Smugglers of Antar (ml,mm,ai,kt adult) COMPLETE

Finished stories set in an alternate universe to that introduced in the show, or which alter events from the show significantly, but which include the Roswell characters. Aliens play a role in these fics. All complete stories on the main AU with Aliens board will eventually be moved here.

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Smugglers of Antar (ml,mm,ai,kt adult) COMPLETE

Postby ken_r » Sat Aug 18, 2007 10:17 pm

The Smugglers of Antar

Title: The Smugglers of Antar
Author: Ken r or Ken242 or Kenneth Renouard
Discaimer: I am using the characters of Roswell as actors in my story. They belong to others and I mean no disrespect.
Adult because that keeps complaints down. However those who read my stories know I am pretty tame.

Summery: This story used the characters developed in my story, “Liz of the Desertt.” This story should stand alone but to fully understand all the ideas you can first read the story, “Liz of the Desert,” if you want. Of all the Liz characters I have written, I like the little archeologist the best. It has been 15 or so years and Liz has settled down to semi retirement. She is now living in Farmington, New Mexico, a city near the place where four states come together, called the four corners. She married the engineered alien, Max Evans, and has two children in high school. She mainly writes papers for archeology journals and does consultant work.

This is a mystery; which means the reader should look for clues and hints various places throughout the story. It ends up pure science fiction with BEMs (bug eyed Monsters).

Where the Spanish language phrases are correct it to the credit of Misha r fan. Where it is incorrect it is my fault and conceit that I thought I knew what I was doing.

Max and Liz would never rule, as King and Queen, but they would always be symbols for the whole known Universe. As the final attack was prepared Liz and her two ladies in waiting were broadcast to every civilized planet. All were only of Earth but maybe seeing them would show what Kivar and the other generals were doing.
ken r

Smugglers of Antar

Chapter 1

José (Joe) Estrada parked his car behind the library. There had been reports of lights seen in the old tower. Just last year some arsonist or, maybe, plain idiots had started a fire in the basement of the new building. Several issues of journals had been burned and those who depended upon these journals were devastated at the tools of their livelihood not to mention the items of their passions, being destroyed. The University, as a whole, reported minimal damage. The basement where the fire had been set was concrete and steel. Most of this building was fireproof. Now if, a fire was started in the tower, it was an old plaster-over-wood structure. Hundreds of treasured volumes would be lost, not to mention a major fire in a location where fighting this would be difficult. As Joe approached, he was watching the windows above him. If someone were looking out one of the upper story windows, they would clearly see Joe walking across the grass. If there were an intruder, Joe hoped he would be too busy at what ever his mission in the building, was, to be watching.

There it was. A shadow moved across one of the ninth story windows. A dim glow was seen to move from window to window. Definitely, there was an intruder. No one was supposed to be working this late. When Joe had tried to take his freshmen college courses, the Library was open until midnight. Joe had spent many hours somewhere in the tower trying to study and make sense of courses he had no interest in. A series of rapes in the 1990s had forced the University to close the library at about eight o’clock on weeknights and by six o’clock on the weekend.

Joe remembered that when he was a freshman living in the dorm, the noise and the horseplay had disturbed him so much that he had gravitated toward this bastion of knowledge. It was the only place he could count on being alone long enough to try to succeed in his lessons. Freshmen English, college math and biology had just been too foreign to the young man from a small town in New Mexico. Joe’s teacher in high school tried hard, but he, himself, only barely got through his degree. After the disappointment of the dismal grades that first semester, Joe opted for the army and from there to the military police. Joe put in 30 years in the army. He had spent most of his time in Europe. His children were exposed enough to the world and the army schools that they had excelled where their father had failed. Married with three children, Joe retired and moved back to the southwest. He was too old to try out for the city police academy. Working against those kids would be just too hard for a 50 something man. He got a chance to work for the University of New Mexico Campus police and he took it. He was also given a chance to take one course a semester free of charge as an employee of the University. This was great for Joe. His wife was a schoolteacher and she was still teaching in the school system. With his kids all grown, or almost so, living their own lives, Joe enjoyed the laid back job and the perk of continuing an education of some sorts.

The second time Joe saw the light, he called for backup. He needed backup, not because he was afraid of who ever it was, but there were just too many ways a person could descend from the upper stories. Joe also asked the officers to arrive quietly without any lights or unnecessary noise. Soon, two of his own officers had arrived. A little while later, three city police officers, who had been dispatched, walked out of the trees surrounding the old building. They could see lights, from time to time, in the ninth floor windows. Joe and the two campus police would take the stairs and the elevator. The city units would stay on the ground floor to block the exit to the outside if the culprits somehow got by the officers working their way up the floors. There were two sets of stairs and the elevator. The elevator was the most dangerous. If there was a fire, no one wanted to be trapped in that shaft. The car was automatically parked on the ground level. Joe was to wait five minutes and, then, he was to enter the car and take it directly to the ninth floor. Or, if someone summoned the car, he would be waiting for them as the door opened at that high floor.

The other two officers quietly climbed the stairs at each end of the room. The passageways were narrow and they were not happy at the chance of someone suddenly descending in front of them. When Joe finally started the car, he hoped the other men were in place. Joe knew exactly where the light switch was from the elevator opening. He would, immediately, turn on the keyed switch when he got out of the car. The elevator creaked and groaned as it rose. He was sure that if anyone was here, they had heard the noise of the transport. Joe opened the door and keyed the lights. He was partially blinded as they went on. From each side of the room, Joe heard the doors open and, then, slam shut as the other officers entered. Joe looked up and down the stacks of books, as best he could. There was no one. Then, one of the other officers called out, “We have a victim and we need medical assistance!”

Joe and his counter part checked out each aisle as they went by. There was nothing but quiet books. The library was built so every floor had carrels or small cubicles having a chair and a built in desk with bookshelves on the walls where students had studied for many years. Every one was empty until he got to the officer who was holding his light high to illuminate a person slumped over in the shadows. Joe could smell the stench of death. The smell of urine and feces that were let loose when the body lost its control was obvious. Joe saw a large pool of blood on the floor. The officers were trying to check the victim without stepping in the blood or contaminating the area. The Crime Scene Investigation or CSI team would be here soon. The first officer just shook his head as he felt for pulse. The victim was deceased.

Jurisdiction was a bitch. The campus police had been required to attend the academy at Santa Fe and, nominally, were qualified as police officers. None of them had ever seen a crime scene, much less a murder. The University was in the city and the Albuquerque city police were highly trained and experienced. The University was a state institution and the land upon which it was situated was state land, so the New Mexico State Police were also involved. Every thing depended on a few supervisors who would try to keep turf wars from forming.

Captain Alex Whitman had been in Albuquerque at the time. Since he was a captain in the detective squad of the state police, he had been notified. By the time he arrived, two of his investigators were waiting for him. They knew by experience that carefully handling of egos, now, would save time, money and frustration later. The three of them were escorted up the stairs by a city police patrolman. They arrived and Alex looked around for someone he would recognize. As luck would have it, he saw Sam Green of the Albuquerque Police Department, Crime Scene Investigation unit. Sam and Alex had attended a course together at Northwestern in homicide investigation. Alex waited until he caught Sam’s eye. Sam waved and, then, he motioned for them to come over. Now, once egos were satisfied, economics arose. It was a fact that the state had more money for forensics than did the city. The state also didn’t have to spread its self as thin as the city. The city already had, two stabbings and a shooting tonight. Sam directed one of his men to stay and bring the state boys up to speed. He told the rest of them to pack it up and they prepared to leave. Alex knew that Sam would cooperate with his team if they needed any thing. With a handshake the city proceeded to the alley downtown and a kid who had found him self dressed in the wrong colors in the wrong neighborhood.

Mel Chavez was the city investigator who had remained to assist the state officers. He was a quiet man saying only what needed to be said. He pointed to a knife lying beside the victim. “ Looks like he ran into a primitive gang banger.”

The knife was made of flint. It showed delicate chipping of what Alex knew of as the Clovis people. Alex had picked up a lot of archeology because his wife’s brother was married to the renowned anthropologist, Doctor Elizabeth Parker-Evans. Alex would make sure to get her opinion about it as soon as possible. The wound was jagged as would be expected from such a rough weapon. The man had almost been disemboweled. That was why so much gore was seen in the carrel. A city sergeant had also remained to guide the state investigators through what they had found so far. Joe Estrada was standing nearby and the sergeant motioned for him to come over. Alex and Joe shook hands. “We thought that it might be an arson attempt again. That is why we were careful how we approached,” Joe explained.

Alex nodded his head and Joe went on. “As soon as we saw it was a murder, we tried to disturb the scene as little as possible.”

“What made you think this was a murder?” Alex asked the mandatory question.

Joe have him a look of dismay, “Look at the wound. It couldn’t be suicide. Not that way. What else could it be? We also can’t figure out where the prowler or, now, possibly murderer, went. He just disappeared.”

Alex left his men working with the city investigator while he and the city sergeant descended back to the ground level. The sergeant was Sgt. Garry Watson. “We will send copies of our interviews tomorrow. I am sure you will want to interview all the people again when they are calmer, but it will help to have immediate first hand statements. He turned to Alex, “What do you think of that weapon.? I have seen cast iron skillets, golf clubs and base ball bats used to kill, but that knife really blew me away.”

Alex grimaced. “Fortunately, my wife’s sister-in-law is an archeologist. I will ask her what she makes of it.” They parted company and Alex returned to the house that his wife’s corporation maintained in Albuquerque, to call home.

Max and Liz were in their bedroom. Max was dressed only in boxers and Liz had on a pair of women’s sleep shorts and a very loose top. She was lying on her back and Max was leaning over her. “All I said was, you are still my Liz of the desert.”

She was mock hitting him in the chest with her small fists. “You always bring that up. Do you, even now, not have any shame? Watching a girl bathing when she thinks she is miles from any peeping tom!”

Max had to laugh. “You were so beautiful and natural lying on the sandstone drying in the sun.” When Max first saw the little archeologist, she had been taking a shower way back in Navajo land. There was no one around her and she was as a natural sprite rinsing her self while standing in a galvanized tub and letting her body dry in the sun. Unbeknown to her Max and his partner, Michael, were working on a mesa miles away. While Max was surveying the area with a large Celestron telescope, he spied her beautiful body and became obsessed with her. This led, after a time, to their marriage. Now after two children and over fifteen years, he still thought she was the loveliest thing he had ever seen. Liz kept her self in good shape. She could still scramble up the warehouse shelves in the museum to reach artifacts. Max knew that she wasn’t really mad. Secretly, she probably enjoyed him reminding her of her beauty. He knew she enjoyed him reminding her that he was still, faithfully, hers, even though, she knew that Max had been engineered to only love one woman.

Max’s faithfulness was a milestone for Liz. Before she met Max, she had had a stormy love life, not to mention a stormy personal life. Max used to tell her that just like the rodeo cowboy, Liz had to learn to give with the situations to stay in control. That was so different from the volatile way she saw everything in her younger days. True, when she was in high school rodeo and a fairly successful barrel racer, riding her agile little mare, Liz found herself almost one with her horse. She had then learned that her balance with the mare meant that they could cut seconds off their time. Later when she was dating a bull rider, Liz began to feel that she had to make herself in control. As she matured, her diminutive size and her intellectual drive had combined to make her a woman who was known to have an explosive personality. When she was sleeping with Kyle Valenti, who now was a friend of the family, he saw her as almost abusive. It was Max who brought temper to the beautiful woman. She became his wife and she brought two, half-engineered alien children, into the world.

Yes, as said before, Max was an engineered alien. He had been cultured to be able to function in this world to carry out the work of his alien creators. Max, along with his sister Isabel and their friends, Michael and Tess were all created to carry out searches for the aliens for some lost artifacts. They were also to discover another family line similar to their own. Now, all of the engineered aliens had mates. They, by Earth laws, were married and they all had families. Sergeant Alex Whitman, now Captain Alex Whitman of the New Mexico State Police, was married to Isabel. That was the reason for the phone call to Farmington.

As Liz was trying to get back at her husband with a pillow, there was a knock at the door. They quit the love play and both donned their robes. Max went to the door. Tess was there in her robe, indicating that she had, also, been aroused from bed, holding a telephone. It was for Liz. Tess handed her the portable phone. Such was the burden of being the Chief Executive Officer of the alien corporation.

“Liz, I need you in Albuquerque for a consultation. We have a murder. It was committed with a Clovis blade knife. Yes, I am sure it is Clovis. It looks like one of those you have in that display over your desk in Farmington. What I am going to need is for you to tell me if the flint blade is ancient or if it is a replica. The murder was on the ninth floor of the university library. If Michael is in Farmington, get him to fly you here. If not let me know what commuter flight you can be on.” Alex sounded like this was important. Liz had some work she needed to drop off at the University museum so she could accomplish two things.

Max had finished his college as he had promised Liz’s mother he would, so many years ago. He was now a free lance reporter and author, whose time was essentially his own. Liz was sure he would accompany her. First, Max never let a time escape when he could be with his wife. Also, he was always looking for a good story. Murders, no matter how horrible to contemplate, were fodder for stories.

Michael, the third alien, was the pilot of the group. At the moment, he was with his wife and daughter in Nashville where she was negotiating a contract on the sale and possible recording of some of her music. Maria had been a singer. Upon meeting the engineered alien, she had consolidated her time, mainly, into just writing. But this was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. Max and Liz would book passage on a small commuter airline that connected several cities in the northern part of New Mexico and Colorado with Albuquerque.

Tess was the fourth engineered alien. It was she who brought the phone to Liz. She was married to Kyle Valenti. Yes, this was the former lover of Liz. Kyle and Liz had decided years ago that they were incompatible. Kyle found the gentle Theresa, known as Tess, to be much more to his temperament. When with Liz and she was in her temper mode, their life had been a time of mayhem. Kyle, then, had worked for the Sandoval County Sheriff Department. Now, Kyle was an administrator and field operator with the Drug Enforcement Agency or DEA. It was Tess who drove Max and Liz to the Farmington airport. She usually remained in Farmington because she had taken over the administrative duties from Isabel. Max and Liz were not able to catch the morning flight filled with executives working with some of the oil companies in Farmington and several professors who taught at an extension college all going back to Albuquerque after their last night’s classes. They had to wait until the second series of flights were initiated between Farmington and Albuquerque.


Alex was waiting with his state car for the pair when the afternoon flight arrived. It was always less full because the plane had returned to Farmington only to pick up some of the commuters whose business had been completed that morning. He drove them to the university museum and Liz was just a minute, dropping off her papers. The museum was in turmoil One of their curators, Rodney Akien, had been murdered last night.

When Liz got back in the car, she asked Alex, “What was the name of the man killed last night?”

Alex just shook his head. When he left the scene, they hadn’t yet identified the victim.

Alex drove Liz and Max to the City of Albuquerque Forensic Unit Laboratory. For the moment, this unit had some of the material gathered at the scene. He introduced Liz and Max to the scientist working the current shift. They had five bodies laid out and five collections of evidence. They were, just at the moment, being custodians for the state investigators. Doctor Kimm was the leader of this shift. He led them to a table where a body had been covered and there were several sealed sacks sitting on a table. Alex and Liz both were required to sign the opening of a evidence bag. Wearing latex gloves, they carefully took out the flint knife. Liz examined it closely under the ten-power lens she always carried. Then, Kimm took her over to a microsope connected to a computer. She carefully examined the conical marks left where the flakes had been chipped. Each mark was a smooth cone. Most of the modern flint knappers would use steel to make the pressure flakes. This would lead to ragged chips and, many times, steel marks upon the flint body. The original Clovis people used antler points and their chips were smoother. It was not yet definitive, but she suspected that the flaking was ancient rather than a replica. Unless the maker was very skilled indeed, it was a genuine Clovis spear point. The entire surface was covered in indentions where the flint had been removed. Yes, it would leave a rugged cut. Liz, like many archeologist, had tried to field dress a deer with flint tools. It seemed that if you were going to talk about a people using these tools, you needed first hand knowledge. If they were the best you had, they did work, but the cuts were ragged compared with a modern knife. Liz would have bet that if you removed the wooden shaft that served as a handle you would have found a large flake taken out of the butt of the blade on each side. This flake would not have been as pronounced as those on a Folsom point but it was one of the difficult procedures that excluded all but the best flint knappers from duplicating blades like this. Liz pulled out of her bag a copy of “Dating by Lithics,” by D.H.L. Whitherspoon, PhD. She was examining the point and comparing it to examples of work illustrated by Doctor Witherspoon. Alex found a folder on the table and he opened it. “Hey Liz, the name of the deceased was Rodney Akien.”

Liz shook her head. Looking at the covered body, it was no longer a thing. It had suddenly taken on a personality. Rodney Akien was the name of the man who had taken her place at the museum when she married Max and semi-retired. He was the murdered man causing the turmoil at the museum.

Liz swallowed hard, “Could I please see the wound without uncovering the whole body. Doctor Kimm carefully pulled back the blanket to show the naked torso. The lacerated wound crossed the stomach. A man so cut would not die quickly or quietly. Since the campus police did not mention a scream, the man had been killed before they arrived. Unless someway had been used to prevented him from screaming. While they were looking at the wound one of the other city specialist came over.
“Doc, I got almost the same wound, in this one over here.” He said. Alex and Doctor Kim walked to the table where another man was laid out. Liz quivered. This man was not covered. He was a young man somewhere in his twenties, stripped naked and laid out on the steel table. Yes, Liz could see that he had the same wound that Rodney had. She would bet almost anything that they had been killed with the same weapon. On examination, Liz saw that his hands were calloused. He did not have the appearance of a laborer, but looking at his clothes laid out nearby, he had the rather the careless dress of a student, a student in a field that did a lot of manual labor, such as archeology. Liz gave instructions on cleaning the flint weapon. She wanted to preserve, if possible, any catalog numbers if it had been stolen from the museum.

Alex drove them back to the house in the Nob Hill district. This house had originally been Liz’s. Once she married Max, she moved to Farmington. At first, they talked of selling it. Then, it became clear, that, they all needed a place to stay during the frequent trips to Albuquerque.

After lunch, Alex was on the phone. When he came back, he talked to Liz. “The name of the other victim was Eric Ryand. He was a graduate student of the Anthropology department at the university.”

Liz took the phone and called Sam, her old boss. She hadn’t seen him that morning when she dropped off her papers. “Sam, this is Liz. How’s things? Yeah, it’s terrible about Rodney. Listen Sam I am with the state police right now. Could you work up a summary of Rodney’s work for the last two years? ‘Nother thing, Sam, what can you tell me about Eric Ryand? Is he one of your students? Any connection with Rodney? See if someone can look up what he is working on? And, Yes, see what you can find about his work with Doctor Akien. Yes, I know he hasn’t been seen for a few days. Look, Sam. I can’t tell you what this is all about, yet. Don’t really know all the twists, myself. The state police need this information as soon as possible. Yeah, Sam, I will let you know everything soon as they let me.” Liz hung up. “I hated to do that to Sam. I need to tell him as much as is possible, when I can. Sam knows a lot about what is going on throughout the country.

There is a possible connection between Rodney and Eric,” she stated.

That night, the TV news was full of the byline, “Primitive slasher runs amuck!”

Alex had stopped by the museum and Sam, true to his word, had a thick folder containing everything published by Rodney for the last two years. He, also, had an invoice for the last expedition Rodney had made into Mayan country. Seems that Eric had been Rodney’s graduate student on both of those trips. There, also, were several other students listed. Alex called the city investigators and read the list of names. He promised to deliver a duplicate of the entire folder to their office tomorrow. Alex checked into his office in both Santa Fe and Farmington. Except for what Liz had turned up, there was no news. They also wanted to see a copy of the folder from the museum. Alex promised to deliver it to the state police office in Albuquerque tomorrow morning to be relayed to Santa Fe by patrolmen.

It was Four o’clock that morning when the phone rang. Liz answered and she took the phone to the room where Alex was sleeping. A knock on th door soon aroused him. She handed Alex the phone and since she wasn’t sleeping very well, she put on the automatic coffee maker to perk.

Alex came into the kitchen where, now, Max had joined Liz. All of them were still in their robes. “That was city homicide. They found another victim slashed with a rough instrument. The victim’s name was on the list I gave them last night. The victim was female, named Susan LaRue, Ph.d. Her throat had been cut by some unnamed instrument. City is going to round up all of the other people named on that list. They also want me to talk to Sam. There are too many coincidences now, for it not to be connected.”

“Let me go with you, Alex, when you talk to Sam. He will be more willing to open up to me. Much of what he tells you will probably be technical, anyway,” Liz stated.

It was agreed. Max would contact some of his sources in the shadow world and Alex would take Liz to see Sam. When Sam arrived at his office, he was surprised to see his former field archeologist and, also, the slender state policeman he had met briefly a long time ago.

They went into his office. Liz started. She knew that police protocol was to give as little information as possible while trying to get all you can. Liz had another method. She was a firm believer in sharing information. She thought if you trusted people who knew what you were looking for, they were more helpful. She knew that Sam had a lot of knowledge. He knew a lot more than was ever just on the records. Approached correctly, he would be of great aid. “Sam, as you might already know, Eric Ryand was killed much like Doctor Aiken. What you probably do not know, because it just happened last night, is Susan LaRue was also killed. Same weapon. We need to know two things. What the hell were they working on that would be in common? And who else other than those on the list might be in danger?”

Sam shook his head sadly, “When you met Rodney, he was, frankly, an ass. He had a drive as strong as you had when you started, but Rodney didn’t have the smarts you did. The first two years when he led field expeditions, he was a mess. There were problems with two of his female students getting pregnant during the school session. He got in a fight with a student who charged that Rodney had unfairly taken credit for someone else’s work. He was about to get his ass fired. Then, Rodney settled down. Some say he read all of your journals, but something happened. For the last few years, students have begged to work with him. He shares credit with them, he gives them equal time to publish and he has been a rising star in archeology. He was studying the work of Dr. Witherspoon. Yes, you know the lithics expert. His latest protégé was Eric Ryand. They spent the last two summers in Mexico in the Mayan district. I will have to look up some old records to see if I missed anyone else who was working with him. Susan was doing a post doctorate on folk tales of the ‘boogieman.’”

Alex raised his eyes from the notebook on which he had been taking notes, “Boogieman, what is that?”

Liz smiled and Sam laughed, “Tales every culture has to keep their members in line. Like our ‘devil will get you’ tales. Susan has been working through the southwest with tales of the La Llorona, or the cry baby, the slasher of the alley and others that mothers tell their children to make them come home early and to behave. The Navajo have stories of flying witches and chindi, which is the evil left after death. Some of the Hispanic communities have stories about monsters like Chupacabra. All of these stories usually have some common thread about a person being punished for being rebellious or uncaring about the community. Susan was collecting these and dating them as to how far back in their mythology they went. She was on the last expedition because Rodney had published statements from informants about the Chupacabra in the Mayan area. She was allowed to go with Rodney more as a courtesy than anything else.” Sam looked at Liz. That is the way Rodney was. If he had room and you could find funding he was always willing to add you to his expeditions. That is why it is going to take me more time to find people who have been with him during the last two years. Not all of them were from this department.”

Alex was glad he had brought Liz. He was well over his head with this technical jargon and the intellectual drives that people like Doctor Aiken might have. Liz, also, knew more what to ask. “Sam, can you get me a copy of Susan’s journal for the last two years and copies of the journals of both Rodney and Eric. There might be something I can ferret out of them to help the police. Three people have died, so far, and we have no idea who killed them or why.”

Sam had a small secretarial staff and he knew that something bad was happening. He was glad to cooperate. He promised to have something by the end of the day and if not everything, then the rest, at least, by tomorrow. Liz and Alex left.

Alex and Liz were driving home to the house on Nob Hill. “Liz, you don’t believe all that mumbo jumbo do you?” he asked.

“Yes, Alex, I do believe a culture creates monsters to govern its members. How many times did your mother tell you the devil would get you if you didn’t behave. You see mothers telling their children that if they are bad, the policeman will come and take them away. It doesn’t matter whether the monster is real or imaginary or even if it is a metaphor. The monster is a governing force to control behavior. If you have a complete breakdown of fear of this monster, then you might have a sociopath. A person who has no regards for anyone, but theirself. The boogieman is an important part of any culture. Susan, as I see it, was trying to discover some similarity in these stories and, also, how the stories might be passed across culture. It is a very interesting study.” Liz lectured.

“Okay then Doctor, tell me why Susan was killed,” Alex stated.

Liz turned, looking out the window at the mountains as they drove. “I don’t know, Alex, unless she found a monster that was not a metaphor and it took offense at her study.”

Max had freelanced for the Albuquerque Journal for a while when Liz was working on a special project related to artifacts found on Navajo land. He had made several contacts in that shadow world, not quite criminal, but not quite law abiding and, a few, that were clearly on the other side. He had spent the morning buying drinks for street people. He hated to do this because giving them liquor just amplified their problems. The old saying that “candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker” applied to more than just seduction. Many of those who had always trusted him though, plainly, were afraid. He was told about a prostitute who had been ripped up by her john a few weeks ago. The pimps were armed and they were patrolling the fields where their stables plied their trade. The ladies were, also, fearful and it took strong enforcement for the pimps to keep the ladies in the field. Max didn’t like to journey there, but he was talking to a man he knew was a major drug dealer in the area. Max had nothing to offer this man except for the knowledge that Max would protect his source. A large shipment of cocaine had been expected. It had been rumored to be on the way from the south. Then poof! Nothing. The dealers had been massing their money to make large purchases and, then, nothing happened. The steady supply was still coming, but the disappointment of a large cache of drugs never materialized.

Max knew a man who dealt in human cargo. Max hated what he did, but if you wanted information, he was the kind of person you had to establish relations with. Max sided up to Jethro at a bar he knew. “Hey, Maxie, you want some young stuff? I can get you virgins who can’t speak a word of English and even some who can’t speak a word of Spanish, either. Just the kind of woman you can keep around the house.”

Max shuddered inwardly, “No, Jethro, what I want is information. Do you hear of any talk of any horrific murders or of unexplained incidents south of the border?”

Jethro sat and said nothing. Max took out a hundred dollar bill and put it on the bar. Jethro reached for the bill and Max just as quickly pinned the bill to the bar with a switchblade knife. Jethro smiled and then said, “There is talk, but understand there is always talk. Women have been found well below the border. Places where the Federales never visit. These women are mutilated in terribly gruesome manners. It is thought that someway, they had crossed a drug cartel, but that is the talk and there is always talk.”

Max retrieved the knife and put it away. Jethro retrieved his bill and folded it into a bag he wore around his neck. Then, he turned to Max as if he felt that, maybe, he owed a bit more. “There was talk and there was always talk, but a major player in the drug business was killed by being torn apart some where below Chihuahua City.”

Max returned to Liz and Alex that afternoon. “Alex, tell your city friends to look back a few weeks for a murder of a prostitute and see if they can find evidence similar to what we have seen the last few days.” Max sat down, “I would like for someone to contact Kyle and see if he will part with some information about a drug shipment being lost, and maybe a cartel lord being murdered.”

Alex drove over to the museum and picked up whatever Sam had assembled. Liz called home to Farmington. She still had a daughter and son in high school. Tess said, “Helen and Jonathan are fine and we went, with my three little ones, to a pizza parlor this afternoon. No, I don’t know where Kyle is and that is not unusual. The Drug Enforcement Agency seldom is forthcoming reguarding their agents or their whereabouts. Kyle will phone me about eleven o’clock tonight and I will relay the message to him that you and Alex want to talk with him. Everything is going fine. Give my best to Alex. Isabel called and she intends to be back with their daughter from her school trip to Washington D.C. in about two days.”

Max settled down in the living room with very soft Jazz playing. He was reading some of his proofs for his next book. Alex went to the kitchen table and laid out the papers Sam had given him. Liz retired to the main bedroom where she had an easy chair and began the laborious chore of reading, first, Rodney’s journals and, then, those of the other two scholars. Except for the purring of the small duplicating machine as Alex, from time to time, ran off copies for both his men in Santa Fe and the Albuquerque City Police, the house was almost silent. About eleven o’clock, there came a knock at the door. Max got up and answered it. It was Kyle. “What’s a guy gotta do, make a reservation to use this place?” was his jocular statement.

Liz came in behind Max, “Well Kyle, we are happy to see you too.”
Last edited by ken_r on Fri Jan 25, 2008 7:33 pm, edited 21 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-

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

chapter 3 aug 27

Postby ken_r » Mon Aug 27, 2007 10:41 am

L-J-L 76 it is always a pleasure when I write something you like.

Martine this is a Liz story at her strongest.

Zanity it is an honor when you look at any of my work.

Chapter 3

Kyle wasted no time, “I need the phone to call Tess. I am almost late.”

Liz pointed him to the kitchen where the portable phone was lying on the counter. “Be sure to tell her you are phoning from here. We left several messages for you with her.”

It was about thirty minutes before Kyle returned. He had fences to mend and lamps to trim before he could settle down for the night. He had also promises to make, that if followed completely would increase his family several fold.

When Kyle came back into the living room, the others were waiting for him. He turned to Alex, “What the hell did you guys do to the lamb we had been following?”

Alex looked at him, “What do you mean?”

“We had staked out Rodney Aiken for months now. I was phoned this morning that you had his body and he had met a singularly bad end,” he concluded.

Alex looked at Kyle. Kyle had always been a bit devious, but since he had joined the DEA, he had become impossible to read. He mixed the truth with so many stories no one could tell when he was serious. “What can you tell me about a large shipment of drugs disappearing recently?” Alex countered.

Even Kyle had trouble hiding his facial grimace on that one. “Well, I guess it won’t do any harm to tell you. There was a rumor of several tons of cocaine in route. We were following it. Then, somewhere around Jimenez, Mexico down in the southern part of the state of Chihuahua, poof, nothing. There was no trace of it getting there or of where it went. The Mexican narcs were even more upset than we were. They think that we believe they stole it and are sitting on it. Many of my superiors do think that, but I don’t.”

“What did you have on Rodney Aiken?” Alex asked.

Kyle shrugged, “Nothing, absolutely nothing. We knew that he was in an area where the drug shipment had originated but we have nothing on him personally. We have a subpoena to tap the phone at the home of a man working with him. We have nothing on him either and with Rodney gone, I do not know if it would give us any information.”

Liz asked, “Was his name Eric Ryand?’

Kyle looked up, “Yeah, how did you know?”

Alex handed Kyle the report, “Rand was killed the same night with the same weapon.”

Kyle held his head in his hands. Shit, this had been a screwed up case from the beginning! They had little hope that the professors would lead them anywhere, but that was all they had. Now, both subjects had gotten themselves killed. Kyle really wished suspected criminals would be more careful of their personal safety.

Liz tried again, “Kyle, what do you have on Susan LaRue?”

Kyle looked up, “Nothing, I never heard of her. Why?”

Max stood up, “Kyle, it is the pull out couch unless you and Alex want to share a bed.” He said leaving Kyle for once in the dark about what was going on.

Kyle made kissy, kissy noises at Alex and Alex retorted, “He will live longer and be much happier on the couch.”

Morning found Max pounding out corrections from his proofs. He had made breakfast. As everyone came in, they found a large plate of eggs and sausages and, of course, the coffee machine had been set the night before. Kyle was to head out to whereever his secretive schedule called. Alex was to head for Santa Fe and to check in with his own forensic team. Liz intended to spend the day working on the journals. She was using the typical archeological method of reading the most recent first and working her way back. Isabel and Sabra, her daughter, called about their most recent schedule. They would be at the airport some time tonight. They told her to take a taxi and stop at the house on Nob Hill for the night. Michael had called. He and Maria with their daughter, Jannis, would be leaving Nashville. They expected to be at the airport in Albuquerque early tomorrow morning. Whoever needed to return to Farmington could contact them and ride home in the company plane.

Liz opened the journal. For a while, it was boring stuff; lists of the students involved which she faxed to the Albuquerque Police and, also, to the office of Alex in Santa Fe. Then, there were several pages describing the trip down into Mexico. Oaxaca City was the first stop on their expedition. They stayed at a hotel where they made their headquarters. The different aspects of the expedition were to be governed by the University at Oaxaco City. The ten members of the Aiken expedition departed with their Oaxaco counterparts to various sites. They would be in this area for about three months. Susan LaRue departed for the Chinantla region, in northwest Oaxaca. She was with a linguist from the local university. This was where stories of the Chupacabra had surfaced. Rodney noted that in a previous travel he had learned of these stories.

Rodney and Eric were headed to Monte Albán, a well established ruin, which was located six miles west of the city of Oaxaca via the Oaxaca - Monte Albán highway. They were to meet up with several European archeologists from several different Universities. They would discuss and study artifacts made available by the Oaxaca University. There were two other groups which Rodney stated were to go to other archeology sites, but Liz didn’t bother, at the time to do more than note the names and locations. Rodney didn’t have much to say about their investigations. Liz imagined that he only mentioned them out of responsibility as leader. Their discoveries were not of his interest. Liz read through pages and pages of ideas, theories and proposals that would have interest for a dedicated person in Mexican or Central American archeology. She found notes penciled in the margins of more interest. There was a Juan, no last name, who contacted Rodney. Rodney wrote that he was a very dangerous person. There was a narrative later:

“Juan returned again to day. He is offering a fortune to use the containers we will be shipping back home. Again, I told him no!”

“Pedro came back to day.” This was the first time he had mentioned Pedro, even though he implied he had talked to him before. “He showed me markings that I have never seen before. He, also, had a bronze plate, which he said was very old. I examined the plate. It had little bumps on both surfaces. It didn’t look Mexican or Spanish. I tried to negotiate to buy it. I think Pedro will sell, but first, he wants to show me other things. He requires that I go with him alone. I am not to take a camera. If I go, I will take my Minox. I knew my fascination with spy stuff would come in handy some day.”

There were several days with no mention of Juan or Pedro, just listings of sites and catalogued artifacts that could be found at the museum at Oaxaca. Several days later, she found the notation.

“I have made arrangements to go out with Pedro. Tomorrow night, I will record what I saw.”

It was five days before the next entry was in the journal.

“Oh my god! I had no idea how big the information Pedro had was. I was right. The Minox didn’t look enough like a camera for him to pay attention to what I was doing. I used the Leica field glasses a lot and Pedro looked through them one time. He wasn’t particularly impressed. I held the Minox the same way I held the glasses. Pedro hasn’t paid the slightest interest in what I was doing. Now, I have to hope the little Minox made pictures clear enough to examine. We could only move about in the heat of the day. Pedro says that other times, the ‘shadows’ are all around. Pedro took me to one cave where the bronze plates were stored. He wouldn’t let me touch them. He says the ‘shadows’ check them every day. Pedro wouldn’t say, but I got the idea that he stole one of the plates and the ‘shadows’ have been checking them daily since. Since we could only move about for about 3 hours in the hottest part of the day, there was no way I was going to get back in one day. I believe the day I am writing this is five days later than the day I left. I only saw the shadows at twilight from the hidey hole Pedro has found. There were people who came and went. One night, a truck drove down the valley. We couldn’t see very well, but they were doing something to the truck. The last night, several different creatures were brought out. Pedro became very frightened he informed me that we must leave at noon tomorrow. He watched the strange new creatures for several minutes. He kept mumbling something that sounded like, “Chupacabra.” Come morning, Pedro was still watching at the entrance of the hidey hole. As soon as it became warm, we left traveling very fast.”

Liz read on. The rest of the journal contained facts and statements which she would expect in any archeology journal. Liz couldn’t be sure but she felt that Rodney’s style was more structured and clipped from the free style he had written before. The only other entry of interest to Liz was toward the end. Two days before they left he wrote, “Susan LaRue returned to Oaxaca, today. She seems very excited and wants to take a separate flight back to the states. I finally convinced her that we would all get there about the same time and leaving the expedition would create questions with the authorities.”

The rest of the journal was just about closing out the expedition and a bibliographic listing of the different journals, that were concerned with the expedition. There was one other criptic message. “I wonder where that bastard Witherspoon has got to?”

She began to wonder what happened to the pictures he had taken. Liz knew that usually Minox film, which was very special both in size and in quality, was sent to a central lab. She would have to ask Sam where he might have sent them.

It had taken the better part of the day to work through this journal. Liz would start on Eric’s journal next. She didn’t have the other journals yet of the rest of the group, but Liz was willing to bet that they wouldn’t help much. Rodney might have turned into a more liberal professor with his students, but she thought he was still hoarding any privy information for his own use. She just wondered how much he shared with Eric. Liz placed a call to Sam to try to find the pictures from the minox that Rodney had taken. All Sam could say was that they weren’t with those developed by the university at its own labs.

Max, in a last minute change, had taken the vehicle they kept stored in Albuquerque to picked up Isabel and Sabra at the Airport so they wouldn’t have to call a taxi.

Sabra was very excited to talk about her trip. She had won it by writing a patriotic essay. She toured the whole city and visited the workings of the congress. The highlight of the trip was the winners, two from each state, met the President. They were treated to a tea by the first lady. It was called a tea even if the refreshments were soda pop and little cakes. They found the First Couple were very congenial and the First Lady talked a lot about her beliefs in education.

Liz had to smile. She remembered the stress Sabra had when she was trying to write the essay. She had started over many times, but in the end, it showed by the fact that she won for the state of New Mexico and that her final product was well received.

Michael would be at the airport at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. They still didn’t know who was going back with him. Alex called and informed them that he had business in Farmington, so he would meet them there.

In honor of Sabra’s return, Liz sent out for Pizza. Isabel was proud of her daughter. Isabel hadn’t had real folks. She had been cared for by a family now living in California, named Evans. She and Max had taken their names and, now, Isabel had the name of Mrs. Whitman. Each of the engineered aliens had a different story to tell of the winning of their mates. The engineered aliens were designed to mate for life. The women had been allowed the freedom of having affairs as long as they kept their emotions and bodies in check. The men though, had been forced to remain celibate until they found the perfect one. The Others were very clear they didn’t want an engineered Casanova running around creating many unsupervised half engineered alien children. Tess had sampled many of the human males. She finally chose Kyle when his bravery and resourcefulness was understood by her. Isabel had had few liaisons until she met the tall handsome state police sergeant from the northern part of New Mexico. He was smart and dignified. He matched Isabel perfectly. At the time, Isabel was directing the corporation which served the needs of the engineered ones. When their service to the aliens, or as they called them the Others was over, Isabel turned the administration of the corporation over to Tess and, like her genetic brother, Isabel became a writer. The four couples were very close and, together, they made a strong team. Their support had allowed Maria the freedom to really study and write music. With the birth of her daughter, it was rare for Maria to want to be on the road. The offer from Nashville was just too good to turn down. Maria could care less about the money, but this would give her music a lot of exposure.

Isabel was thinking about the changes they had experienced in the last 15 years. Sabra was running down like a spring driven toy and her eyes were drooping. Isabel and Sabra went into the guest room and retired.

Max and Liz were finishing up their labors when Liz heard something out side. She still kept a Glock close at hand. It was the same little weapon which she had carried when she was doing solo survey work for the department of Anthropological Research. She retrieved the weapon from a personal, triggered gun safe and went to the door. She could see nothing so she walked a little way from the house. There was definitely something in the neighbor’s yard. Liz shouted and Max, of course, heard her. Liz was carrying her pistol but the little Glock was much better used in the backcountry. The 40 caliber bullet had just too much penetration to be let loose in the city, unless you were very much in fear of your life and had a solid target. Her shout brought Max outside quickly. In the pale glow of the streetlights, he saw his wife. In front of her was a curiously bent figure. Max shouted and the thing looked up. It changed direction and started toward Max. Max heard a hoarse voice, “You are the King and she is the Queen. They want you.”

Max raised his hand. As much as Liz was afraid of letting loose a wild shot from her Glock, Max was afraid of loosing a power-blast which might be seen by someone. The thing stopped and glared at Max. Like a hound dog it raised its nose and gave the impression of sniffing. Liz was getting her control back and she was aiming mid body at the creature. Before either Max was able to loose a power blast, or Liz a bullet from the Glock, a car drove by.
It was a squad car. When it put its light on the creature, the creature screamed, cowered and ran. The car applied its brakes and the officer approached quickly, his weapon already drawn. It was a more appropriate caliber for the city, a 45. Liz immediately lowered her weapon. Then she and Max stood waiting until the officer returned. It was Sgt. Garry Watson. He had met Max briefly when he was talking with Alex about the murders. Max introduced his wife to the sergeant who asked, “Do you have any idea what that thing was?”

Max shook his head. Liz said nothing. That worried Max, but it was un-noticed by the sergeant. Watson bid them good night and left. Inside the house Max turned to Liz. “What was it?”

“A boogieman who is no longer a metaphor,” Liz replied. She looked down at her little Glock. sixteen rounds of hollow point bullets and she had been very close to the creature. Liz hadn’t felt that firing was advised and that had been a judgment call. If she had fired would sixteen rounds stop what in Rodney’s journal was labeled Chupacabra.

Liz went back into the house and took out a journal from the middle of the stack labeled, “ Rodney.” She thumbed through the pages until she came to the narrative:

“Susan will eat this alive. I have an eye witness to one of her boogiemen.” Sean Gutierrez, of Spanish-Irish decent. Had told Rodney about the creature. The creature had approached Sean and, with a sniffing sound, he then ran in the other direction just like it had done with Max. Sean had described it as having a large head and short stock hind legs. The front legs were deformed and it didn’t like light. Liz hadn’t marked that part of the journal because Rodney was just doing a favor for a colleague. Now, she thought this might have importance. Max read the description from the journal. When he was through, he was shaking his head. It was getting late so they prepared for bed. About eleven o’clock the call came. It was Tess. She had a message from the others. Max was told to return to Farmington and bring Liz. She told Max that she had also talked with her husband and Kyle was wanted in Farmington, too. Would there be room for him on the plane? Max told her yes and, with that, he and Liz went to bed. They were very quiet as they held each other closely that night. There had been something evil about that creature. What did the creature mean when it said, “They want you!”

Author’s note: the 40 caliber cartridge for semi automatic pistols was developed on the behalf of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. It was to give officers better penetration through car doors with their pistols after a terrible shoot out where the FBI came out wanting. The original 40 caliber was too hot for the average officer to manage so they wimped it down (weakened) to what is the Smith & Wesson 40. It is a good police caliber but in cities it still is dangerous for most people to use. Once fired there is no telling how many walls it will penetrate. The 45 automatic Colt pistol cartridge is large, slow and made for close in fighting. It is probably safer for civilians and many police to carry in city. The ugly simple Glock is still a good police duty weapon and it has enough safeties to be carried by civilians who have a permit which Liz does have.
Isabel, Her secret Love is the simple name for this canon story. It is about Isabel if she had listened to all who would rule her life. There is much argument because the writers of the TV didn’t every find a strong love interest for her. They made her mature faster than the other characters but the never matched her up with a proper young man who she could look straight in the eye. I picked the most unlikely person I could find and worked on him.

Stories by ken_r
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

chapter 4 sept 8

Postby ken_r » Sat Sep 08, 2007 10:10 pm

Zanity I hope you appreciate the naming system of my aliens

Martine I want my characters to have depth. They are heroic but they have families and they help the kids with homework. I will explain next what the monsters are.

Skittles 1983 has agreed to be my content beta for a while.

chapter 4

Isabel and Sabra hadn’t awaken at the excitement and they didn’t want to awaken them now. Max felt that he had been lucky that day so many years ago. He had been sitting at the telescope for hours ever since the rising sun had lit the canyons enough for the instrument to pick out detail. He had seen the pickup truck of the archeologist. He quickly saw that it was neither a cowman nor a Navajo standing beside it. The actions of the person had, at first, confused him. It was a woman and though she was tanned, she appeared to be a Gringo rather than Hispanic or Native American. She was pouring water in a shallow tub and appeared to be heating water on a small stove she had sat up on a camp table. When she stripped, Max couldn’t believe his eyes. Even at the extreme distance, her body looked heavenly. She had, then, stepped into the tub and was dipping hot water from the stove and pouring it over her self. She lathered her long brown hair. Then, she rinsed herself several times by dipping water out of a tub. When she was finished, she had tied a towel around her hair. Then, she carefully walked the short distance to a rug set out on the sandstone. She lay there, letting the sun dry her beautiful body. Michael had come up and asked Max why he wasn’t observing the rocks where he was supposed to be looking and he leaned over for a look. Max became instantly possessive of his vision and moved the telescope back to the cliff where his study was intended. Michael kidded him for sometime that he was seeing things from being out in the desert to long, but Max never forgot the likeness viewed through that long lens. They were to find Liz snake bitten near a site they were to excavate looking for alien artifacts a few days later. Max cured her and Michael transported her to the Navajo hospital. Later with research, Max managed to find and meet the young archeologist at a bar in Albuquerque. The Others completely approved his choice. It took the rest of the year to find her again, and finally, convince her to marry him. Liz, who had always had stormy affairs, was now happy as the wife of an engineered alien and mother to her two, half, engineered alien, kids.

Next morning, Kyle drove up just in time for breakfast. They all pitched in and prepared the house to be closed up again. Kyle would leave his car in the driveway since he would have to get a ride, someway, back to Albuquerque by tomorrow morning. When Michael arrived, he telephoned Liz and he was informed of the list of passengers. They took a taxi to the airport and, soon, they were in the air.

Liz’s first interview with the true aliens or what they all called the Others, had been the most extensive. They all treated Max with some diffidence. Max held no personal title, but the Others referred to him as a king. When they had interviewed Liz the first time, she had been stripped of her clothes. They said they wanted to all experience the way their king had first seen her. Every year, they interviewed each of the humans, but since the first time, the interview had been no more than just a mental conversation on, sometimes, confusing subjects. Liz had no idea how many interviews the Others conducted with the engineered aliens.

It was still before noon when they arrived at the Farmington Airport. Tess met them with a company van. She had a wet passionate kiss for her husband. When they arrived at the large house, it was still before lunchtime. Tess turned to Liz, “The Others made it clear that they wanted to talk to you as soon as possible.”

Liz was always apprehensive when ever she talked to the true aliens. The room was always darkened so that you could just see their shapes. The Others had very big eyes and Liz had guessed that too much light was hard on them. As soon as the door closed, the shapes began to surround her. She felt herself led to a comfortable chair, that was made out of what material, she had no idea. Her mind was jumbled and her head was beginning to ache. One held up his hand or what might look like a hand. “I am one. I have no divisors other than myself. I divide into every number. This is 2 he divides into half of the numbers, but he only has himself and one as a divisor.”

The Others droned on for a few minutes. Liz had noticed that they had some sort of number theory nomenclature. This time, there was a darker creature who came forth. “I am naught. I have all divisors, but I divide into no one.” The other Others seemed to give him some respect. Liz waited. Pictures formed in her head. There was a devil. The devil was made of white powder. This was repeated over and over. The devil would take shape. Then just as quickly, it would dissolve into a pile of white powder. Finally, Liz decided they were saying the devil was evil and, in someway, it was represented by the white powder.

The next vision frightened Liz. The creature appeared and it sniffed each of the Others. It shied away from each and circled until it came to Liz. it bared its fangs and prepared to spring. As it leaped, one of the Others would reach and pluck it out of the air. This was repeated over and over. The monster would circle the Others and, then, leap at Liz from one direction or the other. Each time it leaped, one of the Others would pluck it out of the air. Liz was glad she was unarmed because she was sure she would have fired upon this creature even though she knew it to be an illusion. After the next leap, the creature froze in mid-air. Just like they were reading her mind, which they probably were, the creature frozen in mid-air produced holes in itself. Blood and gore oozed from the holes. Then, Liz got it. The demonstration was over before she could react, but Liz would have bet anything that there were 16 holes in the beast. The beast was released the holes closed up and again one of the Others plucked it out of the air.

In the manner of the Others so many times, the room lights went up and Liz was standing alone in an empty room. Liz realized she was dismissed.

When she came out of the room as she did every time, she fell into the arms of Max, who was there to hold her. It was Kyle who was to go next. He was not in the room nearly as long as Liz. When he returned, he was supported by Tess, but he said nothing.

Alex stepped up and he was in the room a lot longer than Kyle. When he came out, he was shaking his head. The last to enter was Max. He was in the room for over an hour.

The kids would be home from school soon. Sabra didn’t go today because she had only returned that morning. That didn’t mean she could play. She needed to make several reports tomorrow when she returned. She had been working much harder at home than she ever would have been at school. Max announced that they would meet at about 7:00 that evening after supper. While the kids were working on their studies supervised by Isabel and Tess.

It had been almost three days since Liz and Max had seen Jonathan and Helen. The household staff would fix the meal so each family spent time together. Kyle was gone so much. Frankly, deep down, he knew that each investigation might be his last, so he always tried to play with his two boys as much as possible. They took their ball gloves, and with Tess and his baby daughter as the audience, they went into the back yard for a game of catch. Alex had a long discussion ahead learning about the adventures his wife and daughter had at the nation’s capital. Maria, Michael and Jannis had been in each other’s company for several days. Jannis went into the library to study leaving Michael and Maria some quality time alone.

After supper, the kids were herded by Isabel, Tess and Maria into a room where they could study. Michael, seeing his presence was not demanded anywhere, turned on a game on TV. The rest of the group met in Max’s private study where they began to discuss their experience. Liz had studied linguistics, as did most Archeologist, so she was hoping she could make sense out of their stories. Max requested to be the first to lead off. “The Others want me to tell you they are sorry about the way they had to communicate. They didn’t have time to prepare scripts like they do in regular interviews. They asked for you to relate your experiences in this order.” With that, Max took out a scrap of paper. It read; Kyle, Liz and Alex.

Kyle shrugged. He was never good at games like this. “They showed me mounds of white powder. I took it for drugs. The powder would pile up and, then, it would be taken away. It did this over and over. Finally, they showed me a fat, Hispanic man. He walked into the middle of the piles and a sharp rock was used to slash him. At the last, one of the Others came over to me with a small amount of the powder. I took it and tasted it. It was pure cocaine. Oh there was one other thing! The man who got slashed, I could swear I had seen him before. The Mexican authorities sent us several files on major dealers they were looking at and I am sure he was one of them. Then, they all disappeared, as is there normal behavior.

Liz was next. She told all the things she had experienced. Over and over the monster thing had jumped at her. She told about the holes appearing in it and the fact that it still came at her. She explained the sniffing and the fact that every time it leaped, it was caught by one of the Others. It had only leapt at her, never bothering the Others at all. Then, she mentioned the devils who turned into powder over and over.

Alex was last. “I saw the body of a man. First, Max came up to it and slashed it with the spear point. Then, it appeared again and Michael was the slasher. This was repeated three times. Then, it changed and it was the body of Isabel and Max came to slash her. This same thing was repeated three times. There was one other thing. On all but the last vision, there was a creature who pursued each victim except for the last one.

Max was last. His communication had been easier because the aliens had engineered him, Isabel, Michael and Tess so that they could communicate with them. Max held up his hand. He would like to wait to divulge what he had been told.

They turned to Liz who had been taking notes and drawing diagrams. “There is a language where stories of allegory, known myths and metaphors are used instead of simple thoughts. This is an approximation of what was said. Each of us was told something that we could relate to and would be part of the whole story.”

Kyle grumbled, “The other times I have had to talk to the aliens, they used plain speech and clear ideas. Why the puzzles now?”

Liz shook her head as she mused, “Maybe, they didn’t have time to prepare the speech. We do not know how hard it is for them to talk to us. The other times, they were preparing for us over a long period of time. This might have been hurry-up talk.”

Kyle and Alex just shook their heads. Both of them had been lifetime law enforcement officers, but this type of narration was too complicated for them.

Liz continued, “Kyle, it is clear that cocaine is involved. They knew that you would recognize the powder and the taste. The face you saw must be a dealer in Mexico. They showed drugs coming from somewhere and, then, going somewhere else. My vision was more difficult. They were telling me that the white powder was a devil, but they were also warning me of something else. That is what was not clear. There was a creature. I can’t describe it. I could only feel it. It wouldn’t attack the Others but it kept leaping at me. I was always protected by one of the Others. They showed me clearly that the 16 shots in my Glock wouldn’t stop it. The only protection I had was from an alien.” Liz looked at Alex. Your vision was the most complicated and I am only guessing. There have been four murders. The revelation of the Others shows only three. Each time the murders were committed by someone represented by Michael and Max. What do they have in common? They are engineered aliens. I would say the Others are trying to tell us that at least one engineered alien is the killer. The third victim, was represented by Isabel. It must have been Susan LaRue, she must have been an engineered alien, also. Autopsies are not that careful in cases like this. It would be awfully hard to tell unless you knew what to look for.

Kyle was still thinking way back 20 minutes ago. “What was that thing that was attacking you, Liz? How does it fit into this mystery.” The drugs and what happened to Liz were his primary concerns. Kyle was over Liz romantically, but you do not throw away a year of romance immediately. He still had a lot of feelings toward her. He, also, was especially concerned about the Hispanic man whose face he was sure he knew. He would have to get back to his office and go through some files as soon as possible. He also knew a man south of the border. He was Kyle’s counter part with the Mexican drug authorities. Kyle would ask him. “Liz, what was that thing that attacked you?” he repeated.

Liz looked at Max. They hadn’t yet told the others here about the attack last night. They hadn’t wanted to say anything that would scare Sabra or, for that matter, her mother since they had nothing to do with this mystery, yet. “Kyle, there was something outside our house last night. It resembled the thing the Others were trying to show me. It was going to attack me when Max came up. It didn’t like him and moved away. Before anything else could happen, a squad car drove by and the thing ran off. I think the Others were telling me that I had no defense against the thing. Even 16 shots from my Glock wouldn’t have stopped it, but Max could drive it off.”

Alex had been silent for some time. “What about the forth murder? According to you, the Others only know of three. Also, what about the murder of the person represented by Isabel? We can’t really ask for a better autopsy to be done. How do we find out if she is an alien or not?” Alex was still a bit shaken up that the Others used his wife in their analogy.

There was a possibility Liz knew. When she met Max, they were looking for some artifacts that were not Native American, but were of the southwest. She had met a descendant of an archeologist who met the aliens way back at the turn of the twentieth century, an archeologist who was one of the founders of the Archeology Department of the University of New Mexico. This descendant had given Liz a large collection of artifacts. He also gave her a lead to a side of the family that was more like Max in that they had descended from engineered aliens. She would call the final person she had traced down and ask if the LaRues were related.

Thomas Ciel was a lawyer in Albuquerque. He had a very important ability. He could tell immediately if a person was lying or not. He had descended from an engineered alien. When Max and Liz had discovered him, they had brought him together with another branch of his family, estranged for many years. He was very pleased to hear from the little archeologist.

“Thomas, Doctor Elizabeth Parker-Evans here. I need some help. Is any of your family related to a person named LaRue?” Liz waited as Thomas thought.

“There was a sister who married a LaRue several years ago. We have sort of lost track of them. What is this all about?” Then, he sucked air in quickly, “That girl who was murdered the other day. I never made the connection.”

He told Liz as much as he could. Then, with a caution to keep in touch and a promise to look up the parents of the young lady, they broke the connection.

Liz turned to Alex. There was your forth murder. It is the prostitute who was the first one that the aliens don’t know about, yet. Doctor LaRue is probably descended from Sylvia Lock and the engineered alien she married. That is why the monster had nothing to do with her murder and what the Others were trying to tell us. She was killed by an engineered alien, alone, or by a human.

Alex leaned back in his chair. “Let us see what we have. We have a prostitute killed. Then, we have Rodney, the leader of the expedition, followed by Eric Ryand. Finally, we have Susan LaRue, a post-graduate student, who was also on the expedition. I imagine we can tie Rodney and Eric as having a similar reason for being killed. Why did someone kill the prostitute? Why don’t the Others know about her? Why did they Kill Susan LaRue?

Max again indicated he had more to say. “They were clearly having a hard time communicating to us. Liz is right it is very difficult to even talk to us who they engineered without preparation. There was something about those like but not like us. Shades of us. Similar to us. Those who do not love their children. They were trying to show me creatures like themselves but different. I couldn’t see the difference but they were insistant.

Liz was thoughtful for several minutes. Shades and shadows are abstracts of something. A shadow is a flat featureless abstraction of a creature or object. Hmmm… like us but not like us. That is a puzzler. The next statement about those who do not love their children. The Others always speak of their engineered ones as their children and they extend that word children to the mates of those engineered. I am guessing but that is what I am doing in a lot of this. I think the Others are talking about aliens they feel are inferior to themselves, especially in their moral stand. We are talking about Aliens who bring harm to Earth creatures. Maybe even to other aliens. Of course this makes a lot of sense if you are talking about narcotics. The shadows mentioned in the journals must have been aliens. We have just been told that they are dangerous to us.

Author’s note:
Number theory is used by the aliens to name themselvesthe. They do it with prime divisors which is interesting but not important. Later we are going to talk about the fact that the aliens do not have a comprehension of numbers as quantities. To them numbers and math are just a study like poetry or something. For the record, which has nothing to do with story, one is neither prime nor composite, but it divides into every number without a remainder. two divides in half of the numbers, three divides into a third of them etc. Of course zero divides into no numbers. None is this is important except if someone is a techie. What is supposed to be shown is that the aliens do not have the concept of numbers as quantities only abstracts.

Not all cultures have the concept of more than, less than or equal. They have the value of sufficient and insufficient. That is very different from our current values. To the Others, whether there are 3 aliens or 300 is not important and they wouldn’t be able to explain this. Watch as the story goes and see that amounts are not important to the Others. But, be careful one missing disk upset those who Rodney saw.
Stories by Ken
Isabel, Her mysterious Love is the simple name for this canon story. It is about Isabel if she had listened to all who would rule her life.
Last edited by ken_r on Mon Sep 10, 2007 7:29 pm, edited 1 time 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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author note.

Postby ken_r » Thu Sep 13, 2007 5:55 pm

My thanks to Zanity who brought this to mind.

Anthropological Interlude

In the Story, “Liz of the Desert,” Elizabeth Parker, right out of the intentions of canon had earned a degree in biochemistry. Doing a favor for a friend, she had set up an experiment to study DNA from an early man sample. This, at best, would be difficult since DNA does degrade with time. While setting up this experiment, Miss Parker got interested in Anthropology. So much so, that she went back and finally obtained a doctorate degree in Anthropology, specializing in Archeology.

There were two reasons for me choosing Anthropology. First, after Mathematics, Anthropology is the science of which I have the greatest knowledge. Second, Anthropology is the science broad enough to encompass what would be needed to understand an alien culture.

I owe “Star Trek, The next Generation,” for the study of the language I used. There is a program where Captain Jean Luc Picard is trying to talk to an alien and the alien will only quote stories and allegories. It takes time to learn that here is a language that requires knowledge of folk history and by using bits of folk stories, you can convey meaning. Once you know the folk history, then you can understand concepts. For example Romeo and Juliet would mean forbidden love, Marco Polo would indicate travel, etc.. That kind of language is what I used in the hurry up interview with the Others.

When reading about aliens, I have always enjoyed the concept of how much aliens must be like us to accomplish what we have done and to even surpass us, or that aliens are so far unlike us, that it is difficult to comprehend their intentions or understand their goals. In this story, which is now set up to have three parts, so far, I have done both. The aliens are like us in that they have individual competitive drives, which leads to a war. They are, also, like us in that they have individual morals as to what they do to further their goals. One group considers the engineered ones as children to cherish and guide and the other considers them simply tools to accomplish whatever project they were intended to do and then, either to be abused or to be ignored. This group does not hesitate to use drugged beings of their own race to accomplish their wars. There simply is not a single alien culture but several competing cultures.

These aliens are different from us in that they do not seem to have a concept of quantities. They are not completely bound by physical laws and seem to be able to travel in many different ways.

Many people in the natural and physical sciences see Mathematics as a tool to use in their studies. They often forget that Mathematics is also a philosophy and a study having nothing to do with application. Number theory is one aspect of Mathematics that is mainly mental gymnastics and parlor tricks that teachers use to open their math classes. It is more a philosophy than any science with any real use. The Others, it would seem, use number theory to differentiate them selves. How they use math beyond, this is not clear.

In a world like ours, where scientist and engineers use mathematical models to create the wonders we see, it is hard to visualize that a culture that manipulated physical properties just by thinking, might not need mathematics to focus their efforts. We may use mathematics to describe our ideas to others who will do the construction and development. If beings can just mentally imagine their ideas and bring them into creation, would they need mathematical measurements? To a world which depends on manual instead of mental manipulation of matter, this would be so different.

If you could control the physics of the universe, physics mankind is just on the brink of discovering you might never need to make a weapon. Just use the manipulation of Physical properties and power of the universe would be at your command.

This is not too far off canon. Isabel could just touch a color to make Liz’s nail polish that color. They could just imagine a color change in a car’s paint and it would happen.

The wonders of Science Fiction are that we can imagine these ideas and discuss what their outcomes would be. The Magic of Anthropology is that a learned person can accept these ideas and integrate them within their lives. So we find Doctor Elizabeth Parker-Evans trying to mediate among the humans, engineered persons and the ethereal aliens. She also, through all of this, helps all sides solve mysteries using her own skills.

They imaginary science is fun but please do not let it ruin the story. I worked too hard for that to happen.
Ken r

I will post the next chapter sometime this weekend
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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Posts: 860
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chapter 5 sep 14

Postby ken_r » Fri Sep 14, 2007 7:11 pm

my thinks to Skittles my content beta

Zanity thanks for interest in my story. I appreciated your mention of the SF story where manipulation of matter was by sound and color. This made me think about the use of mathematics as a language. That is where we most use it as a tool to show others out ideas. You go to a machinist and give him measurements, you have conveyed to him what you want. When I work in my machine shop at home often I just fit and try. Yes I know that it would be better to use the precision measurement tools that I have but for just one item that I am using my self it is many times easier to just use the fit and try method.

Martine I hope in all this technical talk you see that I am trying to make a Max and Liz story where they both are strong characters that support each other. They also have great love for each other if real life will just let them find time. I haven’t written the last chapter yet maybe I can find time for them at least once before the story ends. As I have told begonia so many times my stories are becoming about older mature people trying to find love during their demanding real life.

Chapter 5

Kyle would be heading out to the airport to get back to Albuquerque. Alex was intending to stay a couple of days to see if Liz could turn up anything, but his schedule was determined by the necessities of the state police. Liz was going to stay a few days in Farmington, both to spend time with her children and, also, it was quieter place to read the rest of the journals. Instead of Eric’s as she had planned, she chose to read Susan’s Journal next.

Susan had joined the expedition at almost the last minute knowing that Rodney was usually pliable to students joining his expeditions, providing they could get funds. She had received her funding from the Carnegie Foundation and it didn’t hurt that she was building her research on some of his writings. Liz had figured most of this out because she knew the workings of University sponsored expeditions.

The first pages of her journal were filled about the wonders she observed being in a new country. It was probably the first time Susan had ever been on original research, at least personal research, in a foreign country. Her excitement was almost contagious. Rodney had written about sightings of Chupacabra by those who claimed to have seen it first hand. This was very unusual for a folk tale to have first hand knowledge of a legend. Most of the time, it was always someone’s cousin or someone in the next valley. This would be a chance for her to talk to someone who claimed to have been there when the creature appeared. There were other things that were different. The beast had been anthropomorphized into having many human characteristics. To Susan, this spoke of the beginning of a legend and not an emergence of an old fable. And naming it Chupacabra was just the only name the people had for an unpleasant monster. Susan was sure that there were some other pressures on the populace that caused them to talk of and see monsters. Like many anthropologist, Susan didn’t necessarily believe in the monster, but she believed the people in that area did. For her, this was a chance to be the first scholar to observe a new phenomenon.

As far as Liz could tell Susan had done everything right. She spent the first two weeks working at a clinic near the town. As she slowly built up credibility, the stories began to appear in her journals. Susan had been recording descriptions. It was man-like with a big head and gray, wrinklely skin. It had stubby, thick legs and big eyes. Liz had never read descriptions like these. Searching her memory, she only could dredge up concepts of dog-like or wolf-like creatures when describing the Chupacabra. People tend to describe monsters, which they only know about from hear-say in terms that are familiar in their folk history. Susan had underlined each of these descriptions. It was near the end of the journal that Liz read something that caught her attention. Susan was walking out at night when she heard the scream of a goat. Susan had an electric torch. She shined it on a bleeding goat lying on the ground. Standing over it was a gray figure with a big head and stocky legs. The figure looked at Susan and charged her. Susan was frozen to the spot. The creature was fixing to leap, when it suddenly stopped and stood up. It sniffed the air and looking at Susan, it said, “You are not the one they want.” It, then, turned and fled. Susand had scored another first, at least in this legend. She had just become a personal observer.

Liz put the journal down. There was no doubt that the creature was the same one who came at her and ran when it saw Max. Liz remembered the illusion of the Others that the creature would avoid them. It must also avoid the manufactured ones. Liz was beginning to believe that she knew why Susan was killed. Why the prostitute was killed, she still had no idea.

What ever it was, Susan had first hand knowledge of what it looked like. She appeared to have knowledge, that she was free from attack. Liz was sure that Susan’s family had little idea of their alien origin so the reason that the thing didn’t attack Susan was probably unknown. Even Thomas Ciel, the man who Liz had contacted, hadn’t known of his alien connection until Liz and Max talked with him and his wife. The thing that stuck in Liz’s mind was that Susan was a scientist, a researcher. She may have had more knowledge of her self than they believed.

Liz read in Susan’s journals of her theories about the monster and doubts that it really had anything to do with the legends of Chupacabra found elsewhere. Nowhere in folklore did Chupacabra ever speak. Thus, she had witnessed an altogether different phenomenon. Susan had formulated many theories of why the monster had appeared to the area. These theories were based on the solid scientific fact that things supernatural appear in times of stress. Susan had recorded what she could of social stresses she found in the nearby villages. She could hardly wait to get back to the university to publish her findings. Not many scholars, fresh out of graduate school, have an opportunity like this for academic fame.

But Susan had never published. She had written her paper, but it hadn’t returned from the proof reader yet. Liz looked up. The proofreader! Who was it that Susan was using? Their life might be in great danger!

Liz immediately made a call to Sam at the museum. She gave him specific instructions and her agitation convinced him that it was very important. “Sam, Parker here. Look, do you know who is the editor or prooreader of Susan LaRue’s work? Look, Sam. They might be the only people who know what was in her paper. Yeah, Sam, but she has several theories in her journals. If one of them is what caused her murder, then who ever else knows about this will be in danger, also. Sam, when you find the editor, call the city police. Use Captain Whitman’s name. Tell them that the editor will be in as much danger as Doctor LaRue. When you contact the city police, you might see if you can call the person yourself. Yeah, I know, but there is something going on which seems to be killing students. Drop Captain Whitman a line or get the city police to do it. They will probably want to talk to him before they do anything, anyway. Thanks, Sam. See ya.”

Liz spent the rest of the day working on Susan’s notes. They were very carefully kept. Susan had several original theories about cultural stresses that might have spawned some of the monster tales. Susan had been sadly cut down in the middle of a very promising career.

It was late when Liz was getting ready for bed. Max was waiting for her. She was rubbing sweet smelling body oil on her skin and she had taken out one of her sexiest negligees. With every thing else worrying them, she and Max deserved some quality time tonight. When she entered the bedroom Max was propped up in bed watching her. She smiled and whispered, “I am your Liz of the desert.” This was enough to bring his arousal to the breaking point. He smiled as Liz slowly let fall her robe. She was only framed in the night light of the adjoining bathroom. Liz moved with slow and deliberate movements as she began to remove her negligee. Just then, came a sharp knock at their bedroom door. Both Liz and Max felt wilted as their lust withered. It was Alex. He had just been called. The city police in Albuquerque had finally run down the proofreader, Mary Greer.

It was late and as the police approached her house, they saw strange creatures surrounding it. Sgt Watson, who had seen the monster attacking Liz, had been one of the men who were preparing to make contact with Miss Greer. The police shouted at the creatures. One of them had charged Sgt. Watson. Now, Gary was on the police pistol team. It was partly by his skill that they had won over the U.S. Border Patrol and the Las Cruces city pistol teams who were both renowned through out the nation. Gary had placed two to the chest and one to the head in trained police fashion. He claimed he saw holes in the creature, but they just closed up. Gary was not one to miss. It was only when the squad cars turned their spotlights on the creature, that it turned and ran. The other creatures ran as well. Miss Greer was in protective custody at this time. She had no idea who they were or why she was in trouble.

As Alex finished his tale, he had to grin and grimace at the same time. First, he saw that under her robe Liz was wearing a very sexy garment. Then he saw the disappointment in Max’s eyes when he entered the room. Oh well, they would all be heading back to Albuquerque tomorrow.

Liz and Max just curled up together and wondered what they were getting close to. What had developed to steal their moment?

When they returned to the house in Albuquerque, they found Kyle’s things in the spare bedroom. So this time, it would be Alex who inherited the couch. Alex left to contact the city police and that left Max and Liz on their own. Liz had to spend the day working on the journals. Max needed to head out and do leg work among some more of the people he had met while writing his last book.

Liz had gone through this year’s journal of Rodney’s and, also, of Susan’s. She next went through the journals of Rodney’s protégée, Eric. The journals consisted of several notebooks for each year. On the cover of each was marked the time period the journal covered. They were a cross between a diary and a formal accounting of whatever the people were studying. The way they were constructed was to give facts that had been learned and, also, to explain the personal feelings and observations of the writer. They were documents which would be debated in years to come, as the theories that were presented, were discussed. Eric’s perception of Rodney was always changing. One minute, he was in awe of him and, then, next he was very derogatory about Rodney’s decisions.

Then, Liz saw a notation about Juan. “That dude could shave the fuzz off a peach and still split the skin. He was offering Rodney a bunch of money. I do not know why, but you could do a heap of research with the bread that dude could spread around. He has to be up to something illegal. I wonder if Rodney’s personal integrity will be for sale.”

Later, “Pedro was here again. Every time he arrives, the great Khan secludes himself. I wonder if he is trying to use us for drug smuggling also. There is, truly, something going on with the two of them.”

Liz had to surmise that Rodney either told Eric about Juan or Eric figured it out himself? A few days later, she found this notation.

“The great Khan is going with Pedro. He won’t say why. He said he would be back in a few days. I saw him take his Minox camera. He always tries to pretend he is James Bond with that thing. I still wonder what is going on that he keeps so secret.”

There were a few more mundane daily entries about what they were studying. Then again, there was an entry.

“The great Khan returned. He was gone five days. He won’t say what he and Pedro were looking at. He did show us a bronze plate that he bought from Pedro. None of us have any idea of what the plate is. He mumbled something about having to go back and read notes from Doctor Parker. That is strange, because normally, he is always trying to surpass the good Doctor. Now, he wants to study something from her research. Is the great Khan admitting he needs help? He is also almost absent minded as he reviews the team’s journals every night.”

Liz leaned back. Well that settles that Rodney had found some plates like she had found when she was back in Navajo land, Information plates that belonged to the Others. In Liz’s case, the plates had been lost at the turn to the 20th century. They were evidence that aliens were present in the early 1900s. That was the purpose that Max, Tess, Michael and Isabel had been created. And it was the reason they had recruited Doctor Parker to help them find those lost treasures.
Liz surmised that When Pedro had taken the plate, the Others or some type of aliens, that Rodney had seen, had begun searching for it. It must have very important information on it. It was beginning to look like Eric had been killed for information they thought he had, rather than anything he really knew. It also meant that the Others weren’t a unified group. They had factions just like the humans did. These aliens were not the same as those in Farmington, that she knew. Now, what the Aliens at Farmington were talking about started to make sense. They must be the ones “who don’t love their children.”

It was getting on towards evening. Max had returned home just a minute ago. He hadn’t even had time to relate to Liz what he had learned. The telephone rang. It was Tess, “Liz, the Others demand that you and Max return home immediately. They already dispatched Michael in the plane. He will be at the airport in 45 minutes. They are very insistent!” This was something that had never happened before.

Kyle had just come in when he saw Max and Liz preparing to leave. “What’s wrong? You’d think I didn’t shower or something.”

Liz paused to kiss Kyle on the cheek. “No, sorry Kyle, we were summoned to the Others immediately. We will see you when we get back. Pizza will be delivered in a few minutes. I guess you are stuck with it instead of us for company tonight.” With that, she and Max fled to the now waiting taxi. “Alex may be back sometime tonight,” was her parting shout.

Kyle just shook his head. If Liz had been half that sweet when he was going with her, he wouldn’t have ever broken up with her. Oh well, fresh pizza was better than turning over memories of old girl friends, any day. Liz had changed so much since he had dating her.

Michael was in a small, very high speed jet. There was not much in the way of comforts. He had just taxied upto the terminal when Liz and Max came running out. He was quickly cleared for takeoff and they were on their way. Neither Max nor Liz felt like talking. Demands like this from the Others were very rare. Usually, they allowed both the Engineered ones and the humans to whom they were connected, to just go about their daily lives. They had regular communications and, from time to time, they would be seen roaming the halls of the old house. This must be something very important. Tess had known nothing about what the reason was. She just said Max and Liz were wanted in the worst way.

On arriving, Max and Liz hurried into the house. Michael came behind them at a much leisurely pace. He was just the errand boy.

Once in the house, Tess gave them the specific instructions. Max and Liz were to enter together. This was something never done before in either of their memories. They entered holding hands. The lights immediately dimmed. There were no introductions using number theory this time. The darker alien just moved up to them and they found themselves sitting on a couch made of that nebulous stuff that appeared when the aliens were around.

The other, that Liz thought was Naught, spoke. Max and Liz were hearing them in their minds, but the Others had prepared the speech so they didn’t have to use the allegory they had used before. “My children.” He did not say this like One and the aliens they were familiar with did. Naught was more no nonsense. He used the phrase “My children” in an almost unfeeling manner. “You are in very dangerous times. A great evil has come from your planet to ours and it must be stopped. The people who make that evil are the most dangerous of all. The substance you call cocaine causes dangerous behavior to your people, but in ours it is permanently damaging to our systems. It creates the monsters you have seen. Those who are mistakenly called Chupacabra. We have nothing to do with the legend. The drug does leave deformed beings of a more solid nature, who will do anything they can for the drug given by their masters. We know that a descendant of one of our children was killed. This couldn’t have been done by the monsters. They still couldn’t break the bounds held by an engineered alien. It had to be someone else who killed Susan LaRue. It was either a human or another engineered alien.

Liz spoke, “A woman who doesn’t have any connection to the other murdered victims was killed. We think she was the first.”

The Other, who Liz was now sure was Naught, seemed to stumble. It was clear they hadn’t known anything about this murder and their prepared speech had nothing to explain it. There was some confusion with the Others. They all huddled together and Liz caught flashes like a movie gone mad. Nothing was making any sense. She saw flashes, likes bits of movies, but none of them were complete. There was one thing, “Should we tell them? No, we don’t know for sure! Why do they want them? Something for the war.” The prepared speech of the Others had just fallen apart.

Then the Others went to Max. They stuck out their hands or whatever they had into his head. Liz noticed that many pseudopods were extended from each entity like the almost transparent arms of an amoeba, but when they reached his head, they all seemed to collapse together. They all remained like that for a long time. When they were through, the lights came on. This time, it was Liz who held Max as they exited through the door. Max went to their bedroom and lay down. There was nothing Liz could do except to go back to reading the journals. It was several hours when Max came back into the room where Liz was reading and Tess and Isabel were playing with the youngest child of the group.

Max was holding his head. This was strange because one of his powers was that he had the power to heal. It wasn’t a headache as much as a sensory overload. He started talking. First, he related about his day in Albuquerque.

Max had hung out at a small bar where several dope dealers did business. Max knew that four of the six dealers in the bar were undercover narcs. He listened to them all talk like they were friends. It was hard to tell the difference between the federal boys and the two real dealers. Finally, Max bought a beer for one man who he was, sort of, sure about. “Which way does the weather blow, friend.?”

“I ain’t your friend and the weather blows south.” Max shrugged. He just sat sipping his ginger ale. For a time, nothing was said. Then, almost inaudibly, he heard, “We can’t go out on the street no more.”

“More killing?” Max inquired.

“Yes, damn monsters killing anyone who might have some candy on them,” the dealer hissed.

“Who are the monsters?” Max inquired. He remembered that candy was a term used for drugs.

The dealer looked around, saw two of those who Max was sure were narcs, watching him and quickly left. Max moved to the other man who he hoped was a real dealer. “Is your stable moving tricks.” The man looked disgusted at Max and Max realized he was talking to a federal or state narcotics agent or narc. Well, so much for judgment.

Max proceeded to another bar where he was sure a few of the pimps were hanging out. He sat for a time sipping his ginger ale while observing. Several of the pimps would go out and, then, come back. He heard one of them swear “I can’t make them damned women stay out on the street! How’s we gonna make a livin’, them not working their butts off?”

Max decided this time to just listen. Another man came in and reported, “Damned girls are scared to death. What’s with the cops? Can’t they keep the streets safe for a working girl?”

Max went looking for his flesh dealer. He found him sitting in a park. Max sat down beside him . Max didn’t even have to take out the customary hundred dollar bill. “Hey Maxie, ain’t you got no pull with the PD? Can’t they do nutten about the killings?”

Max sat and talked mostly small talk. Again, he turned down the deal of a willing woman who spoke no language know in these parts and would make a perfect woman to keep around the house. She couldn’t talk and would do anything you would want and the wife would never catch on. The man, then, turned to face Max, “The girls hear ‘bout things. They don’t wanna come to the states no more. You know. Get rich and marry rich ‘mericano.”

Most of the day, what Max was getting was that the street people were getting scared. There was something that was terrifying to them. Street people had to rely on each other. They didn’t have the luxury of calling the police when they were in trouble. And most of the word was they were in trouble.

Then, Max and Liz reported on their meeting with the Others. The only surprise was about the hooker getting slashed. The Others had no knowledge of that. Max wasn’t sure if they had the concept of a prostitute or not. They were very disturbed because to them, it made no sense. The Others had explained that Rodney was killed because he saw the Others and, also, he saw some of the monsters. Eric was killed because someone thought Rodney would divulge his information to his assistant. Susan was killed because she was the nearest to one of the monsters. She knew something about it. That was the present thinking among the Others. About the prostitute, they had no clue and that was worrying the them a lot. The Others did not seem to care about the indiscriminate killing the street people were talking about. Max also reported that the Others had something they were not willing to share with the Earthlings. After that, they went to bed. Michael was going to get them back to Albuquerque early in the morning.

As I said this is the second story in the Liz of the Desert series. I have almost finished the third story which i will post sometime before Christmas.
Liz of the Desert
Isabel, Her Secret Love
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

chapter 6 sep23

Postby ken_r » Sun Sep 23, 2007 10:45 pm

Martine I hope anyone who has questions about my story will ask for me to clear it up. I now have a beta to look over what I write and she, I hope will insist that I clarify many things. In this story I mix true police work with ridiculous Science Fiction. I hope this won’t ruin my story. The places they all travel through exist and are as I describe them. Soon they will go into Mexico and they will travel a trip I took many years ago. The firearms are as I describe them. For the most part the way they would react would be correct. The two or three times UFO’s were reported in my life time caused quite a stir with the police. So I do not know how they would related to aliens.

Chapter 6

Alex and Kyle were scheduled to come by the Nob Hill residence that evening. Both Max and Liz were tired from their experience with the Others and, also, the rush to get to Farmington and back. Their relaxing time in Farmington had been cut short by the discovery of the proof reader, Mary Greer. They had believed that they should be back in Albuquerque then the Others had demanded they return to Farmington. Now, they were back in Albuquerque and both of them were tired. They took the day to just relax. That is, until Alex called, “Liz, I need you to interview the proof reader, Mary Greer. She doesn’t seem to understand why she is being detained and the city police don’t know how to explain to her because they don’t really understand either. See if you can arrange for her to stay with us at Farmington as a safe house. I don’t think the monsters can get to her there, I am sure the Others, for now, will not let anyone else invade the premises. That will get her out of the hands of the authorities as well assure better her safety”

This had been what Liz had feared the day before when they cut their Farmington stay short. The police would have need of Liz to help explain to Mary Greer why she was in custody.

Well, there went the afternoon. Liz had intended to relax and go through the rest of the journals. There was little chance that the remaining journals would have any information, but who could tell. Rodney when he had real private information, was just like he was when Liz had known him. He had secret information that he didn’t want to share and was hoping it would bring him academic glory.

A city police car came by for Liz. They conveyed her to the jail. The building they were using was surrounded by a high wall. The jail, itself, was a high building rising above the mostly one or two stories of the surrounding city. As they approached, Liz saw the girlfriends of the prisoners standing on the sidewalk using their complicated sign language to talk to their impounded lovers. These women were signing to long time inmates or those who repeatedly found themselves jailed. When the police car drove in the gates into an enclosed courtyard, Liz could feel the world cut off as the gates closed. Liz couldn’t doubt that Mary was worried and skeptical about her detainment. Mary was an academic. She would never break any laws. She shouldn’t be in jail. She would be indignant about being treated this way. Liz met Mary and her lawyer in a conference room. Liz made it clear that she wasn’t going to interrogate Mary, but she couldn’t talk in front of the lawyer. The lawyer was ready to call the interview to a close when it was Liz’s credentials that convinced Mary to dismiss the lawyer and consent to talk to the famous, in academic circles, Doctor Elizabeth Parker-Evans. Liz spoke, “You are being detained for protection. It is not for anything that you have done.”

“Protection! Protection from who, what? Nothing they say makes any sense!” Mary was angry that her space had been violated.

“Mary, the night the police picked you up would have been your last. All around your house there were creatures who would have harmed you. You were the proof-reader of Susan LaRue’s paper. That knowledge is dangerous. They will stop at little until they kill you!” Liz relayed.

Mary couldn’t doubt the authenticity of a person the whole department held in awe. She knew little of Susan’s death. She had little or no knowledge of murder or of anyone who would commit murder. She had kept working on the paper with the thought that the university would want to publish it in honor of the writer. “What should I do?” she asked.

There is a place where those who want to kill you, can’t get to. It is in Farmington, New Mexico. You will have internet access and can live there as long as we feel there is danger. It is my home where I live with several others and our families. It, at least, is better and safer than anything the police can provide. Once we get you there, you can send for any of your things that you need from your apartment.” This was Doctor Parker talking and that is what meant the most to Mary Greer. Her belief in the greatness of academics dictated her action.

It was arranged. Max would convey her to the airport and Michael would relay her back to Farmington. He and Maria would escort her to the house. Then she could make up a list of what she needed from her home in Albuquerque.

It was late when Max got home. The minute he arrived, he was scared. The door was broken open and the house was a mess. One man was lying in a pool of blood in the entranceway. The floor was covered with 40 caliber Glock brass. There were holes in the wall and one of the windows was broken. As he entered their house, the police drove up. Again, it was Sergeant Gary Watson. Max had just arrived and he hadn’t found Liz yet. “Liz, Liz!” he shouted. They all went through the house. There were more brass casings and several spots of blood. One empty pistol magazine was lying on the floor. Liz had reloaded at least once. She was nowhere to be found. Max had only been gone for about 30 minutes. He never should have allowed Liz to be alone. Gary Watson put his hand on Max’s shoulder. “We will get a team out here and get bulletins out looking for your wife as quickly as possible,” he declared.

Max made a call to Farmington. Yes, Mary had arrived safely. “Someone grabbed Liz.” Max stated.

There was silence on the other end. “That is too high a price to pay,” Tess answered. “Shall we send Michael?”

“That would make our home in Farmington more vulnerable. We moved Mary Greer so she would be safer and that would just remove much of that safety,” Max answered. This was hard for him to say, but even more than his worry about Liz, his children and the children of the rest of the Engineered ones depended on the safety of Farmington. For now, Michael was the strongest and he should remain there. “Send Isabel. Find a way to get her here. Contact Alex and get him to arrange state police escort.

It was not usual, but as a consultant Isabel could be escorted and relayed by the state police. It would take all night as they went from district to district, but it would be done in relative safety. Each unit would take her to the edge of their patrol district. Then, she would be relayed by the next vehicle. She would have state police protection all the way. Michael would consult with the Others as soon as it could be arranged. They needed information and they needed help.

Alex was worried about his wife. He knew that if she and Max were together, their combined power would be enough against any alien intrusion. It was human intrusion he was worried about. This whole case was becoming a mixture of alien and human. Alex left instruction that the relaying officers should each have a rider and they should consider this mission very dangerous.

Benny Martinez was a fun loving state police officer. He had been on the force for about ten years. He had a good record and would, probably, soon make sergeant. Ed Andrews was another officer. He had been on the force for five years. Ed and Benny were as different as they could be. Benny a native of northern New Mexico was a jovial Hispanic. He was a little on the pudgy side, but he worked out as often as he could. It was the coffee and donuts he just couldn’t pass up. Benny always had a laugh and most people liked him, even those he gave citations to. Benny was a little shy around strangers. Ed was younger than Benny. He was an Anglo from Oklahoma. Ed was thin by nature. He could match Benny donut for donut and not gain an ounce. He, also by nature, was a very quiet man. He had spent two years in Afghanistan. He was more shy than Benny when he was with people other than police. Believe it or not, Ed was something rare in a policeman. Ed was a gun collector. Strangely enough, most policemen, unless it is something from their youth, are not interested in firearms except in how to use the issued ones. Ed carried a Canadian weapon in 45 caliber, like Sgt. Watson of the APD, which loaded 14 cartridges. That was the same number as the Glocks other officers carried except theirs were in a smaller caliber. Ed had been a sniper in Afghanistan. He was known by all the force, as the best shot in competition or in duty action. Benny and Ed liked working together, although, by the solitary nature of the New Mexico State Police, this wasn’t often. They drove up to the house they knew as Captain Whitman’s home. They both knew of rumors of the strange arrangement the Captain had in his permanent living quarters. They also knew that it was unusual for a state policeman to request for his wife be chauffeured by patrolmen. Captain Whitman had a good reputation in solving crime and he used several different consultants to help him. His wife was known as a writer and she had many contacts who could give her information. Why the urgency was the question? They also knew that his wife was gorgeous.

Isabel came out to the car. She opened the door and smiled at the officers. She buckled in behind the prisoner screen that divided the rear seat from the driver. She was carrying a pillow and indicated she intended to sleep most of the trip. Instructions were changed as soon as Alex knew who was bringing his wife to Albuquerque. Ed and Benny were to make the whole trip. They wouldn’t be relaying Isabel as they usually did to district lines. Alex felt it would be safer that way. He would have to explain it later, but for now, his orders stood.

Benny held it at about 80 miles per hour most of the way. He did slow down for several places on highway 550 where he knew the conditions required more care. He and Ed were on patrol. There was no horseplay. They, for the moment, were strictly professional. As they approached Nageezi, a small town that was a pumping station for the large gas line that crossed the country, Benny slowed. In towns like this, there was always the pedestrian traffic to beware of. There were people just taking an evening walk. There were, also, a fair share of drunk citizens wondering home following the best indicator of the way, walking down the middle of the highway. There was not that much traffic, this time of night to run these people off the highway, so the pedestrians presented a hazard. South of Nageezi, there was a turn. In an emergency, Benny knew he could handle it at 80 miles per hour in a drift. He was a good and experienced driver, but tonight, although speed was important, he didn’t feel it necessary to take unneeded chances. Benny slowed as he approached the turn. As he got close, a large truck pulled across the road blocking it. Benny screeched to a halt. If he had been at his former speed he would not have been able to stop. Men were seen approaching the car. The minute they halted, Ed was out and off to the side. In his mind, he was picking out targets in Benny’s headlights. Isabel woke up when she felt the car skid to a halt. The dome lights in the squad car had had their door switches dismantled as was normal for squad cars. On getting out, Ed popped the rear door lock and motioned for Isabel to follow him. Now Benny had the powerful aircraft landing light that he had replaced his spot light with, trained on the men advancing to them. He keyed his radio and gave a mayday, that powerful call of 10-33 officer needs help, with the approximate location as just south of Nageezi on highway 550. He switched his radio to loudspeaker. “This is the State Police on special assignment. Stop where you are or you will be shot,” Benny announced.

Ed was pushing Isabel down hiding her in the sage. His M-16 was a special weapon. It used the heavier bullets and its barrel had the faster twist rifling of a sniper weapon. It would group two inches at three hundred yards. It had a very efficient flash holder so it would be difficult to spot. The men kept advancing. One of them had a powerful light with which he began to sweep the sage. Ed decided he would be first. Ed shot him right through his spot light. As soon as he shot, he grabbed Isabel’s arm and led her bent over to a new location. Scattered shots were heard. They were aimed at where they thought Ed and Isabel had been minutes before. Ed knew well his craft. There were three rapid shots from a shotgun from the direction of the squad car, along with some screaming from the advancing men. Benny was not using bird shot which would do little damage, but rather, large buck shot which, when angled into the crowd caused considerable pain. Ed let go of Isabel and flipped his M-16 to full automatic fire. He laid down a line of fire. He was a sniper and this was not his way of fighting, but its effect was almost magical. Several of the men screamed, and bent over. That was twice that they had been hurt badly. Ed couldn’t see why they would keep on coming. What was so special about getting to Isabel that they were willing to keep taking causalities. Switching his rifle back to single, selective fire, Ed was desperately trying to figure out the leader. In this situation, these weren’t trained military, but a rag tag following one person who would be both the leader and the paymaster. Take him out and the rest would melt away. No paymaster, no pay and no one directing what they were doing. Ed remembered how the officers in the field, when he was in the service, had refused to allow themselves to be saluted or how they never used expansive gestures indicating their instructions. Finally, one man began shouting and pointing toward the sage. Ed shot him. That did it. The men began to run behind the truck blocking the highway. Benny could hear the various pickup trucks grind into start and speed away. He called into Farmington and reported. He was instructed to continue to his destination. The scene would be investigated by follow-up units who would take prisoners and mop up the scene. Martinez and Andrews were to continue their assignment. It was, now, even more important that Isabel be delivered safely to Albuquerque.

Ed extended his hand to Isabel and helped her out of the dust where he had pushed her. He did not know how she would take being manhandled like he had done. Even if it was to save their lives, many women would be angry. Isabel awarded him with a smile as she dusted herself off and headed back to the car. Ed just shook his head. “I wonder if she has any sisters?” he asked himself. Ed did not notice that seconds later, Isabel’s clothes showed no dust what so ever.

Earlier That afternoon:
Liz had been sitting in the bedroom reading. There was a noise at her front door that she didn’t like. She hit the emergency sequence on the small gun safe and withdrew her Glock and two extra magazines. She stuffed the magazines into the pockets of her jeans. Making her way to the door, she saw three men standing in the remains of the doorframe. Liz didn’t ask questions, she just fired two rounds into the chest and one into the head just like Kyle had taught her. The two remaining men at the door came at her. Now several more were coming in the front door. Liz let loose a barrage of shots. She was sure with this much commotion, someone would call the police. She ran through the house. She knew she had hit several men, but only the first one was down. There was a sound of breaking glass and a gray creature jumped through the window. Before she even could think, Liz emptied her Glock at the creature. Just like the Others had said, it did not phase the creature. Liz dropped the empty magazine and reloaded. She concentrated on the men for now, ignoring the beast. The beast was leaping at her. She was trying to shoot around it. She managed some more hits, but she didn’t bring any of them down. When the beast hit her, she fell. She felt the Glock wrenched from her grasp. The smell of the beast was terrible. Liz had known a man once who raised ferrets. Liz remembered the rotten onion-garlicky smell that they let loose when excited. The beast smelled like that, only stronger. He was standing on her. She could plainly see that his forelegs were deformed arms. His hind legs had grown stocky. He was pinning her down. Two men came in and grabbed her quickly. At a later time, Liz would ask herself more about the monsters. She would wonder how they were related to the Others or aliens, like the Others. The whole episode had taken less than a minute. She was tied and thrown in the back of a van covered by a blanket. The van stopped and Liz was rudely grabbed and dragged into the trunk of a sedan. This too was short lived since she was next deposited in a large metal container that smelled like a garbage container. Then, it got quiet. It was hours later when Liz, unable to move, her muscles cramping almost beyond endurance, finally was roughly grasped and hauled out of the container. Liz was carried into a warehouse. It was large inside, but very dimly lit. Liz was thrown onto the floor. Visions of the two California Navajos flashed before her eyes. She was to be killed that time, too. It was Max and Michael who saved her and turned the evil men into dust. Well, if she was to be saved this time, she hoped it was to be soon. Someone picked her up the thrust her onto a chair. She felt duct tape added to her other bonds as she was fastened to the chair. Every one disappeared and a quiet settled over the room. One of the Others approached. It was a shadowy creature. It didn’t have the feel of those in Farmington. This one felt angry and dirty. Liz was reminded that there were aliens who were very different from those she knew. It approached Liz and she felt fingers reach into her brain. She saw visions of this Other talking to the rest. “This is the mate of the king. If she is killed, the wrath we will suffer will be from oour homeworld. They want her and the king. We must know what she knows, but she must not be killed. We will leave that to those who rule.”

One of the men spoke out, “What do you mean your home world. We fear nothing in this world! Nothing can touch us!”

The Other thought, “You fool! I do not consider your stupid little rock. I mean the world, the splender that is of the Antar system. Kivar, himself, is not ready to personally front the king of the Antar system. The mate of this female has genetic material of King Zan. We need to find out what she knows, erase her mind and leave her to the bosses. It is only a month until the next shipment arrives in the south and, then, we can be gone. Liz was beginning to suffer from thrust. The action of the evening had taken a lot out of her. She had lost control of both her bowels and bladder hours ago. She had never felt this degraded even when Cassady Jimm and Arnold Begay were threatening to rape and murder her way off in Navajo land. She had escaped from bad situations all of her life. Would all of her good luck be used up by now? They all went away. Liz felt, rather than saw, that in the dark she was being observed by an alien.

Andrews and Martinez arrived at the Nob Hill neighborhood where the company house was found. They had arrived safely with their charge. Max gave them keys to a hotel where he had placed paid reservations. They looked at Max and told him that they would stay to help guard, if necessary. Max thanked them, but he had things under control. The door had been repaired and the window boarded up. Samples of the blood had been taken and, of course, the body had been removed.

Alex arrived later that evening accompanied by one of his own narcotics officers. Isabel fell into Alex’s arms. “We must do something quickly about Liz,” she stated.

Max shook hands with the man he had been given the brush off by, in the bar the day before. The man had been a state narc instead of federal.

Joe Matussi was waiting to see Kyle. Alex wanted him to meet Max. He knew Max and Isabel were soon going on a hunt for Liz. Alex knew that Max was to have more to do with this case. He felt that it was important that his men knew about Max and vice versa. Alex wasn’t happy about his wife risking herself but he knew that if something happened to Liz, Max would be devastated and that would collapse the entire group of aliens. Alex didn’t quite understand the relationship the aliens had with each other or for that matter that they had with humans. He did know he had been happier than he had ever been in his whole life since he had married Isabel.

About 8:00 that evening, Tess had called. The Others were very agitated. They sent a message for Max and Isabel to be watching for help when the time came.

Kyle arrived about midnight. He quickly went to the phone and called Tess. It was about thirty minutes before he returned. Tess relayed a message from his office. Kyle and Joe were to meet a plane from Mexico and depart in an hour.

Isabel had retired to the main bedroom and was resting. Max and Alex sat chatting for a time. Max was going to start the hunt as soon as he thought the creatures of the night would be out of their holes.

Sometime earlier that day, Sgt. Watson had called. He stated that Captain Whitman had requested that Max be given the information on the dead man found in his house. He also stated that they had made no headway in their search for Liz.

Author’s note:
One of the worst social experiments was performed on the Navajo people. A large group of them were transported to California to remove them from their people. It was thought that by removing them from the influence of the Navajo tribe, they would become acculturated. The Navajo culture is based on the land where they now live. The land, the landmarks and family all go into that which is Navajo. The displaced people became totally without direction. Many of the younger ones, though, did learn the ways of the Anglo in crime. Some of them returned to the reservation and were a disturbing influence for years.

for a while this will be the only story i will be posting. ken r
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

ch7 oct 1

Postby ken_r » Mon Oct 01, 2007 8:57 pm

Martine: in western movies when the wagons were about to be burned and everyone scalped you would always hear, "Bring in the Calvary." Max and Isabel no matter how much power they have are promised to look for help when needed. the engineered ones were created to help the true aliens. it is only right that those who love their children or the aliens who cherish their engineered ones would rush to save their queen. Liz is human but she is important to the aliens.

Chapter 7

Max was wearing a dark turtleneck sweater and slacks. He was also wearing a black blazer with a black felt hat. Isabel was wearing a low cut blouse that showed off her curves beautifully. She had false nails secured carefully and they were painted black. Her lips were painted a dark red and her eye makeup was chosen to accent her eyes. She was sure that where ever they went the men would be looking at her body and not at what she and Max were going to do and they planned to do many things. They left at about 2:00 AM that morning. Information that Alex had requested from the city police had been received as a fax just before they left. It stated that Larry Montoya, the dead man, was a thug who worked with a group of associates who hung out at the Blue Meadow Bar and Lounge. When Max and Isabel arrived at the bar, they noticed it was a blue-collar bar frequented by both Anglos and Hispanics. All eyes were on Isabel as they entered. That was what Max wanted. With everyone watching Isabe, they would not realize until it was too late what he was doing. The city police had listed with pictures a few of those who were known to be associates of Montoya. Isabel sat at the bar and ordered a red wine. Max ordered nothing. It wasn’t long before a man came up to Isabel. He had been drinking a lot and she almost threw up smelling his breath.

“Honey, there is a place in back where we could become friends,” he said as he tried to kiss her.

Isabel traced the outlines of his face with her nails and, then suddenly, she stuck him in the face with her nails. The man screamed. He drew back and was prepared to hit her when he felt the point of a switchblade knife under his chin. He looked into the smiling face of Max as blood slowly trickled down the blade of his knife. “Friend, tell us who here is with Larry Montoya,” Max whispered.

The man’s eyes got large as his bladder let go. Max increased the pressure on the knife. Isabel just smiled, but she was busy going through his dreams. When she was young, Isabel could walk dreams, but as she got older, she got better. Sometimes, she could walk through minds up close. Tonight, she seemed to be in very strong form for some reason. Close up and concentrating, she could control dreams. The man began to sweat. His mind was trying to tell him that he was burning. In his mind, he began to see his skin blistering and then, he collapsed. Max looked at the other men in the bar. Isabel indicated one and with a smile Max walked over to him and told him to step outside. It was almost as if Charlie had no control over his feet. He tried to resist, but he saw himself walking out back with Max into the alley. Isabel took out a nail file, touching up her immaculate nails as she sat at the bar. Looking at no one for sure but searching for ideas and dreams from every one in the room. The men would look at her, but if she looked up at one of them, he would duck his head. Her mind had never been this sharp. She felt it long before she knew where it was coming from. It was a picture of their house on Nob Hill. She looked around at the men and one of them ducked quickly. He started to leave when his legs just folded and he fell to the floor. Isabel didn’t seem to give him any attention at all. Another man ran from the bar in total fright, but he returned just as fast. He couldn’t talk only stutter. “It…it…it…” He sat down and said no more. The vision of thousands of ghosts just outside the door was way too much. The men in the bar all were all shaking. When Max came back in, they all looked at him instead of Isabel. Max walked over to the man on the floor. He bent and lifted him up to prop against the bar. No one was saying anything. The bar was totally quiet. You could hear the men wheezing as their nerves triggered asthmatic attacks

Max looked at Isabel and she nodded. She had gleaned all that the men in the bar had in their minds. Max smiled and, with a salute, he and Isabel left. Outside there were several shadows. Max and Isabel approached them. When they were in the midst of the shadows, who proved to be the Others outside their northern New Mexico home. Pseudopods extended from the aliens, like from a gaggle of amoebas to the heads of Max and Isabel. The touch of these almost ethereal limbs was brief. When they got back to the car, Isabel got into the back seat and began to change out of her outfit. She now had on a dark sweatshirt and dark slacks. She was also wearing black sneakers. Max spoke softly. “The Others said the whole event had been revealed, at least as far as anyone in that room knew. They said Liz was held in a warehouse. We will have to time our selves to have the police come after we free Liz and the Others do what they intend.”

Isabel nodded her head. Isabel had never felt so strongly as she did when the Others briefly touched her. All of her powers were magnified. She and Max both knew exactly where they were holding Liz. They proceeded to the location indicated by the Others. It was on a dark street. The Others magnified Isabel’s mind until she could pin point every one on watch outside the building. Isabel grabbed Max’s hands in her own. They both closed their eyes. One after the other, the men on guard fell over into a deep sleep. Max and Isabel walked over to the door. They softly opened the door and entered. There was a soft light in the center of the room. A body was slumped over while tied in a chair. Max and Isabel again held hands. They closed their eyes. Around the room, a green mist started to glow. In one place, the glow was red-orange. As Max and Isabel began to concentrate hard, the glow became brighter, but surrounding the slumped figure it was the brightest of green. There was a whisper and Max saw several shadows move to the red glow. It went out and Max saw an alien surrounded by other aliens. The center alien screamed even though he had no mouth. The screaming was strong in both his ears and those of Isabel, but there was no sound. It was only in their minds that it really existed. The Others who were with Max were merciless. I seemed to Max that the captured alien was going to die or be destroyed in someway. But before this happened, he was going to reveal everything he knew. They were pealing him like an onion. Max and Isabel walked to where Liz was being held. Max concentrated and her bonds loosened. They fell off and Liz fell forward. Max was there to catch her. Her body was stinking, but to Max there was nothing so sweet as his wife. He carried her out of the warehouse and the Others indicated for him to hurry. Isabel took out her cell phone and called 911. She was reporting a kidnapping rescue and a possible house of drug traffic. They left and the whole warehouse glowed red. There was a muffled poof, and then nothing else was heard. Max, Isabel with the unconscious body of Liz along with a whole mist of Others had just cleared the neighborhood when the units of police arrived.

They were at home and Liz had showered and put on fresh clothes when Kyle and Alex arrived. “Damned civilians! You guys are gonna have to make up a yarn about what happened tonight. What is going to be your story, by the way?” Kyle asked.

“The truth Kyle. We sneaked in and got Liz loose. Then, we sneaked out. What happened after that, we have no idea,” Isabel explained. Max decided that he would let her tell the story. Everyone would be looking at Isabel anyway and not listening very close.

“Well, there are 30 guys inside that warehouse who overdosed because something blew up the coke supply and filled the air with narcotic. Even the mice and rats are on a high. We are going to have to use hazemat (hazard removal team) crews to clean up that place. The hazardous material people are going to have to be real careful about stirring up any more stuff. How did the Others get that much dope in suspension anyway?” Kyle mused. Then, he went on, “We are clearing the whole area. It is a good thing that you told someone that you had rescued Liz! Someone will probably want to interview her tomorrow.”

Both Kyle and Alex were pleased that Max and Isabel were able to rescue Liz, but they envisioned a difficult time explaining the accident and why it was her husband who rescued her instead of waiting for the professionals.

Max looked at Kyle, “Where is the new guy, Joe Matussi?”

Kyle shrugged, “Somewhere south of the border. He is trying to hitch up with a man in Mexico who says he can lead us to the missing stuff. Any chance we have of finding the big shipment of missing cocaine is worth checking. I flew back by return flight to see if you would need help finding Liz. If everything is all right now, I think I am going to head for Farmington for a few days. There, maybe, I won’t have to answer any questions. Which means, I won’t have to be lying.” The only thing Kyle intended to do for the next few days was to whisper sweet things into the ear of his wife and they wouldn’t be lies. Kyle called the airport and, to their surprise, he was able booked a morning flight. A quick Taxi ride, a short wait and he was on his way back home.

Alex called the motel where Martinez and Andrews, the two officers who escorted Isabel to Albuquerque, were staying. He arranged to meet them at the Albuquerque State Police office near the freeway. With that, he and Isabel left. Max frowned because that left only himself and Liz to answer any questions. They couldn’t really answer the local police about what really happened at the warehouse.

Max and Liz were, for a time, home alone. Liz had a lot of soul searching to do. “Max I tried; I really tried. I got one. I guess, I killed him. I feel bad about that. There was a monster and the Others were right; bullets didn’t stop him. In that trunk, all I could think of was I needed to go to the bathroom. The fumes put me out for a while. They questioned me about ordinary things like what did I have for breakfast and how many children did I have. I couldn’t see any reason for why they were asking me these questions. They said something about, “Do not kill her. Let the bosses do it.”

Max held her close. It would be much later that the fact that she had killed a human being would sink in. If he had lost her, his life would have been empty forever. Liz had been his choice of mate from the time he first saw her bathing in the desert. It took a little longer for her to see how much she wanted him.

“They were prowling around in your head. The questions were just to keep your mind open. They were looking for information. First, they wanted to know for sure where Mary Greer is staying. Then, they wanted to know how we fit in with the Others in Farmington.” Max had watched how the Others interrogated and deduced the rest.

Liz looked at him. “Did I put Mary and the others in Farmington at risk?”

Max held her close, “No, they already knew most of that information. I think they wanted to know more about how humans integrated with the Others.” Liz held Max tighter. She knew how much she meant to him. She, also, knew how much he meant to her. They drifted into their bedroom even though it was still early. Soon without even undressing, they were fast asleep in each other’s Arms.

Liz woke suddenly. Oh, my gosh, the museum. They know about the bronze plate Rodney brought back. Max called Alex and Alex called the campus police. Then, he called the museum and talked to Sam. Alex used Liz’s name, “Sam, this is Captain Whitman, Doctor Parker’s friend. Look, we need to find a bronze plate that was in the things of Doctor Aiken. Then, we need for you to close the museum and get everyone out. Don’t come back until we tell you it is safe. No, Sam there is no explanation at this time. If you value your life and that of your friends get out as soon as you find that plate. Alex called the campus police. He instructed them to get the plate from the museum and bring it to the state police office. Technically, Alex was a superior officer to the campus police. Isabel came up to Alex. She was carrying a small heavy box. She whispered in his ear. His next call was to the Albuquerque Police, Sgt. Watson.

Gary thought this was rather strange. The dispatcher told him to pick up a package from the state police office. When he arrived, he was ushered into a private office and saw Captain Whitman sitting behind his desk. Gary also saw one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, sitting in a chair to the side. Alex introduced him, “Sgt. Watson, this my wife, Isabel Whitman. She took part in the rescue of Doctor Evans last evening. She will make a statement whenever you are ready. She, also, has something for you.”

Gary was a bit tongue-tied. How did a career officer like the Captain get a wife like her? She took his hand and her warm touch almost put him into shock. “Sergeant, I believe your weapon is a Canadian made 45. We want you to load several of your magazines with these bullets. Do not use them in regular service, but we expect the university museum to be attacked tonight. We have reason to believe that these bullets might be effective against the monsters. If they are, we will get more. Please be careful! Do not try to be a hero, but use these if you have to.”

Gary still hadn’t recovered from his surprise on meeting Mrs. Whitman. He did take the box and looked at it. The bullets were all hollow point and they had something in the hollow. If any one as pretty as Mrs. Whitman said they might help, he was willing to give them a try. That wasn’t very logical. Was she also a firearms expert?

It was much later that Alex and Isabel were in the office talking to Silas Zamora. Silas was still a rookie by police standards. True, he had been on the force for two years, but to most of the officers he was unknown. Until you had been in the ditch eating mud with a man while bullets fanned inches above your butt or backed against a bar with him trading blows with a crowd of drunks, you just were not trusted. Paper evaluations by your superiors, was one thing, but trust from your fellow officers was another. And this trust must be observed and repeated throughout the force before you were, “a man to ride the river with.” as the old saying went.

Alex had knowledge that the rest of the force would not be privy to. Silas had been working with the force for more that six years. He had started at the age of twenty-one while in college. He had implied, to certain people, that he wanted to work for the State Police when he was still in college. There had been, at that time, a need for an undercover operative to infiltrate a cell of college terrorist. Silas, appearing as a disgruntled Hispanic, fit right in. For four years, he slammed the government and the system at every chance. Except for this, he was a quiet man and he worked his way into the upper ranks of the terrorists. There was a massive raid and most of the group was rounded up. It was not remarked why Silas was one of those who escaped. Everyone associated with Silas remarked how cool he was in a fight so he was quickly picked up by the police, even though there were red flags about his activities while in college, set by those who did not know the truth. Silas intended to work for the State Police for five to ten more years and then with his experience, degree and intelligence, he hoped to apply for some government security job.

Andrews and Martinez arrived and were shown into the office where Alex and Isabel were talking to Silas. Introductions were made and Alex got down to business. “There will be three officers assigned to protect a house in Farmington. We have no idea who or what we are protecting it against. I want you to arrange things so that at least two of you are awake at any given time. You are to consider yourself on duty at all times. You will be prepared to protect the house and those in it. The three of you will take Mrs. Whitman back to Farmington. Silas, you will take your car. Andrews, you and Martinez, will drive Mrs. Whitman and lead the way. I do not think you will have any trouble like you did coming here, but be prepared. With that, they left.

Liz and Max were sitting in their house on Nob Hill. The phone rang and it was Sam. He had closed the museum early. He, also, had the disk the state policeman had told him about. He wanted to come by and talk to Liz so he had retained the disk instead of giving it to the campus police.

When he came in, he handed Liz the disk. Yes, it was identical to one of those that Liz had delivered to the Others. Liz remembered the information that was on those disks. They were information disks. They could be read like news reels or computer disk in the correct machine. Sam, also, had an opened package of photographs. “Liz, these photos came today for Rodney and I opened them. What the hell did he get himself into?”

Liz just shrugged as she accepted the envelope of photos from Sam. She would have rather that he hadn’t opened them, but the damage was done.

“Liz, I thought your youth had been left behind you.” Sam said. You survived snake bite, assault by wanted criminals and living alone in the desert. I thought now you would be a married lady and mother and quit these wild adventures.”

“Liz smiled. She knew that Sam thought of her as a daughter or sister. He had worried most of the time she was working for him that she would take on task greater than she could handle. Sam knew she had been kidnapped, but he knew no more than any other person not among the aliens about how she was freed. “Sam, you would think I would know better by now, wouldn’t you. I don’t have Rolf, my German Shepard, to protect me any more either.”

“Seriously, Liz, what is going on? Professors and their students are getting murdered. Strange creatures are appearing out of the journals of graduate students. Like you said, ‘metaphors coming to life.’ Liz Archeology is a peaceful study. The most we ever had was old Doctor Reimes beating up that poor pot hunter he caught red handed at the good doctor’s dig sight. And that man, D.H.L Witherspoon, who was so angry when his theory about Aliens was rejected.”

“Sam, it is drugs. There are many races that are into smuggling now. Rodney just witnessed the wrong thing. I would hold off in sponsoring any Mexican or South American expeditions for a while until the Mexican authorities can get a handle on things.” Liz informed him.

“When do you think that will be?” Sam inquired.

“Soon Sam, Max and I are fixing to go to Mexico soon. We will keep you informed as the conditions improve.” Liz stated.

“Liz, is it necessary for you to go? Can’t the professionals handle it without you?” Sam almost pleaded.

“Sam, this involves archeology and I am the best qualified. Max will be with me and I think with the others around me, I will be safe.” Liz was careful not to say who the Others were.

Author’s note:
“A man to ride the river with.” Both the Texas Rangers and the United States Border Patrol have used this statement. When these agencies would patrol this rugged country of the Rio Grande, they were far from extra help so men needed to be able to trust their partners. “A man to ride the river with” was a man who would stand strong in a fight and one you could trust your life to.

you see the women in police cars every day. did you ever think what it was like for the first ones. "Venus Smiles" is a Max/Liz story about these women. it is almost ready to be posted. I hope you like it. Pleast watch for it it is different.
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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chapter 8 oct 15

Postby ken_r » Mon Oct 15, 2007 2:15 pm

Martine I think men in black was in my mind when I was writing that part. I was also thinking about French Apache dancers. I believe that is the term. I could picture a beret on Isabel even though I didn’t describe one there. The gothic girl was probably there also. I had a young lady in my class room that dressed that way. Her beauty and her bizarre behavior and dress were very distracting in class. That is what I was trying to do here.

There is definitely a crush on Isabel from officer Ed Andrews. If I do the third and fourth parts this crush takes on definite meaning. Also I resolve the crush in a kind and timely manner but that is for a future I am not sure will be.

Sam is a lot like the men I worked with when I was finishing up my degree and taking archeology for fun. They were not sissies. It seems funny to spend all day in the intellectual pursuit of digging a large pit house. Which was the living quarters for the people I was studying. It did toughen you up. Fighting for archeologist was more professional and not criminal. Enter the site of another archeologist and he would get mad.

Stories by Ken

Chapter 8

When Sam had gone, she and Max looked at the photos. The stack of plates was just like those they had found years ago in the collection of Thomas Ciel. These had been lost and they were what Max and the other three Engineered ones were searching for. The other pictures were not very clear. The Minox camera needed more light to make sharp images. One showed the outline of a truck. There were objects around it. Liz couldn’t tell if they were people or something else. There were some images of four-legged creatures, but none of them were clear. The rest were of artifacts and some inscriptions that were Mayan. There were two pictures of inscriptions that looked like the picture writing Liz hadn’t yet translated that they had in Farmington. There were two separate pictures of different men. One of them was dressed in some sort of suit and the other was wearing the crude clothing of a Mexican peasant. These were probably pictures of Juan and Pedro taken with out their knowledge.

Martinez and Andrews with Isabel in the rear behind the screen, started north on the freeway. Andrews thought that it was a shame such a classy woman was forced to ride behind the screen. The rear seat of a state police car was designed to carry prisoners. The heavy screen protected those in the front from any attack from the rear and the door handles had been removed to make escape impossible. Ed Andrews also thought what kind of woman was so quiet after the fearful ordeal that she had had getting to Albuquerque. He had, also, heard something about her being involved with the rescue of Doctor Parker-Evans. Mrs. Whitman was as calm as could be. Ed wasn’t afraid except for the fear he always had of not being able to meet the challenges of his job. Ed knew Benny Martinez was one of the best drivers on the force so when Benny accelerated to about ten miles per hour above the speed limit, Ed was very relaxed. He turned and Isabel awarded him with a smile. Ed could see through the rear window that Zamora was keeping up. They slowed at the smaller town of Bernalillo. Bernalillo (Ber-nah-lee-yo) was the original site where the Spanish explorers stopped when they first came to this area. Like it’s larger sibling, Albuquerque, it was located near the river. It, also, was a window into the mountains to the east. Benny slowed for the abrupt turn and headed west. They were now back on the infamous highway 550. In the old days when this road was named state road 44, there were bumper stickers that read, “Pray for me, I drive on NM 44.” The road was much better now and as soon as they cleared the Bernalillo area, Benny, again, kicked the speed up to about 85. He didn’t drive at a constant speed because there were many turns and many blind spots where he might suddenly come upon a country pickup going at a leisurely pace of 40 miles per hour. It was an hour’s drive to the town of Cuba. This was where, Isabel knew, that directly west in the mesas was located a cave with many artifacts of the Others. Max had shown the cave to Liz when he was convincing her to join the engineered aliens in aiding the Others. It was probably another two hours drive to Farmington. Benny would shave off a few minutes, but time was not a factor in his speed. He wanted to out run any supposed setup of ambush. He saw that Ed had his M-16 muzzle down and stock sitting comfortably in his lap, ready for anything. Benny knew that the ability of Ed had been what saved them the on the journey to Albuquerque. Benny thought about the new guy. He had heard stories about Salas Zamora. The New Mexico State Police was a unit of perhaps totally 1000 people, including civilian communication personnel and back up forces such as mechanics. One of the older fellows said he remembered a Zamora on a watch list when the Universities were rioting during the 90s. This elder policeman had been undercover from the time of the original riots of the early 70s. This officer stated he thought that this Zamora was the same one and he believed he had been a state plant in the rebellious group. Zamora was becoming known, by the few who worked with him, as a tough and steady officer. He still had a way to go before he could earn the trust of the entire force. Benny knew that Capt’n Alex would have chosen him only if he thought Salas had something to bring to the group protecting the witness and, also, the person of his wife, Isabel. Benny had no idea of what role Isabel played in all of this. Most patrolmen kept their families distant from the dangers of their daily vocation.

It was with a sigh of relief that Benny soon pulled into the drive way of the large house where Captain Whitman, along with several others, maintained residence. As they got out of the squad cars, Salas was carrying two duffel bags. He dropped them just inside the doorway and, opening one of them, he took out a pump shotgun. Taking this weapon, he reconnoitered the area. From his pocket, he took several small reflectors and after pacing off distance along the trails leading to the house, Salas placed the reflectors at known distances. All in all. it was over an hour when he came back to the house. Salas broke out several boxes of ammo. It was the same ammo that Isabel had given to Sergeant Watson back in Albuquerque. Salas handed to each of the officers a sheet of orders from Capt’n Alex. Benny was to go immediately to the Farmington City Police range and target his weapon. As soon as he was back, Ed was scheduled to visit the sportsman club of Farmington and they had arranged for him to use their hundred-yard range for his rifle. He would check his sniper weapon with this new ammo. Salas had already tried out his shotgun, rifle and pistol in Albuquerque, so he knew how the ammunition acted. They hoped to be settled in by the evening.

Michael prepared to leave for Albuquerque. He hated to leave Maria, but he was pretty sure that the Others would protect her along with the witness, Mary Greer, and Isabel; not to mention their children and the household staff that maintained the home.

Michael landed in Albuquerque and picked up Max and Doctor Elizabeth Parker-Evans. He was always a little in awe of Liz. She was so smart and had so many answers. She, also, had so easily captured the heart of Max even though it took a long courtship for her to realize that. The three of them and he had no idea how many aliens had secreted about the plane which flew to El Paso, Texas, the town which led into Mexico. There were many ways, they could have entered Mexico, but going by bus was probably the most discrete.

It was morning and the company plane was left at the El Paso airport. Again Max, Michael and Liz, along with however many aliens, who came along, were on a bus going south. The passengers on the bus slowly, as they progressed the strange road to Chihuahua City, became more and more Mexican nationals. Mostly, they were poor folks going home from one destination or the other. The funny stories about the boxes of animals and chickens became more and more true as farmers returned to their villages with their purchases.

Liz was enough of a linguist to carry on conversations with a few of the people she met. They talked about living conditions and families. When she showed them the pictures of her two children they became more open to talk as one mother to another. Liz’s Spanish was good enough for her to get an idea of the area into which they were heading.

Max’s Spanish wasn’t that good, so he contented himself with surveying his surroundings. In the front of the bus, there was a glass door to a box fastened to the firewall. It was labeled, “En caso de emergencia, rompa el vidrio.” Max could see inside the glass; a bible, a rosary and a first aid kit. In case of emergency break the glass. Your body and soul would find comfort there in. The road was drawn according to rancho holdings. The road would go straight and then make an abrupt dogleg with two right angle turns as they aligned with another rancho boundary. Although the trip was more or less straight, the actual road zigzagged as it went around the many ranches. The bus driver had grown up with stories of the famous Mexican Road race from the early fifties. At times, it looked like he was pretending to be driving a Ferrari rather than a large bus. At each corner, Max noted the crosses of death put up by families of those killed at that place on the highway. Max looked at their driver. He was young and Max hoped that was not indicative of how long drivers lasted on this route.

Michael had the ability to just fall asleep whenever he wanted. There was nothing he could do, so he didn’t worry. He was sandwiched against a portly gentlemen and the window, so he just made it a cozy place to take a nap.

Back in Albuquerque, the last night had been frightful. The campus police reported a break and entry into the museum. They notified city as they had been ordered and waited for the swat units. Sgt. Gary Watson was carrying the bullets Isabel had given him. Trouble was, he hadn’t had time to get to the range as she advised. He had shared two magazines with a fellow officer who Gary shot in practice with many times. This man was carrying a glock in 45 caliber. This was not as refined as Gary’s Canadian weapon, but it was a lot cheaper and it was reliable.

Regan Middlestaff was a career officer. He had never made sergeant, but he was a strong reliable officer. When Gary approached him and asked him to be on the team going to the University that night, he agreed. He found it strange when Gary took him aside and told him to load his Glock with these bullets. Gary informed him that the bullets would probably shoot low.

It was two in the morning when the call was received from the campus police. The swat van moved out. The officers were told to hold the perimeter. Regan was surprised when it was announced that he and Gary would make the first approach. The swat team gave them flack jackets and they traded their hats for helmets. As they approached, they saw several campus police squad cars, lights off and waiting at a discrete distance as ordered. There were lights and shadows moving inside the museum. Gary motioned for Regan to follow and he began his approach. Regan was totally unprepared for what he saw. There were several humanoid creatures, but bent over and with long, gangly arms and short, stocky legs. They were milling around outside the museum. Gary whistled and one of the creatures looked up. At the sight of Gary, he charged. Regan could not believe his eyes. Gary just stood there, knees slightly bent, and 45 extended in front of him. When the creature sprang, Gary fired a double tap, two shots sounding almost as one. The creature exploded. No noise, just a flash of light and it was no more. Regan had no idea of what they were doing, but Gary was his leader so Regan went down on one knee and targeted a beast running across in front of him. Gary said the bullets would probably shoot low, so Regan held just above the back of the creature. There was a gratifying flash of light and another creature disappeared. The swat team moved forward. There were other creatures than just those Regan and Gary were targeting. One clearly a man thing rose and pulled a weapon. He was nailed, by two different swat members and he went down. There were some shadow creatures that seemed impervious to the bullets of the swat team. Gary targeted one of them. He didn’t go down as fast as the monster did, but he definitely showed he was hurt. Monsters, shadows and men all started to leave as fast as they could. Several more monsters were shot by Gary and Regan; each time, giving a satisfying flash of light. Gary was sure he had hit at least one more of the shadows. But, of them, there was no evidence. As normal, it took a lot longer to relate the happenings than for them to occur. When the action was over, swat moved in and they found five bodies of men and two more who were still alive. Of the monsters and the shadows, there was no sign.

Back at Farmington, it had been quiet so far. Salas, if he had not been as educated as he was, would have said spirits were walking the grounds. He saw several shadows, but when he investigated, there was nothing. He took out a StarLight. This was the latest generation of a night scope. It could amplify the star light to show the whole area outside the house as bright as day. Salas heard a noise behind him. He spun with his pistol drawn. He heard a soft chuckle and, then, the voice of the Captain’s wife. “There is no getting behind you, Salas,” she said.

“Begging your pardon, ma’am. You shouldn’t aught to be out here,” Salas said.

The soft voice replied, “Salas, you are going to see a lot of things while you are here. If you try to repeat them, you will be laughed at or, maybe, thrown off the force for insanity. My safety needs to be protected from humans. There are other things that I understand better than you what they are. I will go in quickly if I think I would be in the way. I just want to point out some things you might not see.”

Salas saw some shadows touching Isabel, but since she didn’t seem to comment about them, he didn’t see any reason why he should. She grabbed his shoulder and pulled him down. “Silas, use your night scope. Find a sage brush about 40 yards in front of us. Now, go about 8 inches above the ground and about 12 inches to the left. Put one round through that point,” Isabel whispered in his ear.

Salas flipped the lever on his rifle to single shot and fired one shot right where Isabel told him. There was a bright flash, but absolutely no sound other than the echoes of his rifle. Isabel stood up. “There are no more out there. I think we will be safe for the night,” she said and she turned to go back to the house. Salas saw, or thought he saw, several shadows following her back in. He made a check of the grounds. Then, he returned back to the house himself.

Inside, Salas met several of the rest of those who called this place home. Besides Isabe that Captain Whitman was said to be friends with a DEA agent named Valenti. He wondered if she was related to the agent. Then, he had a surprise. The next woman was a dark blonde whose name was Maria Deluca-Guerin. Now that was a name Salas was sure he knew. Maria Deluca was a renowned musician. Salas’s brother had a collection of her records. He and Salas had spent many a day listening to her songs. Finally, he was introduced to Mary Greer. She was the one who was supposed to be protected at all cost. Mary was not a remarkably beautiful woman, like the other three, but Salas thought that mainly was because she didn’t seem to know how to make herself up like a model like the other women did. Salas thought that a woman as smart as she had been reported to be, if given a chance, would be right up there with the others in the looker department. There was a household staff. Salas noticed that they were mostly Hispanic or Navajo. They all seemed comfortable with the situation at the house so Salas guessed they believed in the security of the house. They placed a delicious meal before him. Since he had spent most of the time since nightfall outside and had not had a chance to eat, the fare was welcome. Ed Andrews was asleep. Benny was sitting in a dark room looking out the window. Salas sat down beside him.

“What do you make of this place, Benny? It being the captain’s home and all.” Salas asked.

Benny shrugged. He knew a lot about Captain Whitman. The captain, many times, was unorthodox, but he was very good at solving crime. He had the professional backing of his extended family. “Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut, I guess. You are going to see some strange things. I talked to the household staff and they told me not to worry because the saints would always be overlooking everyone here.”

Salas just looked at Benny. Benny was a career officer and he would not spook at anything. Salas wondered what the staff had meant. “Mrs. Whitman was outside a few minutes ago. She seemed to be surrounded by shadows. She didn’t seem to be scared and she told me to shoot at a certain target and it just exploded.”

Benny chuckled, “You should have seen her on the way to Albuquerque. She did just what Ed told her and she went down in the dirt as he told her to. When it was all over, she just dusted her self off and slept the rest of the way. She is a cool one, that Isabel.”

Salas smiled a bit, “It was rumored that she took part in freeing her brother’s wife, Dr. Parker-Evans. She may be ‘a lady to ride the river with’ and those shadows seem to follow her everywhere except into the bright light.”


Stories by Ken

In the early 1970s the New Mexico State Police sought to recruit women for their ranks. Venus Smiles is a story about some of the things they faced. It took a while to sort out what they could do and how they would be accepted, but there had to be a first one and Venus Smiles it was. That was her Citizen Band radio handle she was a state policewoman
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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Posts: 860
Joined: Wed Oct 04, 2006 11:34 pm
Location: New Mexico

chapter 9 0ct 23

Postby ken_r » Tue Oct 23, 2007 10:08 pm

Martine all of my stories ultimately end up Max and Liz. I admired smart kids in school and in the TV show I liked Liz because she was smart at least academically. In this story all the characters have their place but as you will see it will be Liz who leads the expedition to find out the answers.

I am trying to make my thoughts is smaller amounts. I know that it really makes the story easier to read and is better.

Bethann I know that Feed back is hard but when you do drop me a note that you like what you read it helps.

Chapter 9

It was late that afternoon when Liz and the two engineered aliens arrived at Chihuahua City.

They were met by a Mexican drug investigator with the name of Patrick Gutierrez. Like so many Irish, his great-grandfather, long ago, had left the Emerald Isle for his fortune in the New World. Instead of opting for the northern Estados Unidos, he had headed south to the coast of Mexico. His family later founded a farm between the town of Chihuahua City and Santa Rosalia de Camargo. Patrick’s family had long remained on the farm, but he was more adventurous. After attending the college at Chihuahua City, he joined the Mexican Drug Enforcement Authority.

The name Gutiérrez seemed to mean something to Liz, but right now, she couldn’t remember what it was. Patrick was a friendly man of about 45 years old. His English was perfect, enhancing his ability to work on either side of the border. He knew Kyle. Kyle had told him that these Gringos knew a lot about the mysterious problems they were having in this region. “Mi primo, claims there are monsters running loose.” Patrick looked carefully at Liz to see if there would be a note of condescension.

That was what the name meant, “Was his name Sean Gutierrez?” Liz questioned.

Patrick was surprised. “How did you know?” he asked.

“His name was in an anthropological journal which we are following in our own investigations,” Liz explained.

Patrick felt a bit embarrassed. It was not good to show the backwardness of your family to strangers, “He claimed it was Chupacabra,” he explained. “That is a monster in folk lore among the simple Latin folk.”

Liz approached the subject very carefully. If he was related to Sean Gutierrez, it was in all probability that Patrick himself was part engineered alien. If he was like those in the United States, unless his ancestors had passed this knowledge down, the only thing a person might know was that they had some unusual ability, like Thomas Ciel in the States being able to tell if people were lying. Max and Michael were first generation engineered aliens and they had considerable powers which had saved Liz several times. Liz knew that the word “Primo” could stand for anything from friend to an actual cousin. So Patrick’s connection would have to be investigated.

“Your primo was correct. I, myself, have seen the creature. It is not the monster Chupacabra come to life, but rather, it is a being who is deformed by the drugs it takes.”

Patrick was surprised. He was used to most Anglos who he worked with being skeptical of folk beliefs. Kyle told him to expect these people to be very special and not to be surprised at what they did or said. Patrick noticed that both men seemed quite able to care for themselves especially the one called Michael. But, it was the woman, Doctor Parker-Evans, who was in charged. Patrick also felt something else that he couldn’t define. He felt something the minute he shook hands with the two men. He did not feel the same thing with the woman. There was something strange and he would have to think about this.

Liz continued, “There is a smuggling operation going on, but it is nothing like you have had before. We will tell you many things and we hope you will use discretion and consideration about what you relate to your superiors and other agents.”

With that Liz indicated that they wished to find their accommodations at the hotel, but they would continue the conversation at a later time. They had two adjoining rooms. Once inside, Liz turned to Michael and Max. “What did you feel?”

Max looked at Michael and Michael nodded. “Patrick is definitely tainted with an alien brush. This makes me wonder just how many of us were engineered by different groups. We always thought we were special, but it seems that here were many aliens who needed to have engineered agents to accomplish their goals. We should wait a while before we question him on his family,” Max concluded.

Michael just nodded. He was not needed at the moment, so he retired to his room leaving Liz and Max alone.

Liz had never really been able to distinguish among the Others. When they made introductions, she tried to watch the movement of each one and keep track of who was talking to her, but the talking was probably a group effort anyway. That night as they prepared for bed and turned out the lights, a glow started in the corner of the room. The Other was darker and Liz would have bet that it was Naught or one of his type. The Others in Farmington always refered to the engineered aliens and their mates as their children and Naught had been much more direct. Naught or who ever it was put a pseudopod in Max’s head. It was just for a minute and then he faded away.

As soon as the Other was gone, Liz turned on the lights. Max was still in a daze. Liz put on her robe and went to the adjoining room door and knocked. When Michael answered Liz told him they needed a meeting.

By the time Michael partially dressed arrived through the adjoining room, Max was starting to clear his mind. “Naught says we should be careful aboutwhat we tell Patrick. The Others are not sure how much they want the engineered ones to know about themselves. Naught says we will probably have to revel to Patrick his heritage, but to wait. Naught says we are to get Patrick to pick up a package at the American embassy in Chihuahua city. It will be addressed to him from Kyle. We are to request that Patrick arrange transportation for us to a town called Camargo. It is several miles south of here,” Max related.

Taking information like this was very difficult. While the Others he had always known in Farmington seemed to care for how things effected him, he didn’t get the impression that Naught was all that concerned. It, again, brought to the mind of Liz the complicated ways that the Others communicated.

They relayed the message over breakfasts of huevos rancheros, that delightful Mexican dish of a corn tortilla enchilada with an sunny side up fried egg on top, smothered with a chili sauce. “I will pickup the package and if you will wait. I have been assigned to help you in every way. It seems that your governor, Richardson, has taken an interest in your investigation,” Patrick relayed this information.

Liz thought that the governor of New Mexico had been an ambassador and he would smooth over many things if he was taking an interest. She also was glad to be with Patrick because they needed to learn more about him before they confronted him with his, most likely, alien heritage.

It was about two hours before Patrick was back and they were on their way to Camargo. Camargo was just the common name of where they were going. Many towns in Mexico had long, beautiful names which, of course, got shortened in common speech.

Santa Rosalia de Camargo was its official name. It was a small town of the growing middle class of Mexico. It was known for three thermal springs reputed to have curing powers. To the west of the town, there were agricultural areas supported by an irrigation dam . The dam also created a recreation area that was largely unknown by tourists and frequented mostly by Mexicans trying to get away from the rush of international life.

Patrick put them up in a hotel in Camargo. It was a traditional Spanish style with just a wall to the street. Just inside the gate, the rooms were surrounded by semi-tropical gardens. Liz thought that it would be wonderful to be here if they were on a more pleasant mission.

Patrick had not asked how they knew of the package or what was in it. He seemed to be willing, at this point, to accept them on faith or, maybe, the word of his counter part in the States, Kyle. Max took out a penknife. He opened the package and handed it to Patrick. “We are carrying no weapons as proscribed by your law, so we are completely under your protection. There are some things that are very hard to kill. Use these bullets on them alone. Kyle said you carry a Colt semi-automatic 45 so, these will help if we get in a jam.” Max handed Patrick two boxes of 45 auto ammo with the “alien touch” for stopping those not of this Earth.

It was now time for “Show and Tell.” Patrick went first. “Of course, some of this I tell you should not be repeated. About three months ago, there was a large shipment of cocaine heading for the States, or so we thought. We had a few men on the inside in several of the cartels. We were tracing the progress of the shipment. Somewhere near the town of José Manano Jiménez, the shipment just disappeared. No one has any knowledge of what happened, least of all, the drug cartel bosses. It was sometime later that Gregorio Sanchez one of the largest of the drug bosses, came to Jiménez. He was throwing his weight around and, then, he was found ripped by a curious stone weapon. No one knows how this happened. His bodyguards have no idea and several of them have been killed since then, in more conventional methods because they are no longer trusted. I relayed this information to Kyle along with what pictures we had of Sanchez’s organization. Kyle called me a while ago and said you were having a rash of murders just like we’d had with the drug boss. He said he was sending a team of experts to help us solve this puzzle.”

Liz took out the picture she had of the wound on Rodney Aiken. The picture was of Rodney’s body, covered except for the wounded area. Liz had insisted they make this picture for her. She just couldn’t stand to look at the official autopsy pictures. She, then, handed Patrick a picture of the stone knife that was used to kill those in Albuquerque.

Patrick looked at both pictures and just nodded. They looked just like the wound he had witnessed on the drug lord. The stone knife was the same shape as they found later at the sight of one of last known locations of the drugs heading north. They then looked at the gringos before him. He had spilled all he had. Now, it was their turn.

Max leaned forward and took Patrick’s hand. Patrick jumped. The shock was so great! The hotel room where they were talking was not brightly lit. Patrick had wondered about that, but he knew that some people were strange about bright lights. As Max took his hand, Patrick could almost swear that he had seen a shape moving about the room. There were only himself and the three Americanos in the room, so he decided that it was just his imagination. “What did you feel, Patrick?” Max asked.

Patrick didn’t really know how to answer. What tricks were these Gringos trying to play on him? If he hadn’t trusted Kyle so much, he would have left immediately. Max nodded at Dr. Parker-Evans. She extended her hand and when Patrick took it gingerly, he felt nothing. Then, it was the man, Michael, who extended his hand. Again it was almost electric in how he felt.

Max sat down. “Before we begin, Patrick, we need to know something about your heritage. Your father, your grandfather, your great-grandfather. Who were they and tell us something about them?”

Patrick frowned again. He was relying on Kyle’s promise that these people could do marvelous things. Kyle wasn’t that passionate about much of anything except this and, of course, his wife. Patrick had only had one girlfriend and she was the one he had married. His friends had teased him that he should shop around, but in his heart, he had no desire for that. Patrick knew that many drug enforcement agents used their supposed desire to preserve their cover by dalliances along the way of their investigation. He didn’t and when talking to Kyle, one night, he found out that after he had married the girl remaining back in Farmington, Kyle didn’t play around either.

“My great, grand-father was from Ireland. They found him washed up on the beach near the fishing village of Punta de Piedra on the coast. That is in the state of Tamaulipas. He married a girl from that village. They were unhappy living there. My great-grandfather was a sort of a brujo or, maybe, a curandero. That is a witch or an herb doctor. In the superstitious communities, the terms blur together.

The community where they lived made it unpleasant for them, so they left to move inland. They had a daughter. She was supposed to be a beauty. She captured the heart of a young man whose father, Gutierrez, was the patrón of a large rancho. The father disowned the son because he felt he had been bewitched and they move further inland. They settled in a ranching area near Jiménez. They had several children. Some of them migrated later to the farming area west of Camargo. I left the farm to take a law degree and, later, I took a position in the Drug Authority of my country. Some of my cousins moved further south to the district of Oaxaca”

Max just nodded as Patrick told his tale. Liz interrupted, “Patrick, your great-grandfather was a healer. Do you have any special abilities that others do not have?”

Patrick frowned. He had told only one other person about his gift. Even his wife didn’t know. She just thought he was always thoughtful in remembering things. That other person was Kyle. They were talking on stake out and, for some reason in the bond of boredom, Patrick had told Kyle that he had dreams of how certain busts were going to play out. In his dreams, Patrick would see where the men would be stationed and what would probably happen. He remembered that he was surprised because he thought that Kyle would laugh and kid him about this. No, Kyle, just shook his head as if every fifth person he met had similar powers.

When the bust they had been awaiting went down, Patrick led Kyle down a empty dark alley. He had been surprised that Kyle seemed to trust him so much. As the noise from the front of the building rose, the blank walls seemed to fall and a dark pickup with the principal drug bosses burst out. As Kyle laid down a spray of M-16 bullets, the pickup smashed into a wall. When the rest of the team came to the alley, his commander was prepared to chew Patrick out for incompetence and even cowardice but he found Kyle and Patrick just cuffing the last of the half dozen men who were among the most wanted in Mexico. The commander just shook his head. Kyle gave Patrick a broad wink and, from then on, Patrick and Kyle were more than allies they became friends.

To his surprise, these people were quicker to believe him than Kyle had been. Max nodded, “I am a healer just like your great-grandfather.” Max turned to Michael, Michael pointed to a empty soda bottle on the desk and the bottle just exploded. Patrick jumped. Max continued, “Most of us, at least in the first generation, can do this. As the generations go down, the gifts seem to be random, but they all seem to be useful.”

Patrick was frowning. He turned to Liz. She just smiled, “Sorry, Patrick I am just human. I am the wife and mate of Max and it was required he find a human. I do hold a doctorate of Archeology and I used to be a hell of a barrel racer in rodeo. I am a dead shot with a Glock, but outside of that, I am just human.”

“I am just human.” That sentence frightened Patrick. “If you are just human, what am i?” he asked.

Max grinned, “Patrick, you are human, but your great-grandfather passed along some interesting genes. That is how you got your gift of foresight which you receive as a dream. I, and your great-grandfather, were engineered aliens. We were created to assist true aliens who have trouble working in Earth’s atmosphere.

The dark shadow started to approach from the corner of the room. It was Liz who said, “No, not yet, it is not time.” The shadow darkened, but Liz held her ground. “I am the mate of your king. I am your queen. I will tell you when it is time.” Patrick was surprised when the shadow seemed to bow before the small woman and retreat back to the corner. He clearly saw that though she claimed to be only human, it was Liz who was in charge.

Max chuckled. He had seen Liz back down the aliens before. They told Max that was why he chose her. She brought her insight into their actions.

“Cocaine is bad on Earth. It is highly addictive and we are aware we have an epidemic of cocaine users. No matter how bad it is for us, it is much worse for true aliens. The monsters are the slaves of the addiction. The cocaine is taken back to a system called Antar. There, both sides of a civil war use it to make soldiers into the monsters. There, the monsters will attack each other or even aliens themselves, with the proper preparation. Here, they seem to fear other aliens or anyone of alien decent.

“Once addicted, they are impervious to most weapons and they will do anything for their next fix. If we can break the smuggling, it will break both of the armies. Then, maybe, saner heads can settle the differences,” Max told him. “We, also, have to worry if they free the monsters to attack those of us who are of alien decent. Then, they will be totally uncontrollable.” Liz looked up becaused some of this was news to her. Max hadn’t had time to fill her in on the latest things he had learned from the aliens.

Patrick wondered, “Just what had he gotten himself into? Wait he hadn’t gotten himself into anything. Great-grandpa had given his genes and Patrick was just now learning where they came from. He supposed that the gray thing in the corner was a true alien. And, eventually, he was going to have to face it and embrace his other side.”

Max tapped the boxes of bullets. “These bullets will hurt aliens, but they will destroy the addicted ones which are being called Chupacabra. The monsters will, in all probability, not hurt you. Just like your cousin’s experience, the monsters, so far, will turn from any one with engineered genes.

Liz has no protection, so we would appreciate it if you would have concern for her safety. For the most part, leave the aliens alone. They will take care of their own. You are going to have men with you and you will be the only protection they have, except for us. Men that work for the aliens are just that, they are men. They bleed and die just like men have always done.

The discussion had taken the better part of the day. Patrick had a lot to think about. They had skipped lunch, unfortunately. Somehow in the demonstrations and discussions, it had been forgotten.

The three Americans walked down the street until they found a restaurant. Patrick went to the street and bought two burritos from a vendor and, with a bottle of cold beer, he retired to his room to think. Great-grandpa had left him with a lot of questions to think through. He didn’t forget to call his wife. That was another trait he shared with Kyle, and few other investigators. Patrick was slowly finding a new allegiance to direct his labors toward.
Stories by Ken

Venus Smiles Venus is challenged by a man's world but she equates her self well.
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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chapter 10 oct 31

Postby ken_r » Wed Oct 31, 2007 8:22 pm

Natlie I am trying.

Chapter 10

Back in Albuquerque, the city police were having a discussion about the affair the other night. Alex had requested to be there and he was fielding questions or, more or less deflecting, them. First of all, the question of his brother-in-law and Alex’s wife rescuing Liz, was put forward. Wouldn’t it have been better to have waited for the professionals.? Alex just grinned. Well, the professionals hadn’t gathered half the information as Max and Isabel. And, they really did know what they were doing.

Then, the questioning turned to the raid on the museum. Gary and Regan carefully avoided telling exactly what they had seen. They had acted as point men for a swat force protecting the museum. The two men captured, who were still alive, would be questioned, but Alex wondered how much of what they said would be believed.

Farmington the rest of the night had been quiet. Benny was sleeping and Ed and Salas were sitting at breakfast talking. Salas told Ed about the shadows. “Yeah, I am not sure, but I thought I saw shadows the night we took Isabel to Albuquerque. The staff calls them the saints. I slept soundly last night and that is unusual for me. Benny tells me you had a little excitement last night,” Ed said over his coffee.

“Yeah,” I was checking the grounds and Isabel came up to me. She told me to shoot at a certain sage bush with one of these special bullets. There was no noise except for the rifle, but there was a flash of light,” Salas replied. “I am sure I hit something.”

Ed looked at Salas, “What is up for the day I wonder?”

“As soon as Benny wakens, I am going to catch a few winks. I think the night is when we are going to have problems. What do you hear from the Farmington City Pd?” Salas said.

“I heard they were told to let us handle anything that happened here and they will just keep watch on the perimeter,” was Benny’s answer.

As Salas was going to the room that had been assigned to him, he walked down the hall on the ground floor. On one side the view of the city of Farmington was laid out. It was still a relatively young city in growth although, it had been in this place a long time, quiet until the rush of dealing in oil. It was a pretty sight in the sunshine. He absent mindedly reached over to the other side and tried a door. It was locked, but what surprised him was that the doorknob was cold almost as if it had been in a freezer. He heard some stirring in the room, but since he couldn’t get in, he just let the subject go.

Back in Mexico, earlier yesterday evening, Max and Liz were preparing for bed. Patrick had had very little to say after they came back from dinner. Michael had a room on one side and Patrick had the room on the other side of them. “I think that Patrick just needs a day or two to adjust to the knowledge of his heritage,” Max said.

“Yes, it is quite something to think your great-grandfather was Irish and now, finding he was really part of an alien conspiracy. I guess the Ireland story was just too convenient,” Liz replied. “Do you have any more revelations from Naught you need to share?”

No, it seems, though, that several aliens came down here with us. I couldn’t tell how many. Except for the number theory used in their names, they do not seem to have the same concept of numbers as quantities as we do,” Max was musing. “He said that they would have more information for us tomorrow. There is something they are not telling us.”

That night, Patrick had a dream. It was more realistic than those he regularly had. Between the towns of Jiménez and Hidalgo del Parral, there was a railroad. Along this railroad, there were several little towns where produce and cattle could be shipped. There were several dirt roads running from highway 45 to the rail towns. One of the roads crossed the railroad and stopped at a place called Agua Fria on the far side. There was a rancho owned by a respected man who, in the older tradition, went by the name of Señor Tibo Sanchez.

Sanchez was an aged rancher who had survived the epidemic of Hoof and Mouth disease that plagued the ranches of Mexico in the middle of the twentieth century. Aphtosa out breaks are economically devastating to farm communities. The usual method of stopping the disease was to kill all suspected animals and burn the carcasses. Señor Sanchez had survived the ordeal. When the Gringo, Billy Johnson, came through and pointed out the animals he suspected of being sick, Tibo unlimbered his thirty-thirty and shot right along with Johnson and the Federales. He had as much desire to stop the disease as anyone else.

Later, Sanchez rebuilt his rancho. Along with his Jefe, or foreman, Miguel Martinez, who was his life long friend, he had grown old on his ranch. Now, they both rode less and tended more to the effort of ageing than ranching.

The dream stated clearly that Sanchez was not responsible for what would be found, but the cache of drugs must be taken. Patrick was going to lie a little. He told his superiors that he had received the information from the Gringos sent to consult about the missing drugs. Patrick had had these dreams before, but the intensity of this one made him put his job on the line to organize a raid.

Neither Sanchez or his Jefe, Martinez, knew anything about the drugs until later the next morning when they were informed about the incarceration of one of their vaqueros, a certain Juan Espinosa, for drug traffic. Both men were surprised because the man had given the appearance of being a good worker.

Patrick had led the raid. Usually, a younger man would be on point, but Patrick had knowledge the other narcs lacked. He was looking for the unusual. There had been one monster there and Patrick was the only one positioned to see it. Patrick let off a round and was rewarded by a bright flash as the monster disappeared. Well, that much the Gringos had told him was true. When it was over, they had several hundred Kilos of cocain. It was reasonably sure that this cache of drugs was just a normal shipment meant for the States and not the missing drugs everyone was seeking. They had several captives who the Mexican Police would tenderly interrogate over the next few days.

Guiteriez learned, after the Mexican narcotics agents had carefully and gently talked to the vaquero about his indiscretions, that there is another stash way back in the back of the Rancho de Sanchez. Patrick stated. “Amigos I need to see this for myself before I launch another raid.”

“Señor, if this is in any way alien related, we need to see it,” Liz told him.

“Señora, it will be a hard ride. It’s not a trip for a woman,” Patrick warned her.

Max smiled and said, “My wife was a rodeo rider in her youth and she is an archeologist who keeps physically fit.” Max couldn’t help, but be proud of his wife.

Patrick shrugged and made plans to be gone for four days. If the gringos wanted to come along, it was not his place to refuse. His orders said to aid the Americanos in every way.

Señor Sanchez was glad to lend the four horses along with a pack mule to carry their camping gear. Vaqueros are like the working cowboys in the states. Their horses are just for work and they were skittish when they were first mounted. The horses tended to feel out the rider and see how far they could go.

Patrick carefully watched as Liz mounted her mustang. The horse’s ears laid back and his head tried to dip between his front legs. Liz quickly pulled up on the reins and kicked the pony in the ribs. To avoid the punishment in his ribs, the pony had to move forward and, thus, he couldn’t buck. Patrick no longer worried about the small woman and whether she could ride or not. It was only seconds until the horse decided that Liz knew what she was doing and settled down.

Señor Sanchez was watching the show and he clapped along with his Jefe. They all enjoyed the sight of good horsewomanship.

When Michael got ready to mount, they all saw his horse was giving him the Mal de ojo, or evil eye. Michael, just before mounting pulled the horse’s head down and said something in it’s ear. Whey he mounted, the horse stayed perfectly still. Max had to laugh at their astonishment. When he had mounted, he put a small amount of power through his hands and calmed his horse. He also mounted without incident. Señor Sanchez went over to Michael, “That caballo has always been a questionable animal. Tell me Señor, what did you say in his ear to make him behave?’

Michael smirked, “I told him how much I liked horse burger with chili and beans.” This brought on a roar of laughter from the audience at the humor of the Gringo.

With that and the help of a map they started off. Patrick worried because legally he was the only one who could be armed. Neither Liz nor the two men seemed worried about that. In the light, Patrick could not see the haze that followed them like a spent dust devil. Toward twilight, it would become shadows. The aliens didn’t like the light, but they could function in it with precautions.

They were heading toward a line of Mesas, those flat top hills usually the result of seismic upheaval. The mesas were all sand stone and Liz was reminded of the land west of Cuba, New Mexico where she had been shown the cave of alien artifacts and writing. This reminded her, again, that she never had finished translating the writings Max had shown her. Now, she had the pictures of inscriptions taken by Rodney to look at. The writing was a form of picture writing like the universal signs that were used everywhere. Liz just hadn’t found the cultural Rosetta stone to have a key to the translation. If the end results hadn’t been so serious, Liz would have enjoyed the ride. Her mustang, after he was sure who was boss, was enjoying her lighter weight. He still had as much energy at the end off the day as he had had that morning.

At the end of the day, Liz and Michael took over the jobs of camp cooks. Patrick and Max staked out the horses so they could graze. The grass was good which was evidence that Señor Sanchez was no longer running a lot of cattle on this part of the rancho and probably not patrolling it as often as he should. Patrick and Max had taken the animals to a nearby tank to drink as soon as they were unloaded. The tank was an artificial lake made to catch and hold rain in this dry country. After they had grazed for a time, they again took the animals back to the tank to take their fill before being staked out for the night.

When Max and Patrick had returned, Liz and Michael had prepared a meal of beans, steak and potatoes. The steaks had been frozen and carefully packed in the middle of the food pack. With care, they would have fresh meat again tomorrow.

As the night came on, Patrick began to see the shadows. He carefully watched the Americanos. They were clearly aware of the shadows, but the did not seem to be worried about them. Patrick had seen the dark shadow that Liz had commanded, but out here, there seemed to be so many of them.

Patrick leaned over to Max, “These shadow things, I take it they are part of our heritage?”

Max smiled, “These are the true aliens who made us. They have trouble working in our environment. We were created to accomplish what they could not.”

“Who were the ones that made my ancestor?” Patrick mused.

“We always thought of the aliens as one group of beings. We are learning that they are just like humans. They vary in the care they lavish on their creations and they vary in their intent of being here,” Max stated. “I am sure there was some project that they were doing. They would have created your ancestors to assist them.”

“Are we, then, not children of God? Are we not part of the sacraments of the church?” Patrick asked, looking up at the several shadows.

It was Liz who answered, “I was married in the Catholic Church and the priest who married us asked that we be open to the church’s beliefs and that we continue to conduct ourselves in a moral manner. You are several generations from the created ones. Your family has always been with your church beliefs, so I think you should continue to believe what you were taught.” Liz had to giggle a bit, “The priest who married us interviewed Max and said he wished the rest of his flock would follow his value system of fidelity.”

Patrick had a lot to consider. Max chuckled. He remembered that by being engineered. he had had no religious training. The aliens had instructed him to embrace and follow the laws and beliefs of his, then, new wife.

One alien approached Max. He extended his pseudopod and briefly touched Max. Of course, Liz couldn’t tell one alien from the other, but she was sure it was not Naught. Max turned to Patrick, “The aliens would like to approach you, if you will allow them.”

Patrick had imagined that the aliens were controlling the Americanos. First, the non-engineered one, Liz, had backed the alien into a corner by the declaration that she was queen. They would obey her and now, the alien was asking for permission to approach him. Patrick nodded.

Patrick was not at ease with this situation. The shadow crossing the fire was almost like a stereotype ghost. It extended a part of itself and Patrick tensed himself like he would for a shot at the doctor’s office. To his surprise, there was no pain. As the filmy part of the alien passed into his mind, he felt at ease for the first time since he had confronted his heritage. Memories and thoughts flooded his mind. He saw the gift he had been given of dreams of foresight. He did not see anything about those who had created his ancestor. He was disappointed there. He had a flood of unhappiness from the alien, also, that he couldn’t answer that question, proving further that the aliens were many separate entities with differing drives and obsessions.

The other just disappeared and Patrick felt a calmness over take him. That was so different from what he had expected.

They all curled up in their sleeping bags soon after putting away the food stuffs and dishes. There was no need for a night guard even if they were going to a place where there might be danger. The shadows seemed to multiply and were everywhere.

Venus Smiles She was the first woman in her state police program. She lived and loved as she had so many adventures.
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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