Scooby Doo and The Pilgrim's Way
Disclaimer: Scooby Doo and all related characters are owned by Hanna-Barbera, Warner Bros.,and/or Cartoon Network. All other characters, names, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, places, and incidents is coincidental.
The Mission at Alamogordo exists only in the author's imagination.
Chapter One: The Searcher
The Desert of Southeastern New Mexico in the Western United States of America is a bleak, savage place. Large brown stone struggle to rise above the barren landscape. Home to snakes, lizards and other various vermin, only the heartiest souls dare to populate the region.
For most of the year water is scarce; to be hoarded and treasured. But in the spring the skies erupt in thunderstorms that shower the area with much needed rain. This causes the ground to blossom in an abundance of wildflowers of every color and size that carpet the land from horizon to horizon.
The Mission at Alamogordo is like many missions that dot the Western region. It does have one thing of interest that sets this mission apart from all the rest. It houses the most extensive historical library of the region. It is this particular depository that drew the searcher to this destination.
The searcher sat at an old worn and scratched desk, deep in the bowels of the mission; it wasn't the first stop nor would it be the last. The searcher had made a vow; the investigation would not stop, could not stop, until the object was found.
The dog at the searchers feet normally would not be allowed but with the heat outside nearing one hundred degrees Fahrenheit, it had been enough for the old priest to make an exception. As long as the dog behaved herself.
The searcher wore white gloves, turning the fragile pages of the book that rested on a white cloth. Two piles of volumes stood on either side; one yet to be read, the other waiting to be returned to whence they came. It was time consuming work but one the searcher had a passion for.
"Have you found what you look for?" The priest asked as an assistant sat several tomes on the desk, reaching to remove those that had been set aside to be re-shelved.
"No, not yet." the searcher looked up into the kindly face of the priest, "perhaps it doesn't even exist. I only hoped to find some reference- ideally an eyewitness- to the event."
"And what event might that be? Perhaps I could help if I knew for what you search."
The searcher would like to ask for help, but enough people knew of the search as it was. A quietness hovered over the room as the two stared into the eyes of the other. The searcher's eyes dropped first; a decision had been made.
"You know of the UFO incident in Roswell in 1947?" The searcher began.
"Of course. Everyone has. Enough has been written over the decades to fill this humble abode. That can not be what you search for."
"You are right. My search is for any reference to the second UFO-the one that didn't crash." The silence returned, filling the small room.
"Leave those," the priest indicated the tomes, "they will be taken care of. Follow me and bring your dog."
They followed the priest out of the room, down an even darker hallway than the one they had walked upon entering the mission. At the end of the hall, the priest took a key from his cassock, opened the door then stepped aside to allow the searcher to enter first. He moved to a bookcase that was filled old tomes much older than any the searcher had been brought. "I'm not as young as I once was, I may need your help."
He sought along one row of books, selected one and tipped it out. An almost inaudible click could be heard. It did take both to swing the bookcase out to reveal another door embedded in the wall. The door opened on hinges that had not met oil in perhaps the lifetime of the aging priest. The air itself smelled old.
"Please, be seated." He indicated a dilapidated chair in front of a table that looked older and more scarred than the desk the searcher had left just minutes ago. "I'll only be a moment."
The room appeared empty except the chair and table, the priest never left the room, yet as he had said, in moments he sat a box in front of the searcher. It was of some exotic wood. Two butterflies, one on each end, adorned the top. One of gold, the other of silver.
"Forgive me, you may take as long as you like but I can not leave. I took a vow that this box would never to leave my sight while opened." He gave a small laugh, "this is the first time it has been opened to my knowledge. I pray you will find what you search for in here."
"I too, have taken a vow." The searcher took the old and delicate papers out of the box and began to scour each one. The first were nothing new, only repeats of known facts. Picking up the last page, she began to read each word, committing it to memory.
"The Government people only got half the story." the page read, "my life has been turned into a living hell. I will never tell anyone what really happened that night in July, 1947. It had been hot and humid all day. Thunderstorm weather. I road out, against my wife's wishes, I might add, because the sheep were acting nervous. You could hear them bleating over a half mile away.
We had dinner and after reading the Bible as we always do, we went to bed. The Thunderstorm broke around ten o'clock or so. Unable to sleep, the wife and I got up and stepped outside. Large lightning bolts lit up the sky, the thunder was loud enough to make you want to cover your ears. I been a rancher round these parts for a long time but I never saw a storm like that one.
After watching the storm for awhile, we went back to bed and tried to get some sleep. Wishful thinking, that was what that was. After tossing and turning for a short while I heard this explosion. It was louder than the storm and I first thought it might be a plane that got hit by lightning. I got up, put on my jeans and stepped outside. I'll never forget what I saw and don't nobody ask me to repeat it, cause I wont.
That...plane was in trouble, that I could tell, but it was like no plane I ever saw and I seen a bunch going to and from Alamogordo. It like it was being tossed by the storm; first right, then left, then back again. It musta been one fine pilot in control cause I couldn't see how he kept that plane in the air.
Anyway, A particularly bright lightning bolt hit that plane then shot down and touched the ground. That plane was being helt in the air and I just knew she was a goner. Couldn't see how anything could withstand that. But it did! That there pilot fought his way clear! That plane shot up into the air, turned Northeast and shot out of sight in a second.
I watched the storm a bit longer then went back inside. It was going to be a long day tomorrow. I'd have to ride out and check the damage the storm did and look after the sheep. I said a little prayer for that pilot I saw fight the storm, then I went to bed.
Signed by my hand on this the 3nd of July 1947 regarding what I saw.
It was signed, "William Brazel"
Reverently, she placed all the papers back in the box, closed the lid, then looked at the priest. "Thank you."
"Did you find what you were looking for? Forgive me, I have the feeling you have traveled far in your search."
"Yes, thank you again." She looked up at the ceiling, "And yes, I have traveled far. You may not realize just how far."
Silently the old priest took the box replacing it from wherever he had taken it, turned and left the room.
"Come, Amber," Crystal and Amber followed the priest out the way they had come.
After the coolness of the mission, the heat hit them like a sledge hammer as Crystal and Amber climbed into the waiting jeep and drove away.
"Via con Dios, my daughter. Go with God." The old priest waved at the retreating jeep, turned and entered the mission.
"At least we now have a direction." Crystal glanced over at Amber.
"And we know he survived the storm at least," Amber replied.
TBC