced rate, so that even if the person dies they can rise again. In non combat field tests the soldiers become aware of this, they called the phenomenon Overclocking and looked at it in a positive light. How could you look negatively at being able to live forever? A quick shot of the antidote after the heart had begun to beat again and the virus seemed to slip into remission, leaving a healed body that would then come out of the virus induced coma in a few days on its own. But the virus does something the governments didn’t consider, it never stops working, never truly becomes dormant. Even after the body has ceased any real life, the virus lives on, rebuilding its host in a new and potentially indestructible way. Days later, what was dead becomes alive once more. Jack: It was on a Tuesday. I went to get the mail and there were six or seven dead crows by the box. I thought those goddamn Clark boys have been shooting their B.B guns again! So I resolved to call old man Clark and give him a piece of my mind, except I forgot. That happens to all of us: It’s not unusual. I remembered about four o’clock the next morning when I got up. Well, I told myself, Mail comes at ten, I’ll get that, and then I’ll call up and have that talk. I make deals like that with myself all the time. Sometimes it works out fine sometimes it doesn’t. It didn’t. Ten came and I forgot to get the mail. I remembered at eleven thirty, cursed myself and went for my walk to the box. I live alone. I have since Jane died. That was another hot summer when she went. I used to farm back then. I retired early a few years back. I rent out the fields. Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. I walked to the mail box cursing myself as I went. When I got there I realized the Clark boys had either turned to eating crows or they had nothing to do with the dead crows in the first place. There were dozens of dead crows, barn swallows, gulls. The dirt road leading up to my place was scattered with dead birds; dark sand where the blood had seeped in. Feathers everywhere, caught in the trees, bushes and the ditches at the side of the road. There were three fat, black crows sticking out of my mailbox: Feet first; half ate. Some noise in the woods had made me turn, but I didn’t turn fast enough. Whatever had made the noise was gone once I got turned in that direction, but there were bare footprints in the dry roadbed next to the box. They were not clear, draggy, as though the person had, had a bad leg. He had of course, but I had yet to meet the owner. I had seen him almost a week later. I was sitting by the stove that night and heard a scrape on the porch. His leg was bad. Somebody had shot him, but this fella had worse things going on than that. He was dead. What was a bum leg when you were dead? Small problem, but it made him drag that leg. I’m getting ahead of myself again though. I picked up my old shot gun where it sat next to the door, eased the door open and flicked on the porch light. He jumped back into the shadows. “Step out into the light,” I tried not to sound as afraid as I was. “No,” he rasped “Step out here or I’ll shoot,” I tried again. Nothing but silence, and in that silence I got a bad feeling. Something was wrong. It came to me about the same time that he stepped into the light. There was no sound of breathing. It was dead quiet, that was what my panicked mind was trying to tell me. My own panicked breathing was the only sound until he stepped into the light dragging his leg. My heart staggered and nearly stopped…
The year is 1969: In the small city of Glennville people tend to stay to themselves. Neighbors matter. The streets, even in the poorest of neighborhoods are safe for children to travel on their own: Play kick the can after dark. But the city has its secrets, and those secrets have their dangers.
Under the city, a series of caves cut from the limestone by the Black River attract visitors, children, some have entered and never come out; maybe lost, maybe part of Glennville’s secrets.
Something else lives in the cold, dark caves. Something some have suspected but refuse to believe. After all, it’s 1969. Things are rational, safe.
Kyle Stevens in the Sheriff of Jefferson County, his office is in Glennville, since Glennville is the seat of Jefferson County. He likes his job. He likes the city. He came from Manhattan where crime was much worse; here he might have a serious case once every few months. Sure, even small places like Glennville have their share of run-aways, bar fights, mysteries, but in the summer of 1969 the body of a young woman is found dead in a weed choked field, and Kyle’s world changes forever…more
Once we had liberated a truck, it had still been slow going until we reached El Segundo Boulevard. The stalled traffic had been much lighter there, and we had been able to drive part of the way by cutting into the parking lots of fast food restaurants, that dotted almost the entire length of the highway. We had followed that to Willmington, and picked up another truck that had seen better days. Getting that truck had not been a problem; there were several used car lots along the road. We had used the parking lots to swing around the worst of the traffic, and that had worked well until we had intersected Compton Boulevard. It was hopelessly packed with stalled traffic. We had left the truck, which had sounded as if it was close to dying anyway, and struck out on foot again. Lana led the way as we cut cross lots through Compton Woodley Airport.
Crossing the dead airfield had been unnerving for both of us. The runways had cracked, and either lifted skyward, or tilted down into the ground. Blackened skeletons of large aircraft dotted the airfield. Most of them were so badly burned that we had been unable to tell what they had been before. I thought a couple of them may have been military aircraft, but as badly twisted as they were it was impossible to be sure.
Luggage, some burned, some untouched, was scattered across the airfield in every direction, and many of the suitcases were burst, with papers and clothing scattered everywhere along with other personal effects. There were bodies there too…
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What am I offering: I am offering either live or ready made manuscripts, blog posts, short stories that you can use as your own. I sell only my own work.
Live writing, what does it mean?
By live writing I mean projects you pay me to write from scratch. A blog post, a short story, an instructional manual or a full blown novel. This way you get exactly what you want. I write the piece you need, you approve it, pay off the balance (There is a fee for the hours I put into producing it for you, and a percentage of that is up front, non refundable, unless I fail to produce the product you ask for. That percentage also is deducted from the final fee.)
What kind of a finished manuscript are you getting: You are getting a completely written story, start to finish. You are not getting an edited manuscript when I am live writing. Yes, I will do a light edit to remove spelling and grammar issues of a very low priority. So there will still be light errors in the manuscript. I leave it that way because getting into editing is very time consuming. First: Editing substantially changes the style and even the story line. If that is going to happen it should be you doing that editing so that your imprint/style is on the written material, not my own style superimposed on the manuscript. If you write, you understand that. Doing those edits yourself makes the manuscript your own, imposes your style upon it.
Ready-made Manuscripts: These are anything from Blog-Posts to Short Stories to written manuscripts, to stock series, written, published, but UN-advertised. I publish my work because we are in an age where it can easily be stolen. It’s that simple. Anything I offer with an actual name (Book name or series name) has been published at some time to retain my copyright. Some has been published online, some in traditional manner yet unpublished as far as advertising it or circulating it. And some handwritten within a dateline. In any case, I can absolutely prove ownership of anything you purchase from me.
Prices: Time really is money, but I am semi retired and so my time is not as expensive as you might think. I can give you 5 days a week, 8 to 12 hours of writing a day. So, between 40 – 60 hours at $18.00 per hour. I’ll give you a total for what you want, if it is stock, as I know already what I have in it, or I can bill you for hours, after a deposit has been made.
Blogs: I have written hundreds of blog posts. Some I have used, others I have sold and adjusted to the buyers needs. I also have many mainstream/published and selling books that I have and can split into blog posts. Typically I like to remain between 1200 to 4000 words on books split into blog posts. It leaves you many, many posts from one book. Available: Space Scifi, Horror, apocalyptic, Zombies, How to write, How to build a guitar, self help, addiction, prison life, fiction articles and non fiction, fantasy, more.
Short Stories: I have a few dozen short stories I can offer you. Western, Space Scifi, Horror, Fantasy ghost, many, many more, ask or give me an idea of what you need.
Manuscripts: Crime, Zombie, Survival after a catastrophe, Guitar builds, Addiction (Based on true life; the names will be altered.), Ask for others. Approximately 60 manuscripts ready.
Series: I have written and published several series under pen names. I have also protected myself with these series by originally publishing them as I wrote them in my own name, and then simply UN-publishing that result.
America the Dead:
So, there are ten series books, and then five collections, so 15 manuscripts total. There are covers pre-made and two pen names involved. Although I did not intend to actually sell copies, I have. The name, the story line does that without trying hard. The Pen names Are W. G. Sweet and Dell Sweet. You can keep them or change to your own.
I also own the domain name www.americathedead.com (There is no SSL certificate as the domain is unused.), and it can come with the purchase if you want it, or you can purchase the series without the domain name.
Three books published, and ready. There are other books in this series, all UN-published that will also be included.
That makes 8 series books total, 5 collections plus a box set 14 manuscripts total, and a few collections of scenes that were edited out, or pieces I worked on but did not finish.
There is also written material, enough to turn into several more digital books. It is hand written, and can be included or not. I also do own the domain www.theearthssurvivors.com you can have that included with your purchase, or not. 1 Pen name that can be purchased with it, or left out.
As well there is a podcast based on the series that is in its second season (52 podcasts published as of this writing, and raw material to publish for several more seasons.) The Nation Chronicles. Check it out at: https://anchor.fm/wendell-sweet and a domain www.thenationchronicles.com There are also three Nation Chronicles books written.
The Pen Name Wendell Sweet is available, and the domain name www.wendellsweet.com is available. Unfortunately this material can not be split up as it is based on the same story line. So a sale would include all the Earth’s Survivors series, the Special editions, The Life Stories additions, The Nation Chronicles, Graphics, Covers, The Nation Chronicles Podcast and the three domains.
The Zombie Plagues:
7 Manuscripts in DOC or ODT. PDF, ePub, Mobi; all graphics, book covers.
I own the domain www.thezombieplagues.com which can be purchased with the series or not. The pen name is associated with another couple of series. If it is purchased with another series will no longer be available; and of course you can delete the covers, or pen name, and use your own material.
This series has manuscripts, images (Lo quality, and some hi quality) it was published to retain ownership/copyright, and unfortunately did sell some copies without advertising. This resulted in bad reviews because the editing was not done and the PDF format was not set well.
There is a backup directory with some hi quality original images and some projects that were not turned into books that could be. There are 11 manuscripts. None have been edited. All have covers. The Pen name is the Geo Dell Pen name that could be retained. I own the domain name www.geodell.com (Comes up with a security risk as there is no SSL certificate) which can be purchased with it.
I have various names/covers formatted. There are two books, many cover designs. The Dell Sweet pen name was used for this series. I do own the dell sweet domain, www.dellsweet.com you can purchase with it or not. I have used that Pen Name for other series, so first come first served, I will simply reformat the remaining series in another pen name.
2 books and a 3rd book written and not edited. Covers, graphics, manuscripts for all three books, PDF and ePub, Mobi if you need it. The James Whyte pen name is available. No domain.
There are three short novels; Short Stories, Dello Green and Sanger Road. The manuscripts have been lightly edited. The are also ePub, Mobie, ODT and DOC versions. The covers, graphics and manuscripts are included. The Pen name is W W Watson and is included. There are no associated domains.
There are seven manuscripts written, short to long. All are unedited, story-lines are complete. The individual books are loosely connected and feature the fictitious town of Glennville. They range from horror, fantasy, to apocalyptic fiction, two short manuscripts are young teen based. The Dell Sweet pen name is used, and the www.DellSweet.com domain as well as the www.theGlennvillebooks.com .
Dreamers has been published in different formats, as two novels, or as a single novel under different titles. All manuscripts, ePub, PDF, MOBI, ODT, DOC and all covers, names are included. No domain included, but the Pen Name W. G. Sweet can be included, although it is also attached to other series and may not be available for purchase if it was purchased by another buyer: If it is sold I will provide covers with a different pen name.
And there is more:
My current directory with dozens and dozens of projects, some finished, some not, and series, etc.
Blogs, very many blogs. Some edited, some not.
Videos for nearly every book or series, including YouTube published material for series: Guitar builds, short stories, more.
If you need phone or messenger conversations, I will comply with interested purchasers. Whatever you buy will be zipped up on my hard drive and sent to your eMail you provide to me. I won’t do Drop Box, I have been used with that process more than once. After payment I will zip the folder or folders, destroy the remains on my drive and UN-publish any of the individual books and or series you buy. In the case of live writing I will require a 10% deposit of an agreed upon price. If you fail to pay the balance the work I created becomes solely mine. Deposits are not refundable. Multiple purchases are welcomed, individual series books can not be broken down and offered separately.
Editors note: This website makes no claim to the ownership of public information or dissemination of that information to the public. This information purports to be released public information pertaining to alien visitations. This website does not uphold the veracity of this material or make any claims to the opinions stated herein. This was posted verbatim, Geo Dell
RELEASE 27a – Reagan Briefing
Transcript of classified tape recording made at Camp David, Maryland during a presidential briefing regarding the subject of UNIDENTIFIED FLYING OBJECTS and EXTRATERRESTRIAL VISITATION of EARTH. President RONALD REAGAN was present. The recording was made between March 6 and 8, 1981.
WILLIAM CASEY: Mr President, good morning. As we discussed in February, this briefing contains some very sensational and some very, very classified information. I am not sure, oh, well, I’m not going to make a decision on who you want in the room. That will be your decision, Mr President. This will be a real tough one to follow since the briefing starts back, historically speaking, that is, and runs up to recent times. I believe we have prepared a good chronological order of events. I’m sure you, Mr President, will have many questions.
The list of questions presented to me by ADVISER #2 should all be answered during this briefing. I hope they are, more than anyone, especially you, Mr President, leave this briefing with questions still unanswered. I have asked The Caretaker to conduct this briefing. He is a contract employee of the CIA and is the present custodian of the information. Are we to assume that everyone is present?
PRESIDENT: Well, it will be entirely up to you, Bill. I guess everyone must be cleared for this briefing of information, is that not correct?
WM CASEY: Well, it appears everyone is, but as you will see Mr President, this stuff is pretty high up on the food chain. We call it ATS or “Above Top Secret.” This stuff has its own classification and markings. We have a special container, special printers and copiers for this stuff. Every word of this material is printed on special paper then placed inside special covers. The caretakers have taken special efforts to protect all of this stuff from being released inadvertently or copied by some unauthorized person.
But all of this material is protected by a special group of people. The Caretaker is in charge of protecting this information and all of the other stuff associated with this information. I would prefer that you, Mr President, decide on who you want in this room. Remember, this material is a closely guarded secret. Although the gist of the story has been out there for many years, very little of the ACTUAL TRUTH has ever been released to the public. Oh, yes, well, by some of the renegades maybe, but many of them have been discredited.
PRESIDENT: OK, Bill, I guess we need ADVISER #1, you, ADVISER #3 and Caspar here. I think ADVISER #2 and Michael can leave.
ADVISER #2: Mr President, excuse me, but I would prefer to leave. I don’t wish to know this information. You know, plausible denial or something like that.
MICHAEL DEAVER: Mr President, whatever you wish, I’ll do. It would be an interesting subject, but do I really have a need to know? No, I don’t think so.
PRESIDENT: OK, I guess that is it.
WM CASEY: Thank you, Mr President. I will now turn the briefing over to The Caretaker.
ADVISER #3: Mr President, and Mr Director, I already had this briefing. I can stay or leave. Secretary Weinberger and myself received this a few weeks ago.
SECRETARY WEINBERGER: Mr President, as you know, we have some pending business regarding that Soviet problem in Berlin. I think we might just handle that. ADVISER #3 and I will let you close this meeting to just a few.
PRESIDENT: OK, Casp, I guess you and ADVISER #3 can leave. Thanks for coming.
WM CASEY: OK, Mr President, that certainly narrows the audience. I think this is just right.
PRESIDENT: OK, well, I can’t wait to hear this. Let’s proceed.
The CARETAKER: Good morning, Mr President. First of all, I would like to give you a bit of information on my background. But before that, please, Mr President, if you have questions during this briefing, just interrupt me, sir. I have been employed by the CIA for the past 31 years. I started the caretaking status of this project in 1960. We have a special group of people whom we call “Group 6,” that cares for all this information.
PRESIDENT: Good morning, I hope, well, I believe I will ask questions. Bill briefed me back in January, but I’m not sure … huh … well, was it detailed, no, I don’t think so … huh … OK, well I’m sure Bill didn’t tell me all ’cause we only had about one hour.
WM CASEY: Mr President, I only gave you a quick briefing for the NSDD (National Security Decision Directives) that we want to incorporate into the overall action directives about this subject. ADVISER #3, Caspar and I have details far beyond what I knew before January. The last administration wasn’t too keen on making all of this stuff accessible to us during the briefings in November and December.
PRESIDENT: Well, I knew a little about this subject before. Back in 1970. Nixon had all of the good stuff and wanted to share it with some of his friends. Nixon showed me some papers. Not sure about who authored them, but they … huh … well something about New Mexico and other places. Nixon was pretty … huh … well, you know, fascinated with it. He showed me something, some kind of object or device that came from one of their craft. Something that was taken from the New Mexico crash site. I don’t know if, well … huh … do we know what it was? I don’t think we knew or maybe now, after 11 years, we might know.
The CARETAKER: Mr President, I can answer some of those questions. Do you wish for me to begin?
PRESIDENT: Oh, well, what level is this? I mean, what was it called? I don’t remember what they called this.
WM CASEY: Mr President, codeword. It’s called Top Secret Codeword. This information is beyond Top Secret as I said before. It has its own classification. It is very compartmentalized.
PRESIDENT: Well, I guess just the minimum. Are we recording this?
The CARETAKER: Mr President, no, unless you wish.
WM CASEY: Yes, it is [CIA FEMALE TRANSCRIBER] who is doing that. I think we should. I don’t want to make any mistakes later about this. ADVISER #4 should also stay, since he is one of the caretakers of the information.
PRESIDENT: Well, I don’t want anyone leaking this stuff. Not knowing what we are about to discuss … huh … oh, well, Bill I guess it is your call. ADVISER #4 should stay. I guess he should … huh … oh, OK, well, you make the call, Bill.
WM CASEY: OK, I guess ADVISER #4 will stay. But I think [CIA FEMALE TRANSCRIBER] must stay. I’ll make that call.
PRESIDENT: OK, I guess we can do our business first, give me a few minutes. Let’s get some food first, or snacks. How long will … huh …. oh, about one hour?
The CARETAKER: Mr President, I estimate this will last about one hour, at least the first part of it. This is a very complicated subject to brief. I can do it, but maybe the questions will extend [beyond the first] the time period.
PRESIDENT: OK, I see. Let’s take a break and then reconvene.
The CARETAKER: OK, Mr President, are we ready?
PRESIDENT: Yes, we are, let’s go.
The CARETAKER: Mr President, as was mentioned earlier, I must say, that this briefing has the highest classification within the U.S. government. I will start with a slide presentation. I have most of this briefing on the slides, but I also have an outline that I have passed out to each [person] in attendance.
PRESIDENT: Oh, OK, so are we … can we follow it with the [outline] paper?
The CARETAKER: Yes, Mr President, you can follow the briefing with the outline in front of you.
PRESIDENT: Thank you.
The CARETAKER: The United States of America has been visited by Extraterrestrial Visitors since 1947. We have proof of that. However, we also have some proof that Earth has been visited for many THOUSANDS OF YEARS by various races of Extraterrestrial Visitors. Mr President, I’ll just refer to those visits as ETs. In July, 1947, a remarkable event occurred in New Mexico. During a storm, two ET spacecraft crashed. One crashed southwest of Corona, New Mexico and one crashed near Datil, New Mexico. The U.S. Army eventually found both sites and recovered all of the debris and one live Alien. I’ll refer to this live Alien as “EBE 1.” PRESIDENT: What does that mean? Do we have codes or a special terminology for this?
The CARETAKER: Mr President, EBE means “Extraterrestrial Biological Entity.” It was a code designated to this creature by the U.S. Army back in those days. This creature was not human and we had to decide on a term for it. So, scientists designated the creature as EBE 1. We also referred to it as “Noah.” There was different terminology used by various aspects of the U.S. military and intelligence community back then.
PRESIDENT: Do we or did we have others? The number “1” would seem to indicate we had others.
The CARETAKER: Yes, we had others. Back then, the term was EBE and no number designation. We’ll explain how the others came into our knowledge.
PRESIDENT: OK, sorry, I was just wondering and I guess, well, I’m sure the briefing will cover this. Please continue.
The CARETAKER: All the debris and EBEs recovered from the first crash site were taken to Roswell Army Air Field, Roswell, New Mexico. EBE was treated for some minor injuries and then taken to Los Alamos National Laboratories, which was the safest and most secure location in the world. Special accommodations were made for EBE. The debris was eventually transferred to Dayton, Ohio, home of the Air Force Foreign Technology Division. The second crash site wasn’t discovered until 1949 by some ranchers. There were no live Aliens at this site. All this debris went to Sandia Army Base in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
PRESIDENT: OK, a question, regarding the first site, how many aliens were in the spaceship?
The CARETAKER: Five (5) dead aliens and one (1) alive. The bodies of the dead aliens were transported to Wright Field in Ohio and kept in a form of deep freeze. They were later transported to Los Alamos where special containers were made to keep the bodies from decaying. There were four (4) dead aliens in the second crash site. Those bodies were in an advanced state of decaying. They had been in the desert for the past two (2) years. Animals and time got to those bodies. The remains were transported to Sandia Base and eventually onto Los Alamos. We determined both crashed spaceships were of similar design and the bodies of the aliens were all identical. They looked exactly the same. They had the same height, weight and physical features. Here are the photographs of the aliens.
PRESIDENT: Can we classify them? I mean can we … well, connect them with anything Earthly?
The CARETAKER: No, Mr President. They don’t have any similar characteristics of a human, with exception of there eyes, ears and a mouth. Their internal body organs are different. Their skin is different, their eyes, ears and even breathing is different. Their blood wasn’t red and their brain was entirely different from human. We could not classify any part of the Aliens with humans. They had blood and skin, although considerably different than human skin. Their eyes had two different eyelids. Probably because their home planet was very bright.
PRESIDENT: Maybe I’m getting ahead, but do we know where they came from? Mars, our system or where?
The CARETAKER: Yes, Mr President, we do know where they come from. I can go into this now, or I can wait until it comes up in the briefing.
PRESIDENT: No, no, please, continue. I can wait.
The CARETAKER: Thank you, Mr President. EBE stayed alive until 1952 when it died. We learned a great deal from EBE. Although EBE did not have voice organs like humans, it was able to communicate with an operation performed by military doctors. EBE was extremely intelligent. It learned English quickly, mainly by listening to the military personnel who were responsible for EBE’s safety and care.
EBE was housed in a special area at Los Alamos and Sandia Base. Although many different military doctors, scientists and a select number of civilians studied EBE, it never became upset or angry. EBE helped us learn from all the items found in the two crash sites. EBE showed us how some of the items worked, such as a communications device. It also showed us how various other devices worked.
PRESIDENT: Excuse me, but you are referring to this creature as an IT. Did it have a gender?
The CARETAKER: I’m sorry Mr President, but yes, it was male. Within EBE’s race they had males and females.
PRESIDENT: OK, thank you. Please continue.
The CARETAKER: Thank you, Mr President. EBE died of what military doctors considered natural causes. I don’t think we could really state exactly why EBE died. Although we had five (5) years to study EBE, we didn’t have any standards to compare EBE’s body with standard medical observations. It was difficult to lose EBE, since it was the most interesting thing we as humans could receive and study. A visitor from another planet … ANOTHER WORLD. EBE did explain where he lives in the universe. We call this star system Zeta Reticuli, which is about 40 light-years [38.42] from Earth. EBE’s planet was within this star system.
PRESIDENT: OK, where is this in comparison to something we all know?
The CARETAKER: Well, Mr President, our closet star is four light-years away. I can show you the constellation it is in.
[Alpha Centauri, a yellow star, is the brightest star in the constellation Centaurus, 4.3 light-years away]
PRESIDENT: No, I wouldn’t know much about astronomy. I just thought I could understand the distance. How long did it take this spaceship to get here?
The CARETAKER: Well, Mr President, I can tell you now or we can discuss that in another briefing. As Mr Casey said, this is a complicated subject because there are many levels of compartmentalization. This briefing is just the basic information about a visit to our planet by one particular alien race.
PRESIDENT: Well … huh … what, am I to understand … this isn’t a full briefing?
WM CASEY: Mr President, we have different levels of stuff. If we mix it up, I don’t think it will make sense, nor will we have time this morning. I understand you have a busy schedule today.
PRESIDENT: As the President of the United States, I should know EVERYTHING, right, or shouldn’t I? If I am to assume this was a briefing of substance, then I should hear ALL of it. I think this is more important than some other things on my daily calendar. But maybe I’m jumping the gun. If there are some things I shouldn’t know, please tell me.
WM CASEY: No, no, Mr President, I didn’t mean you shouldn’t know this stuff. I simply meant we should proceed in an orderly fashion as to the briefing. But it is up to you. We will not hold anything back.
PRESIDENT: ADVISER #1, what do you think? Do you know about all this?
ADVISER #1: Mr President, yes, I was briefed many times on this subject matter. As Director Casey stated, this is a very, very complicated subject. I think it took me about one year to be fully briefed into all aspects of this matter. There are different areas. The initial crash, an investigative period, some attempt at contact, A DISINFORMATION OPERATION to protect this matter and several other levels.
PRESIDENT: Oh, wow, I didn’t realize how complicated this was. I’m new at [all of] this. I have a great responsibility to the citizens of this nation to make decisions based on accurate information presented by my advisers … YOU, ALL of you. I won’t interfere in your presentation of this information. So, I guess, we’ll proceed in the order you have chosen. I’m sorry for interrupting in this presentation, but as a person who is interested beyond belief in this, I’ll just shut up and wait to ask questions.
WM CASEY: Mr President. No, no, please ask any questions you wish. You are the President. We are not here to argue with you over the order of this briefing. But some things are SO HIGHLY CLASSIFIED that THIS BRIEFING IS THE LOWEST LEVEL. If you ask a question that is in a different level, then we will have to re-evaluate the audience.
ADVISER #1: Mr President. Everything we know about Alien visitation to Earth is contained in 16 (sixteen) volumes of binders. These binders contain thousands of pages. We can give you anything you wish but, as Director Casey said, we must evaluate the clearances of each person listening to our responses.
PRESIDENT: OK, I now understand. Give me whatever you want and I’ll continue to ask questions. But if you need me to wait on an answer, just tell me.
WM CASEY: OK, Mr President we will do that. I still don’t know the entire story. I have read one tenth of one binder and have hundreds of questions.
PRESIDENT: OK, let’s continue.
The CARETAKER: Mr President, thank you for those responses. I will answer any question, if I can. But if the question is above this level, then Director Casey will have to make that decision for me.
PRESIDENT: I fully understand, please continue.
The CARETAKER: It took the EBE spaceship nine (9) of our months to travel the 40 [38.42] light-years. Now, as you can see, that would mean the EBE spaceship traveled faster than the speed of light. But, this is where it gets really technical. Their spaceships can travel through a form of “space tunnels” that gets them from point “A” to point “B” faster without having to travel at the speed of light. I cannot fully understand how they travel, but we have many top scientists who can understand their concept.
PRESIDENT: Well, I certainly couldn’t understand the science in that. Is it a black hole?
The CARETAKER: Mr President, something like that, but much more complicated.
PRESIDENT: Do they get here … no never mind, please continue. [unintelligible]
WM CASEY: Mr President, I can assure we know how they do it, but we can’t do it.
PRESIDENT: OK. (several speaking at once)
The CARETAKER: As to some history. The original project, started back in 1947, was called “Project GLEEM.” This project contained volumes of documented information collected from the beginning of our investigation of UFOs and Identified Alien Craft, or “IAC.” The project was originally established in the early ’50s by, first President Truman and then by order of President Eisenhower, under control of the National Security Council. President Truman established a group of people to handle this project. The group was called Majority 12 or “MJ-12.”
In 1966, the project’s name was changed to “Aquarius.” The project was funded by confidential [“black world”] funds appropriated within the intelligence community’s budget. The recovery of these alien spacecraft led the United States on an extensive investigative program to determine whether these aliens posed a direct threat to our National Security. As you might remember, Mr President, our country openly investigated UFO sightings under projects Grudge, Sign and finally Blue Book.
The original mission of the Air Force program was to collect and analyze all reported sightings and incidents involving UFOs and then determine whether the information could be interpreted as having any bearing on the national security of the United States. Some information was evaluated with the idea of using the gained data to advance our own space technology and future space programs.
About 90% of the estimated 12,000 reports analyzed by the Air Force under Blue Book were considered hoaxes, explained aerial phenomena or astronomical objects. The other 10% were considered legitimate alien sightings and/or incidents. However, not all UFO sightings or incidents were reported under the Air Force programs of Grudge, Sign and Blue Book.
In 1953, Project Gleem initiated its own investigative detail and certain sightings were reported directly under Gleem rather than one of the other projects. Project Gleem, which became “Project AQUARIUS” in 1966, was a parallel reporting system for UFO sightings and incidents.
Reports collected under Project Aquarius were considered actual sightings of alien spacecraft or actual contacts with alien life forms. We recovered two alien spacecraft from New Mexico. Both were heavily damaged, but we were able to examine them. The two craft were considered technological marvels by our scientists. However, the operating instrumentation was so advanced that our scientists could not decipher it. The two craft were stored in a special security location in the West. We gained a large volume of technological data from these craft.
Several independent scientific investigations, at the request of the Air Force and CIA were initiated during the era of “Project Blue Book.” MJ-12 decided that officially the Air Force should end their investigation of UFO sightings. This decision was arrived at during the NPNN meeting in 1966. The reason was two fold. First, the United States had established communications with the aliens.
PRESIDENT: Hold on, OK … well, Bill, no … never mind, please continue.
WM CASEY: Mr President, the communications project is of a higher level. I recommend we continue on this course and then switch to the next, if we have time.
PRESIDENT: OK, you’re steering the boat, Bill.
The CARETAKER: The United States felt relatively sure the aliens’ exploration of Earth was non-aggressive and non-hostile. It was also established that the aliens’ presence did not directly threaten the security of the United States. Secondly, the public was beginning to believe that UFOs were real. The NSC felt this public feeling could lead to a nationwide panic if we disclosed everything we knew about UFOs and alien visitation. We were involved in one major operation during this time frame that involved our alien visitors. That operation is of a higher level and it will be up to Director Casey to proceed now or wait until later.
WM CASEY: We’ll wait on that part of it. I haven’t been fully briefed and I would like to be able to know everything about that program before trying to brief the President.
ADVISER #1: I agree with Director Casey. That part of the program is really complicated and will require a full day to brief.
PRESIDENT: OK, as I said before, Bill’s the captain of this ship.
The CARETAKER: It was felt that public awareness of these projects would have jeopardized the future space program of the United States. Releasing our secrets about UFOs and alien visitation would also cause a PANIC AMONG RELIGIOUS LEADERS around the world. Therefore, MJ-12 decided that an independent scientific study of the UFO phenomena would be needed to satisfy the public curiosity.
The final official study of the UFO phenomena was accomplished by the University of Colorado under an air force contract. The study concluded that sufficient data did not exist that would indicate that UFOs threatened the security of the United States. The final conclusion satisfied the Government and allowed the Air Force to officially step out of the UFO investigating business.
When the Air Force officially closed “Blue Book” in December 1969, Project Aquarius continued operation under control of NSC/MJ-12. The NSC felt investigation of UFO sightings and incidents had to continue in secrecy without any public knowledge. The reasoning behind the decision was this: If the Air Force continued its investigation of UFOs, eventually some non-cleared and non-briefed Air Force or DOD civilian officials would obtain the facts behind Project Aquarius.
Obviously, for operational security reasons, this could not be allowed. In order to continue the investigation of UFO sightings and incidents in secrecy, investigators from CIA/DCE and MJ-12 were assigned to military investigative units with orders to investigate all legitimate UFO/IAC sightings and incidents. These agents are presently operating at various locations throughout the U.S. and Canada. All reports are filtered either directly or indirectly to MJ-12. These agents are collecting reports of UFO/IAC sightings and incidents occurring on or near sensitive governmental installations.
Many reported sightings and incidents have occurred over nuclear weapons bases. The aliens’ interest in our nuclear weapons can only be attributed to the future threat of a nuclear war on Earth that could affect space. The Air Force has initiated measures to assure the security of the nuclear weapons from alien theft or destruction. MJ-12 feels confident that the aliens are on an exploration of our solar system for peaceful purposes. However, we do have information and that is at another level, that more than one alien species are visiting Earth.
PRESIDENT: Well, that is a lot to digest. I have written down many questions. But let’s take a break and come back to this.
PRESIDENT: I think we can continue now.
The CARETAKER: Thank you, Mr President. I will continue. In the 1976 MJ-12 report, it was estimated that the aliens’ technology was many thousands of years ahead of ours. Our scientists speculated that until our technology develops to a level equal to the aliens, we cannot understand the large volume of scientific information we have gained from the aliens’ craft. This advancement of our technology may take many hundreds of years.
During our initial program to study the alien’s spaceship, we started many different projects. The first project, originally established in 1949, was to collect and evaluate medical information from the surviving alien creature — EBE 1 and the recovered alien bodies. This project medically examined EBE 1 and provided our medical researchers with many answers to the evolution theories.
The next project originally established as part of Project Gleem in 1954 became a separate project in 1966. Its mission was to establish communication with aliens. This project met with positive success and will be discussed later under a different level. Two other projects involved the test flying of an alien ship and the cross technology between our space program and the information we obtained from EBE 1.
WM CASEY: Now, Mr President, we can move on to questions or a different level. Which do you prefer?
PRESIDENT: Well, I have a lot of questions, so let me ask a few and then we can move on. I guess the first question I have is their life span. How old is EBE 1?
The CARETAKER: Mr President, the alien civilization that EBE came from [is what] we call the Eben Society. It wasn’t a name they gave us; it was a name we chose. Their life span is between 350-400 years, but that is Earth years.
PRESIDENT: Is time the same on their planet as on ours?
The CARETAKER: No, Mr President, time is very different on the Eben Planet, which, by the way, we call SERPO. Their day is approximately 40 hours. That is measured by the movement of their two (2) suns. The solar system containing SERPO is a binary star system, or two suns, rather than one, like our solar system.
PRESIDENT: Oh, well, your answer creates more questions. OK, as I understand it, their planet has two suns. Wouldn’t that mean the planet was hot? I guess that explains their eyes, having two eyelids.
The CARETAKER: Yes, Mr President. Their suns do not set, like ours. There is daylight during their entire day, with the exception of a short time period where both suns hit the horizon.
PRESIDENT: What is life like on Serpico?
The CARETAKER: Mr President, it is called SERPO, spelled S-E-R-P-O. I think that will have to be given in a different level of briefings. Mr Director….
WM CASEY: Yes, Mr President, I think we are getting way ahead of ourselves. We have all that information about the visitor’s planet, but we would have to present that information in a different briefing.
PRESIDENT: OK, all these levels. Something, I guess, I’ll have to … well, I’ll have to get used to it. Does all classified information have these different levels?
WM CASEY: It is similar to the SIOP briefing you were given in January. We have different levels of clearances and….
PRESIDENT: No, I understand all that, Bill. I fully understand the different levels of clearances. I mean, what about the Soviets? What about the spy operations we have in Russia, comparing the two, this alien information to that, are they on the same level?
WM CASEY: No, Mr President. This information would be considered at the very top, whereas our spying operation inside Russia would be considered at a parallel level, but not the same.
PRESIDENT: Like apples and oranges, OK, I see. I guess this is more that can be explained in one sitting. What about the travel from SERPO to Earth?
The CARETAKER: Well, Mr President, the distance from Earth to SERPO is about 40 light-years. They can travel that in about nine (9) of our months. I am no scientist, but as I mentioned earlier, they can travel that great distance by means of space tunnels. They seem to be able to bend the distance from one point in space to another. Just how they do this, must be explained scientifically.
PRESIDENT: OK, well, very interesting. Are the laws of physics on their planet the same as our planet?
The CARETAKER: Not exactly. There seem to be a little different laws, especially when it comes to the movement of their planet in relationship to their two suns. Our scientists don’t understand it because it defies some of our laws of physics.
PRESIDENT: Do they use nuclear power, or what type of power do they have in those ships?
The CARETAKER: Mr President, we understand very little about their propulsion system. There seem to be two different propulsion systems. One they use within our atmosphere and one they use once they exit our atmosphere. They do not have nuclear power. Their propulsion system does have some type of low level radiation emissions, but nothing that would endanger us. It isn’t like our radiation, but we call it radiation because we have nothing else to compare it with.
PRESIDENT: Have these aliens visited other places on earth?
The CARETAKER: Again, Mr President, that would be in a different level of discussion.
PRESIDENT: I’m getting tired of hearing that answer, but I understand.
WM CASEY: Mr President, the Soviet Union has had their contacts with these aliens. We have a great deal of intelligence that would indicate the Soviets had their “Roswell,” so to speak. What they know is about the same as we know. They had some bodies back in the late ’50s, but our intelligence would indicate the species of aliens were different.
PRESIDENT: OK, well, then Bill, that presents a very disturbing feeling for me. Are you telling me there are different races or species, as you said, visiting Earth at the same time?
WM CASEY: CARETAKER, take that question.
The CARETAKER: Yes, Mr President, but I hesitate to state the reason. We should have that discussion in a different meeting.
PRESIDENT: Just answer the simple question of how many different species, don’t go into details, since I’m sure it is at “a different level,” as I’ve been hearing ALL morning!
The CARETAKER: I am sorry Mr President if I upset you….
PRESIDENT: No, no, Caretaker, don’t feel that way. I am not upset. No, you are all of my advisers. As President, I must listen to YOU and take YOUR advice. I am NOT upset. I’m sorry for giving you that impression. Can you tell me how many different species have visited us?
The CARETAKER: Mr Director?
WM CASEY: Go ahead, Caretaker, answer the President’s question.
The CARETAKER: At least five (5).
PRESIDENT: Are they all friendly?
The CARETAKER: Mr Director?
WM CASEY: Adviser #1, would you like to step in here?
ADVISER #1: Mr President, that is a very difficult question to answer. There are many parameters that we follow to evaluate the threat. However, we have little intelligence on four (4) of the five (5). We have plenty of intel on the Ebens … gee … they’ve given us everything we asked for! They have also helped us to understand the other four (4) species. I’m afraid to say, Mr President and please don’t misunderstand my words, but we think ONE OF THE SPECIES IS VERY HOSTILE. WM CASEY: Mr President, do you wish for us to continue on this track or would you like something more private, as to the discussion of this topic?
PRESIDENT: For Christ sakes, I’m the President of the United States. I should know if we are endangered by some THREAT FROM OUTER SPACE. If you have something to say about a threat posed by this one species of aliens, then I WANT TO HEAR IT.
WM CASEY: Mr President, we have intelligence that would indicate this one (1) species of aliens have ABDUCTED PEOPLE FROM EARTH. They have performed scientific and medical tests on these humans. To the best of our knowledge, NO humans have been killed. But, as ADVISER #1 stated, the intelligence is from witnesses and we haven’t thoroughly evaluated this intelligence.
We have captured one of these hostile aliens. This gets into some very, very sensitive areas, Mr President. I strongly suggest we end this discussion and move on to any further questions you might have and then get back to this. I don’t think we are prepared to provide you with accurate answers to your questions about the potentially hostile aliens at this time.
PRESIDENT: OK, but expect this to be given to me as soon as possible. I want to KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT THESE HOSTILE CREATURES so I …. or I mean we should start forming policies on how to deal with them. Adviser #1, do we have OPERATIONAL WAR PLANS on this?
ADVISER #1: Yes, Mr President, we have war plans on ALL potential threats to our country.
PRESIDENT: Please, let us not forget the world. If these creatures attack some other country, we would have to help.
ADVISER #1: Mr President, we have absolutely NO evidence that this particular alien race has any plans to attack the United States of America or planet Earth.
PRESIDENT: I guess we really got off the original subject. But I want to know of any threats. DON’T HIDE ANYTHING FROM ME! Is that understood?
WM CASEY: Yes, Sir.
ADVISER #1: Yes, Sir, Mr President. We will NEVER hide any information about a potential threat to our country or the world. You receive daily intel briefings and you will continue to and we can update that briefing with any potential threat from this area.
PRESIDENT: OK, let us continue. How many other presidents received this briefing?
The CARETAKER: Mr President, I have briefed President Nixon, Ford and you. President Carter was never given the entire briefing. I have no answer as to why he wasn’t given the briefing.
PRESIDENT: Well, knowing that guy, he probably couldn’t understand it being from Georgia! But that is just a dry joke…. (laughter heard in room)
ADVISER #1: Mr President, I can give you some details of an incident that occurred inside the Soviet Union in 1970.
WM CASEY: Do we want to go there?
ADVISER #4: May I say something, Mr Director?
WM CASEY: Go ahead, ADVISER #4, step in.
ADVISER #4: I think this particular incident inside the Soviet Union will give the President an example of what the world has and will experience in the future. There is no way we can control visitors from outer space from traveling to Earth and visiting our planet. Some astronomers find it difficult to believe that these aliens can find Earth. We are on the outer reaches of our galaxy. Our sun is one of hundreds of thousands of such stars within our galactic neighborhood. But the Ebens found us, they found Earth. And we are not the only country on Earth that has been visited by the Ebens.
Now, as for the other four (4) species. We know they have visited us in the past and will visit us in the future. We are like a petri dish within the universe. We are a diverse planet. We must be very interesting to other extraterrestrials. I’m SURE other intelligent life forms in the universe must have some sort of communications among the [sentient] life forms. Maybe they broadcasted that Earth has intelligent life. Maybe that is why we are [being] visited.
Getting back to ADVISER #1, regarding the incident inside the Soviet Union, Mr President, there are many such sightings all over the world. We must understand that the visitors can roam our planet at will without us doing much about it. However, I personally believe that we must prepare for the EVENTUAL DAY WHEN SOME HOSTILE LIFE FORM DECIDES TO TAKE OVER OUR PLANET. We must be prepared. I hope you understand why I said what I said, Mr President.
PRESIDENT: Yes, indeed, ADVISER #4, very well said. I agree with you. I guess all of those sightings … well, some of them are real …. I mean, we are being visited, today, now, in this time period.
WM CASEY: Yes, Mr President, we are.
PRESIDENT: OK, ADVISER #1, please continue, we cut you off.
ADVISER #1: OK, thanks, Mr President. As I was saying, actually a series of incidents occurred over about a week. Our intelligence gathering stations inside and outside of the Soviet Union picked up voice transmissions between Soviet Air Defense pilots and ground controllers regarding a number of UFOs which were being chased by Soviet pilots. The incident started in central Siberia and ended over the Black Sea.
Literally thousands of Soviets observed the UFOs and at least 20 different fighter pilots chased the UFOs. The Soviets attempted on two occasions to shoot down the UFOs, but to no avail. That is probably the best evidence that these things are happening over the Soviet Union. We think these UFOs were the hostile ones. We call them hostile because they tend to land, take humans, conduct experiments on them and then release the humans. Their spacecraft are different in design than the Ebens.
PRESIDENT: Wait one minute, ADVISER #1, you mean to say that we have one of their spaceships? Or are you telling me we have some other evidence of their spaceships?
ADVISER #1: Mr President, we have photographs of their ships. This gets a little complicated because some of our intelligence comes from the Ebens.
PRESIDENT: You mean from the EBE guy?
ADVISER #1: Yes, but from other sources of information connected to the Ebens.
WM CASEY: Mr President, we’ll have to go to those dreaded words you don’t like … higher levels if you wish.
PRESIDENT: No, well, no … oh … OK … just give me this briefing first. We can schedule the higher level ones later.
ADVISER #1: Simply speaking, we know the difference between the Eben spacecraft and the hostile aliens’ spacecraft.
PRESIDENT: Do you have a … huh … name for them, I mean the bad ones?
The CARETAKER: May I interrupt, Mr President?
WM CASEY: Wait, OK, I guess we can proceed.
PRESIDENT: Well, huh. (Too many speaking at once; several conversations not understood.)
? (Not understood) ?
The CARETAKER: OK…. (Several sentences said, but not understood.)
WM CASEY: Yes, go ahead, CARETAKER.
PRESIDENT: No, I didn’t mean to interrupt.
The CARETAKER: Thank you, Mr President. We call the hostile aliens simply that, HAV, meaning Hostile Alien Visitors. MJ-12 placed that code on them back in the ’50s.
WM CASEY: OK, we opened the box so let’s just tell the president what we know about the others.
ADVISER #1: The names? What? (Several sentences not understood.) OK, well, technical? Or what?
WM CASEY: (Not understood), well, (not understood), OK, I guess it means the technical stuff.
PRESIDENT: You mean to say, these H-A-Vs have been visiting us and kidnapping our people since the ’50s?
The CARETAKER: Mr President, yes, well, they have been around since then, Director Casey….
WM CASEY: Mr President, we have some indication that they might have been doing this for some time. But we really have to consider all of the evidence, listed in our reports, and compare that to some of the open source information. There are always humans that will exaggerate and just tell lies, compared to the real ones or the ones who were abducted and subjected to experiments. We have to sort through the differences and place some aside and look at the real evidence of abductions. But we can be sure that the Ebens have NEVER done this. They are extremely peaceful and would not harm a living soul, including animals.
ADVISER #1: I suggest we go ahead and give the President the information on them.
ADVISER #4: I agree.
WM CASEY: OK, give the President the names, CARETAKER.
The CARETAKER: Names, the technical names?
WM CASEY: Yes, OK, (not understood) well about the (not understood) I can live with that, but we have to be real sure that this information stays HERE. We cannot allow this to flow (not understood) from (not understood).
The CARETAKER: OK, thank you. Mr President, the five (5) species are called, Ebens, Archquloids, Quadloids, Heplaloids and Trantaloids. These names were given to the alien’s species by the intelligence community, specifically MJ-5. The Ebens are friendly; the Trantaloids are the dangerous ones.
PRESIDENT: My God, just knowing we have names for these things are amazing. Which one did we capture?
WM CASEY: Mr President, we have a Trantaloid, but it is dead. We captured it in 1961 in Canada and we had it in captivity until 1962, when it died. We’ll show you a photograph … CARETAKER?
The CARETAKER: Director, I don’t have one with me. But, I will get one couriered over to us.
WM CASEY: Mr President, we can provide that during our next meeting regarding this subject.
WM CASEY: (not understood) … the part of the story where (not understood), but we can look back.
PRESIDENT: OK, let’s continue.
The CARETAKER: Mr President, getting back to my presentation, all of our collected information is safely contained in a number of locations.
PRESIDENT: Don’t tell me where, I don’t want to know specific locations. I’ll let or leave that up to you and the caretakers of the material. I don’t want to be in a position or know this … maybe I will later.
The CARETAKER: OK, Mr President, I’ll keep this in general terms. I just want to assure you that all of the information is safely tucked away at secure locations, including the devices and flying craft that we have.
PRESIDENT: May I assume one of these places is located in California?
The CARETAKER: Some of the items are tested at Livermore and flown around Edwards, but they are kept in Nevada.
PRESIDENT: OK, yes, I think I was briefed on sensitive military installations back in February … west of Las Vegas, I guess.
The CARETAKER: Yes, Mr President. We call it the Groom Lake Complex.
PRESIDENT: OK, I was told about that. The same place we have Soviet fighter jets?
The CARETAKER: Yes, Mr President, the same place. May I continue?
PRESIDENT: Yes, by all means, do.
The CARETAKER: In order to protect all this information and the fact that the United States Government has evidence of our planet being visited by Extraterrestrials, we developed over the years a very effective program to safeguard the information. We call it “Project DOVE.” It is a complex series of [disinformation] operations by our military intelligence agencies to disinform the public. As you know, Mr President, we have some highly classified aircraft.
In order to keep these aircraft secret, we tend to convince, at times, the public and press that maybe UFOs are real in order to make the public THINK what they are seeing are actually UFOs instead of OUR own secret aircraft even though we know maybe some of the sightings are of actual UFOs. As I said before, this is complicated, but it is a form of counterintelligence. We give the public some actual facts and let them run with it.
The rest is taken care of by them. If you consider the FIRST PERSON who helped us with this disinformation program, Mr GEORGE ADAMSKI, back in the early ’50s, and up to all of the movie productions of UFO-related movies. This helps the public to keep their minds open, but also allows us to keep our secret aircraft away from the public’s knowledge. That includes some of the craft that were lent to us by the Ebens.
PRESIDENT: I always knew there was some form of cooperation between our government and the motion picture industry. I heard rumors over the years … even during my acting days.
The CARETAKER: Well, Mr President, the first cooperative venture was the movie, “The Day the Earth Stood Still.” That was a cooperative venture with the United States Air Force and the movie industry.
PRESIDENT: That movie, “Close Encounters,” was that one of them? I guess no “Bonzo” movies were involved. (Loud laughter heard.)
WM CASEY: No (laughing), Mr President, I don’t think or should I say, I didn’t think Bonzo came from outer space! (more laughter)
[RONALD REAGAN played the character Professor Peter Boyd in the Sept 1951 movie, “Bedtime for Bonzo” where a chimpanzee named Bonzo was his costar.
PRESIDENT: No, but some people could imagine it!
The CARETAKER: Yes, Mr President, we provided the basic subject matter for that movie.
PRESIDENT: Was it based on a real incident?
WM CASEY: Mr President….
PRESIDENT: OK, Bill, I know what’s coming, just forget my question for now.
WM CASEY: OK, CARETAKER, continue.
The CARETAKER: Thank you, Mr President. In 1949, President Truman created two (2) secret commissions. These commissions were to meet privately without recording any contents. The commissions were code named “Adam” and “Eve.” The first commission, Adam, was to study the idea of releasing some information to the public regarding our actual knowledge of UFOs and the two (2) crash incidents.
The findings of the Adam commission consisted of the following statement: “In this matter, public opinion must be recognized as a factor of considerable importance, even if clearly affirmative might have the effect of placing before the American people a moral question of vital historical significance at a time when the full security impact of the question had not become apparent. If this decision is to be made by the American people, it should be made in the circumstances of an actual disclosure of the existence of space beings who had visited Earth. In other words, the American public might hesitate to believe the existence of space beings unless the American Government showed proof.”
This was an actual quote from the classified document dated 1 December 1949. The second commission, “Eve,” concerned the use of atom bombs to repel a space alien attack. What’s interesting in this statement was the decision by President Truman to proceed at a record pace on the production of atomic weapons that could be released in space. The commission predicted it would take the United States 10 years to develop such a delivery system. President Truman wanted it developed in five (5) years.
In fact, in 1959, the first Atlas ICBMs were targeted for deep space. SIOP plans were developed to counter any space-based alien invasion. Mr David Lilienthal, the first atomic energy commission chairman, was in charge of the production of enough atomic weapons to counter any anticipated alien threat. The commission was tasked with developing a delivery system that could send a Mark 3 atomic weapon into space.
In the 1948-1949 time frames, there were fewer than 50 atomic bombs in the arsenal and none of these were assembled. The Mark 3 plutonium bombs, like the one dropped at Nagasaki, Japan, took 39 men more that two days to assemble the bomb. The bombs were so large and heavy each weighed 10,000 pounds, and that a delivery system must be capable of sending this heavy weapon into space. As a result of Eve’s commission findings, atomic weapons production was increased at a record pace.
Of course, this build-up coincided with the Soviet Union’s build-up. It was easy to convince the American public that our build-up was caused by the Soviet Union’s build-up. Mr President, in 1964, we were able to have our very first controlled encounter with the Ebens. Let me first give you the background. EBE was a mechanic, not a scientist. He was still able to teach us some of the Eben language. Their language was very difficult for our linguists to learn because it consisted of tones, not words.
However, we were able to translate some basic words. EBE showed us their communications device. It was a strange looking device that had three (3) parts. Once assembled, the device sent out signals, something like our Morse code system, although there was a problem. During the crash in 1947, one part of this communication system was broken. EBE was unable to repair it until our scientists found some items that could be used in place of the broken parts. Once the communication device was repaired, EBE sent our messages. We had to trust EBE as to the contents of those messages.
You can imagine what some of our military commanders thought of this. EBE could be sending out a distress call that could result in some invasion. But that, of course, never happened. EBE continued to send messages until his death. But once he died, then we were on our own. We were able to crudely operate the device. We sent several messages out over a six (6) month period (1953). But we did not receive any return messages.
PRESIDENT: Excuse me, did EBE receive any return messages?
The CARETAKER: Getting back to the messages, Mr President, EBE sent out six (6) messages. One letting his home planet know that he was alive and his comrades were dead, another explaining the two crashes, the third was a request to be rescued, the fourth was a message suggesting a meeting between his leaders and our leaders. The last message suggested some form of an EXCHANGE program.
WM CASEY: Mr President, we’ll go into that later.
PRESIDENT: (not understood) … what … the exchange program?
WM CASEY: Yes, Mr President. We can give you another couple of hours on that subject.
PRESIDENT: We had one?
WM CASEY: Can I speak to you privately, please, Mr President?
PRESIDENT: OK, yes … you mean now? (not understood)
WM CASEY: Well, let us put this one on the back burner and go on with the remainder of this briefing.
The CARETAKER: Mr President, we don’t think he did, but we could not be entirely certain. But, our scientists fine-tuned our efforts over the next 18 months and finally sent two (2) messages in 1955 that were received. We received a reply. We were able to translate about 30 percent of the message. We turned to several linguist specialists from several different universities and even several from foreign universities. Finally, we were able to translate most of the messages. We decided to reply in English and see if the Ebens could translate our language easier than we could theirs.
PRESIDENT: What did the messages say? The one we received from the Ebens? So, I guess they didn’t get the messages sent by EBE? Or did it take that long to respond? Oh, yes, EBE died before we got those messages, never mind.
The CARETAKER: Mr President, the first message we received acknowledged our message and asked questions about the crew of the two missing craft. It also gave a series of numbers that we think were some type of coordinates.
PRESIDENT: OK, so they wanted to know the coordinates of the crash sites on Earth? I’m sure they wanted to know about their crew. Did we tell them all but one was dead? No, wait; I’m sure when EBE sent his messages that is probably the first thing he sent. Was EBE a military person or what?
The CARETAKER: Mr President, we believe EBE was a member of their air force or maybe something like NASA.
PRESIDENT: OK, please continue.
The CARETAKER: Thank you, Mr President. Finally we were able to translate most of the messages. As I said, we decided to respond in English. Approximately four months later, we received a reply in broken English. Sentences contained nouns and adjectives, but no verbs. It took us several months to translate the message. We then sent Eben our typed English lessons in a series of one sheet formats.
Without going into the technical description of the Eben communications device, it was like a television screen and a key pad, but the pad contained several different Eben characters depending on the number of times you held down one key. We were able to transpose our English-typed words into the second part of the device, which was similar to our facsimile transmission system. It took our scientists some time to perfect this, but it worked. Six months later, we received another English message. This time it was clearer, but not clear enough. Ebens were confusing several different English words and still failed to complete a proper sentence.
PRESIDENT: Gee, I do that all of the time (sounds of laughter). I just cannot imagine how an alien race could view our language. We have thousands of different languages on Earth and they probably have just one on their SERPO planet. That is truly amazing.
The CARETAKER: Yes, Mr President, I cannot imagine living on a planet with just one language. But we were able to provide the basic skill level for them to communicate in English. It took time, but they realized our efforts. In one message, they provided us with a form of the Eben alphabet with the equivalent English letter. Our linguists had a very difficult time figuring this out. The written Eben language was simple characters and symbols, but our linguists had a difficult time comparing the two written languages.
Over the next five (5) years, we were able to perfect our understanding of the Eben language somewhat and the Ebens were able to better understand English. However, we had a major problem. Trying to coordinate a date, time and location for an Eben landing on Earth. Even though we could basically understand some Eben and the Ebens could understand some English, we could not understand their time and date system and they could not understand ours. We sent them our Earth’s rotation schedule, revolution, date system, etc.
For some reason the Eben’s never understood this. In return, the Ebens sent us their system, which was difficult for our scientists to understand because we had no reference to their planet. The Ebens did not explain any astronomical date of SERPO or their system. We then decided to just send pictures showing Earth, landmarks and a simple numbering system for time periods. We had many problems trying to send pictures using their facsimile system. We couldn’t be sure they were receiving what we sent.
We had a lot of trial and errors in doing this. We received back some strange messages from the Ebens, basically big question marks regarding what we sent them as to the pictures. We then decided on narrowing any future landing location for them to the location of their crash in New Mexico. We concluded they must have that location. We are sure EBE sent that to his home planet prior to his death. We did find some star charts … well … as we call them, in both crashed spacecraft.
They were difficult to understand because they were on a block that we later figured out went into a certain panel on the crashed craft’s instruments. Once the panel was in place, the board showed a star system. In fact, we were able to fit all the found boards into the panel and view many different star systems. We then put to work our astronomers in deciphering the star systems. It didn’t take them very long to determine the various star systems. We also found several strange spots on the star charts.
We concluded these spots were where the travel space tunnels that EBE described were located. Our astronomers compared the different star charts and found that they were not consecutive. Meaning that one star chart was from one part of the universe and the next was a chart closer to their home system. Our scientists concluded the spots on the chart were a form of short cuts from one point of space to another. Some of our top astronomers were briefed into the program in order to study the charts. I’m sure they were given only the minimum amount of information they needed, something like a need-to-know program.
PRESIDENT: OK, that is a lot to absorb. Wow, well, I have many questions, but I guess I’ll just wait now. I have something to attend to now. But let us take a short break and come back to this.
WM CASEY: Mr President, how much time do you have left?
PRESIDENT: Well, Bill, let me check. (Long pause). I need to call some people on another matter. Give me about 15 minutes. Is that OK?
WM CASEY: Yes, Mr President, we are here at your disposal.
PRESIDENT: I have listened intently to this briefing. I have many questions, which I realize traverses several different layers of secrecy. I don’t want to mix up the different layers. But I can see how government bureaucracy exists. That is one thing I can probably change as President! Bill, let’s go to the next layer.
WM CASEY: Mr President, do you want the same people involved?
PRESIDENT: Yes, let’s just continue.
WM CASEY: OK, CARETAKER, take over.
The CARETAKER: Thank you. When EBE was alive, he showed us two devices. One was a communication system and one was an energy device. The communication system did not work without the energy device. Eventually, a scientist from Los Alamos figured out the two systems and connected them. After EBE died, we were able to send transmissions, as I said earlier. EBE built up a strong friendship with a U.S. Army Major, who was his guardian.
The two of them decided that one of Eben’s first messages (of the five sent) was a request for an exchange program between the Ebens and our military personnel. Remember I mentioned six (6) messages. The sixth consisted of landing coordinates for Earth. That information wasn’t clearly documented back then. We are not sure of the exact chain of events between EBE and the Major. As I said earlier, we were able to eventually communicate with the Ebens.
Over a period of a few years, we could send and receive information. We finally received a startling message from the Ebens. They wanted to visit Earth, retrieve their spacemen bodies and meet with Earthlings. They provided a time, date and location. We figure that the Ebens were continually visiting Earth and had probably mapped it. However, the date was about eight (8) years in the future. Our military figured something was wrong and that maybe the Ebens were confusing Earth time with Eben time. After a long series of messages, it was determined the Ebens would land on Earth on Friday, April 24, 1964.
PRESIDENT: Just how did we figure the date?
The CARETAKER: Mr President, these messages occurred over a period of several years. By this time, we both had a working knowledge of the other’s seasons, which was based on the Earth’s rotation, which also figured into our time periods. We had a working knowledge of their 40-hour days. They were a little smarter than us, being able to comprehend our language and our time periods.
PRESIDENT: OK, that makes sense. But … (not understood) … about … (not understood) … the aliens?
The CARETAKER: Mr President, we did have a basic understanding of their language. We could understand basic words and symbols. They understood more of our language than we did theirs.
PRESIDENT: OK, then what happened?
The CARETAKER: Well….
WM CASEY: Mr President, this is where things get very interesting.
PRESIDENT: OK, I’m waiting…. (not understood)
The CARETAKER: Our government, specifically, MJ-12 met in secret to plan the event. Decisions were made, then changed many times. We had just about 25 months from the time we finally received their message of the date to prepare for their arrival. Several months into the planning, President Kennedy decided to approve a plan to exchange a special military team. The USAF was tasked as the lead agency.
The USAF officials picked special civilian scientists to assist in the planning and crew selection. The team members’ selection process was the hardest to accomplish. Several plans were suggested and then changed. It took months for the planners to decide on the selection criteria for each team member. They decided that each member must be military, single, no children and a career member. They had to be trained in different skills.
WM CASEY: CARETAKER, let’s just go into the general stuff here, I don’t think the President wants to know every single minute detail.
PRESIDENT: Well, if I had the time, I would. (not understood) …. but, I understand that.
The CARETAKER: Mr President, a team of 12 men were selected. However, during this time period, President Kennedy died. The nation was shocked, as you know….
PRESIDENT: Yes, everyone was shocked. I can understand what must have happened during the project when John died.
The CARETAKER: President Johnson continued the program. When it came time for the meeting, we were ready. The landing occurred in New Mexico. We had everything prepared. We had a hoax landing location just in case it was leaked. The landing occurred and we greeted the Ebens. However, a mix up happened. They were not prepared to accept our exchange personnel. Everything was placed on hold. Finally in 1965, the Ebens landed in Nevada and we exchanged 12 of our men for one of theirs.
PRESIDENT: One? Why just one?
WM CASEY: Mr President, this wasn’t clearly documented in the reports that we read.
PRESIDENT: One … was this their ambassador?
WM CASEY: Well, something like that. We just called it EBE 2. We’ll discuss that later.
The CARETAKER: Mr President. Our team of 12 went to the Eben planet for 13 years. The original mission called for a 10-year stay, however, because of the strange time periods on their planet, the team stayed three (3) additional years. Eight [seven] returned in 1978. Two died on the planet and two decided to stay.
PRESIDENT: OK, this is just AMAZING! I can see, about that movie. The movie was based on a real event. I saw that movie. 12 men left, along with Richard Dreyfuss.
WM CASEY: Mr President, yes, the movie was similar to the real event, at least the last part of the movie.
PRESIDENT: OK, a lot to digest. I want to hear about the hostile ones.
ADVISER #1: Mr President, may I step in here?
PRESIDENT: By all means, ADVISER #1, do.
ADVISER #1: Well, Mr President, the hostile alien species is responsible for abducting some humans. We can clearly prove some 80 Americans were abducted from about 1955 until the present, the last known one in July of last year . We have a special military intelligence unit keeping track of these abductions. We have FBI agents attached, to assist us when needed. We have NSA and in some instances, CIA personnel helping.
Unfortunately, we don’t have the technology to know when these hostiles will abduct. We get the information afterwards. We interview the victim and place them under hypnotic trances. Some of the victims remember the entire event without hypnosis, while others need hypnosis to relate what happened. We haven’t found one single death directly related to the hostile aliens. We have had deaths that were attributed to the abductions … suicides. We recorded five (5) of them.
But, Mr President, these are the abductions we know about. We have NO idea how many other abductions are occurring in this country or around the world. These hostile aliens are pretty sneaky. They seem to appear and disappear, which is beyond our technical understanding. They also seem to float or defy gravity. WE HAVE ACTUAL PHOTOGRAPHS OF THEM DOING THIS. We have a classic abduction incident that was recorded by military intelligence personnel. It happened in 1979 near a military base.
ADVISER #1: In New Mexico.
PRESIDENT: What’s with New Mexico? The aliens seem to like that state. Do we know why?
The CARETAKER: Excuse me, may I speak?
PRESIDENT: Yes, CARETAKER, step in.
The CARETAKER: New Mexico is similar to the home planet of the Ebens. Since we do not know which planet the Trantaloids come from….
WM CASEY: Wait … ADVISER #4?
ADVISER #4: I think we do. I think the Ebens gave us that information. We know the star group. It is close to our solar system, well, I mean in astronomical terms. Maybe 20-25 light-years away. They are actually closer to us than the Ebens are.
PRESIDENT: So that means they can travel like the Ebens travel? I mean using those black holes or whatever you call them?
ADVISER #4: Yes, Mr President, they can travel in the same fashion as the Ebens. However, according to the Ebens, the Trantaloids use a different form of propulsion. Something like matter versus antimatter.
PRESIDENT: And that means?
ADVISER #4: Mr President, basic physics….
WM CASEY: Mr President, do you want to go into the physics of this?
PRESIDENT: Oh, no, no, I don’t think I’d understand it.
ADVISER #4: I was just going to say that we know that when matter is placed next to antimatter, there is a great deal of energy released. If one could harness that into a propulsion system, that would be great. But we don’t have the capability to do that.
PRESIDENT: Do we have one of their spaceships?
The CARETAKER: Yes, well, partially. A crashed one.
PRESIDENT: OK, can we or do we have the technical knowledge to understand it?
WM CASEY: No, Mr President, we don’t.
PRESIDENT: We can make atomic bombs, go to Mars and we can’t understand their science?
WM CASEY: Adviser #4?
ADVISER #4: Mr President, their technology is probably 1,000 years more advanced than ours … maybe even more. They have different materials to work with. Some of their materials are not found on this planet.
PRESIDENT: What do you mean, like iron or elements?
ADVISER #4: Yes, Mr President. We found many metals and other things that are not found on this planet. Maybe they have more than 104 elements or maybe they are different than ours.
PRESIDENT: The hostile ones or the Ebens?
ADVISER #4: Mr President that goes for each species although the Ebens do have similar elements as [those found on] Earth. But the Trantaloids have strange materials … nothing like [those found on] Earth. These ALIENS CAN IMITATE HUMANS. They CAN LOOK LIKE BLOND HUMANS. However, they are not blond, but UGLY-LOOKING INSECTS.
PRESIDENT: Insects, did you say that?
ADVISER #4: Yes, do you have a photograph?
The CARETAKER: Yes, hold on.
WM CASEY: They are pretty nasty looking.
PRESIDENT: Well, they would stand out.
ADVISER #4: No, Mr President, as I said THEY CAN IMITATE LOOKING LIKE HUMANS.
PRESIDENT: How in the world do they do that? It took a lot of makeup to make me look good in the movies. (loud laughter heard)
ADVISER #4: Well, Mr President, I can assure you they don’t use makeup, at least not like we would. They have the ability to change their bodies. As I said before, they are 1,000 years ahead of us in technology and probably every other science.
PRESIDENT: They can be killed?
ADVISER #4: Yes, they are just flesh and blood, like a human body. They can be killed. But their spaceships have a force field around them. They can be shot down, but it takes some doing on our part.
WM CASEY: Mr President, we have to use a small-style nuclear missile to shoot them down, but we haven’t actually done that yet. We have experimented in Nevada on the captured craft we have of theirs.
PRESIDENT: My God, I hope we haven’t used atomic missiles. What does that mean?! I have to give that order!
ADVISER #1: Excuse me, but Mr President, no, we haven’t used any nuclear missiles to shoot down any alien flying craft. I think Adviser #4 and the Director mean that if we had to shoot one down, for instance … if a group of them attacked us.
PRESIDENT: Is that likely?
ADVISER #1: No, I don’t think so.
PRESIDENT: Can we intercept their radio transmissions? Do we know their language?
ADVISER #1: We know or we can recognize their language, which is entirely different than the Ebens. They use a very high-band radio system. But they have different frequencies and it is difficult for NSA to track them.
PRESIDENT: Maybe we should call Captain Kirk?! (loud laughter) Oh, a little humor is good in any situation! (loud laughter)
A fabricated tube Frame roller mounted with part of a pick-up body and turned into a desert runner.
The tube frame is super strong and supports the old UniBody and adds lift as well. The wheelbase is short, so the cruiser had a wide stance and is very stable off-rooad.
This truck model is in Direct X and comes with all Graphics, Maps and UV work and is a direct download after payment. You can use it in any project of your choice either commercial or personal with no further obligation/cost and without attributes.
A purpose built body. Utility for the Nation’s fighters. Specifically made for cruising through the abandoned cities and keeping the dead away from them, the Outrunners use these vehicles on most missions.
This model is direct X and comes with All Maps/Renders/Graphics and DirectX models as shown above. This is a direct download after purchase and can be used in any project you choose, commercial or personal with no further obligation/payment or attributes.
This is a cargo van cut apart and grafted to a truck frame. The lift is about 15 inches and the tires are 35 inch. The engine is a methane powered V8 and this truck can carry large payloads back and forth across the various Nation outposts.
This model is direct X and the graphics include all the models above and more. All the different maps, builds, UV work. The model can be downloaded immediately after purchase and can be used in any project, personal or commercial without any further obligation/cost/and without attributes.