Life and Death of Kathleen Topolsky (CC,MATURE) COMPLETE

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Life and Death of Kathleen Topolsky (CC,MATURE) COMPLETE

Post by ken_r » Sat Oct 06, 2012 11:21 am

The Life and Death of Kathleen Topolsky


Title: life and Death of Kathleen Topolsky
Author: ken_r AKA Kenneth Renouard, sometimes even ken242
Couples: CC
Genera: canon. This takes place in the first of season and ends at the death of Kathleen Topolsky.
Rating: mature
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters in Roswell or Roswell High. I am simply cleaning up a mess created, when you write by committee.
Summary: Topolsky was a character who played a lot more of a part than she was allowed. Some of the scenes from canon must be used, but I try to see them in Kathleen’s eyes. Some dialog from the series will be used to set Topolsky up for her own take on what is happening. I think I can defend my positions about her.

If you can’t understand religion in someone’s life, you won’t like this story. If Kathleen Topolsky had been more diligent in the catechism of her youth or it hadn’t been so long ago when she sat in her church classes or maybe if she hadn’t discovered the power of her sex, Kathleen would have remembered the Preacher, Ecclesiastes 1:2. “Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity.”

She had clawed her way upwards and had seen everything stripped away, when all the position and power of the agency was gone, all she had left was fear for her soul.

I am trying to not contradict the canon, just flesh it out a bit. There were many glimpses of Kathleen Topolsky that were not carried out. What happened to the woman, who openly flirted with Jim Valenti, that led to her death, frightened and alone?

There was the Topolsky who became a substitute teacher of a subject she knew nothing about.
There was the Topolsky who really wasn’t half bad as a counselor.
There was the Topolsky who knocked Valenti cold with a spin kick.
There was the Topolsky who sat drinking whisky and flirted with Jim Valenti when he caught her running stop signs.
There was the Topolsky who told the aliens she was on their side.

Life and death of Kathleen Topolsky

My name is Kathleen Topolsky. Sometimes I was known as the, “hottest piece of ass” in the FBI. I make no apologies how I have lived my life. I can only say that I lived my life as best I could. I grew up and worked most of my life in a man’s world. With a name like Topolsky, my relatives didn’t come over on the Mayflower. I used the tools nature gave me. It is now dark, here at the mental seminary. I know that soon they will come to kill me. Like everyone that they would kill, I have a story. I am not sure if anyone will ever know it. The men coming will be cold and sexless. There will be no way that I can screw my way out of this one. They talk about the aliens. The men I have worked with, I now know, are the real aliens. The children not of this Earth are just trying, like me, to use the gifts they were given to survive.

Agent Stevens had reached his position by long hard work. He was in charge of UFO investigations in the southwest. He, also, covered other unexplained phenomenon in the area. Agent Stevens was a married man. Those are the easiest to get to. A single man would have laid me and except for bragging rights, that would be the last I would hear of it.

We were on a stake out for the normal criminal reasons. Yes, even alien hunters, will sometimes be called to do normal investigation when there is no one else available in that location. We had spent three days in that hot non air-conditioned room. We got to talking about our private lives.

Stevens had taken off his shirt and was sitting there in just his wife beater teeshirt and slacks. Sweat was rolling off his body. The windows were open, but not a breeze stirred. “Tell me, Kathleen, why did you join the agency? I hope it wasn’t for the glamour and excitement,” he inquired.

I laughed as I ran a damp washcloth across my face. I had removed my blouse and was likewise sitting in only a skirt and bra. “Yeah, I wanted to be one of the ‘James Bond girls.’ The high heels, the labeled dresses and the rubbing against the rich and powerful,” I replied.

Agent Stevens shook his head, “For every hour of high stakes espionage, we spend two or three days sleeping in dirty hotel rooms or cramped up in non-descript rental cars trying to get some damning evidence against some citizen who may or not be guilty of anything. Sometimes, it almost seems a waste of the education we made getting here,” Stevens confessed. “Where did you go to school, Kathleen?” he continued.

“Vassar,” I quickly lied. It would never do for Stevens to know that I barely graduated from a very small state college. Hey, my grades were good. My professors were very satisfied and don’t lecture me that I wasted my time by not learning anything. I learned that men can be manipulated easily by a young innocent appearing girl. “I majored in sociology and psychology.” Those were the two classes in which I almost did do my studies. I found them very interesting. “In spite of the social life of sororities and campus parties, I did finally get my degree,” I continued. The closest I ever got to the Greek life on campus was a gang bang at one of the frat parties. The sorority girls would never have given me a second look except in jealousy that I could give a better fuck than they could ever manage.

“Those were the days,” Stevens said as the sweat rolled onto an almost soaked undershirt.

“I joined the FBI because I wanted to save the world,” I told him. Who would care about the trials of a second generation Polish emigrant girl who clawed her way up using bedrooms and extortion.

Men, especially men who are normally closed up about them selves, need to talk. Locked for days at a time in a uncomfortable room, people form bonds. Two men might become close drinking buddies, but a man and a woman, if the conditions are right can become lovers.

For Agent Stevens, the timing was right. He had been called out at a time when he and his wife were going through the normal bumps of any marriage. After putting in a hard 12 hours at our observation post, we returned to our hotel. Stevens wasn’t all that good looking or sexy, but he did have position and influence within the agency. It was he who suggested a night-cap in his room. I will never know if what happened, was what he intended. When I screwed him that night, I gave him things that his wife never thought of. Stevens was an almost, Victorian man in a proper marriage. He was not prepared for what I could do. I had been told that my lips as well as other parts were very talented.

Of course, the next morning he was apologetic. He felt that he had seduced me. Later, I would play on that guilt to achieve my position on the special unit. I, now, had a sugar daddy, even if we never again made it into bed. It wasn’t as if I now controlled Stevens, he could be a terror whenever I made a mistake. It was when he got the maddest that, he would look at me with those old, wise eyes and remember, he had once seduced an “innocent” girl.

My first assignment with the special unit, was at the West Roswell High School. At first, I went in as a substitute teacher. Substitutes live through hell. They assigned me a math class. All that I can remember about math was from high school. I remember that my teacher liked short skirts and blow jobs. I really never learned anything about Geometry.

I was determined not to fail. Here I was in a geometry class when my background was psychology and sociology. I looked around. I was surrounded by boys and girls, all innocently thinking that the world would be out there for them. Hard work and diligence was all it would take. I wondered how many of them would end up clawing their way, like I did.

Early in my life, I learned that sex sells. Sex also buys and if that is all you have to offer, you can invest it into a future. Looking back, I think my first time back in high school was the only time I might have been seduced.

He was the dream of every girl in school. His body and his position in school athletics made him the object of many hot dreams among the girls. Thinking back now, sex with him wasn’t all that great. He was rough and he hurt me a lot. He made me serve his needs and he paid no attention to my welfare at all. I guess my lack of experience turned him off. After we were through, he returned me to my home with hardly a word. In fact, I don’t remember us talking anytime after that.

I had little experience, but I had worlds of knowledge. My mother had married my father while pregnant with me. An unmarried pregnant girl in a strictly religious Polish family was a curse. All they could think about was marrying her off. The man who I always called my father was older than my mother. He was a good stable man. At least he was, before he married her. He gave me a home that I needed, but he couldn’t give his wife the marriage she wanted. After many affairs, she just left. She didn’t seem to have any regrets about leaving me. I guess she always believed that it was me who forced her into that dull uncomfortable situation.

My first day in Geometry as a teacher, I looked at the faces and tried to match them with the list of names on the roll. Poor Mr. Singer, one of our agents had managed to place in his drink at a restaurant a slight mickey, which wasn’t deadly but he would be ill for a couple days. That would give me a chance to arrange a better position, once I was at the school.

Now, I might not know anything about Geometry, but I did know boys. I was dressed in a dark blue suit. The skirt was modestly just below my knees, but I knew how to sit on a desk and manage to allow the skirt to hike up a bit. When I removed my suit jacket, I knew how to allow a glimpse of my bra and to stretch my blouse to emphasis the contour of my breasts, to be seen by the young men. The fact that the top three buttons of my blouse were left undone did not harm their concentration either.

Looking at the class roll I saw that at least two of my subjects should be in this class. “Does anyone actually believe in aliens?” I started. That made the class giggle, but I saw two students who didn’t see the humor. One was a small dark-haired girl who kept making nervous glances at a boy in the back of the room. The roll said that the boy was Max Evans, the best suspect to be an alien. This gave me two directions of attack. I could further investigate Max, which I intended to do shortly. It also, showed me some connection between him and the girl, Elizabeth Parker. Maybe, what I couldn’t learn from Max, I would be able to learn from the girl.

I started taking roll. I know none of my substitute teachers ever bothered to take roll. A substitute was not supposed to teach. They were only supposed to survive. Taking attendance, I found that the second name on the roll, which I was interested in, Michael Guerin. I had already looked at what we knew about Michael. I wasn’t surprised at him being absent. I decided to push Max. “Evans right, Max Evans,” I said.

He looked up in surprise, “Yeah,” he returned.

“Do you know where Michael Guerin is?” I asked. Max had that look of a deer trapped in headlights. He was rapidly thinking how to answer. Many of the class were looking at Max. Clearly, they all knew of at least some connection between himself and Michael. I had seen that the mention of Michael had again stirred the Parker girl. It was evident that she was very much mixed up in what I was studying.

Max quickly looked around the class not looking at any student, but more to give himself a chance to think. “Michael is not really into geometry,” he stated.

“He is not into it,” I mumbled. “I guess I can understand that.” Again, I was remembering that I was more into the Geometry teacher than I was the class. Maybe I should have said the geometry teacher was into me. He sure tried hard enough. After class was dismissed I glanced out in the hall. I saw the Parker girl go up to Max with almost uncertainty. What ever they had together, it was not yet mature. As they walked down the hall, I saw a tall blonde who I remembered was also on my list. She was Isabel Evans, Max’s sister. It was almost rude the way she pushed Elizabeth away. This was information. If the Parker girl had something with Max, maybe, the other aliens were not happy about it.

I had been informed that my boss, Agent Stevens, was using a two-pronged attack. He, also, had placed an agent in the Sheriff’s office. I had used my affair with Agent Stevens to get this position with the alien hunters, but he never let me forget that he was my boss. Agent Hart was a young African American. He was smart, but a little shy. I had smiled at him when we met, but he was new and there would not be any reason, at this time, to take any friendship further. Agent Hart was being used as an annoyance. He had been ordered to take a chair and observe the daily operation of the sheriff’s office. Agent Stevens had worked with the present sheriff’s father. His relationship with either the sheriff or his father had been somewhere between respect given to all officers and a barb to remind them that they were local law and Stevens was FBI.

Of course, the sheriff objected and asked Hart to leave. Because he was young, Hart complied with the proper humility that an older agent would not have been able to show. Stevens was trying to stir the sheriff into making some overt move. He wasn’t supposed to aggressively confront the sheriff. I wondered if Agent Hart knew that he had been chosen because of his newness? An older agent might have blown the incident into something that would have brought attention to the sheriff’s office. At this time, that was the last thing Stevens wanted. Open conflict would bring in the press and at this point, they could take no chance of public opinion being on the side of a group of kids.

I checked out some student files. I took the three files that I was interested in. I also included several other students so my interest wouldn’t be obvious. As I returned to my class, I saw the Parker girl talking to one of the super jocks. Kyle Valenti, my research had shown, was a star in almost every sport. That is the advantage of going to a small school, students can take many different sports. Often, the coaches had a hard time filling up the bench without their talented students filling several positions. What happened next, I still am not sure whether it was purposeful or not. Elizabeth Parker ran into me from behind. She bumped me hard enough to cause the folders to go flying. She was so apologetic that it was hard to decide if she did this on purpose, but I did notice she looked at each folder she picked up, before handing them to me. It gave me pause to know that if she knocked me down on purpose, she would be a force to be reckoned with.

It was the second day that I made a fatal mistake. I would cover it later, but the sum of the angles of a triangle must have been taught the day after I closed the door to my geometry teacher’s room and made up all my homework for the next two weeks. I had no idea that the number was 180 degrees. The Parker girl, of course, caught me. She was not rude. She was almost apologetic as she told me the correct answer. I think I covered myself as just forgetting. Except for Miss Parker, I doubt if any of the other students cared if the answer was 180 or 360 or 10.

Later that day something happened. The sheriff was introduced to me. I couldn’t figure out what he wanted. Later, I reported to Agent Stevens. I heard he initiated a raid on the sheriff’s files. He was a bit clumsy, but he tried to defuse all investigations in paranormal activity. That only pricked the sheriff’s interest. Agent Stevens had made two moves against the sheriff. First, Agent Hart, then me. Stevens was just showing the sheriff that if this came down to a pissing contest, his was always bigger, especially when it came to investigations. I was left with wondering how I could use the sheriff in my investigations. He was divorced, obviously lonely and a dedicated alien hunter. He was slightly younger than Stevens, but I thought he was not that much more sophisticated. An educated tumble, a progressive exploration and a UFO could land outside the bedroom and the sheriff wouldn’t take his eyes off of me. I had to find a way to make it happen.

Once again, no Michael Guerin. I decided that I should be the one to visit his home. This gave me an insight into the way he lived. If he was the third alien, then he surely drew the short straw. Where the Evans children lived in comparative luxury, Michael lived in a run-down trailer park with an obviously drunken foster father.

Seeing his position, reminded me of my own. The man, who I called my father, was not an alcoholic. That is, until my mother left him. Her family had forced her into the marriage to hide the scandal of being an unwed parent. They preserved appearances, but they screwed up several lives. My mother bailed, but she left him with a daughter he had no blood relationship with. Acknowledging the lack of blood relationship, probably made what I did to him easier. He tried to be a strict and strong parent, but I had already learned to use my body to achieve my goals. It was one night when he had been crying over my mamma’s leaving. Maybe, he had learned to love her. I am sure that after I was born, she was a good lay. She was more than he had ever expected. That night, he was really down in his cups. When he woke up the next morning and found my wet sticky body pressed against him, he just gave up. We never mentioned this episode again. No more did he give me any orders. No more did I have a certain time to be home. I was totally free. My supposed father went down hill quickly. When he died, he left me a small inheritance. It was enough to get me through a state college. I wondered if Michael Guerin would ever find a way to escape his unhappy home?

Hank Whitmore, the foster father, hadn’t seen Michael any more than I. I got the distinct impression that all that counted was that he receive the state check every month. Anything else Michael did, if it did not bring trouble to Hank, Hank couldn’t care less; almost like my step-father that last year. Except, my step-father was dying of guilt. I could see that Hank would welcome me to come in and discuss Michael. I left that place as quickly as possible. Screwing a wreck like Hank Whitmore would give me nothing, but the crabs.

As I left, in the shadows I saw the Evans boy’s JEEP. I saw the Parker girl peering over the dash. I could swear that I heard two other voices. They had certainly hopped on the fact that I was interested in Michael quickly. Two other voices, most assuredly male; maybe, I underestimated the Parker girl. Two boys with her out at night, did Liz Parker have more going than her innocent image suggested?

The next day, I was able to cement my self in the position of guidance counselor. My background in psychology made this a much better choice. It also allowed me more freedom to investigate the students. Mr. Singer had recovered. The doctors had no idea of why he was sick.

That morning, I confronted Liz Parker. The whole time I talked to her, she said little. I explained that I had seen her at the trailer park and that as Michael’s friend, she ought to get him to come in. In another student, I might have thought that she didn’t understand a thing I said. With the intelligence I knew in Miss Parker, I think she was just listening but afraid to say anything or give anything away.

I have been watching the group dynamics. The Parker girl definitely has an interest in Max Evans. I don’t think they have slept together, but I believe if she only gave the go ahead, they soon would. Poor Liz, she hadn’t learned what I learned much earlier in my life. If you want a boy or man to do something, you start it. You can arrange later to make him think it was his idea, but if you wait for him to drum up courage or what ever it takes, he will never do it. This also reminded me of one teacher who once announced to the class that he could tell the virgins in the room by sight. I don’t know what he was looking at, but for me, at least with the young males, the degree of hungers shown, by those who are getting enough, those who had gotten some, but were still lusting for more and those who yet haven’t gotten any, are different.

Take that Valenti kid. When he looked at Liz, you could see that he was sizing her pants. No, he wasn’t looking for happy ever after, but a evening taking her down was in his mind. There were other girls who, when they walked with Valenti made no objection when he grabbed a bit of ass. Valenti, with Parker, hadn’t made it that far, yet.

Maria DeLuca was best friends with Liz Parker. No, Maria wasn’t in the Honor Society. Their friendship rested on something else. Later, I was to learn that they had been friends since grade school. They also worked together at the restaurant, Liz’s parents owned. Their relationship was typically, teenybopper female. Maria and Liz talked about boys, hopes of love and other forbidden subjects, which would freeze their parents’ minds. I say parents, but Maria was the product of a single parent home. Maria’s mother was a bit of a hippy in an age where hippies had been dead and buried. Haight-Ashburry had buried the hippy movement, by ceremony and a casket. Most of the attendees were so stoned that they barely understood that the movement of love and flowers had been taken over by revolutionaries and politics; so now, the original members had the ceremony to free them from the direction the movement was taking. Flower children like Maria’s mother either languished without direction, overdosed and got it over with, or as seen in Amy DeLuca, found a place for her family in society.

With that history, one could see how Maria might have foundered. It was Maria who told the most outrageous fantasies about finding love. It was Maria who vocally lusted for sex. It was Maria who was the most frightened of relationships. Hadn’t her father already proven that there was no happy ever after?
Last edited by ken_r on Sun Nov 25, 2012 12:04 pm, edited 8 times in total.
Good teachers are born that way, not made. No! Good human beings, are born that way. Some of them become teachers.

Of course, life is not fair. You shouldn't expect it to be fair, but you should expect it to be ironic.
JKR 1981-2001
History is made of wars, recovering from wars and preparing for the next war.
JJR 1975-

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Re: Kathleen Topolsky Life and Death, mat. CC. 10/6/12

Post by ken_r » Sat Oct 13, 2012 11:58 am

keepsmining7: There are many reasons to feel sorry for Topolsky. She is a player in a game greater than she realizes.

mary mary: My time with the police was in the time of the hippy movement.



Chapter 2

As guidance counselor, I had set up interviews as to what each student expects out of life. I also checked out a broad interest inventory test from the school district central office. This would give me both expectations and abilities of the student body as a whole. I can compare the scores of the suspected aliens against the rest of the class.

When I informed Stevens that I had installed myself in this position, he almost had a paternal expression for a second. “Kathleen, be careful. I took a file from the sheriff’s office. At least one of the aliens is very dangerous.” Stevens showed me a picture of a woman killed some years ago. She had a silver handprint on her chest. “It has come down from above that there have been other questionable murders in the southwest,” Stevens continued.

It was strange when Stevens spoke of his boss or those above; it was always in hushed tones. I knew of Agent Pierce because even with Steven’s guilty support, I still had to be interviewed by Pierce. I never knew whose dick he had licked, but Pierce had power near J. Egar himself. Stevens was afraid of Pierce. He never said anything, but you could tell.

Stevens had the sheriff under surveillance. Even after he had raided the sheriff’s files, he saw when Michael made his reconnaissance of the sheriff’s office. He also saw when Michael broke in the next night. Both the Evans kids were fronting for him. Now, he had three young people he highly suggested were alien or something like that. Privately I wondered where the Parker girl fit in.

It is said that we learn from our superiors. Stevens gave me a team and I ran it with an iron hand. Since I spoke ex-officio from Agent Stevens who answered to Agent Pierce, the team did as I told them. What was officious from a man, was bitchy from a woman. The team clearly resented me. At this time, I noticed another player. Alex Whitman was the friend of both the Parker girl and Maria DeLuca.

Now Whitman was the type I would place with Parker. They were both very smart. It was what Stevens said about the dress the Parker girl had worn when someone fired a shot in the Crashdown. There was a bullet hole in it and definitely blood. Since Stevens had paired the Parker girl with Max when the shooting occurred, he only could decide that something miraculous had occurred, miraculous or alien.

I had learned of Max’s scholastic ability. Maybe, that and the miracle was what held the Parker girl. I needed to find out where the Whitman boy fit in.

All I remembered about guidance counselors was that they asked personal questions while practically salivating looking at my body. Now, I wasn’t into being a cougar. Adolescent boys didn’t turn me on. Besides that, I only screwed when I could get something in return. Well there was the sheriff; given a chance I would have given him a tumble without any expectation, but lust. Still sitting in a room with an adolescent boy, I could ask things that from a man or even a woman having no sex appeal would bring on embarrassment. Talking to me was even a titillation. Turned out that even some of the girls saw me as a kindred spirit. A girl telling me that she wanted to be “Brad Pitt’s” love slave was seen as locker room talk. This gave me a chance to both set a base for all the students and also ask pointed questions to those of special interest. The Whitman boy was also the technical advisor for the school. You remember that kid who always knew more about the equipment than the teacher. Why wasn’t I surprised it would be him? With his help, I set up a plan and slide show to discuss the lives of the students.

Most of the questions were very generic. They could be found in any, Educational Psychology book. Most of the students were still at the fantasy stage. Rock star, love slave to some movie idol were kin to “When I grow up, I want to be a fireman.” They showed lack of maturity and planning for a future. This was until I got to the Whitman boy. Alex immediately started dissecting my questions. He wasn’t giving me answers, he was trying to find out what I was learning from them. I was tempted to tell Stevens to recruit the boy and get him out of there.

Maria DeLuca was a defeatist. I, almost, felt sorry for her. With her background, she felt that she had no future. Unlike some of the other students who were brought down off their fantasies, Maria only said, “We all could be dead by then.” My heart wanted to scream, “Girl, I came out of a situation worse than anything you have experienced. Use your mind; use your body. You are a sexy girl if you only let loose. Sex sells and sex buys,” but, of course, as a teacher and counselor, I couldn’t give that sort of advice. I realized that Maria hadn’t yet opened herself to her sex. She had fantasies, but to date, she hadn’t had any experience. I could see her frustration.

When I gave the visual test of making up stories about your place in group dynamics, Alex came forth as the helpful one, Kyle came across as the bully and Isabel came forth as totally disconnected. Her claim of apathy didn’t ring true. I needed to know more about her. Would aliens be totally apathetic to those around them knowing that they needed cover in which to hide? Isabel pretended to be one of the beautiful people, but something told me that somewhere, there was a personage who cared. Now Max was the study. Immediately, he saw the boy behind the tree. That gave me a chance to talk about shyness and taking a chance on life. This attitude wasn’t much of a threat to human life. A little like Maria, he didn’t see much of a future. He seemed to admire and maybe wish for a more outgoing personality. Maybe, this was when I began to question the doctrine of Pierce.

In the Special Unit, Pierce was the Pope. In the indoctrination meetings, he didn’t open with a prayer, but you couldn’t help but think that was an oversight. I knew that if he could have been there, Pierce would have armed the torpedoes when a certain ship of Polish emigrants, dear to my heart, approached Ellis Island. Pierce raised cultural bigotry to a religion. How could the shy Max Evans, who was hiding behind the tree ever plan to take over the world? I don’t think Max had gotten as far as Kyle Valenti had in his designs to take over Parker’s pants. I think at this point, the boy Max Evans would like a night of just holding her hand. I couldn’t see Max leading an invasion.

Speaking of religion, I don’t know what beliefs Liz Parker held, but her devotion to science was exemplary. Her statement that even the smells of the chemistry lab led her on, showed that she had deep seated plans. I wondered how her association with aliens would fit with these plans. Harvard biochemistry lab is a big step for the smallest of small town girls. Parker did say that she wanted control and that she believed you always had to have a plan.

In one session, I pushed Max. I asked about his past. He is a total blank before his adoption and he doesn’t allow himself to plan too far ahead, a perfect partner for the over-planned Miss Parker. He wasn’t even giving college consideration. With that much future and he seemed to not think there was a tomorrow. I couldn’t see how he was going to plan a revolution. How much in common he did have with Maria Deluca?

Alex was the strangest of all. I already said I am not into cougar living. Alex was a young man and deserved to have his future as it developed. He was the first man who was able to partially break through my shell. No, he didn’t learn that I was in the agency yet, but he did pull a lot from me about growing up and making my way by my wits. You don’t tell a young man about screwing your way up the ladder of success. He deserved to believe that life was fair and hard work and intellectual ability would be awarded. Trying to talk to him about his future, he pulled many feelings from me that I thought I had hidden. If things had been different, Alex would have been the man I would have wanted, if I had been free and he had been older.

Isabel was the biggest surprise. Maybe I had seen this already. Isabel was a caring person who worried about those around her. That social crap was just that, crap. She cared about others almost as much as Alex did. I was unable to understand about the shell she had built. Stevens told me that I hadn’t considered her being an alien. It was later that I found out how much she and Alex shared together without either of them knowing or understanding it.

Teenagers being teenagers, some fissures began opening in the ranks. Mostly, I observed from a distance. It was Kyle’s jealousy that I first saw. Max came to school all beat to hell. Looking at his school records, Max never got hurt or was sick. Here, it looked like he had come in second in a fight between two alley cats. I have no idea how he did it, but I think that Guerin had something to do with getting even. Stevens jumped on this story. If I could figure out how Guerin did these things, I might have a chance at proving aliens. The student grapevine was full of Kyle’s friends taking something out on Max. Those same students had a series of questionable accidents. I couldn’t find a way to tie them to Guerin. I do know that this broke the final tie between Liz and Kyle. Liz was, now, dedicated only to Max.

Another nail was pounded into the coffin of Isabel not being a caring person. Liz had a family emergency and I heard that Isabel actually took Liz’s place working at the Crashdown. Isabel was wearing the short green dress and dilly boppers on her head.

Opportunities began to appear. The first one was a diary or rather a journal as she called it. Elizabeth Parker was totally human, Stevens assured me. He had blood from her dress. Watching the others who we suspected of having alien status, I saw that somehow, Liz Parker was a key to the knowledge we needed. I found that there was another that I should study. Alex Whitman, that bright boy I mentioned, was seen to punch a dint in his locker. Under interrogation, as his counselor, he confessed that he was concerned that his former friends seemed to be moving on. He, also, stated that Liz Parker had lost her diary and partially accused him. Liz Parker and Maria DeLuca were keeping him on the outside of something. The three of them had been friends forever.

Liz Parker was a bit obsessive. If Liz Parker wrote a diary or a journal, you can bet that it would be complete. Anything she knew about Max and the rest of them would be there. This was not enough evidence to get a warrant to search her house, but if the journal was out there, it would be fair game for any who found it. I did feel that this was important enough to ask Agent Stevens for help. He assigned me a couple agents to assist me. The agents were not pleased. They resented working for me. That was another place where my reputation for being a good piece of ass didn’t help.

Agents Moss and Baxter were good enough. They were the best that Stevens was going to give me at this time. Guess I could have slept with them and tried to give them a little incentive, but Stevens had placed me in change and the “boss don’t sleep with the hired hands.” I gave them what I had about Liz Parker. I guess the information I had about her ex-boyfriend was good because when my agents visited the Valenti home one night, they found Max and Liz there, also. The Valenti’s came home and all parties fled without finding anything.

The whole subject of the diary dried up. No one mentioned it again. There were a few little things like Michael Guerin got caught breaking into the alien museum where Max worked. Max smoothed that over. That was when I had a brilliant idea. Mr. Summers was a pathetic humanities teacher. To most of his students, he was as boring as was his subject.

I am sure that most of his enthusiasm was generated by my low cut dress, but he was excited that I was giving him something to charge up his class. The list I made started by asking what was the favorite ice cream and wove in questions about family and relationships. I also gave Summers the way to pair off the students. You would have thought that I had personally supercharged his class and in a way I guess I had. This was standard in any poling exercise. Ask several innocuous questions, space these with highly personal questions. Then among all of these, put the questions you really want answers to.

Kyle Valenti and Max Evans were at odds with each other over Liz and I wanted to increase tension between them, same with Liz and Max’s sister. Michael Guerin was known for his prickly personality so who better to pair him with than Maria DeLuca. If anyone could get under his skin, it would be DeLuca. Create enough tension and someone was bound to crack. I had to be near enough so I could exploit the crack.

Max and his sister took off. Liz was with them and I assigned agent Baxter to tail them. I sent Stevens a message that things were breaking. Baxter lost them. I was furious. He had tailed them to a food mart; when they took off, he had a flat tire. Figure that. Baxter did say that Max was near his car while he was in the shadows.

Blessings for technology, my all band police scanner went off and I heard the sheriff calling a BOLO (be on the lookout,) to the State Police. Be on the lookout for a jeep, with three minors, registered to Philip and Diane Evans. He got a hit for another car heading south on 285 with two minors from Roswell. The car was registered to Amy DeLuca. That was Maria’s mother.

I flipped through my notebook and saw that 285 stopped at some place called Sanderson Texas. That meant nothing to me but if you turned off on 385 at Fort Stockton, you could get to a place called Marathon. There had been an alien hunter of sorts living there. I had to take a chance. I learned later that the sheriff had notes that Michael was using. I didn’t have benefit of that. Atherton had lived many years ago in a ultra modern hippy house that was built like a geodesic dome. He was dead. The sheriff had a picture of his body, but didn’t know who it was. It was one of those silver handprint killings. It was my understanding that Pierce had trashed the place after he knew that Atherton had been killed. Maybe, the aliens had some intel that was not available to the agency. I arrived right behind the sheriff. I saw him entering the house when I drove up. He didn’t hear me, so I quietly drove up as close as I could. Once inside, I crept up behind him and dropped him with a spin kick. I heard noise from somewhere, but it was clear that there was nothing of value in the house. I found a trap door and approached it. The kids did have something the agency didn’t have. There was a key in a hidden lock in the wall. As I stepped over the sheriff, I thought, if I ever had time, he would still make a good lay in a rugged sort of a way. The trap door led down stairs to a basement. I saw a tunnel and made my way just in time to see the jeep driving off. I thought it had a box or something in the back. Now, I had to get back to Roswell to set up a little burglary. The kids wouldn’t dare miss school, especially Max, Isabel and Liz. I was sure they would store the box at Max’s house.

Stevens was pissed. He called me and screamed for several minutes. His main purpose was to put me in my place. True, he cared for me out of guilt, but now, he was almost unreasonable. I don’t think that he would have cared if everyone knew that he screwed me. There was something that scared Stevens, scared him even more than whatever I could have done to his marriage. He had put me in charge and me dropping the sheriff was an affront to our covert image. Usually, the agency looked down on local LEO’s. Local Law Enforcement Officers were of little consequence. Something about my action had scared Senior Agent Stevens. After the period of screaming, he didn’t take away my authority. I staged a burglary of the Evans home to get whatever the kids removed from Atherton’s place and set up surveillance of several of the kids. As usual when something was up, they met at the Crashdown. This assured me even more that Liz was a key in someway.
Stories by Ken
Good teachers are born that way, not made. No! Good human beings, are born that way. Some of them become teachers.

Of course, life is not fair. You shouldn't expect it to be fair, but you should expect it to be ironic.
JKR 1981-2001
History is made of wars, recovering from wars and preparing for the next war.
JJR 1975-

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Location: New Mexico

Re: Kathleen Topolsky Life and Death, mature. CC. ch2, 10/1

Post by ken_r » Mon Oct 22, 2012 11:54 am

mary mary: sometime ask me to tell you some of the things i have run into in real life. If anyone gets all warm and fuzzy about the government, they are living a fantasy. Remember the government is made up of greedy people.

keepsmiling7: These assessments are called inventory tests. They are very helpful to get at the bottom of group and individual dynamics. "Where are you in this picture," "Tell me a story about this picture," "How do you see yourself? How do you see yourself in ten years? What do you want to do when you get out of school?" To a trained analyst tell a lot about students that is why it was funny when Alex did not play the game. Alex was more interested in what the questions showed. A good analyst still would learn about him. Topolsky said, "Sign him up. He would make a perfect analyst himself.

CandyliciousLovah: My experience with the local police was that the Agency itself was evil. During the Civil Rights days, the agents got very closed mouth, even more than they did during prohibition. It is difficult for strangers to blow in town and mess up your whole department. Smart agents, who Hoover usually expelled to the west learned to work with trusted "LEOs" that is local enforcement officers. "Ella Clah" novels by david and Aimee Thurlo show this the best I have read. The agent is alone on the reservation and dependent on those around him as his back-up.

Chapter 3

The sheriff paid me a visit today. He didn’t seem to be angry, but he knew that I was the one who put him down. Like any cowboy after a fight, he was willing to admit that I put one over on him. He used the fiction of trying to see if there was any way a student could have robbed the Evans’. Of course, I assured him that my students wouldn’t do such a thing and he knew that I had no way of knowing that. Flirting with him, once again, brought up the image of his naked body laying next to mine and his manhood deep inside of me. The sheriff was no paper pushing pencil dick. If I ever made it with him, I would have known that I had been with a real man. A poor Polish girl on her way up doesn’t have time for a pleasure fuck. Maybe, something would develop that I could use as an excuse to indulge him.

I think the Parker girl got out of town someway last night. We have been tailing the three who give the most promise. Parker wasn’t at her job and she was seen returning late last night. Tonight, I will make sure to put a tail on her. Guerin doesn’t have any transportation and the Evans kids only have their jeep. The kids were doing their best to lose me, when the sheriff stopped me and that was that.

We decided to talk rather than to take me back to jail. Once again, it was sex, I am sure that sold the sheriff. Being that close to the sheriff, the desire kept rising. If I could just afford it, I would be in bed with him in a minute. We casually made innuendos that could have been taken as invitations for a night. Unfortunately, better sense brought us back to law enforcement business. Instead of sharing a good fuck, we discussed sharing information.

Luck will come to those who wait. With teenagers, human or otherwise waiting can produce many things. The student grapevine was loaded with the story that Evans and Parker had been in a car wreck. They had taken off during school for a joy ride and something caused them to loose control. Evans was in the hospital. Vitals and blood work should settle if he was an alien or not. We still had samples from the 47 crash. The principal was willing to let me take over any news of Evans. I got an agent to the hospital as fast as possible.

The hospital was a mess. Kids came and kids went. My agent, got caught by the lab tech while he was messing with the blood, so she threw him out of the lab. We couldn’t control the situation. One of the kids coming and going was Alex Whitman. The agents were sanitizing Max’s hospital room and that DeLuca girl must have sent Michael Guerin back for her purse. He saw the agents. Michael mumbled something about getting his girl’s purse. We put a tail on Max and Liz, but they lost the tail. I had to get a sample of Alex’s blood. That wasn’t hard to do, a little drug from the agency and Alex quickly got a nosebleed. It was funny, Alex the boy, not the nosebleed. When I sat down with Alex, a coffee in my hand, he was as flustered as any man. Liz interfered with our talk, but I had already slipped him the drug. Shortly, he developed a nosebleed. Slipping into the boy’s restroom gave me a tissue soaked sample of his blood. I made an appointment to talk to him as a counselor. I tried a bit of hardball. It didn’t work, but I did plant some seeds of thought. It, also, set up my downfall. I didn’t consider that little Miss Parker, child that she was, could play hardball, also. Liz Parker had no intention of screwing any one, but her soft voice and doe like eyes could make Alex do anything.

I was in converse with Alex when Liz Parker interrupted. She was adamant that she needed to talk to me. She mumbled over and over about friends changing. Finally, I saw what she was doing. She was stalling and Alex, the computer genius, was in my office alone with my computer. He had managed to open it to the Agency homepage. I told them something that surprised even me. I told them I was on their side and I really meant it.

My cover blown, I had to get out of there. The damned school administrators would harangue me for hours as to whether I had due cause to be in their system or not. Any attention like that and even Pierce would take notice. At the very start, Stevens had warned me that I didn’t want to piss Pierce off. Yeah, it is America in the twenty-first century, but powers are still out there, not known to mortal men and women. Pierce was a fanatic about aliens. He had lost several men since he took over and it was rumored that the man Pierce received the reins from, had been killed by the creatures. To keep me under Pierce’s radar, Stevens removed me from leading the operation, but he left me in Roswell.

Left in Roswell, but deep under cover, I was mad at first at Stevens for taking my authority away. I was to learn that being leader meant being in the bull’s eye.

The chief move in disguise is your environment. Officer O’Malley, who sees children every day at the school crossing, puts on a polo shirt, picks up a golf bag and even his caddy doesn’t recognize him. I tucked my hair up in a hat and donned a war surplus army coat so I could walk in safety among groups of students all over Roswell.

Not being an actual teacher, I didn’t realize that my absence itself would cause comment. I left a bunch of parents who I had arranged to meet, concerned about their children. They, in mass, complained to the principal. It seems that educators don’t leave their posts. Thankfully, the kids with the aliens didn’t say anything to the authorities about my connection with the agency.

Clothes, hair color, i.e. a wig and change of environment, I could go almost anywhere I wanted. Getting coffee in the Crashdown, one morning, I saw Liz’s mother sitting in a booth looking out the window. Nancy Parker was her name. “Hi,” I said. “Do you mind if I sit down?” I asked.

She jumped as the unexpected sound of my voice; then, she quickly caught her self. “No, of course not,” she replied.

By way of starting a conversation I stated, “I hate to sit alone with the first coffee of the morning.”

There were a few minutes of silence. I thought she is going to ignore me and I had taken a chance for nothing. Then, she continued. “You a parent?” she asked.

I shook my head and to my surprise, I felt a sadness. The way my life was going, being a parent wasn’t in my future. “No, that pleasure hasn’t been mine,” I said.

“Yeah, there is a lot of pleasure, but there is a lot of frustration also,” Nancy said. “One minute they are in your arms and the next they are running, hiding and pushing you away. For them, you always want the best, but they say it is now their life, their body and their choices. They don’t even want you any longer.”

My psychological training kicked in. “It’s called weaning. You do it twice, you know. Once from your breast and once from your arms.”

“You sound like a psychologist,” she stated.

“I used to be a clinical psychologist,” I lied. True, I had the training. My psychology professor was one of the ones I screwed the most. Psychology was one of the few subjects I paid any attention to, but I hadn’t tried to take any state board exam to be legal. Maybe, I was afraid to take any test where I couldn’t screw the one who was evaluating it. “That was in another life and another world,” I tried to laugh it off.

“Maybe, all parents should be certified insane after raising a teen,” she giggled.

“But, there is a lot of pride as they go forth. Whatever their choices, what you tried to teach them rides right along on their shoulders,” I said.

“You already know the downfalls. You have already experienced them yourself. You don’t want them to suffer the same things that you did,” Nancy almost cried as she continued.

“Even the perfect Miss Parker has to experience mistakes so she can teach her children,” I replied.

Nancy quickly looked up. “You know my daughter?” she asked.

I shook my head. I would have to be quick to cover this one. “Not really, only what I hear from the jealousy of others who wish their children were as well behaved as yours.” Hey, that was pretty good, I thought.

“Oh, I didn’t realize others were watching my daughter,” Nancy said with downcast eyes.

“Others don’t see the tears. You should be proud of your daughter, no matter what she does. You have done your best. She has to do the rest.” I got up to leave. I had learned a little and maybe, I had built a path into the lives of at least one, who was connected with the aliens. I better leave before I went too far.

I now knew that Liz Parker was keeping secrets from her parents. I wondered when she and Max would build on their relationship. That her daughter was sexually active would be a shock to Nancy Parker, when it finally happened. I wonder what she would think about her daughter fucking an alien?

Pierce replaced me with Agent Baxter. He was a rugged individual who Stevens informed me, was chosen by Pierce himself. If I lost the operation, my condemnation would fall on both Stevens and myself. If Baxter lost it, Pierce would crucify him. Of course at the first opportunity, I got Baxter into bed. He wasn’t that smart and he wasn’t that good a lay, either. The whole time I was pumping Baxter, I was thinking about the sheriff. With Stevens, I had the leverage of guilt. With Baxter, all I had was that I was a good piece. That was the best at the moment. I couldn’t control Baxter, but as they say, he wasn’t about to kick me out of bed for eating crackers. For the time, I was still an integral part of the operation. Stevens had taken a lesser roll. Baxter reported to him as his leader, but Stevens knew that Baxter reported directly to Pierce, also.

There was some connection with a Native American village south of town. I tailed Liz one night as she approached the reservation village alone. I stayed well off the reservation. For most problems, reservations had their own police force. The sheriff even employed a member of the village as a deputy. That was smart on his part as it gave credibility to how he managed Native American problems in Roswell. Any serious problem on the reservation would become the problem of the FBI. Yeah, now there were a few Native Americans on the agency payroll. With the agencies indifference if they had sent any Native American, he could as well have been an Iroquois or Cherokee, neither having any understanding about the southwestern pueblos or Navajo-Apaches either.

With old J. Edgar, it was strictly WASP with an M, “White, Anglo Saxon, protestant and male all the way.” There wouldn’t have been any place for a Polish-Catholic girl who was a good lay. A good lay, J. Edgar didn’t even swing that way. He covered himself with a persona of homophobia to conceal his affairs with powers within his own office. J. Edgar was now dead, but his spirit wouldn’t go beyond. Every progressive step the agency made had to fight past the tradition over seen by J. Edgar’s ghost.

If any of us had set foot on the reservation it would have to be official. Pierce wouldn’t want that. What he did, he even covered from most of the agency. There were several trips back and forth by the aliens and the others associated with them. Tailing one of these trips had gotten me caught by the sheriff.

Working in the southwest can be difficult. For the agency, being so far from headquarters made support difficult. When J. Edgar was alive, his world was only on the east coast. His war with actors in California defined as Hell and the Midwest was considered purgatory. The southwest was covered with wild Indians. Agents, he was disappointed in, got sent to Omaha Nebraska. Agents sent to California were supposed to squelch those rebellious actors. Agents sent to the southwest, I think he was hoping would get scalped and burned at the stake. That was fine for Pierce. Even in the post Hoover era, the agency showed little interest in the alien hunters of the Roswell area.

For the agents in the southwest, surprise weather, made hell come home. It was December and the temperature was 90 degrees plus. Ninety wasn’t really hot, but in December, it seemed unbearable.

The hard part was that I couldn’t keep close contact with the behavior of the supposed aliens. Some of them did manage to get busted at an illegal dance at an old warehouse. Afterward, there were some changes in group dynamics. Somehow, Alex became more included, but from a distance, what happened was hard to understand.

The raid on the party, Alex and Liz in jail, were noted, but at the time I made use of the heat wave by seducing Agent Baxter, again. As we lay there, hot and sticky on the bed with the sheets on the floor, I was able to inspire some pillow talk with Baxter. “Yeah, I know, Stevens is a good man, but it is clear that he is losing favor with Pierce,” Baxter explained. I was trying to find out how Baxter saw himself. Probably, his best feature with Pierce was his lack of personal ambition. “Pierce is sure that there has been another invasion of the aliens,” Baxter continued. “It is rumored that there is an adult from the original crash and he has a female child with him. Pierce fears the adult, but he isn’t sure where the child fits in. The adult probably has killed several agents. Pierce has pulled several agents off line. There is something in the town of Copper Summit. This rang a bell in my mind. No one had mentioned anything in Arizona. This showed paranoia in Pierce’s leadership. He quickly sent agents to Arizona, but he didn’t warn any of his other field personnel about another group of aliens. If I hadn’t just given Baxter the fuck of his life, I wouldn’t have had any warning. That was Pierce, need to know had nothing to do with his agents safety.

Stories by Ken
Good teachers are born that way, not made. No! Good human beings, are born that way. Some of them become teachers.

Of course, life is not fair. You shouldn't expect it to be fair, but you should expect it to be ironic.
JKR 1981-2001
History is made of wars, recovering from wars and preparing for the next war.
JJR 1975-

User avatar
Obsessed Roswellian
Posts: 860
Joined: Wed Oct 04, 2006 11:34 pm
Location: New Mexico

Re: Kathleen Topolsky Life and Death, mature, CC. ch3, 10/22

Post by ken_r » Sun Oct 28, 2012 7:13 pm

keepsmiling7: She really was a bright woman. She wanted something from the kids. Her life here on Earth was in shambles. Kathleen wanted to be rescued when the aliens rescued the pod group.

mary mary: Don't be too sure on Abe. there are many stories coming out about his social difficulties.

Chapter 4

I avoided the Crashdown except when I found time to have very intimate talks with Nancy Parker. Afternoons when business was slow, Jeff wasn’t present and there was little chance any of the high school kids would stop by, I occasionally would stop by. No one had, so far, figured out who I was. At these times. there might be one or two adult waitresses working. Jeff, when it was slow, would pore over his business records. There would be one cook in the kitchen and Nancy would find time to sip tea in a booth. She seemed to welcome my presence and we talked about the children and their classes. “She used to open up to her grandmother when she was alive. Sometimes, she might talk a little to her father, but me, it is like pulling teeth,” Nancy stated. If Nancy Parker knew what I knew, she would be very worried indeed. Just from observation, I still didn’t think The Parker girl and Max had gone to bed together, but unless something happened, it would be inevitable.

I still would like to get Jim Valenti stretched out in bed. I was sure that the experience would be top drawer and if I got him off his guard, he had more knowledge than any of them about aliens. Valenti had been one of the first to see that I was connected with the agency. He would be on the lookout for any trace of me. I looked at the hippy mother of Maria as next best bet. She had something going with the sheriff and maybe, she knew something from his thoughts.

Brushing my hair out and then teasing a few tangles back in, a Mother Hubbard dress, sandals even though it was winter and over sized sunglasses and Amy saw me as a kindred soul. The first thing Amy did after she sat down was run her fingers over my beaded handbag. “I haven’t seen something like this since I lived in Taos,” she said.

I sighed. “Yes, but the Taos of long ago is dead. Now, the place is filled with movie stars. They have driven prices sky high, run off the flower people who had still remained and scared off the chemical suppliers. Those rich bastards bring their stuff with them,” I said.

Amy looked down at the table; I couldn’t tell if it was with sadness or pride. She said, “I never got caught up with that stuff.”

“Smart girl,” I declared. “It has taken years to get the monkey off of my back. Do you have any regrets about the old days?” I asked.

“Sometimes, I miss the freedom. No one cared if you got up or not. No schedules to follow and no phone calls about late bills or problems at school,” she replied.

“Problems at school? It sounds like you have responsibilities yourself, now,” I said.

“Yeah, I have a teenaged daughter now. She is 16. She is a handful. I was raised by my grandmother and ran away at 15. Ran away at 15, got pregnant at 16 and my lover was out of there at 17. That was when I made my life changes. I understand my grandmother better now. A teenager is a handful,” Amy explained.

“I guess teaching them to balance school, their social life and maybe, a part time job is difficult,” I stated.

“And school!” Amy exclaimed. “This person calls me that I need to come in to discuss my daughter’s future; when I get there, no one seems to know where she had gone. Just disappeared, they say. I take off my work too many times and I get laid off. Then, where will my daughter’s future lie?”

I knew that Amy worked for herself in a small crafts business. She had probably learned that taking time off her own business didn’t impress people, but the thought of a single mother risking her job for the benefit of her daughter did strike a note.

Amy had been one of the most vocal when she had been asked to come in to discuss her daughter. She had demanded to know if her daughter’s grades were slipping. When they said they weren’t, Amy was very vocal about the counselor and the school in general. Now, part of me guiding her to the subject of school was to see if she recognized me or not. Again, who would equate an over aged hippy displaced to Roswell with the prim counselor of West Roswell High.

“The corporation, the institution, the man, they are just like they were years ago. Nobody cares about your time. They make appointments and you are to jump. That is why most of us left society long ago,” I ranted.

“And, if school weren’t enough, my own memories haunt me. Maria is at that age. You know, slightly boy crazy. I remember myself at that age and I shudder. I remember what boys promised me. I can’t help but wander what is being promised to her to get into her pants? In Taos, I played at the guitar. Maria, on the other hand, has real talent. She had this friend when she was in grade school. He helped her with her guitar. For a while, I worried about them getting involved, but they were both well below puberty, so eventually, I quit worrying. Now, Maria talks about all sorts of boys, but Alex is not one of them. Yes, she and that Parker girl still hang out with Alex, but Maria always says he has his eyes on some other girl. Now, I worry who has caught her eye,” Amy explained.

As I chatted with Amy, I also straightened some things in my mind. This put Alex in some sort of perspective. The Parker girl, Liz, was interested in Max. I had seen Maria talking to the other suspected alien, Michael. Apparently, Amy didn’t know about him or for some reason, she chose not to talk about him.

I had proof that Alex had substituted his blood for that of Max. Did Maria and the Parker girl have enough influence to make him do this? When I was questioning him, he kept talking about drugs. Any confession he made, he insisted that we promise Liz would receive protection. I thought he maybe he had a crush on Liz. Now, from talking with Maria’s mother, that didn’t seem to be the case. There was something stronger influencing him than a casual relationship than the two girls. What makes boys do things? That is easy, it is girls. The only other girl in the group was so implausible that I couldn’t put it together. Alex Whitman with Isabel Evans, the geek and the society girl, I didn’t think so. Then I remembered the test I had put Isabel through. There was a lot more depth than I had thought in Isabel. It would be a smart geek like Alex to see through the trappings. If anyone could do it, it would be Alex. Was there a connection between them or just a hoped for connection?

I remembered when I sat down with Alex at his table. He had jumped to pick up his papers and make a place for me. That showed good upbringing. If Alex could see through the social façade of Isabel, I was sure that she could see the potential in him. Yes, in that kind of company, Alex might take a chance in breaking the law. I wish I knew what had brought Alex to that RAVE. He was looking for some sort of promise. Something led him to stay and get caught by the law.

I made reports to Baxter. I did my best, but even with the promise of nookie, Baxter left me out of many of his plans or maybe, I should say Pierce’s plans. I found out about the reservation connection. Baxter set up surveillance on the reservation and still left me to my own devices.

I was dressed like a street hag. Señor Chow was a good man. I followed Max and Liz to his Chinese-Mexican restaurant. I took a booth near the door and spread out enough coins for some soup. The waitress barely gave me a look. The Señor himself came over and took my coins. Not only did he bring me a large bowl of soup, but he brought coffee and bread to go with it. I tried to shove the extras away, but he said, “Hey, I know what it is like to be out in the cold. You are welcome to stay until we close up. At least then, you will be warmed up.”

He must have said something to the girl serving. She kept bringing me refills of coffee. I got up to go to the restroom and when I returned, there was a basket of fresh warm dinner rolls by my plate. Max and Liz were typical young people stumbling on an early date. Neither of them was particularly comfortable with the other. They played “nine ball,” with the Evans boy trying to show his girl how to stand and shoot. As I watched, I saw the “Perfect Miss Parker,” almost run the table. At least at pool, she was quite experienced. Then, it was she showing Max how to make difficult shots. Dinner and then dancing, I didn’t see aliens, any longer. I saw two young people stumbling at love. My mind went back to what I wished I could have had in high school.

Maria DeLuca came running into Señor Chow’s in Crashdown uniform complete with the bouncing headgear. She was whispering, but I could make out the word, “Michael.” As I expected, Maria looked right past me without recognition.

Max paid the bill and he and Liz quickly followed Maria. As soon as they were gone, I managed to leave also. I didn’t want to be too obvious or hurt Señor Chow’s feelings. Maria was still in uniform. I couldn’t imagine her wanting to run around town dressed like that, so I assumed they would be heading back to the crashdown.

Surprisingly, Jeff left much of the operation of the Crashdown to his daughter, even at her young age. Late and after hours, Liz and her friends used it as a meeting place. I wondered how much her friends took advantage of this. Through the window I could see them helping Michael. I had heard that Baxter had placed Michael at the reservation earlier this evening. Now, I could see that Michael was drunk or something. They went back and forth, up and down the stairs. The Crashdown hadn’t yet closed. I saw several of Liz’s friends take over helping her with closing up. Apparently, Alex had stayed while Maria ran out to find Max. I couldn’t get close enough to hear what they were saying, but I did hear a chant, like you would hear at a Native American ceremony.

Finally they pilled back into the JEEP and Maria’s little Jetta. I would later hear from Baxter that they returned to the reservation. None of us knew what happened there. There was no way that Baxter could get men on the reservation with out raising eyebrows in the agency. Attracting attention would bring fast retribution from Pierce. This night is what started a final change in me. Watching Liz and Max at the restaurant, I couldn’t see an alien. I saw two very sweet kids falling in love.

Pierce called all of us in for a meeting. Now meetings with Pierce were different. You would think a director of a project would call meetings to exchange ideas or observations. All reports went directly to Pierce so he knew everything we knew. Meetings with Pierce were like old time revivals. We were all called upon to testify our faith and support of the “Pierce Doctrine.” This called up a memory of a political campaign. One of the talking heads had one candidate for interview. She demanded a discussion of the doctrine of the present president. The candidate became confused and the talking head, brayed for weeks how she had confounded the candidate. Doctrines are for history. Unless you are confronted by megalomania, the doctrine won’t be labeled as such until history gives it’s patient evaluation. That was what I was confronted with, Pierce’s megalomaniac personality. We weren’t fact finding, we were looking for evidence to prove Pierce’s self-proclaimed doctrine.

The fact that I was beginning to believe that who or whatever these creatures were, they were in reality, just kids fumbling their way to adulthood. I saw no conspiracy to take over the world. I don’t know where Pierce came from, but I had felt alien most of my life, trying to fit the name Topolsky into a world which gave me few breaks that I didn’t have to royally pay for.

Pierce began to lay plans for the four aliens. I remember the old folks in the community where I grew up. They told of first Germany, then Russia entering Poland. Their stories resembled, in many ways, the plans of Pierce. Identify, contain, confine and at last, exterminate, were a lot like the NAZI camps of years ago. I remember the old people talking about the medical experiments which were done in the name of study. Pierce had some dark plans for the three, so far, suspected aliens and even their close human friends.

Pierce preached; we cheered, clapped and affirmed our faith. With Pierce, meetings were indoctrinations. I said nothing about my changing heart. Baxter and his boys all vied to cheer the loudest. I had the idea that enthusiasm was what Pierce measured in his handing out promotions. It didn’t look like little Kathleen was in line for anything.

Agent Stevens was absent from this meeting.

Back in Roswell, I found that assignments were not being handed out to me. I asked Baxter what he wanted me to do, he shrugged, “Keep an eye on the Crashdown,” was the only answer he gave. While we were gone, something had happened. Listening to deputies talking, I heard that there had been a fire at the Evans’ home. It had been a grease fire and Max had put it out with a pot of water. Even a little girl from a Polish ghetto knew that didn’t work. Water only made a grease fire worse. I understood that the sheriff had been feeding Mr. Evans information to make her ask questions about what her son had done.

Watching Maria was very confusing. At night when they would lock up the Crashdown, there might be a torrid kissing bout with Michael. The next day, he would ignore her to the point of rudeness. I still couldn’t see what Alex was getting out of the group. He mainly hung around.

Wow! It happened. An event equivalent to the Native Americans standing on the shore as the pilgrims landed. A complete squad of agents already in Roswell and there was a sighting. Now in Roswell, sightings meant only one thing. Some one had seen a UFO.

Pierce’s only regret was that he hadn’t been there to make the identification himself. He burned out the batteries of Baxter’s cell phone demanding information and photos. Some how, this coincided with a father-student camping trip. The woods were being over run with people, fathers and students, the local police and now, Pierce’s agents. Throw in a few UFO nuts and the event might as well have happened in the middle of the World Series.
Stories by Ken
Good teachers are born that way, not made. No! Good human beings, are born that way. Some of them become teachers.

Of course, life is not fair. You shouldn't expect it to be fair, but you should expect it to be ironic.
JKR 1981-2001
History is made of wars, recovering from wars and preparing for the next war.
JJR 1975-

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Re: Kathleen Topolsky, mature, CC. ch4, p2, 10/28/12

Post by ken_r » Sun Nov 04, 2012 2:20 pm

mary mary: Kathleen is still gathering information, she hasn't broken from the agency, yet.

keepsmiling7: I was working outside of Taos in the middle of the hippy occupation. I can see Amy DeLuca as one of the disappointed flower children, but willing to take on responsibility for the sake of Maria. There were several characters that need to be expanded to understand their actions.

Chapter 5

Father and students outing; I remembered a little more of my psychology training. For many, family outings and activities are treasured memories. When school, churches and other organizations attempt to force these activities on families, stresses do develop.

For some reason, Liz talked Maria into going with the Parkers. I saw Alex and his father looking like two fish long out of water and gasping for something they understood. The Evans twins, with Isabel carrying her own pillow were pulling Philip Evans along. Kyle Valenti was walking around like he was lost. He was following one of his coaches, his father nowhere to be seen until he made a sudden and unexpected appearance. Whenever the sheriff was away from his son, he was on his cell phone. There was more going on with him than connecting with his son. All the aliens except Michael, who of course, didn’t have a father or even a substitute father to be included, were suddenly very interested in spending time in the woods. Baxter put the whole team in the woods, including me. I was dressed in a black jump suit labeled, FBI. With my hair pulled under my combat cap and absolutely no make up, I had a pretty good disguise.

From my hiding place, I saw the sheriff move Kyle to a place on high ground. The Whitmans, Like two lost puppies, followed closely. When the Parkers and the Evans families appeared, the sheriff could be heard calling them. Apparently, the sheriff wanted to keep all of them close for observation.

Alex and Isabel did step out away from the campfires and sit looking at the stars. I had stepped out to observe the stars with a boy or two, but we never got past the big dipper before “dip her” took on an entirely different meaning. As far as I could tell, looking at the stars was as far as they got. I couldn’t tell if it was Alex’s inexperience or Isabel’s paranoia, which kicked in to preserve, for the moment, their chastity.

My distance from the camp kept me from close observation. Sure enough the Evans twins took off as soon as the camp settled down. Soon, they were followed by Liz Parker and, of course, Maria DeLuca. The sheriff had been watching them closely so he joined the procession. Jeff raised commotion when he discovered his daughter missing; then, search dogs were heard. The sheriff had ordered the whole woods patrolled. The dogs found Liz and Maria along with the owner of the UFO museum. I heard even Michael and a member of the nearby Native American reservation were out. I don’t know what any of them found, but I am sure that no other aliens were hiding out in these woods.

Young people seeking answers in nature and in each other, parents and authorities worried about their children, would things have been any different if this had been a Methodist Church camp? I think not. Were the aliens that much different, again, I think not. I didn’t see the monsters the rest of the special unit kept reporting about.

Roswell UFO festival and orders were to observe, learn and keep our heads down. You might think this would be a Mecca of information. You had crooks, you had believers, you had con men and women and you had, occasionally, very dangerous mental cases. No special orders for me, I spent the time watching the three believed aliens and their human companions. They all were looking for answers, especially Michael. It must be hard to see the way others looked at aliens. BEMs, bug eyed monsters, was a phrase from the 50s. Most of the information about aliens at the festival was paranoiac to the extreme. I watched the three young people and saw the angst in their eyes at the rubber masks and horrid posters of monsters devouring humans. The faces of their human friends were worse as they saw the hatred other humans professed for the aliens who they thought of as friends, maybe even lovers.

The black SUVs and the black suits were for the time hidden. Government agents were feared by many of the crowd almost as much as the rest of the crowd feared horrible disgusting aliens who wanted to devour the Earth. Baxter might have pulled it off better if he had removed all the sales tags from his new Levies and plaid shirt. He bought rounds of coffee and carefully listened to thousands of stories. I slipped into the museum and sat through several lectures about abduction and confrontation. The stories were about eviscerations and experiments. Many of them sounded much like what Pierce would do. Human women learned that it did no good to tightly cross your legs. The aliens would reach right through your body to take what was most precious to them, your eggs. This was all hard to compare to the boy and girl who danced together at Señor Chow’s.

Everett Hubble was a totally psycho alien hunter. Psychologists do not like to use words like psycho, but Hubble was out for green alien blood. His story was that an alien had killed his pregnant wife, so the alien could steal their car. There had been a shooting that the older Valenti had been mixed up in. The shooting had helped bring down sheriff Valenti’s father, when he also was a peace officer. Hubble tried to talk to as many of the festival goers as possible. He was mostly rude and very brisk, blowing them off as fake. Lawrence ‘Larry’ Trilling and his girlfriend Jenifer had been two tourists who had seen Liz get shot. They had never let go of the story that Max did something to bring Liz back to life. Baxter managed to bring Hubble and Trilling together. That introduced Hubble to Max Evans.

Pierce was studying the three aliens. He believed that there might even be more out there. Hubble thought of alien in the singular. An alien had killed his wife and that alien was seen in every manifestation of the paranormal. Hubble managed to talk Max into going out of town with him and Hubble tried to kill Max.

Our records showed Hubble was collecting pictures of alien killings. I saw Max as a 16 year-old boy who was trying to grow up. Hubble saw him as an alien who had been killing all over the southwest for years. I knew that Pierce had records of agents who had been killed by aliens. I wondered how Pierce saw Max? Did he see Max as that single alien who was older than his appearance or did he see Max as part of a greater conspiracy? I knew that, so far, Pierce did not see Max, Isabel and Michael as three teenagers who were trying to grow up. I remembered that southern phrase, “You don’t kill a mocking bird.” You don’t kill something that is beautiful and not dangerous to anyone. I could no longer desire to study, capture and contain these three alien children. Pierce wanted to ultimately kill them. Maybe, their growing up was the most terrifying thing to him. He saw some alien conspiracy that would lead to thousands of aliens growing up to populate the world, subjugating humanity to slavery.

According to the “Pierce Doctrine,” we were facing an army of aliens. They were spreading out to mate with humans to raise an army to take over the world. “They appear as innocent children,” Pierce cried, “to play on our sensitivities. They appear as adolescents to get into our high schools. Here they can seduce females which will have the longest period of fertility,” he continued.

“What about the female alien? Are there more of them somewhere? What is she doing to endanger the world?” a foolish newbie asked.

Pierce stood on the raised platform where he always stood when recharging the troops. He rolled his eyes toward heaven and spoke, “The females are the most insidious. They are reducing young, viral, high school males to become love slaves. They will milk from them their sperm to send back to where the disgusting aliens come from. Here they will divide the sperm so they can produce more human like aliens to send to our world.” A careful listener would see that Pierce would overlay any comment about aliens with hyperbole. Any word from Pierce was an indoctrination. He didn’t deal in facts, that had long passed. Pierce was after conversions. Something was going to happen and Pierce wanted everyone to agree that his actions were the best choice. At least the actions that he allowed others to know.

As I became more familiar with the teens and from what I learned, when I was working in the high school, I couldn’t see these teens as calculating soldiers who were marching on the Earth. Frankly, I saw them as stupid stumbling children. They weren’t calculating soldiers. They were screwed up teens. I could see myself in them in so many ways. Start with Isabel Evans. She had more than I ever had in her worst days, but she was seeking for some sort of validation. At the overnight camp, it could be seen that she wanted something from Alex Whitman. At first, Isabel drew close to Alex. Then after the conversation about the stars, she began to push him away. Alex became frustrated, but not angry. He would have willingly plugged himself into the milking machine and given his last drop of sperm, still smiling at Isabel as he died, if she had of simply asked him. Isabel could have had most of the males at school making appointments and donating there essence and then, been stacking the spent bodies in the Evans’ garage. Hey, I made my personal decision as to what I was willing to give, to get what I wanted years ago. Isabel hadn’t yet made any decision as to what she even wanted.

Looking at the two males, they didn’t seem to have much promise. Michael had a host of social skills he had to work on before he got a damsel into bed. At first, I thought he was looking for some sadistic, masochistic relationship. When I was in school, his type would have scared the shit out of me. He seemed to be hitting on Maria DeLuca. Land knows she had enough self worth evaluations to let her slide into something like this. Probing deeper, after I left the school, it was the life of her mother that she feared. Her mother being what Maria thought of as a free spirit, brought out a flirtation, but the problems of her father leaving them, pilled on a ton of caution. With Michael, Maria had a lost puppy complex. I was sure that if Maria wasn’t what Michael wanted, he could surely find his desires in other students in the fringe community of high school. But, he didn’t seem to have the finesse to do this. This gave thought that Michael acted like the “bad boy,” but in some way, he wanted stability, also.

The convention ended on a dangerous note. There was another shooting. Max was seen in the presence of Everett Hubble. Larry Trilling and his girlfriend Jenifer were UFO nuts. They were a nuisance, but no one thought of them as dangerous. Larry, in front of the convention, had accused Max of being an alien. The audience laughed that off; Max was a member of the museum staff which was helping host the convention. I saw Everett Hubble corner Trilling outside. I couldn’t get close enough to hear, but after that, something scared Trilling and Hubble was next seen with Max, in Max’s JEEP. The next thing any of us knew was that, Hubble had been shot by Sheriff Valenti and there was no mention of Max or his JEEP. The sheriff and Hubble were at a deserted gas station/store out side of town. No one asked how Hubble got there. His truck was found back in Roswell.

Now the Parker girl, my first impression was that she was a bit of a prude, at least in the high society of high school. Super stud Kyle Valenti, the hero of almost every sports event, was busting his ass trying to impress her without much luck. At first, I saw Max had a fixation on her. Then as they progressed, I saw that it was Max who pulled back. Around Max, she was completely different than I had seen when she was with Kyle. It was Max who used restraint. These were not actions of someone who wants to start creating love children. This brings us to Maria’s screw up which screams of teenager.

Her actions fit right in with what I saw with her trying to help Michael. Maria was willing to take a chance, maybe just a little one, to get somewhere. If she couldn’t help herself, she would help her friend. She entered herself and Liz Parker into a blind date contest. What Maria saw as romantic, even Liz saw as scary. I am sure when her parents heard about it, I am sure they were upset. Liz won the contest. She, now, had a blind date with a college man. High school to college bridges that legal and social gap of the age of consent, age 18.

Stories by Ken
Good teachers are born that way, not made. No! Good human beings, are born that way. Some of them become teachers.

Of course, life is not fair. You shouldn't expect it to be fair, but you should expect it to be ironic.
JKR 1981-2001
History is made of wars, recovering from wars and preparing for the next war.
JJR 1975-

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Re: Kathleen Topolsky, mature, CC. ch5, p2, 11/4/12

Post by ken_r » Sun Nov 11, 2012 5:01 pm

mary mary: Yeah, be given some sort of guide book when you are thirty.

keepsmiling7: I might see on major flaw in Kathleen's character. She turned to the aliens hoping they

Chapter 6

Since I couldn’t follow very closely. I had to piece most of their night together later. When my report was turned into Pierce it earned an official reprimand. Pierce made it clear that he didn’t care if she fucked the entire college, he wanted to know what was happening between Parker and the alien. As he threw the file at me he yelled, “Don’t bother me with that crap. Bring me assurance that she was sleeping with Evans or maybe, some other alien.

Okay I am a slow learner. The other agents had been padding their reports with insinuations and half truths that painted both Parker and DeLuca as being screwed so much they were almost assuredly pregnant. That was what Pierce wanted. Round them all up and then, slice and dice them. Learn to recognize aliens and learn to tell if humans had produced alien babies. That was when next I heard from Agent Stevens.

“Kathleen, be careful. There is more to this then I ever thought. At first I thought Pierce was just a bigot. I thought some sort of prejudice alienated him from aliens. Maybe, some of, ‘only came here on the Mayflower,’ prejudice,” Stevens warned.

Pierce was clearly able to think that way. I had never tried to fuck him. I saw some sort of patrician thing in him. Screwing was not the way to get ahead with him. Stevens lowered his voice almost as if he was afraid of being over heard. “Pierce is trying to find out what makes them alien. He will chop Max and Michael into a thousand pieces, looking for some simple thing, which gives them alien powers. He will be slower with Isabel, because he has plans for her. Pierce doesn’t want to only destroy aliens, he wants to become one or to the extent of gaining their power. He is sure that given time, the Parker and DeLuca girls will show some signs of changing. Isabel Evans is the only female alien he has, so unless he can’t find something in the two human girls, Pierce wants to experiment on Isabel to see if she can give him the alien power, sort getting a dose of alien herpes. Pierce is only afraid of a super race, if he can’t be part of it.”

Stevens intended his information to caution me. What it did was to make me the loneliest person in the world. I knew that most of the special unit was feeding Pierce what he wanted. Look, I knew men and I knew men in the agency. They all couldn’t be honestly following what pierce was dishing out. There had to be someone who had doubts like I did. How could I find him without attracting the attention of Pierce? This was the beginning of my death. I was starting to kick dirt into the face of the messiah, but I needed someone who saw through this game of alien hunting.

This was big. When he heard of it, Pierce was all over the place. Pierce, claimed that he had seen agents killed by the diabolical aliens. Now the locals were all over one of the kids, we suspected of being alien. Michael, the misfit had drawn a hard life. He had sampled many of the offerings of the welfare system. His current guardian was a single male drunk. I don’t know how many rules of the welfare system were being violated, but Hank Whitmore, a single drunk, had custody of Michael. This was clearly a meal ticket for Hank. If I had of still been connected with the school system, I could have stepped in and given Michael some sort of protection.

Even from a distance, an old rag lady could see the shiner Michael was sporting. It wasn’t as bad as the one Max got from the friends of Kyle, but Max had been the target of several high school jocks. Michael never had that much to do with anyone. Michael got his from home. I staked out Michael’s home where he lived with Hank. I didn’t have to get that close. The yelling carried across the park. Max and Isabel must have had the same thoughts. When the yellings started, they appeared from the shadows. There was some flashing of lights, maybe Pierce was right. He would have seen it as an alien hurting a human. I could only see this as Hank Whitmore getting what he deserved. Okay, so no one would have said anything if Michael struck back, Hank Whitmore being an old sadistic drunk, but hank disappeared.

Witnesses told of bright flashes, screaming, gun shots and all sorts of carrying on. Pierce put things that I didn’t know together and came up with, either Michael killed his stepfather or there had been another alien come to Roswell. What he hadn’t seen fit to tell me was that all three kids we were looking at found something in the woods. They destroyed it. When Liz was running around town with Kyle and Max right behind her on the night of her blind date, Isabel and Michael sent some sort of message. Now,` the Locals picked up Michael and threw him in jail.

Word came down from Pierce. The LEO’s (local law enforcement officers) had Michael. Pierce said, “Let them hold him. See what they get out of him, but be ready to move if it appears he will break.” Pierce was going to let Valenti soften Michael up.

I thought it kind of sweet that Maria and her mother, both witnessed that Michael had spent the night in Maria’s bed. Valenti was a teddy bear when Amy appeared with Maria. The result was that Max’s father helped Michael receive emancipation from the welfare system. Michael was now responsible for himself.

If Max was a devious alien, dedicated to taking over the world, one girl at a time, the next few days showed that he needed a lot of help. Remember, everything I observed I had to see from a distance. Valenti, the principal of the high school and lord knows who else, were looking for me, that is, Kathleen Topolsky. From sitting across from the school with my grocery cart piled high with rags to slowly strolling through the park, I appeared to be one of the homeless. The school had a bus stop right across from the front door. Sitting there, I could see distraught mothers hurrying to the principal’s office. The mother of a girl and the mother of a boy called to the school at the same time spelled some sort of sexual encounter gone wrong. They didn’t take their kids with them when they left, so it couldn’t have been too serious. A few days later, I was sitting with Nancy, having our coffee together that she told me. “I don’t know what has got into my Liz. She never had been a problem before,” Nancy said. Diane Evans and I get a call from school that our children were making out in a janitor’s closet. I find out that both children have been assigned attention for “Overt behavior,” whatever that is. Then, Liz sneaks off with Max after she thinks we have gone to bed. I caught her returning through her window. Top that off with they sneaked off again and both spent the night in the desert together,” Nancy moaned.

“They are at that age,” was about all I could say.

This is when it started. The last report, I turned in was destroyed by Pierce. “This is written like a high school psychologist. Can’t you get it through your head these are dangerous aliens, bent on taking over the world?” he screamed.

The problem, the other agents trying to feed Pierce’s ego had been writing BEM reports like the world was ready to fall. They were seeing “Bug Eyed Monsters” in half the students at Roswell.

It was really late one night when the phone rang. “Kathleen,” a voice whispered. “Stevens, here. He’s gone off the deep end. Pierce authorized the Eagle Rock facility to be opened up. Some of the 1947 material was sent to Edwards Air Force base, then known as Muroc Army Air Field and some of it was sent to Write Field in Dayton, Ohio. At least one of the survivors was sent to Eagle Rock right here outside of Roswell. That is where the Special Unit worked out of for a while. It is supposed to be for medical research, but if Pierce is working it, then I think we know what he intends for our friends.”

I had never been that close to Stevens, except for that time I seduced him. Now, he was talking about “Our friends.” I think he always felt that since he was older than I, he should have been more responsible. I was called back to Eagle Rock, by Pierce and given administrative assignments.

I was to read and put together an overall report from the other agents. I noticed that mine were conspicuously absent. Not much from Stevens from the time, he last left Valenti was included either.

I had always fucked my way out of any problem I couldn’t get out of any other way. Here, no dice. I don’t know what Pierce told those who I worked with, but I purred up to one agent and he ran like I was Lorena Bobbit. If you don’t remember this lady, back in 1993, google her story. Hey, I was still young and there was no reason not to accept my advances. Don’t give me that shit that the agents were struck with a streak of morality. Maybe, their fear was what struck me.

We were all called into a meeting. That is all but Agent Stevens. I couldn’t figure out why he was excluded. True he had been missing from more and more meetings the last few months. When Pierce had satisfied himself that we all had passed some sort of faith test, he got down to business. I hadn’t seen Pierce this agitated before. Something had happened. That, again, brought to mind that Agent Stevens wasn’t here. I wasn’t in that much favor with Pierce and I had received notice to promptly attend. We all had driven in and I would have thought this many vehicles about Eagle Rock would be against the tenant of drawing attention to that place. Pierce was clearly stirred up. “People, you are not watching!” he shouted.

I could imagine that he was looking directly at me. “A fourth alien has struck,” he continued. “At least one man has been killed and there is evidence that contact has been made with the high school aliens. We have been watching the alien Guerin. He has been posing as a high school bad boy. To keep the image complete, the welfare service had placed him with a human, Hank Whitmore. Our close attention has shown that the human Whitmore had administered discipline against the alien, called Guerin. We have been watching for some time to see if the alien would strike back. This week in a staged juvenile show of independence, the alien Guerin and the human Whitmore came to blows. We are sure that the alien Guerin left the Whitmore home at the time,” Pierce related. I could only think that the human Whitmore had been a sadistic bastard and if something actually happened to him, he deserved it. In my own mind, I couldn’t help but wonder why the special unit allowed this to go on. I guessed that they wanted Guerin to make some move that would assure he was not of this world.

Pierce took a drink of water and then ranted again. “We tailed Guerin to the DeLuca residence and concluded that he spent the night with the daughter, Maria. It was obvious that the alien spent the night screwing the Maria girl. I can’t for the life of me understand why her mother didn’t scream to high heaven for the sheriff. What kind of mother allows her daughter to be seeded with that alien spawn? The sheriff takes the alien Guerin into custody, but the mother charms the sheriff into letting him go. We might want to check on the mother to see if she, some way, isn’t into helping spread the alien infestation.” Pierce stopped and scanned his audience to access the proper indignation. “After Guerin left to spread his seed, another man appearing creature appeared at the Whitmore home. He had the appearance of a working class Hispanic. Whitmore allowed him into his home and for a while nothing happened. We had placed one guard on the Whitmore place in case Guerin got away from his tail and returned. The guard reported shouting, then screaming and finally several gun shots and lightning flashes. The guard did report this to the sheriff’s office. Before the police arrived, one Hank Whitmore carrying another Hank Whitmore, this last one was limp, walked out to the car. The walking Whitmore placed the other Whitmore in the trunk of Whitmore’s car and drove off. When the police arrived, they only had witness’s remarks as to what happened. My man tailing followed the two Whitmores to a housing development. There, the driver got out and in the sight of the man tailing him, he changed back into the Hispanic. Gentlemen, this may be the first eye witness of a shape shifting we have ever had.” Pierce gazed about the room. There was considerable buzz at this information.

I didn’t have these details, but I knew about the abuse Michael Guerin had suffered. I knew he had been jailed and released. My reports had gone further than what Pierce had taken them. I knew that Michael had applied for and received adult status. Maybe. that wasn’t information that Pierce wanted. He had been complaining recently that I was placing information in the reports that didn’t have any value in proving they were aliens.

Pierce called the meeting back to order. Lodging had been arranged for all of us in one of the lower levels of the facility. Tomorrow, Pierce would make new assignments. It was a gamble, but I had to take a chance. Did all of the rest of the agents stand strong with Pierce? Agent Anderson seemed like a candidate for me to get close to. Pillow talk after a good fuck can be surprisingly enlightening.

Carl Anderson was pure WASP and M. That is white, Anglo-Saxon and protestant. Don’t forget the male part. That was the one handle I grabbed onto. “They are just kids,” I stated. “I worked with them. Do you see how they can be a danger to the world?” I didn’t see anything subversive in that statement. Of all the men at this meeting at Eagle Rock, Carl was the best candidate for a rational discussion. That was my mistake. My religious training had been brief at best. You don’t reason in religion. What Pierce had created was not reason, either. Pierce was the arch bishop, maybe the cardinal; hell, knowing Pierce, he might consider himself pope or higher. Carl lay with me in his arms, his lips were creasing my hair as I gained courage to go even further. “It’s been years since that crash out side of Roswell. If they were the spearhead of an invasion, then, why haven’t we become over run with these aliens?”

For the life of me, I can’t remember what Carl said. At the time, I thought he was agreeing or at least agreeing that I might have a point. I guess, I knew how he felt later after I left his bed. I had just fallen asleep when I felt tape pressed across my mouth and my half naked body being thrust up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

“Careful, don’t hurt her. Pierce wants her interrogated and put up for retraining. She has been warped by the enemy. Don’t talk to her or listen to her. Her interrogators will be professionals.
Stories by Ken
Good teachers are born that way, not made. No! Good human beings, are born that way. Some of them become teachers.

Of course, life is not fair. You shouldn't expect it to be fair, but you should expect it to be ironic.
JKR 1981-2001
History is made of wars, recovering from wars and preparing for the next war.
JJR 1975-

User avatar
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Re: Kathleen Topolsky, mature, CC. ch6, p2, 11/11/12

Post by ken_r » Sun Nov 18, 2012 12:37 pm

mary mary: This was the only way i have ever been able to work with Pierce. Many of those who are obsessed about any cause rest on the borders of insanity.

keepsmiling7: kathleen's childhood was almost as bad as Michael's. If you remember the time hank disappeared, one Whitmore carried a body out to the car, then he changed into an Hispanic worker. Remember that Nasado was a shape shifter.

Chapter 7

They don’t have classes in stealing cars at the agency. They do cover the ways that thieves gain access to vehicles and many of the recruits take pride in their ability to pick locks, hot wire cars and bug phones. We all have that James Bond approach that in some way we, alone will stand between terrorism and the public. Even though illegal, we will gain that bit of knowledge that makes us heroes and it all will be from these forbidden skills we learned at the agency.

I was back in Roswell. I doubt anyone would recognize me any longer. Being kept awake for days at a time by relays of interrogators did a lot to one’s body. I hadn’t been allowed a bath or to even comb my hair for weeks. After the first day, the interrogation no longer had a point. They kept asking the same questions over and over and I kept giving the same answers each time. I didn’t try to make up a lie, that, would have been too difficult to remember as they broke my soul down. I was as truthful as I knew how to be. There was history in the back of my mind. I guess I actually was in class when they talked about the inquisition. No matter. Now, I completely understood what an inquisition actually was.

After awhile, you learn that the truth is not what they are seeking. They want conversion and total commitment. There comes a time when, what ever they say, you take as gospel. “My Lord, please tell me what to believe.” There is a ‘you’ who curls up somewhere and tries to maintain sanity. That ‘you’ tells the other you that these children are not that much different than me. Under pressure, would Isabel the ice queen open up her bed to any man who would offer her protection from torture? Would Max or Michael accept slavery to protect themselves or the girls who they loved? Everyone has their limits. Fortunately, most people don’t have to discover these limits.

How could Max, the boy behind the tree, lead an invasion? Isabel, the girl who pretends to be indifferent, but really cares for others; you’re telling me that she is a danger to our way of life? I never could get Michael to take any test except for that question test I made Maria ask him. He is just not that different from the other two for me to fear.

That other me, all curled up and comfortable, began to seek something to believe in. Hey, I had had catechism classes. I had even studied for them. At the time, I hadn’t discovered any fallen priests I could have seduced or at that age did those thoughts even flow through my mind? I worked hard on my studies. Through the years, other things pushed them out of my mind. Now, I needed a place to hide from the agency. Kathleen Topolsky, the hottest piece of ass in the FBI, would not be thought to turn to religion.

In his arrogance, I don’t think Pierce had my cell monitored. One of the caretakers slipped me a Bible. As my sanity waned, the other Kathleen began to remember the teachings of my childhood. As I thought, I was much in need of a confession. I had done a heap of things that needed forgiveness. That was when I was able to slip out and steal a car.

I needed to see the students from Roswell High. I needed to stay hidden. I imagined that, by this time, the sheriff would have interesting questions for me if he could pull me over. I was not sure that getting him into bed would not get me a home free pass. I had ditched the first car I stole and was now on my fourth one. The agency could easily track me down, but they still might not set local law on my tail. It was dark and I wanted to find teens apart from crowds. What else other than the local make out park?

If I did find any of them, how could I tell them what I had endured from Pierce? Worse, how could I make them believe anything I said? Pierce didn’t use a rubber hose and a dark room. He probably would have enjoyed that, but he had much more efficient methods. Sleep deprivation, after three days, the effort to find a corner to curl up in takes precedence over remembering the politically correct answers. No! I didn’t believe that Max, Isabel and Michael were a spearhead of an invasion force. That was heresy. I had just pissed on his alter. I had become contagious; don’t let the fallen drag any other trooper down with her. Don’t listen to her words.

As tired as I was, when I had been taken back to my cell, the first thing I looked for was the bible I had hidden. Maybe, I should have looked for writings of Hippocrates. What was his command to doctors, “Do no harm?” Call it fact finding, call it research, call it anything you want. With Pierce, several young people were going to get hurt.

I had found a small box and placed it in a dark corner. Using my breakfast oatmeal I had made a glue. Fixing two plastic spoon handles together, I had fashioned a crucifix. After interrogation, the guards usually left me alone for several hours. No one must see my shrine. No one must know that I leaned on some higher power. A higher power would mean that I wasn’t isolated; I wasn’t that close to breaking down. I could only hope that in my absence, they wouldn’t discover the source of my strength.

My stolen car secluded away from the park, I found a place to watch. I put the car some distance from the park because I knew that the police checked the park from time to time. Finally I was rewarded. The JEEP of the Evans kid turned into the park. Unless he was now feeling his wild oats, he should have Parker with him. Liz Parker was the smartest and most logical of all the group. The romantic side of me hoped they weren’t in a compromised condition when I knocked on the JEEP door. I had prepared all sorts of speeches explaining the danger they were in. Just as they opened the window, I saw a slow moving car enter the parking area. Starlight glinted off the light bar. All I could squeeze out before I ran was, “We are all in danger. Go back to school and act normal.” How lame was that? I had to find a way to sit down with Liz Parker and explain what I knew. Earth had failed me as it had failed the children from the sky. They had to have someone protecting them. I wanted to leave with them when their protectors learned as much as I knew. Earth was not safe.

Who teaches boys who someday will become men the ways to a girl’s heart? As a little Polish girl from the wrong side of the tracks, most boys in high school believed that with a little darkness and privacy, the exposure of their privates would drive me into a frizzy. I understand some girls got flowers and candy, but I imagined, the boys were coached by a big brother or someone. Yes, sending Liz Parker a bouquet and a cryptic note assured that Liz, fixed up in her finest, would meet at Señor Chow’s. In Roswell, Señor Chow’s was a romantic restaurant. Miss Parker was disappointed, but she did meet me there.

It had been some time since I had talked to anyone by my choice. I had intended to give Liz Parker a warning, but I broke down. I was gushing as I explained that Pierce was the antichrist. Children always believe that someone is in charge. It as so hard to explain that with Pierce no one was in charge of his actions. I think that Liz was persuaded by my sincerity rather than any information I gave her. I tried to tell her what had happened to me since I had left the high school. The rambling that came out, even I wouldn’t have believed. I tried to tell her about the list Pierce had. I tried to tell her that she and Alex had also been placed on the list. I had to convince her that I wanted to leave with them when the protectors came. The second thing about being isolated for so long was that every time someone walked in the front door, I saw members of the special unit. Dark suits, or any suits were immediately suspect. Dark glasses were a certain indication. This paranoid, I made plans to again meet with the students. For now, I ran.

Pierce was very arrogant. His interrogation was mainly telling me what was correct to say and think, “according to Pierce.” Where I saw high school boys and girls, Pierce saw bug eyed monsters. Look, my education was far from exemplary, but I did remember some of what I learned about psychology. Pierce used lie detectors. Now, lie detectors only tell if a person is under special stress. It is up to the examiner to interpret what is learned. If Pierce had asked me, “Are Max and Isabel Evans along with Michael Guerin aliens, I imagine I would have given them up, consciously or not. Pierce with a lie detector violated every belief I held. He was searching for something and not finding it immediately, he probed far back into my past. Maybe he had already decided from the reports we all gave him that these three kids were alien. Maybe, he was looking to see how they affected me. Pierce didn’t know the right questions to find my shrine. He did know how to attack my beliefs, which at this time were all I had. My childhood Catholic teachings were attacked by the reputation I had earned as someone who would sleep their way up the ladder of success. Pierce wanted something. I was so close to a downfall, that if he could tell me what he wanted; I would willingly give it up just to receive peace.

I was in the alley behind the theater. There was a homeless man going through the garbage, but I saw a plant. I saw an agent sent from Pierce himself who was waiting for me to deliver the aliens. Finally, I fled. The only one left was the sheriff.

Any good policeman is partially paranoid. I only had to get through to the sheriff that not I, but the agency I swore to be loyal to was the enemy. I had to convince the sheriff that the agency had gone rogue. Going rogue means that a part of the agency no longer answers to any higher authority. I had heard of the report about the sheriff killing Hubble. Hubble was a nut and anyone crossing him would have to do him in. None of the agents who read the report believed it. The sheriff wasn’t ready to declare himself at war with the alien hunters, but he had decided that Max, Isabel, Michael and their friends fell under the citizens he had sworn to protect. As before, Jim Valenti played it cool. “You left without saying goodby, Miss Topolsky” he said.

I tried to explain my self. Maybe, I could get my nerves together to make sense to him. “Max and the others won’t listen to me,” I exclaimed.

The sheriff made our conversation about me. “You are finally admitting that the FBI is investigating the kids?” he asked.

I tried to explain that it was much worse than investigating. Typical Male response was, “You look like you could use a drink, Miss Topolsky.” With that, he turned things around to be concerned about me. “Let me take you some place,” he said.

“I mumbled somewhat incoherently, “Did you think you could shoot Hubble and not raise red flags? I took a leap of faith. “You are protecting them also, aren’t you?” I declared.

Valenti wasn’t connecting the dots. In desperation he said, ”I don’t know what the hell you are talking about.”

I tried to explain what I had learned under Pierce’s interrogations. I even explained that the name Jim Valenti was also on the list. It was too much for him to digest. I may have been too messed up for him to completely understand. I played my trump card. “Jim ask your friend Agent Stevens about what happened when he crossed Pierce.”

Jim Valenti didn’t have great love for Agent Stevens. Stevens had always made fun of Jim’s father. Pierce was just a name. Stevens was someone the sheriff could put a face on. Let Jim Valenti learn in his own way what happened to those who crossed Pierce. Along with the sheriff’s entreaties to seek help, I fled. I hoped I had planted a seed of doubt with the sheriff, but it would have to grow and fester before he was willing to face up to the federal authorities.

I didn’t know that, by this time Agent Stevens had been taken care of. Jim couldn’t get any affirmation from him.

In the night, I saw a car try to stop Alex. Jim Valenti interfered. The last I saw of Alex that night was in Valenti’s car. For one more night, he was safe.

I approached Michael. I picked up the communication stone. Michael had it lying around in a very careless manner. Michael was belligerent; well, what did I expect. Michael was belligerent most of the time. “Michael,” I begged, “I have the other stone. Meet me tomorrow night at ‘Backley Point.’ I only ask that you take me with you when your protectors come to rescue you. We are all going to die in very unpleasant ways.” What I hadn’t counted on was that Michael hadn’t the slightest idea of what I was saying. He had no plans to be rescued.

I had, again, come up against the fact that I wasn’t talking to calculating aliens, bent on taking over the world. These were teenagers with all the faults of teenagers. No matter where they originated, they were not sophisticated enough to conspire. It had been rumored that the stones had to be in close proximity to operate. It looked like I was going to have to start the communication myself. If the three aliens and their friends wouldn’t call in help, I would have to do it for them.

At Eagle Rock, I heard that Pierce was in a fit. Not only were they looking for me, but Pierce was screaming that he was sure that two more aliens had arrived in Roswell. I moved in the shadows to procure the stone. I had to save the aliens to save myself. Skulking through alleys as an impoverished Polish girl had trained me. As good as Pierce thought his security was, I could defeat it. I had to make them listen to me.

When Pierce was tending to my re-education, I turned more and more to my Bible and little alter. We all sinned, I read. Sometimes I wondered if my sins were greater than those of others. I thought of those who would capture, study, dissect and finally, destroy youths for some misconceived idea of patriotism. Then, I remembered what Stevens had said. “Pierce doesn’t just want to just destroy the aliens, he wants to become one of them. Pierce was sure that they had something he could use.”

That was a terrible sin. The three young people and their friends were to be sacrificed for Pierce’s power. There was nothing I had ever done to compare to that. I remembered the seven deadly sins. It was hard for me to figure out how many Pierce was contemplating.

“Lust.” Was Pierce thinking that sex with the female alien would give him power? That is why he wanted to examine the girl friends of the alien boys. If he saw changes in Maria or Liz, could Pierce be thinking that his lust for Isabel would give him the same power? Was he willing to sacrifice himself to relations with a disgusting alien for this?

“Gluttony.” Gluttony wasn’t just consuming food. Gluttony was also taking resources for one’s own use. Pierce would use any power to promote himself. Pierce wasn’t just trying to surpass J. Edger. Pierce was aiming at God.

“Greed.” Pierce was seeking excess of power, not as a patriotic move, but again only for himself. Was that the reason to demand all information sent to him and not allowing the rest of the special unit to know what his intentions would be?

“Sloth.” Pierce was wasting the talents the agency had honed to perfection. The agency had trained an agent, but Pierce had become traitor. “To protect and serve,” the mantra of all law enforcement, was thrown carelessly by the wayside in his insane rush to power.

“Wrath.” The railings I heard when I was walking in the shadows of Eagle Rock were not the frustrations of a bureaucrat. It was the personal anger of one possessed.

“Envy and Pride.” The stories of the aliens murdering agents had fueled Pierce. With that power, he could walk through Washington destroying any who stood in his way. How could Pierce allow those to continue, who had power and not take it from them. Once achieved, Pierce would cause all around him to bow down.

God, an honest God, a true God, could never place me in the same class as Pierce. As I flitted through the shadows, I wondered if those who praised Pierce’s name ever confronted their sins. Did they ever realize how much they had fed the mania of Pierce? Of course, they didn’t. They didn’t believe in God. If they did think of God, he was a small God who they, following Pierce, would over come.

If there was a God, would he follow me as I traveled with the aliens? Of course, maybe, he already was with the aliens. God is all powerful.

Stories by Ken
Good teachers are born that way, not made. No! Good human beings, are born that way. Some of them become teachers.

Of course, life is not fair. You shouldn't expect it to be fair, but you should expect it to be ironic.
JKR 1981-2001
History is made of wars, recovering from wars and preparing for the next war.
JJR 1975-

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Re: Kathleen Topolsky, mature, CC. ch7, p3, 11/18/12

Post by ken_r » Sun Nov 25, 2012 12:02 pm

Keepsmiling7: Even here there is question about Ms. Topolsky. How much of her care was about the aliens and how much was self serving to save herself. At the last minute, I choose to believe that Kathleen Topolsky found her redemption in God and truly wanted safety for the children from "not of this Earth."

I have to place a warning, this after all is the death of Kathleen Topolsky.

Chapter 8

Pierce could have been watching every step I made. I heard a car door slam in the distance. Then, I heard a couple screaming at each other. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought it must be Michael. The only one Michael would scream at would be Maria. There was both fear and satisfaction on this. Fear in that maybe Pierce was using me to catch the aliens and their mates and satisfaction that at least Michael was beginning to believe me. Again in the distance, I heard another vehicle. This time, no doors slammed, so it probably was Max’s open JEEP. There was more shouting. Had I inadvertently led all the aliens along with their human friends into Pierce’s trap? Had Pierce all along let me be bait?

In the dark, in a quiet woods, sound travels clearly. A third car was heard, then, another door slammed. This voice was Jim Valenti. “Sorry, Ms. Topolsky would not be meeting you tonight or any other night.”

“Then Michael stated, “…she wasn’t lying..” These words from Michael had come too late.

The conversation became muffled as they lowered their talk to normal tones. I did catch the voice of one of Pierce’s lieutenants, “mental breakdown,” explanations of delusions, followed. I couldn’t hear clearly as now my last hope had been killed. At least, the voice of the sheriff meant that the aliens couldn’t be rounded up tonight. For me all was lost, but the aliens and their friends were protected for a time. The slamming of car doors and the starting of the several cars were signs that for me, at least, all was over.

I ran through the woods calling Michael. Calling Michael when I knew he had gone. The sedan pulled up and the door opened. Once again I heard the voice of Pierce. “Good work, Agent Topolsky. You led me right to them.”

I ran, but again the words that resistance was futile ran through my mind. The vehicle had me.

I am back in my cell. The peace I have is my bible and my alter. My confession, how can I make a confession without any chance of last rites. There had to be a time, before there was a church, when confessions were made directly to God. I hoped he would understand that this was all I had.

I heard a sound behind me. I didn’t look up. I wanted all the time I could get to commune with God.

I could feel movement behind me and I quickly made the sign of the cross and made one more plea for mercy and for mercy given to those who like the mockingbird, Pierce was determined to destroy.

The end.

Wilhelm had no ill feeling toward Kathleen. It was only business. He looked at her slumped body, fallen over on the little alter. He was sure that she felt no pain. After all, he had been doing this for years. He collected her Bible, and journal. There was no reason to look at either of them. After life was of no concern to Wilhelm. The contents of the journal were no concern to Wilhelm either. He would put both items in her file. He had to hurry because they assured him that all the evidence would be destroyed. Accelerant had been placed around her cell and it was assured that there would be little evidence of Kathleen Topolsky left.

Stories by Ken
Good teachers are born that way, not made. No! Good human beings, are born that way. Some of them become teachers.

Of course, life is not fair. You shouldn't expect it to be fair, but you should expect it to be ironic.
JKR 1981-2001
History is made of wars, recovering from wars and preparing for the next war.
JJR 1975-